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.

The.zec.uo.
Judge Holt was petitioned all last night for the lives and liarties of the
condemned, but he was inexorable.
The soldiers who hung the condemned were appointed against their will.
I forbear to give their names as they do not wish the repute of executioners.
They all belonged to the Fourteenth Veteran ReserveInfantry.
Here endeth the story of this tragedy upon a tragedy. All are glad
that it is done. I am glad particularly. It hascost me how many jour
neyillgs to Washington, how many hot midnights at the telegraph office,
how many gallops into wild places, and how much revolting familiarity
with blood.
The end has come. a'he slain, both good and evil, are in their graves,
out of the reach of hangman and assassin. Only the correspondent never
dies. He is the true Pantheist-going out of nature for a week, but
bursting forth afresh in a day, and so insinuating himself into the history
of our era that it is beginning to be hard to find out.where the event ends
and the writer begins.
Next week Ford's Theater opens with the "Octoroon." The gas will
be pearly as ever; the scenes as rich. The blood-stained foot-lights will
flash as of old upon merry and mimicking faces. So the world has its
tragic ebullitions; but its real career is comedy. Over the graves c.f the
good and the scaffolds of the evil, sits the leering Mfomus across whose
ace death sometimes brings sleep, but never a wrinkle.
I
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