Soldierly courtesy.
Intelligence of
Lee's surrender reached us. Staff officers from
Johnston and
Sherman came across the country to inform
Canby and myself of their “convention.”
Whereupon, an interview was arranged between us to determine a course of action, and a place selected ten miles north of
Mobile, near the railway.
Accompanied by a staff officer,
Colonel William M. Levy (now a member of Congress from
Louisiana), and making use of a “hand car,” I reached the appointed spot, and found
General Canby with a large escort, and many staff and other officers.
Among these I recognized some old friends, notably
General Canby himself and
Admiral James Palmer.
All extended cordial greetings.
A few moments of private conversation with
Canby led to the establishment of a truce, to await further intelligence from the
North.
Forty-eight hours notice was to be given by the party desiring to terminate the truce.
We then joined the throng of officers, and although every one present felt a deep conviction that the last hour of the sad struggle approached, no allusion was made to it. Subjects, awakening memories of the past, when all were sons of a loved, united country, were, as by the natural selection of good breeding, chosen.
A bountiful luncheon was soon spread, and I was invited
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to partake of patis, champagne-frappe, and other “delights,” which to me had long been as lost arts.
As we took our seats at table, a military band in attendance commenced playing
Hail Columbia. Excusing himself,
General Canby walked to the door.
The music ceased for a moment, and then the strain of “Dixie” was heard.
Old Froissart records no gentler act of “courtesie.”
Warmly thanking
General Canby for his delicate consideration, I asked for
Hail Columbia, and proposed we should unite in the hope that our
Columbia would soon be, once more, a happy land.
This and other kindred sentiments were duly honored in “frappe,” and after much pleasant intercourse, the party separated.
