on any subject on which I have a right to act; which, of course, would
be such as are purely of a Military character, and on the subject of
exchange, which has been entrusted to me."

Thus perished the last reasonable hope entertained by the Rebel
Chieftains to ward off the inevitable and mortal blow that was about to
smite their Cause.

The 4th of March, 1865, had come. The Thirty-Eighth Congress was no
more. Mr. Lincoln was about to be inaugurated, for a second term, as
President of the United States. The previous night had been vexed with
a stormy snow-fall. The morning had also been stormy and rainy. By
mid-day, however, as if to mark the event auspiciously, the skies
cleared and the sun shone gloriously upon the thousands and tens of
thousands who had come to Washington, to witness the second Inauguration
of him whom the people had now, long since, learned to affectionately
term "Father Abraham"--of him who had become the veritable Father of his
People. As the President left the White House, to join the grand
procession to the Capitol, a brilliant meteor shot athwart the heavens,
above his head. At the time, the superstitious thought it an Omen of
triumph--of coming Peace--but in the sad after-days when armed Rebellion
had ceased and Peace had come, it was remembered, with a shudder, as a
portent of ill. When, at last, Mr. Lincoln stood, with bared head, upon
the platform at the eastern portico of the Capitol, where four years
before, he had made his vows before the People, under such very
different circumstances and surroundings, the contrast between that time
and this--and all the terrible and eventful history of the interim
--could not fail to present itself to every mind of all those congregated,
whether upon the platform among the gorgeously costumed foreign
diplomats, the full-uniformed Military and Naval officers of the United