Harper's Weekly. A Journal of Civilization / Volume IX, Issue 437 / Title Contents
Harper's Weekly. A Journal of Civilization / Volume IX, Issue 437
New York: Harper's Magazine Co, May 13, 1865
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Periodicals
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Harper's Weekly. A Journal of Civilization.
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, MAY 13, 1865
SINGLE COPIES TEN CENTS. $4,00 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1865, by Harper & Brothers, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York.
PRESIDENT ANDREW JOHNSON.
Andrew Johnson, the seventeenth President of the United States, was born in Raleigh, North Carolina, December 29, 1808. His father died while he was yet scarcel
"The orders for the return of our troops have already gone forth and the columns are beginning to move."
We are marching home at last,
Now the cruel war is past,
And the time of peace draws near;
We are marching home at last,
Now the cruel war is past,
To the homes our hearts hold dear.
With our banners stained and torn,
That through many a fight were borne
Where death rained thick and fast,
Now our glorious work is done,
Now the Union cause is won,
of American history and biography — vitiates their political prognostications as completely as it has reversed her military prophecies.
* * * * * * *
"A Homestead act for the South would bring to Virginia the prosperity of New York, and enable Florida and Alabama to count wealth and men with Ohio and Illinois. To effect this end there will be no need of confiscation. In the unreclaimed or abandoned soil of the Slave States there are farms for millions of freemen. By small grants of land to
THE ASSASSIN'S END.
After eleven days had transpired since the death of the President his murderer, John Wilkes Booth, was discovered in a barn on Garrett's farm, near Port Royal, on the Rappahannock. Immediately after the murder Colonel Baker, of the detective service, set out to find Booth's hiding-place. He soon succeeded in capturing Atzeroth and Dr. Mudge. It was the latter of these who attended to Booth's crippled leg, and a boot with Booth's name in it was found in his possession. A n
BOOTH'S CAPTURE — THE ASSASSIN BROUGHT TO BAY.
was then surrounded. Baker and Conger went to the door. The former called out signifying his intention to have a surrender on the part of the men inside, or else a bonfire and a shooting match.
POST-MORTEM EXAMINATION OF BOOTH'S BODY ON BOARD THE MONITOR "MONTAUK."
He sent the young boy in to receive their arms. To the boy's appeal Booth answered with a curse, accusing the boy of having betrayed him. The boy then came out, and Baker repeate
are, and we want you. We have here fifty men with carbines and pistols. You can not escape."
After a pause Booth said: "Captain, this is a hard case, I swear. Perhaps I am being taken by my own friends." He then asked time to consider, which was granted. After a little interval Baker threatened to fire the barn if they did not come out. Booth replied that he was a cripple and begged a chance for his life, declaring that he would never be taken alive. Baker replied that he did not come there t
them he was a grave, plodding, careful, clever man, somewhat parsimonious as to his expenditure, provokingly reticent as to his private habits, and evidently bent on the accumulation of riches. They were about as correct in their conclusions as the conclave of cardinals which elected Pope Sixtus the Fifth for no other merits than his supposed age and infirmities.
Lost in anxious thought, William Trefalden sat at his desk, in the same attitude, till dusk came on, and the lamps were lighted in
BABY IS KING.
A rose-curtained cradle, where, nestled within
Soft cambric and flannel, lie pounds seventeen,
Is the throne of a tyrant — that pink little thing
Is an autocrat august, for Baby is King.
Good, solemn grandfather dares hardly to speak
Or walk, lest the sleeper should hear his boots creak.
Grandma is a martyr, in habits and cap,
Which the monarch unsettles as well as her nap.
Papa, wise and mighty, just home from the House,
Grows meek on the threshold, and moves
might not unnaturally think. No; I must write to him, and it had best be done at once. I wound up my epistle with the following eloquent and dignified words: "I can have no claim whatever to continue an acquaintance so formed, and I can only tender my grateful thanks for the warm hospitality of which I have accidentally been the recipient." The letter was sealed and sent, and I was left to speculate how it might be received. Would Mr. Hetherton vouchsafe a reply, or would he treat me with silen
PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S FUNERAL — REMOVAL OF THE BODY FROM THE CITY HALL TO THE FUNERAL CAR, NEW YORK, April 25, 1865.
The late Richard Cobden was the son of a Sussex farmer, where he was born June 3, 1804. Having learned the business of a salesman in the service of a City warehouse in the Manchester trade, he early removing to Lancashire, set up there for himself as a printer of calicoes, and, by his skill in suiting the markets and by his fine taste in patterns, became, in
THE CONFEDERATE STEAM RAM "STONEWALL" LEAVING LISBON HARBOR.
for truth. What Peel said of Palmerston, even Palmerston's more recent antagonists might have said of Cobden, "We are all proud of him." He was still sanguine of recovery, it is said; he made sure that a few days of warm weather would restore him to health; but the days of warm weather did not come; he gradually grew worse, and at a quarter past eleven on Sunday morning, April 2, at the age of sixty-one, he expired. The immediate
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LADIES — G
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