force was a brigade of colored infantry, sent up to cover our
retreat. It was the first time we had seen negro troops, but as
the long line of glistening bayonets and light-blue uniforms came
into view, prejudices, if any there were, vanished at once, and a
cheer from the begrimed troopers rang down our line, waking the
echoes. It was a pleasant thing to march past that array of faces,
friendly though black, and know we were safe. They represented the
F.F.V.'s of Old Virginia, we then wished to see. On the last day
of the march my horse gave out, compelling me to walk and lead
him.

On the day after our arrival at Yorktown, Kilpatrick gave me
despatches for the authorities at Washington. President Lincoln,
learning that I had just returned from the raid, sent for me, and
I had a memorable interview with him alone in his private room. He
expressed profound solicitude for Colonel Dahlgren and his party.
They had been detached from the main force, and I could give no
information concerning them. We eventually learned of the death of
that heroic young officer, Colonel Dahlgren. Although partially
helpless from the loss of a leg, he led a daring expedition at the
cost of his life.

I expressed regret to the President that the object of the raid
had not been accomplished. "Pick the flint, and try it again,"
said Mr. Lincoln, heartily. I went out from his presence awed by
the courage and sublime simplicity of the man. While he gave the
impression that he was bearing the nation on his heart, one was
made to feel that it was also large enough for sympathy with all
striving with him in the humblest way.