Carleton
walked amid the burning houses and the streets deserted of its
citizens, saw the entrance of the black troops, and went into the
empty slave-market, securing its dingy flag--the advertisement of sale
of human bodies--as a relic. During several days he wrote letters, in
which the notes of gratitude and exultation, mingled with pity and
sympathy with the suffering, and full of scarcely restrainable joy in
view of the speedy termination of the war, are discernible.

CHAPTER XVI.

WITH LINCOLN IN RICHMOND.

Whither now should Carleton go? There were but few fields to conquer,
for the slaveholders' rebellion was swiftly nearing its end, and
Carleton felt his work with armies and amid war would soon and happily
be over. He knew it was now time for Grant to deliver his blows, and
make the anvil at Petersburg ring. Eager to be in at the death of
treason, he hastened home, shortened his stay with wife and friends,
and hurried on to City Point. As usual, he was present in the nick of
time. He was able to write his first letter from the Army of the
Potomac, descriptive of the attack on Fort Steadman, March 25th. On
the 26th he saw again the sparkling-eyed Sheridan. Once more he began
to use his whip of scorpions upon the editors and people who were
bestowing all praises upon the Army of the West, with only criticism
or niggardly commendation for the Armies of the Potomac and the James,
with many a sneer and odious comparison. He witnessed the tremendous
attack of the rebel host upon the Ninth Corps, hearing first the
signal gun, next the rebel yell, then the rattling fire of musketry
deepening into volleys, and finally the roar of the cannonade.
Carleton, within three minutes after the firing of the first gun, took
position with his glass and note-book, upon a hill. One hundred guns
and mortars were in full play, surpassing in beauty and grandeur all
other night scenes ever witnessed by him. In some moments he could
count thirty shells at once in the air, which was filled with fiery
arcs crossing each other at all angles. Between the flaming bases, at
the muzzle and the explosion, making two ends of an arch, there were
thousands of muskets flashing over the entrenchments. Yet, despite the
awful noise and the spectacle so magnificent to the eye, there were
few men hurt within the Union lines.

After forty hours of rain, the wind blew from the northwest, and the
mud rapidly disappeared. Then Carleton began to