dreaded the long march to Charlotte (one hundred and seventy-five miles), already begun, but which had been interrupted by the receipt of General Johnston’s letter of the 13th.  We reached Durham’s, twenty-six miles, about 10 a.m., where General Kilpatrick had a squadron of cavalry drawn up to receive me.  We passed into the house in which he had his headquarters, and soon after mounted some led horses, which he had prepared for myself and staff.  General Kilpatrick sent a man ahead with a white flag, followed by a small platoon, behind which we rode, and were followed by the rest of the escort.  We rode up the Hillsboro’ road for about five miles, when our flag bearer discovered another coming to meet him:  They met, and word was passed back to us that General Johnston was near at hand, when we rode forward and met General Johnston on horseback, riding side by side with General Wade Hampton.  We shook hands, and introduced our respective attendants.  I asked if there was a place convenient where we could be private, and General Johnston said he had passed a small farmhouse a short distance back, when we rode back to it together side by side, our staff-officers and escorts following.  We had never met before, though we had been in the regular army together for thirteen years; but it so happened that we had never before come together.  He was some twelve or more years my senior; but we knew enough of each other to be well acquainted at once.  We soon reached the house of a Mr. Bennett, dismounted, and left our horses with orderlies in the road.  Our officers, on foot, passed into the yard, and General Johnston and I entered the small frame-house.  We asked the farmer if we could have the use of his house for a few minutes, and he and his wife withdrew into a smaller log-house, which stood close by.

As soon as we were alone together I showed him the dispatch announcing Mr. Lincoln’s assassination, and watched him closely.  The perspiration came out in large drops on his forehead, and he did not attempt to conceal his distress.  He denounced the act as a disgrace to the age, and hoped I did not charge it to the Confederate Government.  I told him I could not believe that he or General Lee, or the officers of the Confederate army, could possibly be privy to acts of assassination; but I would not say as much for Jeff.  Davis, George Sanders, and men of that stripe.  We talked about the effect of this act on the country at large and on the armies, and he realized that it made my situation extremely delicate.  I explained to him that I had not yet revealed the news to my own personal staff or to the army, and that I dreaded the effect when made known in Raleigh.  Mr. Lincoln was peculiarly endeared to the soldiers, and I feared that some foolish woman or man in Raleigh might say something or do something that would madden our men, and that a fate worse than that of Columbia would befall the place.