two daughters of Secretary Stanton, to the line of defenses near Arlington.  It was toward sundown; and a brigade of troops were forming in position for an evening parade or review.  The commander of the brigade, General Tannatt, recognizing the President and his party, rode up to the carriage and invited them to witness the parade.  The President assented.  His face was drawn and haggard in its expression of anxiety and sorrow.  As it was Sunday evening, some of the regimental bands played familiar religious pieces.  The President, hearing them, inquired of General Tannatt if any of his bands could play “Lead Kindly Light.”  Then in a low voice and with touching accents he repeated, as if to himself, the familiar lines—­never more expressive or appropriate than now,—­

Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead thou me on.

* * * * *

Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see

The distant scene,—­one step enough for me.

As the sweet strains of the familiar hymn floated on the evening air, Lincoln’s sad face became sadder still, and tears were seen coursing down his cheeks.  What emotions were his, who can tell, as he thought of that great battle-field not far away, its issues yet unknown, its ground still covered with dead and wounded soldiers whose heroic deeds—­to use his noble words spoken a few months later on that historic field—­“have consecrated it far above our power to add or detract.”

General Tannatt, who knew Lincoln well and had spoken with him many times, never saw him again; and his view of that tragic, tear-wet face remains to him a vivid and precious memory.[H]

While the eyes of the nation were fastened upon the great drama being enacted near the capital, events scarcely less momentous were occurring in the Southwest.  The campaign against Vicksburg, the great Confederate stronghold on the Mississippi river, had been in active progress, under the personal command of General Grant, for several months.  The importance of this strategic point was fully understood by the enemy, and it was defended most stubbornly.  At first Grant’s plans proved unsuccessful; the cutting of canals and opening of bayous failed—­as President Lincoln had expected and predicted.  But these failures only served to develop the unsuspected energy of Grant’s character and the extent of his military resources.  He boldly changed his entire plan of operations, abandoned his line of communication, removed his army to a point below Vicksburg and attacked the city in the rear.  With dogged persistence he pressed forward, gaining point by point, beating off General Johnston’s forces on one side and driving Pemberton before him into Vicksburg; until finally, by the aid of Admiral Porter’s gunboats on the Mississippi, he had entirely invested the city.  Gradually and persistently his lines closed in, pushed forward by assault and siege; until Vicksburg accepted its doom, and on the 4th of July, 1863,—­the day of Lee’s retreat from Gettysburg,—­the city and garrison surrendered to the victorious Grant.