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.

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go Its thirttle. They were so placed as the victims should emerge from
the gaol door they would be seen near the stair directly in the line of
march.
And not far from these, In silence and darkness beneath the prison where
they had lain so long and so forbodingly, the body of John Wilkes Booth,
sealed up in the brick flro,', had long been mouldering. If the dead can hear
he had listened many a time-to the rattle of their manacles upon the stairs,
to the drowsy hum of the trial and the buzz of the garrulous spectators; to
the moaning, or the gibing, or the praying in the bolted cells where those
whom kindred fate had given a little lease upon life lay waiting for the
terrible pronouncement.
It was a long waiting, and the roof of a high houst outside the walls was
seen to be densely packed with people. Others kept arriving moment by
moment; soldiers were wondering when the swinging would begin and
officers arguing that the four folks "deserved it, damn them!" Gentlemen
of experience were telling over the number of such expiations they had wit
nessed. Analytic people were compariing, the various modes of shooting,
garroting, and guillotining. Cigars were sending up spirals of soothing
smoke. There was a good deal of covert fear that a reprieve might be
granted. Inquires were many and ingenuous for whisky, and one or two
were so deeply expectant that they fell asleep.
I-ow much those four dying, hoping, criinging, dreaming felons were
grudged their little gasp of life! It was to be a scene, not a postponement
or a prolotigation. "WVho was to be the executioner?" Why had not
the renowned and artistic Isaacs been sent for from New York? i" " ould
they probably die'game, or grow XweLk-kneed in the last extremity I" Ah,
the gallows' Workmen have completed the jobs! "Now then we should
have it."
Still there was delay. The sun peeped into the new-made'graves and
nlade blistering hot thegallows'floor. The old pump made its familiar
music to the cool plash of blessed water. The grass withered in the fervid
heat. The bronzed faces of the soldiers ran lumps of sweat. The file upon
the jail walls looked down into the w!de yard yawningly. No wind flut
tere4 the two battle standards condemned to unfold their trophies upon
this coming profanation. Not yet arrived. Why? The extent of grace
has almost been attained. The sentence gave them only till two o'clock!
Why are they so dilatory in wishing to be hanged?
Suddenly the wicket opens, the troops spring to their feet, and stand at
order arms, the flags go up, the low order passes from company to company; the spectators huddle a little nearer to the scaffold; all the writers
for the press produce their pencils and note-books.
First came a woman pinioned.
A middle-aged woman, dressed in black, bonnetted and veiled, walking
between two bare-headed priests.
One of these held against his breast a crucifix of jet, and in the folds of
his blue-fringed sash he carried an open breviary, while both of them muttered the servica for the dead.
Four soldiers vith musket at shoulder, followed, and a captain led the
way to the gallows.
The second party escorted a small and shambling German, whose head
had a long white cap upon it, rendering more filthy his dull complexion,
and upon whose feet the chains clanked as he slowly advanced, preceded
by two officers, flanked by a Lutheran clergyman, and followed, as his
predecessor, by an armed squad.
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