lame is already kindled.
The joy of harvest, the rejoicing of men who divide the spoil, the
boasting of them who can now put off their harness, need not the
stimulation of words.

The exact coincidence of raising the flag over Sumter on the
anniversary of its lowering was artificial, but the date of the
surrender of Charleston, February 18th, was just opportune to complete
the necessary arrangements and preparations without holding back the
ceremony, on the night of which--Good Friday--within twelve hours,
President Lincoln was murdered. Joy and grief were thus brought into
immediate and startling contrast. A perfectly natural and quite
impressive coincidence came under my notice in close connection with
these occurrences. I was at this time on the staff of Admiral
Dahlgren, commander-in-chief of the South Atlantic Blockading Squadron
during the last two years of the war, and accompanied him when he
entered Charleston Harbor, which he had so long assailed in vain. The
following Sunday I attended service at one of the Episcopal churches.
The appointed first lesson for the day, Quinquagesima, was from the
first chapter of Lamentations, beginning, "How doth the city sit
solitary, that was full of people!... She that was great among the
nations, and princess among the provinces, how is she become
tributary!" Considering the conspicuous, and even leading, part played
by Charleston in the Southern movement, "the cradle of secession," her
initiation of hostilities, her long successful resistance, and her
recent subjugation, the words and their sequence were strikingly and
painfully applicable to her present condition; for the Confederate
troops in evacuating had started a large destruction of property, and
the Union forces on entering found public buildings, stores,
warehouses, private dwellings, and cotton, on fire--a scene of
distress to which some of them also further contributed.[11] I myself
remember streets littered with merchants' correspondence, a mute
witness to other devastation. My recollection is that the officiating
clergyman saw and dodged the too evident application, reading some
other chapter. Many still living may recall how apposite, though to a
different mood, was the first lesson of the Sunday--the third after
Easter--which in 1861 followed the surrender of Sumter and the excited
week that witnessed "the uprising of the North,"--Joel iii., v. 9:
"Proclaim ye this among the Gentiles: Prepare war, wake up th