they all came out of the cabin together General Grant silent, and smoking, as usual; General Sherman talking vivaciously; and Lincoln and the Admiral smiling and listening.  That was historic!  I shall never expect to see such a sight again in all my days.  You can imagine my surprise when the President called me from where I was standing at some distance with the other officers.  He put his hand on my shoulder then and there, and turned to General Sherman.

“Major Brice is a friend of mine, General,” he said.  “I knew him in Illinois.”

“He never told me that,” said the General.

“I guess he’s got a great many important things shut up inside of him,” said Mr. Lincoln, banteringly.  “But he gave you a good recommendation, Sherman.  He said that you wore white socks, and that the boys liked you and called you ‘Uncle Billy.’  And I told him that was the best recommendation he could give anybody.”

I was frightened.  But the General only looked at me with those eyes that go through everything, and then he laughed.

“Brice,” he said, “You’ll have my reputation ruined.”

“Sherman,” said Mr. Lincoln, “you don’t want the Major right away, do you?  Let him stay around here for a while with me.  I think he’ll find it interesting.”  He looked at the general-in-chief, who was smiling just a little bit.  “I’ve got a sneaking notion that Grant’s going to do something.”

Then they all laughed.

“Certainly, Mr. Lincoln,” said my General, “you may have Brice.  Be careful he doesn’t talk you to death—­he’s said too much already.”

That is how I came to stay.

I have no time now to tell you all that I have seen and heard.  I have ridden with the President, and have gone with him on errands of mercy and errands of cheer.  I have been almost within sight of what we hope is the last struggle of this frightful war.  I have listened to the guns of Five Forks, where Sheridan and Warren bore their own colors in the front of the charge, I was with Mr. Lincoln while the battle of Petersburg was raging, and there were tears in his eyes.

Then came the retreat of Lee and the instant pursuit of Grant, and —­Richmond.  The quiet General did not so much as turn aside to enter the smoking city he had besieged for so long.  But I went there, with the President.  And if I had one incident in my life to live over again, I should choose this.  As we were going up the river, a disabled steamer lay across the passage in the obstruction of piles the Confederates had built.  Mr. Lincoln would not wait.  There were but a few of us in his party, and we stepped into Admiral Porter’s twelve-oared barge and were rowed to Richmond, the smoke of the fires still darkening the sky.  We landed within a block of Libby Prison.