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.

Tu Ob0uwies at Waski sm.
urg, the m e which Mr. LUncoln aferward adopted. The aid * -k
to and fro, selected without reference to any association w ith the la t
ident. Their clothes are rich, their swords wear mourning, they go in
silence, everything is fimereal. In the deeply-draped mimors strae
mirages are seen, as in the coffin scene of "Lucretia Borgia," where all the
dusky perspectives bear vistas of gloomy palls. The upholsterers ma,ke
timid noises of driving nails and spreading tapestry; but save ourselve%
and these few watchers and workers, only the dead is here. The White
House, so ill-appreciated in common times, is seen to be capacious and elgant-no disgrace to the nation even in the eyes of those foreign folk of
rank who shall gather here directly.
As we sit brooding, with the pall straight before us, the funeral guns are
heard indistinctly booming from the far forts, with the tap of drums in tho
serried street Without, where troops and citizefs are form'ng for the grand pro
cession. We see through the window in the beautiful spring day that the
grass is brightly. green; and all the trees in blossom, show us through tnhei
archways the bronze and marble statues breaking the horizon. But there
is one at an upper window, seeing all this through her tears, to whom the
beautiful noon, with its wealth of zephyrs and sweets, cani waft no gratula
tion. The father of her children, the confidant of her affection and ambi
tion, has passed from life into immortality, and lies below, dumb, cold
murdered. The feeling of sympathy for Mrs. Lincoln is as wide-spread at
the regret for the chief magistrate. Whatever indiscretions she may havy
committed in the abrupt transition from plainness to power are now for
given and forgotten. She and her sons are the property of the nation
associated with its truest glories and its worst bereavement. By and by
the guests drop in, hat in hand, wearing upon their sleeves waving crape.
and some of them slip up to the coffin to carry away a last impression of
the fading face.
But the first accession of force is that of the clergy, sixty in number.
They are devout looking men, darkly attired, and have come from all the
neighboring cities to represent every denomination. Five years ago these
were wrangling over slavery as a theological question, and at the beginning
of the war it was hard, in many of their bodies, to carry loyal resolutions
To-d(y there are here such sincere mourners as Robert Pat.ison, of the
Methodist church, who passed much of his life among slaves and masters.
He and the rest have come to believe that the President was wise and
right, and follow hint to his grave, as the apostles the interred on calvary.
All these retire to the south end of the room, facing the feet of the
corpse, and stand there silently to wait for the coming of others. Very
soon this East room is filled with the representative intelligence of the
entire nation. The governors of states stand on the.dais next to the head
of the coffin, with the varied features of Curtin, Brough, Fenton, Stone,
Oglesby and Ingraham. Behind them are the mayors and councilmen of
many towns paying their last respects to the representative of the source
of all municipal freedom. To their left are the corporate officers of Washington, zealous to make this day's funeral honors atone for the shame of the
assassination. With these are spr'nkled many scarred and worthy soldiers
who have borne the burden of the grand war, and stand before this shape
they loved in quiet civil reverence.
Still further down the steps and closer to the catafalque rest the familiar
faces r,f many of our greatest generals-the manly features of Augur,
whose blood I have seen trickling forth upon the field of battle; the open
almost hardllqq cntour of Halleck, who has often talked of seiges and
a