Grant next sent off the news to Washington and, true to his
sterling worth, immediately stopped the salutes which some of his
enthusiastic soldiers were already beginning to fire. "The war is
over," he told his staff, "the rebels are our countrymen again,
and the best sign of rejoicing after the victory will be to
abstain from all demonstrations in the field."

In the meantime Lee had returned to his own lines, along which he
now rode for the last time. The reserve with which he had steeled
his heart during the surrender gave way completely when he came
to bid his men farewell. After a few simple words, advising his
devoted veterans to become good citizens of their reunited
country, the tears could no longer be kept back. Then, as he rode
slowly on, from the remnant of one old regiment to another, the
men broke ranks, and, mostly silent with emotion, pressed round
their loved commander, to take his hand, to touch his sword, or
fondly stroke his splendid gray horse, Traveler, the same that
had so often carried him victorious through the hard-fought day.


North and South had scarcely grasped the full significance of
Lee's surrender, when, only five days later, Lincoln was
assassinated. "It would be impossible for me," said Grant, "to
describe the feeling that overcame me at the news. I knew his
goodness of heart, and above all his desire to see all the people
of the United States enter again upon the full privileges of
citizenship with equality among all. I felt that reconstruction
had been set back, no telling how far." "Of all the men I ever
met," said Sherman, "he seemed to possess more of the elements of
greatness, combined with goodness, than any other."