April 19th. 1865.
Yesterday afternoon we received sad news from our Nation’s Capital; news that caused each soldier’s cheek to blanch, as if in presence of some dire calamity. Our President is murdered; ruthlessly struck down by an assassin’s hand! The demon of Secession, in his dying agony, poured out the vials of its wrath on our Executive. Imagination cannot paint the whirlwind of revengeful wrath that swept over the army; the strong desire, openly expressed, to avenge his death by annihilating the people whose treason brings forth and nourishes such monsters. Woe to the armed Rebel, now and henceforth, who makes the least resistance.
To illustrate the feeling of the men, I will write down an incident that occurred in our regiment. We have one reptile left, and only one, to my knowledge. When the news reached us, he was heard to say, with an oath: “I’m glad of it. If I had been there, I would have helped to do it.”
Before his words had time to cool, he was seized by the men near him; a tent rope was thrown around his neck, and he was hustled toward a tree, with the intent to hang him. The officers interfered, and sent him under guard to the “bull pen.”
Tomorrow is to be observed as a day of mourning throughout the army. Never was man more sincerely mourned than will be Abraham Lincoln, and in history his name will be enrolled beside our Washington.
