Chattanooga, Monday, April 10. Wet and muddy day, but no one knew it for we had such good news. 11 A. M. a bit of paper no bigger than my hands was distributed with the words
“Lee has surrendered his army on terms which I dictated.”
U. S. Grant.
It was enough.
1 P. M. the cannons spoke in thunder tones. Two hundred guns fired in rapid succession, around us on all sides, which mingled with the huzzahs of troops, reminded me very forcibly of more stirring scenes which I have witnessed. God grant that we may know no more such. How the thought of peace; and tranquility throbs in each soldier’s breast when he thinks of the home and associates he left so reluctantly to follow the path of duty, soon to be restored to him. No wonder his spirits should be exuberant, aye, even intoxicated with delight. But pen and paper is altogether too tame on such occasions. I’ll write no more.
