The life, crime, and capture of John Wilkes Booth,: with a full sketch of the conspiracy of which he was the leader, and the pursuit, trial and execution of his accomplices./ By George Alfred Townsend.

10 T Lfife, Cme, andl C(pt ure of AohA Wlke. Booth.
persons word of information, rode out through the alley leading into F
street, and thene tepidly away. His horse's hoofs might almost have
been heard anlid the silence that for a few seconds dwelt in the interior of
the theater.
Then Mirs. Lincoln screamed, Miss Harris cried for water, and the full
ghastly truth broke upon all-" The President is murdered!" The scene
that ensued was as tumultuous and terrible as one of Dante's pictures of
hell. Some women fainted, others uttered piercing shrieks, and cries for
veng,eance and unmeaning shouts for help burst from the mouths of men.
Miss Laura Keene, the actress, proved herself in this awful time as equal
to sustain a part in real tragedy as to interpret that of the stage. Pausing
one moment before the footlights to entreat the audience to be calm, she
ascended the stairs in the rear-of Mr. Lincoln's box, entered it, took -the
dying President's head in her lap, bathed it with the water she had brought,
and endeavoured to force some of the liquid through the insensible lips.
The locality of the wound was at first supposed to be in the breast. It
was not until after the neck and shoulders had been bared and no mark
discovered, that the dress of Miss Keene, stained with blood, revealed where
the ball had penetrated.
This moment gave the most impressive episode in the history of the
Continent.
The Chief tagtistrate of thirty. millions of people-beloved, honored,
revered,-lay in the pent up closet of a play-house, dabbling with his
cred blood the robes of an actress.
As soon as the confusion and crowd was partially overcome, the form
(if the Piesident was conveyed from the theater to the residence of Mr.
Peterson, on the opposite side of Tenth street. Here upon a bed, in a
little hastily prepared chamber, it was laid and attended by Surgeon General Barnes' and other physicians, speedily summoned.
In the meanwhile the news spread through the capital, as if borne on
tongues of flame. Senator Sumner, hearing at his residence, of the affair
took a carriage and drove at a gallop to the White House, when he heard
where it had taken place, to find Robert Lincoln and other members of
the household still unaware of it. Both drove to Ford's Theater, and
were soon at the President's bedside. Secretary Stanton and the other
members of the cabinet were:at hand almost as soon. A vast crowd, surg ing up Pennisylvania avenue toward Willard's Hotel, cried, "The Presi.
dent is shot!" "President Lincoln is murdered." Another crowd sweep ing down the avenue met the first with the tidings, "Secretary Seward has
been assassinated in bed.".Instantly a wild apprehenision of an organized
conspiracy and of other murders took possession of the people. The shout
"to arms!" was. mingled with the expressions of sorrow and rage that ev e'rywhere filled the air. "Where is G:,neral Grant?" or "where is Secret
ary Stanton!" "Where are the rest of the cabinet?" broke from thous.
ands of lips. A conflagration of fire is not half so terrible as was the
zonflagration of passion'that rolled through the streets and houses of
i Washington ori that awful night.
The attempt on the life'of Secretary Seward was perhaps as daring,' if
not, so dramatic; as the assassination of the President. At 9:20 o'clock a
man, tall, athletic, and dressed in. light coloured clothe3, alighted from a
horse in front of Mr. Seward's residence in Madison place, where the secre.
tary was tying, very feeble from his recent injuries. The house, a solid
three-story brick building, was formerly the old Washington Clubhouse.
Leaving his horse standing, the stranger rang at the door, and informed the
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