by the assembled multitude. It was some minutes before order was restored, when, after a moment's stillness, Mr. Lincoln said:

"I am greatly rejoiced, my friends, that an occasion has occurred on which the people cannot restrain themselves. I suppose arrangements are being made to appropriately celebrate this glorious event this evening or to-morrow evening. I will have nothing to say then if it is all dribbled out of me now. I see you have a band. I propose having this interview closed by the band performing a patriotic tune, which I will name. Before this is done, however, I wish to mention one or two little circumstances connected with it. I have always thought that 'Dixie' was one of the best tunes I had ever heard. Our adversaries over the way, I know, have attempted to appropriate it. [Applause.] I referred the question to the Attorney-General, and he gives it as his legal opinion that it is now our property. [Laughter and applause.] I now ask the band to favor us with its performance."

The band responded most heartily, to the delight of all present, and the crowd proceeded to call on Secretary Stanton, who declined speaking on the plea of ill-health. He, however, introduced General Halleck, who said:

"Always ready as I am to obey the orders of my superior officer, the Honorable Secretary of War, I hardly think he will go so far as to require me to become a stump-speaker. [Laughter, cheers, and cries, 'The people require it; it is a military necessity!] Stump-speaking, my friends, is something in which I have never indulged. I can only say that our congratulations and thanks are due to General Grant and our brave generals and soldiers in the field for the great victory announced this morning, and for the blessing of peace, of which it is the harbinger." [Applause.]

Secretary Welles was next called on at his house, when he appeared and merely bowed his thanks for the honor. About five o'clock in the afternoon, several hundred persons assembled in and around the portico of the White House in expectation of a speech from the President. After repeated calls, Mr. Lincoln appeared at the centre window over the front door, and, as soon as the cheering with which he was received ceased, he spoke substantially as follows:

"I appear, my friends, in response to your call, for the purpose of saying that if the present company have assembled by appointment, there is some mistake. More or less people have been gathered all day, and in the exuberance of good feeling—all of which was greatly justifiablehave called on me to say something. I have said what was proper to be said for the present. Some mistake has crept into the understanding, if you think a meeting was appointed for this evening. [Voices: 'We want to hear you now.'] I have appeared before larger audiences than the present during the day, and have said to them what I now desire to repeat. With reference to the great good news, I suppose there is to be some further demonstration, and perhaps to-morrow would suit me better than now, as in that case I should be better prepared. I would therefore say that I am willing, and hope to be ready, to say something then. [Applause.] Occupying the position I do, I think I ought to be particular, as all I say gets into print. A mistake hurts you and the country, and I try not to make mistakes. [A voice: 'You have never made any.'] If agreeable to have a general demonstration to-morrow evening, I will try and say something, in which, at least, I shall be careful to avoid making any mistakes."

Thanking those present for the call, the President bade them good-night, and retired amid the cheers of the assemblage. I never saw him again. Throughout this brief address his face wore a benignant and satisfied expression, which told plainly of the unspeakable relief the surrender of Lee had brought to him. I could but remark the great change from his usually sad look to one, I might say, almost angelic; and I am fortunate to possess his photograph taken while in this happy state of mind at that time. He delivered his contemplated speech to an immense crowd on the following evening-his last public address on earth.

CHAPTER IX.

HISTORY OF THE DUEL BETWEEN JONATHAN CILLEY AND WILLIAM J. GRAVES.

THE report, not long ago, that Major William Preston Graves was "dying at Little Rock, where he had been stationed with his regiment, the Second Artillery, the past two years," recalls the deplorable duel in which Jonathan Cilley, of Maine, fell at the hands of Major Graves's father, the late William J. Graves, of Kentucky, on the 24th of February, 1838. The report goes on to say, truly, that, “next to the duel between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr, no event of the character ever attracted more attention, and it might have said greater condemnation, than that between Graves and Cilley." It also repeats what was erroneously stated at the time, and which has been repeatedly denied from certain knowledge, that "Cilley was noted as one of the most skilful shots of the day." I shall have occasion to refer again to this assertion. When this unnatural combat took place, I resided in my native State of Maine, and was at Augusta, where the Maine Legislature was in session, when the news of Mr. Cilley's death was received. I well remember the wide-spread excitement and condemnation which immediately followed. Few people are now living who shared in or were witnesses to that excitement, and who remember the circumstances leading to and attending that appalling tragedy.

Some fourteen or fifteen years ago I prepared an account of it, which the late ex-Governor of Maine, H. J. Anderson, who was familiar with all the facts, pronounced the most complete ever written of the whole affair; but unfortunately it was printed in a local magazine that never reached its second number. As it would be new to the

majority of readers now, and could hardly fail to possess a melancholy interest for all, I propose to reproduce it in substance, adhering strictly to the facts of the narrative as originally presented.

Both combatants were representatives in Congress, and hitherto they had been warm personal friends, notwithstanding Cilley was a Democrat and Graves a Whig. A charge of corruption against a Senator in Congress, made by "The Spy in Washington," Matthew L. Davis, correspondent of the New York Courier and Enquirer, was the basis of the trouble which led to the fatal rencounter. He was the intimate friend and biographer of Aaron Burr, and while acting as correspondent at the capital, he was excluded, I remember, from the ladies' gallery on account of alleged gross immorality there. In a letter to his paper the charge referred to was set forth as follows:

"The more brief my statement the better it will be understood. It is in my power, if brought to the bar of either house, or before a committee, and process allowed me to compel the attendance of witnesses, to prove by the oath of a respectable and unimpeachable citizen, as well as by written documentary evidence, that there is at least one member of Congress who has offered to barter his services and his influence with a department or departments for a compensation. 'Why, sir,' said the applicant for a contract, if my proposition has merit, it will be received; if it has not, I do not expect it will be accepted.' And what do you think was the answer of the honorable member? I will give it to you in his own emphatic language: Merit?' said he; 'why, things do not go here by merit, but by pulling the right strings. Make it my interest and I will pull the strings for you.'"

The editor of the Courier and Enquirer, James Watson Webb, vouched for the character and standing of his correspondent, and called upon Congress promptly to initiate the investigation thus challenged, both as an act of justice to itself and the country. Whereupon Henry A. Wise, of Virginia, offered in the House of Representatives, on the 12th of February, a motion for a committee of inquiry,

embodying in the preamble of his resolution both the above extract and the editorial comments thereon. The resolution gave rise to a warm debate, and resulted in a determination to bring Mr. Davis before the bar of the House. He appeared accordingly, and, having declared that the person alluded to in his letter was not a member of the House, he was discharged.

On the 13th of February, John Ruggles, Senator from Maine, addressed a letter to the Washington Globe, stating that he had been informed that the charge referred to "was a blow aimed at him." In explanation, he said that a Mr. Jones, of New Jersey, had applied to him to draw up a specification and claim for a patent for a trunk-lock. He had consented to do it, "as it was a strictly professional matter." Subsequently he had agreed to take an assignment of one-fourth part of the patent for his services; the papers were drawn and assented to by Jones, but never executed, nor had any compensation ever been allowed for his services.

On the 16th of February, at Mr. Ruggles's request, a committee to investigate the charge against him was appointed in the Senate, and he was entirely exonerated.

In the debate on Mr. Wise's resolution, Mr. Cilley said:

"As the course proposed to be pursued on this occasion was novel and extraordinary, he hoped the House would pause before it embarked in this business on such authority as was produced. This charge comes from the editor of a newspaper, and we all know that in a country where the press is free, few men can expect to escape abuse and charges of a similar description. Ordinarily, when we are about entering upon a business of this kind before a magistrate, a conservator of the peace, the charges submitted are obliged to be made distinctly, clearly, and under the solemnity of an oath; and why should we now depart from this wellknown and well-settled rule? He knew nothing of this editor, but it was the same editor who had made grave charges against an institution of this country (the old United States Bank in 1831), and afterwards was said to have received facilities to the amount of fifty-two thousand dollars from the same institution and gave it his hearty support; he did not