The Last Full Measure

by

HONORE MORROW


                  CONTENTS

OHAPTER                               PAGE
   I SEPTEMBER, 1864                  461
  II ESCAPE                           467
 IIT MUDDLEHEAD                       476
  IV LINCOLN S FRIEND                 484
   V JOIIN SURRATT                    495
  Vl PERCHANCE TO DREAM               499
 VII SPREAD OUT1                      507
 VIE THE SAD LITTLE SONG              516
  IX EVIL FANTASIES                   522
   X ANNA DICKINSON                   531
  XI CHARITY FOR ALL                  538
 XII O MISTRESS MINE1                 545
XIII FONDLY DO WE HOPE                554
 XIV STANTON, THE LOVER               560
  XV THE ELEVENTH OF APRIL            566
 XVI IN GLADNESS OF HEART             575
XVII NEITHER LET IT BE AFRAID         582
XVIII                                 
APRIL TWELFTH                         586
 XIX FOR OFFENSES MUST COME           593
  XX FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES        600
 XXI APRIL THIRTEENTH                 607
XXII O MONSTROUS FAULT!               615
XXIII                                 FOR
THOU DIDST CALL ME!                   622
XXIV                                  
APRIL FOURTEENTn                      629
 XXV LET DOWN THE BARS                636
XXVI                                  THEY
PRAY TO THE SELFSAME GOD              643

460 CONTENTS
CHAPTER

 XXVII BRETHREN AND LOVERS             650
 XXVUI FATE                            657
 XXIX THE LAST FULL MEASURE OF DEVOTION"664

                     CHAPTER I
                 SEPTEMBER, 1 864

TT was a lovely day, though cool for September in Baltimore. It was a |
day on which one might well grudge a moment spent indoors. Yet ~
three young men remained crouched over a table in the all but de-
sertedbar-room of Barnum's Hotel for a long two hours of that
ambrosial afternoon, talking in low voices and drinking rum. They
drank a considerable amount in the course of the conversation but this
did not account fully for the excitement shining in their eyes.

 They were old schoolmates. Yet save for the liquor they were
consuming their meeting had no aspect of a class reunion.

 The delicate-looking one of the trio was Sam Arnold. He had served
in the Confederate army but had spent a long time in hospital, had
grown weary of the war and was living with his parents in Baltimore.
His face was intelligent with steady black eyes, full, well-shaped lips
and thick black hair. A dark mustache and close-trimmed beard made
him look older than his twenty-eight years.

 The smallest of the three men was Mike O'Laughlin. He too had
served in the Confederate army but the year before he had taken the
oath of allegiance to the Union. He now worked in his brother's feed
store in Baltimore. Mike was dark, with irregular features, large brown
eyes that did not hold one's gaze and lips inclined to twitch behind the
small mustache and fashionable imperial. He also was twenty-eight.

 The most talkative of the group was the man who drank the most.
He sat taller in his chair than Arnold and where both the others were
of an ordinary comeliness, he was extraordinarily and luminously
handsome. His face, smooth shaven save for a black mustache, was
perfect in its contours. His great black eyes were of a haunting beauty
and as he talked, a thousand varied expressions flashed in these and in
his voice and on his

 lips. He was twentyffix years old. His name was John Wilkes
Booth.                                         i

 It had been noon when they had seated themselves in the deserted
barroom, and conversation had been difficult for the town was rocking
with the salute of a hundred guns President Lincoln had ordered in
honor of General Sherman's march through Georgia. Sherman had just
taken Atlanta. The three young men had accompanied the booming of
the cannon with curses for Lincoln and his generals large and not
unobscene oaths which left no doubt of their political convictions.
When the salute was over however they brought their respective
histories up to date.

 Sam Arnold couldn't get a job and was keeping soul and body
together by working on his brother's farm. Michael O'Laughlin was
discontented. There was no future for him in his brother's store. Mike
needed capital.

462 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 But Wilkes Booth was already famous in the acting
profession. Women mobbed him at the stage door and
young college men kept the programs of his plays tacked to
the walls of their rooms and, he said, tried to imitate the
inimitable toss of his head, his graceful gasconading stride,
his delightful smile. Wilkes' mother had extracted a promise
from him which he explained to his two friends.

 "No, I haven't been able to shoulder a gun for Maryland,
poor dishonored beautyl All my people are staunch
supporters of the Union, I'm sorry to say. And my mother
made me promise when I thought it was only a matter of
sixty days before Secession won made me promise not to
fight against the Union. God, how I've regretted that
promisel But, out of that sacrifice has come a great good,
dear old friends! Sweating to find how I could do my share
has led me to the discovery of how to end this war at once,
with victory for the Confederacy."

Sam Arnold stared.

Mike O'Laughlin laughed. "You still do fancy yourself,
Boothl"

 Wilkes flushed and his eyes flashed. "I'll thank you both to
listen to me with civility! You're dull if you don't realize that
if the South's beaten, it means either extermination or exile
for every Southern gentleman. That shall not be while I
liver" He sprang to his feet and took a stride or two up and
down the room, dodging chairs and now and then making an
imaginary sword thrust, left palm in the air.

 The others exchanged amused glances! The same old
Wilkes, living in bravado! But he was always interesting and
they waited, with outward respect at least, for him to explain
himself. He returned presently, dropping into his chair with
graceful abandon. He took a stout drink of rum and then
leaned toward them and began a tirade that wiped all
interest from the two faces opposite.

 "Four years ago I'd have given my life to keep the Union
as I'd always known her. If one could just wake up as from
an unspeakable nightmare and know that the fearful scenes
never had been enacted! How we'd bless Godl That's true,
isn't it, old schoolmates?" He leaned toward them with a
smile of infinite sweetness.

His listeners nodded languidly.

 "I've studied hard," he went on, "to find on what grounds
the right of a State to secede can be denied. But I can find
none. The North is wrong, wrong, wrongl And I love justice
and right more than I love a country that disavows both."

 "Oh, come, Wilkes," protested Sam Arnold, "we've heard
this sort of gab a hundred times a week since we could
remember anything. Save it for Richmond. You say you're
going down there."

 Wilkes bit his lip but controlled his quick resentment to
urge, "Please don't interrupt! What I've got to say is
important. Heaven knows, no one is more willing to help the
negroes than I am. But Lincoln's policy is only preparing the
way for their total annihilation. And if Lincoln wins in the
November election, Southern chivalry will be annihilated
too. He's a curse

SEPTEMBER, 1864 463

to the worldl And yet, how I've loved that old Union flag
will never be knownl A few years ago, no country in the world
could boast one so spotless and pure. Oh, how I've longed to
see her break from the mist of blood and death that circles
round her folds, spoiling her beauty and tarnishing "

O'Laughlin slumped dramatically in his chair and Arnold
groaned.

 "I will be heardl" shouted Wilkes Booth, bringing a
surprisingly large fist down on the table. Then his voice
softened. "Old friends, I've found a way, a simple, bloodless
way to end this anarchy of death."

 "So you sayI" grinned O'Laughlin. "The insane asylums are
full of fellows who think they're God."

 Booth set his teeth and taking out his pocketbook, laid a
twenty-dollar gold piece on the red enameled tray which held
the bottles. "I remember your characteristics, Mike," he
snarled. "Let me purchase your attention."

 "Good boyl I'm all ears," chuckled O'Laughlin, but he did
not pick up the gold piece, though he drew the tray to his
side of the table. Arnold made a playful grab at the coin.
O'Laughlin ostentatiously imprisoned his hand.

 Wilkes began again, with increased earnestness. "To show
you how serious I am let me say that in order to carry out
this plan I shall have to give up my profession which earns me
twenty thousand dollars a year. I must give up my mother and
my brothers and sisters, all very dear to me though they differ
so widely from me politically. I must give them all up, though
to do so seems insane. But God is my judge."

 He had caught their attention at last. He gazed from one to
the other for a long moment, took another drink and then
whispered, slowly, "Sam and Mike, I am going to kidnap old
Lincoln and carry him to Richmond. There I shall turn him
over to the Confederate authorities to hold till the North lays
down its arms."

"Great GodI" gasped Sam Arnold, half in fear and half in
admiration.

 "I've heard that dream from many another fool," grunted
O'Laughlin. "Take back your gold, friend Wilkesl"

"You sneering jackass!" furiously from Booth.

 Sam rose, pulling down his purple vest and picking up his
little round felt hat.

"Don't go, Saml" pleaded Wilkes, instantly. "It's really a great
scheme."

 "And the drinks are freer" exclaimed Mike O'Laughlin,
refilling his glass.

 "Such being the case 1" Sam dropped into his chair. "But
you really have no outer skin, Wilkes. You must be the devil
to act with."

 "On the contrary, every one loves me," returned Booth,
coolly. "But I'll admit that I've brooded over this idea until
my nerves are set on hair triggers. I've just completed the
details and you are the first human beings to whom I've
breathed a syllable. You see how I trust youl I need help.
Loyal help. And I'm going to begin by sharing more than my
secrets with you." He placed another twenty-dollar gold piece
on the tray.

464 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 Arnold did not touch the coins but O'Laughlin dropped
one in his vest pocket.

"What are the details, Wilkes7" he asked.

 "Some evening when I'm playing on the stage and old
Abe's alone with a single companion in the President's box,
you two will be hidden in the passage behind the box. At a
cue agreed upon, the lights will be turned out, and you two
will enter the box and knock out Abe and his companion
with a blow from a black-jack. Then like lightning I will
clamber into the box {romthe stage. We will tie up both men
and leaving the companion to his fate, we will lower Abe to
the stage and rush him to the rear of the "heater. In the
alley I'll have a suitable carriage and horses. We'll drive
through Washington, across the unguarded bridge over the
Eastern Branch and down lower Maryland to Port Tobacco.
There a boat will be in waiting and we'll ferry him over the
Potomac. After that it will be simple enough to get him into
Richmond." He paused to observe the effect of this
statement on his friends.

 Sam was motionless. But Mike smoothed his little
imperial, took the gold piece from his pocket, kissed it and
shoved it toward Booth. The actor scowled.

 "Be patient, Mike," he urged. "There is more to this than
a personal whim. Last April President Davis appointed four
commissioners to live in Canada for the purpose of
cooperating with the Northern peace party. Nobody on
either side can deny that that is a laudable purpose, eh?
They have quite a perfect system of communication between
Montreal and Richmond, sending a messenger back and
forth through the lines and using the personal columns of
the New York News, which reaches Richmond regularly."

 "They're the men that worked on Horace Greeley and
would have got somewhere if old Abe hadn't played the
tyrant. We know all about them," said Arnold, impatiently.

 "Well, did you know this?" demanded Wilkes. "That
through Vallandigham of Ohio and other northern friends of
Secession, they've got innumerable groups within the secret
organisations of the Knights of the Golden Circle and the
Sons of Liberty, armed and officered to oppose army drafts
and otherwise harass the Federal authorities, so that the
morale of the people at home will be broken7"

"Yes, the 'Copperheads,"' grunted Mike. "Tell us something
new."

 Wilkes moved his shoulders exasperatedly. "I'm merely
trying to prove to you that I'm not on a wild-goose chase.
Jacob Thompson, one of the commissioners, told me,
himself, that there are in New York City alone, ~o,ooo
Copperheads in well-disciplined organizations. He estimates
that he has at least 60,ooo men scattered over the North
who'll go any length for the Confederacy. Thompson was
distinguished enough to be Secretary of the Interior under
President Buchanan. You certainly ought to believe him. If
you're not members of some such organisation, you ought to
be. I mustn't reveal any more to you but I'll add that I'm in
possession of

SEPTEMBER, 1 864 46 5

the cipher code used by Jacob Thompson in his letters to the
Secretary of the Confederate Treasury and by Mr. Davis, too.
I've recently had a long interview with Thompson and with C.
C. Clay, Jr., another of the commissioners. I dare say no more
at the moment. Now, will you two young nonentities
condescend to trust me and listen to my plans about old
Abe?"

  He had caught their interest at last. Sam Arnold now spoke
in his gentle way. "Everybody knows old Abe could be
abducted. I've often heard talk of how he could be carried
down to Richmond by the route the Confederate Secret
Service uses. It could be done, I reckon, if any one wanted to
take the risk. The absurd part of your scheme, Wilkes, is the
beginning of it. That theater business goshl" He shook his
head.

  "I agree with Sami" exclaimed Mike, for once making a
direct statement. "That theatrical background is just a method
for you to show off, Wilkes. You always were a good fellow
as a kid until your love of showing off got the best of you.
That characteristic, I suppose, makes a first-class actor of you,
but a poor conspirator. I'm all for doing anything to get rid
of old Lincoln, short of killing him. He can be kidnaped. But
you've got to catch the old flea when he's hopping from the
White House over to the War Building at midnight. That
would be a cinch. Then find an empty house in the
neighborhood and carry him there while another group
carries an imitation Lincoln off, rickety-cut, in a buggy. At a
suitable moment, the old fellow himself could be smuggled
across the Potomac. Plenty of loyal Southerners over there to
pass him along."

  "Yes, that could be done," mused Sam Arnold, twirling his
glass with none-too-clean fingers. "Or you could grab him and
his wife some day when they're driving out to the Soldiers'
Home. But the theater notion's no good. Even at that, I'm
not inclined to go in with you. The risk is too great. I'd rather
go down and join Uncle Bob Lee's army again."

"Me too," agreed Mike, lighting one of Booth's cigars.

  "What if I told you that there was big money in it,"
whispered Booth, eyes half closed as again he leaned across
the table. "Millions of dollars, to be shared by us three and
any others whom we may take in. The Confederate
government will pay that gladly."

"Prove it," said Mike, laconically.

  "I can prove it only if you'll believe what I say," said Wilkes.
"Jacob Thompson has deposited in his name in a bank in
Montreal, 65 million dollars with a commission from Jefferson
Davis to devote that money to furthering the interests of the
Confederacy in the North. Thompson told me himself that if
he could rid the world of the tyrant Lincoln, he'd consider all
his work had been done. Do you need to be taught to put two
and two together7"

  "Christ!" ejaculated Mike. His flippant manner left him.
"Count me in, Wilkes, if you'll give up the theater as the
starting point."

  "Look here," urged Wilkes, "if we're going to father the
stupendous event that ends the war, are we going to do it like
thieves? Nol Let it be openly, showing the world there's more
than one kind of a general."

466 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

"There's something in that," said Sam, slowly.

 "There is notl" grunted Mike O'Laughlin. "Come, Wilkes,
agree you'll try the Soldiers' Home scheme first, the path to
the War Office next and the theater only as a last resort and
I'll agree."

 Wilkes bit his lip and sighed, helplessly. "Well, I'm willing
to subordinate my original plan in order to bring in people
I know and trust as I do you two. But it's against my better
judgment."

 "I'll go in with you," drawled Arnold. "I'm dead busted and
that gold piece looks good to me."

 "I'm with you," said O'Laughlin, "partly because of the
money but still more," his face suddenly twisting, "still more
because I'm willing to risk my life to get my hands on the
bastard who's made it possible for a nigger to marry my
sister."

 The three exchanged looks, then Wilkes Booth rose and
led the way out to the steps of the hotel. The sun was
sinking and there was a locust shrilling in the tulip-tree
above their heads. The air was full of the smell of drying
foliage.

 "I must leave for Montreal, to-night," said Wilkes. "I have
a perfectly open reason for going as I'm hoping to play
stock up there. I'll see Jacob Thompson and Clay. As soon
as I get back, I'll get in touch with you. In the meantime, I'll
send you money." He waved a gloved hand toward the
southwest. "Well, confusion and damnation to old Abel I
don't think God can be cruel enough to the South to let him
be elected for another four years. But we'll get either him
or his successor to America's new throne. Fare-thee-well,
friends!"

They shook hands and left him.

                CHAPTER II
                  ESCAPE

ONFUSION and damnation!

   Abraham Lincoln at the moment Wilkes Booth was
bidding his  ~ friends good-by, on that exquisite
September afternoon, was talking to a committee of
Baltimore colored people who had presented him with a
Bible. The little group had waited a long time for him and
very timidly, in the reception room on the second floor of
the White House. They took it for granted that he had put
them off because they were negroes and were astounded
when he apologized to them.

 John Hay, one of the President's secretaries, came for them
just as twilight touched the reception room which received
none of the afterglow. He was an elegantly habited young
man with black eyes, a round face on which three dreadful
war years had etched premature lines, though they had left
intact the humor on the lips above his dimpled chin.

"The President will receive you now," said John Hay with a
casual nod.

They trooped after him in silence.

 The President's office was on the south side of the White
House, a room perhaps twenty by thirty feet. Its windows
looked out across the lawns and shrubbery, across the
marshes, across the Potomac to Alexandria and Arlington
Heights, crimson now in the dying light. The long Cabinet
table covered with a red cloth ran down the center of the
room. Between the windows was a bureau for state papers.
There was a sofa on either side of the room and on the west
side a marble fireplace over which was an engraving of
General Jackson. On the mantel was a fine photograph of
John Bright which the great Englishman himself had sent to
Lincoln. There were several war maps on the east wall. A tall
standing desk stood in the southwest corner. On it lay the
Bible, Shakespeare's Works, the Statutes of the United
States and Whiting's "War Powers."

 A long table desk was placed at right angles to the
southwest window with a chair before it so situated that its
occupant could swing round and easily reach the books Iying
on the standing desk behind. As the colored men came in,
Lincoln rose from this chair and came toward them.

 He had grown thin to emaciation in the three and
three-quarter years of war, this man who was six feet, four
inches tall but in his thinness looked taller. Still, he gave the
effect of wiry muscularity, not of attenuation. His loss of
flesh became his plain face better than had its former
meager fullness. Or was it a plain face? Certainly the bony
structure of the head was superb, as were the deep, huge
eye-sockets, the wonderful thrust of jaw and chin, so
adamantine yet so finely cut. Could a face be plain that
carried between and around the eyes and from nostrils to
mouth

468 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

corners those profound grooves which spiritual agony alone
could have cute "I'm sorry you had such a long wait," he said
as he shook hands with his visitors. "If it's any comfort to
you, I'll confide to you that the three Senators, two
Brigadier-Generals and the Secretary of the Interior who
preceded you, had a longer waitl And I've not had my noon
meal yell This, for met" as the chairman, a very dark man
with Caucasian features, placed the huge red plush Bible in
his hands.

 "Yes, Mr. Lincoln, sir," replied the man. "We couldn't
think of any other present good enough for you-all," and he
launched into a little speech of praise and gratitude.

 Lincoln laid the book on the Cabinet table and, keeping
one hand upon it, took a small paper knife from his pocket
and ran it through his hair. The thanks of colored people
always moved and embarrassed him more than any other. It
was hard when human beings had to thank other human
beings for the right to draw a free breathl He was glad when
the halting little address ended.

 "The occasion is fitting for a lengthy response to you, my
friends," said Lincoln, "but I'm not prepared to make one.
I would promise to respond in writing had not experience
taught me that business will not allow me to do so. I can
only say now as I've often before said that it always has
been a sentiment with me that mankind should be free. In
letters and documents sent from this office, I have expressed
myself better than I now can. In regard to this great book I
have but to say, it is the best gift God has given to man. All
the good Saviour gave to the world was communicased
through this book. All things most desirable for man's
welfare here and hereafter, are to be found portrayed in it.
To you, I return my most sincere thanks for the very elegant
copy of the great book of God which you present."

 He bowed gravely and stood with his hand still on the red
plush cover while the negroes filed out of the room.

 "The carriage is waiting to take you out to the Soldiers'
Home, sir," said John Hay.

 "I can't leave before midnight, John," protested Lincoln.
"Tell those fellows to go get their suppers and not pester
me."

 "Meaning the cavalry escort, I suppose," grinned John. "I
wish Mrs. Lincoln were here at this moment."

 "So do II So do I," murmured the President, turning back
to his desk, over which the doorman was lighting a lamp.
"Any news from General Sheridan, John?"

 "He's still chasing Rebels in the Shenandoah Valley, Mr.
President," replied John, cheerfully, as he sorted a new batch
of letters at the standing desk.

 "Thank you for nothing," grunted Lincoln. "Run over to
Stanton before he leaves the War Office and get the last
word, like a good fellowl Johnl" Young Hay paused by the
fireplace. "John, I think this was the worst of our four
summers here, don't your That newfangled device the

ESCAPE 469

Rebels have of wire entanglements before their trenches is
hellish. Yet Grant throws his men against them as calmly as
a woman shakes crumbs into a fireplace. Somehow, those
wires haunt me every waking moment. His losses are
crucifying. The only bright and cheering note in this week of
bad news was brought me to-day by Colonel Baker. I mean
the detective, Baker. He swears he's unearthed a plot of
Jacob Thompson and his gang in Canada to kidnap Stanton
and Seward and me."

 John looked steadily at the President. "What's so cheering
in the idea of kidnapingyou, sir?" he demanded.

 "Think of any one's wanting me that muchl" chuckled
Lincoln. "Anyhow, I don't believe it. But we keep a pretty
close eye on those fellows up there."

 "It's not a bit funny to the rest of us, Mr. Lincolnl"
protested John. "Not to those of us who love you and who
know that the fate of the Union rests with you and who know
how easily you could be abducted!" He strode angrily out of
the room.

 "Well," said Lincoln to General Jackson scowling over the
mantel, "there wasn't much comfort in John that time, was
therel"

 He returned to his chair and drew from a drawer a little
pile of bristolboard squares. He had found that he could rest
these on his crossed knee and write on them with less strain
than in the usual posture at his desk. He was preparing a
letter of thanks to the hundred-day troops of Ohio. It took
him a moment or two to collect his thoughts.

 The noise of Pennsylvania Avenue drifted through the
window. The remnant of cobblestones on that popular
thoroughfare added an irregular cannonading to the rumble
of heavy traffic that was not unlike the sound of battle
skirmishing. Dust settled on the cardboard. Mosquitoes
bunted

 The prospect of his reselection seemed practically nil. It
looked as if the North might turn heavily against him No
use brooding about that He wrote a sentence, paused and
threw down his pencil. Tired tired tiredl What would he
not give to be, say, on a raft on the Sangamon, floating with
the current, the smell of ripening paw-paws and of fresh
water and of goldenrod making heaven of the soft damp air

 Suddenly he rose and, with an air of combined guilt and
cunning decidedly reminiscent of his eleven-year-old son,
Taddie, tiptoed across the private passage to the family sitting
room. He crossed this and the adjacent guest-room to Mary's
room, and across this to his own chamber. Here he changed
to comfortable walking shoes, found his cane and then boldly
walked down the private stairs and to the front door. He
paused a moment on the steps and wondered if he ought not
to change his contemplated run-away into a call on the
Secretary of State. Seward was an excellent fellow but still
too wordy. That next dispatch to Minister Dayton in Paris
about the Mexican situation must be cut to the bone. "Least
said soonest mended" was the best rule on earth for the
conduct of foreign relations. Seward was always skating on
the thin ice of conversation. Only the most careful watching
thus far had kept him from putting his foot through.

47o THE LAST FULL MEASURE

  Lincoln wiped his forehead and replaced his soft hat. No,
he'd let Seward go, this evening. He started along the
bricked path which led west from the portico to the turnstile
letting into the War Department grounds. To the south, this
walk was bordered by a red brick wall which shut the
vegetable garden from view. To the northwest was a grove
of black walnuts and cork oaks planted by John Quincy
Adams fifty years before. It was a solitary, sheltered little
journey to the War OfEice and for that reason, Lincoln was
fond of it.

  As he moved deliberately along the path, he became
vaguely conscious that he had passed some one. He turned.
In the dim portico light, one of the two infantry sentinels
was standing at present arms and would be obliged to stand
there until the President returned his salute. This was one of
Lincoln's many reasons for disliking the guardianship
Stanton recently had forced on him. He sighed, then smiled
and taking off his hat bowed to the soldier. The soldier
returned the smile and Lincoln continued his journey.

  The sentinels by Lincoln's orders were not permitted to
patrol beyond the actual line of the White House structure.
So it was simple for him to elude detection, to slip into
Adams' Grove, to cross the grove, leap the fence and skirt
Lafayette Square without any one's taking alarm. Not that
his desire was to do anything less innocuous than to cover
alone the three miles that led to his summer residence in the
grounds of the Soldiers' Home. He sometimes thought that
being buried alive could be no worse than to live as he did,
forever under view. Frequently, he felt suffocated by its half
maddened.

  He covered the three miles rapidly and when he reached
the cottage where Mrs. Lincoln and Tad were waiting for
him, he silenced his wife's reproaches for coming alone by
remarking that he'd eaten nothing since breakfast. While
Mary was giving rapid orders for a tray supper, he sat on the
little front porch, rocking gently and smiling to himself. He
felt better.

  He insisted on having the tray on his knees with only the
light from the pallor window to see by and was eating
blackberries and cream when the Presidential carriage, with
its cavalry escort, swept furiously up the driveway.

  A man with a black chin beard and silver-rimmed
spectacles sprang out of the barouche and rushed up the
steps. The light turned the white streak in his whiskers to a
golden ribbon.

  "Hello, Mr. Stantonl Has Sheridan caught Early?" Lincoln
grinned at his caller.

  The Secretary of War stood speechless, for a moment. He
was hatless and wore a black alpaca office coat. His eyes
behind his glasses were furious.

  "By God, Lincolnl Is it nothing to you that you've taken
ten years from my life? How did you get here?"

  Mary Lincoln, who had been walking through the garden,
gathered up her billowing black muslin skirts and scurried
up the steps. She was very

ESCAPE 471

pretty. Her great blue eyes with lashes that an actress might
have envied would have given her beauty even had she not
been possessed of a fine blonde skin and of dimples that
flashed in her round cheeks when she spoke.

 She interrupted her husband's apology. "You really mustn't
speak so to Mr. Lincolnl" she protested. "You turn your care
of him into mere vindictiveness, Mr. Stanton."

 "I'm sorry you don't like my manners, madam," roared
Stanton, "but I know no other way to affect him. The times
never were so malignant for your husband! There are
thousands of people North and South who would rather see
him murdered than reselected."

 Mary, suddenly white, turned on the President. "He's rightl
How could you do this, Mr. Lincoln7 Was it fair to me or our
children since you won't recognize what you owe to the
country7"

 Lincoln looked at the Secretary of War reproachfully. "See
what you've done, Mr. Stanton7 brought war into my
peaceful home." He showed his One white teeth in a grin.

 Stanton tugged at his beard and his lips twitched. "If your
wife will agree to discipline you, I can retire with a relieved
mindl" he exclaimed. "I always have said I wish Mrs. Lincoln
were one of my generals. The war would have ended in six
weeks if I'd had a few fighters like her."

 Mary raised her eyebrows. "If that's your idea of a
compliment, Mr. Secretary "

 "Helpl" ejaculated Stanton, backing down the steps. "I've
got to get back at once, Mr. Lincoln. I'll borrow this vehicle,
if you don't mind. I leave him to you for correction, Mrs.
Lincoln. Don't spare himl"

 He jumped into the barouche and was instantly whirled
down the avenue in a cloud of dust. The cavalry escort
withdrew to its position for the night.

 Mary Lincoln watched the men maneuver and said in a
satisfied voice, "At least you're safe for twelve hours."

 "You're getting a mania on the subject, Mary," said Lincoln,
pulling her little hand within his arm. "Let's take a walk in
the garden."

 "We're going to stay right on this porch," she exclaimed,
freeing her hand to draw an envelope from her skirt pocket.
"Look at thatI"

 The President looked. Within the envelope was a card on
which a picture of Lincoln had been pasted. Some one had
drawn a rope around his neck and a few clever touches had
put into the face the agony of stranguIation. Crimson ink
made a horrible and suggestive splotch on the breast.

 Mary gave a long-drawn sob. "That was on my desk, this
morning! Abra'm, it kilt me to see these things. And on the
top of this you run away from protection just as Bob used to
when he was a babyl Just that childishly! The anxiety is
turning my brains"

 For a moment Lincoln saw red. "Good GodI" he shouted.
"What's that mail clerk doing to let such a thing get by himl
Why should you receive that thing7"

472 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "It's better for me than for your" Mary laid her head
wearily against his arm.

 "Nothing of the sortl Nothing of the sortl They don't
bother me in the leastl But why any one should want to
torture you that mail clerk will have to gol He's a fooll"
dashing the picture to the fioor.

 Mary was quick to follow her advantage. "Promise me
never to come out here alone againl"

 He looked down at her and his charming smile replaced
the indignation on his lips. "I'll promise, if you'll agree not
to let these maunderings of diseased minds upset you."

"I promise," she whispered with quivering chin.

Then they went into the house together.

 The following morning Lincoln took the offensive
photograph with him to the War Office, and while waiting
for Stanton to come in, he showed it to Major Eckert, the
Superintendent of the military telegraph. Eckert winced as
he gazed at the horror. He was a powerfully built man of
about forty, with a handsome smooth-shaven face of
extraordinary intelligence. He was directly responsible to the
Secretary of War who had made himself absolute czar of all
military telegraphic communications. Even the President
received no messages that did not pass through Stanton's
hands. It was at times a most exasperating arrangement but
on the whole a wise one, Lincoln felt, and so he acquiesced
to it. Major Eckert, as Supertendent, had in many aspects
the most confidential position in the entire war-service. It
was no less difficult because of Stanton's unequable temper.
But the Secretary had as much confidence in his
Superintendent as he had in any human being and Lincoln
trusted Eckert, completely, and liked him.

 "Major," he said, "I don't see how any human being could
be vile enough to send such a thing to a man's wife, do
you?"

 Eckert's clean-cut jaw set stiffly. "Yes, sir, I do. This war
has produced unsounded depths of villainy on both sides.
I'm ashamed of my kind." They were standing in the
cipher-room and the Major added as he walked toward
David Bates' desk, "That fellow whom Chief-of-Detectives
Baker planted for Mr. Stanton as confidential messenger
between Jacob Thompson in Montreal and the
powers-that-be in Richmond has already justified our
confidence. He notified us day before yesterday that
Thompson was going to send some of his henchmen to take
our lone-lore war boat out there on the Great Lakes."

"The steamer Michiganl" exclaimed Lincoln.

 "Yes, sir," nodded Eckert. "But we telegraphed at once to
Detroit headquarters and told them to warn the Michigan. A
fellow named John Beall had the job in charge for
Thompson. He gathered up about a score of trusty souls and
they boarded the merchant-steamer Philo Parsons as pas-
sengers, yesterday. It plies between Detroit and Sandusky.
They easily took the old tub from the crew, then in true
pirate fashion they sailed up to another merchant boat, took
off her passengers and sunk her. Next they

ESCAPE 473

headed for the steamer Michigan in Sandusky Bay but when
they saw the Michigan was cleared for action, they turned tail
and paddled for Canada and actually got there safely. There
was no one killed."

 Lincoln laughed heartily. "Well, I suppose that was a
defensible expedition under the rules of warfare! You must
thank our detective friend for me. Do you know him7"

 "Not personally but we shall, later. He will pass through
here with his letters and we may copy them if we wish.
They'll be in code but we've yet to meet a cipher our chaps
have been floored by." He waved a proud hand at the young
cipher-men, hard at work at their desks.

 Lincoln followed Eckert's glance admiringly as he
remarked, "Mr. Stanton says he wouldn't exchange his
cipher-men for the whole of the Union army and I don't
know but what he's right. I want to see that messenger,
Major, first time he turns up. What's his namer"

 Eckert whispered, "He has only a number here, Number
Seven. But his name is Richard Montgomery. He's highly
intelligent and adroit and certainly as brave as they make
'em."

"Must be," agreed the President, going on into Stanton's
room.

 It was not many days after this conversation that the towns
along the Canadian border were thrown into panic by an
attack on St. Albans, Vermont, a village about fifteen miles
from the frontier. On October 18th Confederate Lieutenant
Young and twenty-five other Confederate soldiers, not in
uniform, rode upon the town and attempted to burn it. They
used a chemical preparation, however, which failed of its
purpose in any wholesale way. Shouting that they were
Confederate soldiers getting even for Sheridan's campaign in
the Shenandoah Valley, the party turned the peaceful town
into a riot. They robbed the three banks of some $zoo,ooo
and seized all the horses to be found. They killed one citizen
and wounded another and then galloped off. A posse started
in pursuit and with the help of the Canadian police arrested
Young and twelve others. They were thrust into a Canadian
jail.

 The telegraphic news of the arrest of the raiders had
scarcely reached the War Offfice and Lincoln and Stanton
were holding council on it when Major Eckert broke in on
them with word that Number Seven had come in. Stanton
ordered him to appear at once.

 There sauntered into the room a short, slender man of
indeterminate age and of most ordinary type; brownish
whiskers, a brownish sack suit and cloak. Only his eyes, which
were deep grey or black, Lincoln could not be sure which
color predominated, told of a personality that must have been
anything but ordinary.

 The spy bowed and said, quietly, "I tried to get word to you
about St. Albans, Mr. Stanton, but I learned of it too late."

 "More of Jacob Thompson, eh7" ejaculated Stanton. He
suddenly lifted a tiny bottle from his desk and shook a few
drops of its contents on his beard. The odor of
eau-de-cologne filled the room.

Lincoln, repressing a smile, watched the effect of this familiar
rite on

474 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

Number Seven. Not a muscle of the man's face changed.
Poor old Stanton must be much perturbed. He only resorted
to eau-de-cologne when his nerve was shaken.

 "Not Jacob Thompson directly, sir," answered
Montgomery. "At least, one of the other commissioners,
Clement C. Clay told me that the scheme was all Young's
own. He had authorization from the Confederate Secretary
of War to organize a small company in Canada for special
service. Mr. Clay says he, himself, gave Young $400 for this
particular expedition and added his personal authorisation
for the attack."

"Now laugh at that, Mr. Lincolnl" snarled Stanton.

 But the President only sighed. "What can those fellows at
Richmond think to gain by such foolishness!"

 "Foolishness!" Stanton stared hopelessly at the President
and fumed to Number Seven. "Do you know of further plans
of this dastardly nature?"

 "Yes, sir, Rochester and Buffalo are to be raided, though
perhaps the jailing of Young may head that off."

 "I'll head it off, Young in jail or out," ejaculated Stanton.
He called in his secretary and dictated several telegrams,
while Lincoln sat on the old sofa ruminating on the general
cussedness of human nature but not deeply disturbed by
either Clay's or Thompson's efforts, which he was convinced
could do no real harm. Number Seven standing at the end
of Stanton's tall desk made entries in a notebook.

 Major Eckert came in as Stanton's secretary went out.
"We've deciphered this letter, Mr. Lincoln."

"Read it to us," said the President.

 It was a letter from Clement C. Clay to Judah P. Benjamin
giving a detailed account of the circumstances of the St.
Albans raid. He said that Lieutenant Young was well known
to him, that Young's heart was in the Southern cause and
that in burning and robbing St. Albans, he had acted in
accordance with Clay's instructions. But for the aid of Young
and his associates in their pending trial, he begged for
additional documents showing that they acted under the
authority of the Confederate States govemment. He had, of
course, he said, such authority, "but it should be more
explicit as regards the particular acts complained of. When
Young proposed passing through New England burning
some towns and robbing them of whatever he could convert
to the use of the Confederate government, I approved as
justifiable retaliation . All that a large portion of the
Northem people especially in the Northwest want to resist
the oppressions of the despotism at Washington is a leader.
They are ripe for resistance and it may come soon after the
Presidential election. No people of AngloSaxon blood can
long endure the usurpations and tyrannies of Lincoln."

 "We ought to be able to keep the original of that letter,"
said Lincoln. "If Canada is going to pemmit armed forces to
be raised on her soil and these forces to invade our territory,
it can be taken as a gross example of non-neutrality. This
letter, if endorsed by Davis, will be firstclass evidence."

ESCAPE 475

 Stanton nodded. "But we mustn't give Montgomery away.
He's too valuable a man."

 "Why don't you catch me, and put me in prison, sir?"
suggested Number Seven, coolly, "and after you've robbed me
of my papers, let me escape."

 "It must be done very carefully." Stanton grasped at the
suggestion eagerly. "We'll set Baker after you but not even
your sailors must know. How you'll manage the escape, I
can't see."

"You could " began Eckert.

 "Better leave the escape end to me," suggested Number
Seven, "the more sincere it is, the better."

"Return the papers, Major," ordered Stanton.

 The spy glanced at the clock. "I'll be at Surrattsville,
Maryland, in the tavern, this morning." He buttoned his
cloak.

Lincoln shook hands with him. "My hat is off to you, sir."

 "Thank you, Mr. President," said the man, simply, and he
followed Eckert from the room.

CHAPTER III

                MUDDLEHEAD

  HE next day but one, Mary called her husband's
attention to an 1 item in a Washington paper. A suspected
spy, it said, had escaped

    early in the night from the Old Capitol Prison. He had
knocked down a guard, gagged and bound him and had used
the guard's keys. The alarm had been given almost instantly
and the spy had been shot at as he ran across the yard into
the tree-grown street. He had been wounded as a splotch of
blood showed where he had fallen. But even at that the man
had escaped in some one's carriage.

Lincoln gave a chuckle. "By sings, what a manl"

 Mary looked at him disgustedly. "Sometimes, Abra'm, I
actually wonder whether you know there's a war going on in
this country or not. That man was a spy."

 "A suspected spy, my dear," said Lincoln, apologetically.
Then he laughed, delightedly, and left the breakfast table
before Mary could call him further to account.

 He did not see Number Seven on his return trip from
Richmond. Charles Dana, Assistant Secretary of War,
however, told him that the spy had been wounded in the
arm. It was a most realistic escaper Dana also showed
Lincoln the de-eoded copy of a letter from Jefferson Davis
to Jacob Thompson. " there is yet time to colonize many
voters before Nov. 8. A blow will shortly be stricken here. It
is not quite time. General Longstreet is to attack Sheridan
without delay and then move north as far as practicable
toward unprotected points. He will endeavor to assist the
Republicans in collecting their ballots. Be watchful and assist
him."

 The President gave the letter back to Dana. "Looks as if
Jeff was as worried about my election as I am!"

 "Mr. Stanton's comment was that Davis is an unmitigated
scoundrelI" smiled the Assistant Secretary of War. "One
can't imagine you stooping to such tricks as Davis has, Mr.
Lincoln."

 "Well," replied Lincoln, mildly, "I'm not as desperate about
Jeff as he is about met"

 "You mustn't ignore the menace in this, sir," protested
Dana. "Remember there are 1oo,ooo Sons of Liberty in
Indiana alone bent on defeating you by any method and the
North by any treachery."

 "Nothing could make me believe that 1oo,ooo Democrats
were disloyal to the North, no matter how they hate me,"
was Lincoln's reply vehemently given.

 He could not bring himself to take the Rebels' war behind
the Union lines too bitterly, however technically outlawed
were their methods; not

MUDDLEHEAD477

when their abortive efforts were consonant with Sheridan's
dreadful march through Virginia. That Jacob Thompson and
Company were not discouraged by the failure of their efforts
to date was proved a day or so after the President's
conversation with Dana when Seward showed him two letters
he had received. One was from the Federal consul at Halifax,
Nova Scotia, stating that Secessionists in that city were
asserting secretly that plans had been completed for setting
fire to the chief cities of the North on election day. The letter
had been turned over to Stanton and he at once had set his
telegraph operators at work sending warnings to the civil and
military authorities from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

 The other letter concerned the routine business of the
Adjutant-General of New York. The only bite in its otherwise
dull contents was in the post-script. "There is reason to
believe that Lincoln will be assassinated soon."

 Stanton was present when Lincoln read the missives. Under
the Secretary's stern eye, the President admitted that the
communications were disturbing. But, he insisted, the
country's and his own welfare were in the best human hands
obtainable, namely those of Edwin M. Stanton. He therefore
refused to worry. Stanton actually blushed, forgot his
proposed threats and the session ended in his listening with
patience not untinged by enjoyment to a long reading from
Orpheus Kerr.

 Just before election day, Number Seven slipped into
Washington and told Eckert and Stanton that the
commissioners were having trouble with the chemical formula
for setting the fires and that the incendiary attack had been
put off until Thanksgiving week.

 Extraordinary precautions were taken to prevent violence
on election day, November 8, and it passed with, all things
considered, astounding orderliness.

 After all, God was, as Lincoln believed, on the side of the
Union and he was reselected.

 On November 9, John Wilkes Booth registered at the
National Hotel on Pennsylvania Avenue and was as usual,
given the best room in the house. He had no engagement to
play in Washington, Wilkes told the clerk who knew him well
and was one of his ardent admirers. He was, said the actor,
planning a little vacation trip across the Eastern Branch of
the Potomac in lower Maryland. The young actor was very
restless. He took a drink or two and played a few frames of
pool, then sauntered out onto the Avenue.

 The November night was raw but the street was crowded.
Ambulances and army transport teams rattled and banged
over the muddy, rutted paving. Officers, whether on business
or not, galloped at breakneck speed. Wounded soldiers
moved up and down the sidewalks, loitering in the bright
lights of saloons and oyster houses. Women of the streets
plied their trade brazenly.

 Immorality and brutality were at flood height in
Washington. One of the bureaus of the Treasury Department
had just been cleared of the har

478 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

lots whom the bureau chief had been employing as clerks.
On election day, a well-known Senator had been knocked
down not far from where Booth was standing by a woman he
had outraged. Drunkenness in Congress was a common
occurrence. Cheating the Government was so prevalent that
Lincoln despaired of preventing it and Secretary Stanton's
gallant fight against army corruption far outweighed in the
President's mind any smallnesses of the War Secretary's
character.

 Wilkes Booth strolled or stopped to gaze as the whim took
him. He wore a soft white hat set rakishly on the side of his
handsome head, a black cape was flung Spanish fashion
across his chest and over his shoulder. He was the target not
only of the invitations of prostitutes and of the jibes of the
drunk, but of the delighted attentions of admirers, men and
women who shook his hand eagerly and asked him when he
was to play and what.

 To all the latter he made the same graceful bow and the
same reply in a carefully modulated voice: "I'm in quest of
relaxation now. A little later, Hamlet and Mark Antony. The
date not yell"

 Toward the White House end of the Avenue a marching
brass band and a long procession of citizens carrying
kerosene torches and transparencies shoved all other
pedestrians to the walls or the gutter. Wilkes Booth joined
the tail of the parade. Constantly growing, the line was over
a thousand strong by the time the north gates of the White
House were reached. The Cavalry Guards stationed at either
post made no effort to question or control the procession.
Indeed, it was well known that Lincoln would not suffer
them to challenge any peaceable persons who sought to
enter the grounds. The beautiful pile of the Executive
Mansion was dim against the sky. Some of the upper
windows were lighted but the lower floor was in darkness
save for the gas lamp which threw up in glowing relief the
chaste loveliness of the columns upholding the roof of the
front portico. The crowd packed itself on the lawn before
this colonnade and began to shout, "Lincoln! We want you,
Lincolnl"

 Wilkes Booth, silent but very observant, worked his way to
the inner pillars of the entrance. Here stood two sentries
and a doorman. Several persons ran up the steps and
entered the hall but a sudden cry, "There he isl There's
Father AbrahamI" brought them back. Booth returned with
them to the outer columns and followed the upward gaze of
the crowd. At the second story window above the main door
appeared the tall, familiar figure, the quiet face lighted by a
candle in the hands of eleven-year-old Tad Lincoln.

 Booth decidedly did not wish to hear the President's
speech. And anyhow, he had other business. He bit his nails
and started on a quiet prowl. The sentry walking slowly in
the shadow of the west wing did not challenge the actor,
though he saw him leave the brick path and cross the lawn
in the direction of Adams' Grove of walnuts. He was facing
the portico when Wilkes emerged from the wood, and
rounded the brick wall near the turnstile and so Booth
investigated the vegetable garden, unmolested, though

MUDDLEHEAD 479

he flashed a dark lantern from parsnip and turnip heap to
grape and peach growing thick against the wall.

  It was quite feasible, the actor decided, to hoist a man over
this wall from the path and to carry him thence across the
grounds southwest to 17th Street. A house must be found in
the lonely marsh-reaches of 17th Street with proper access to
the Potomac. Thinking deeply, Wilkes returned to the front
lawn and as he worked his way back through the crowd he
listened reluctantly to that deliberate voice which in accent
still was haunted by its Kentucky beginnings.

  " While deeply grateful for this mark of their confidence
in me, if I know my heart, my gratitude is free from any trace
of personal triumph. It is no pleasure to me to triumph over
any one. But I give thanks to the Almighty for this evidence
of the people's resolution to stand by free government and
the rights of humanity."

  Lincoln bowed and Tad, with a grin, blew out the candle.
The band struck up "The Star-Spangled Banner" and the
crowd, cheering and huzzaing, dispersed.

  Back in his room at the hotel, Wilkes lighted an excellent
cigar and poured out a stiff drink of brandy. Then he began
to study a map of Washington and of that portion of
Maryland which lay south of the city, separated from it by the
Eastern Branch. After an hour at this he rose and walking
slowly up and down the room began to declaim with faultless
elocution:

"Why, man, he cloth bestride the narrow world Like a
Colossus, and we petty men Walk under his huge legs and
peep about To find ourselves dishonorable graves."

 Then he stood for a long time before the mirror staring at
his own beautiful reflection.

 The next morning after a late breakfast, he strolled over to
a livery stable on 6th Street and had a talk with the owner.
He wanted to buy a couple of horses, he explained, which he
could use either for driving or

., .

rlcung.

 "Then you won't get nothin' much of neither," was the
liveryman's comment. He was a red-headed man with a
snaggle tooth which wiggled as he chewed and spat. "I keep
my horses to one job or the other. If you want a family horse
of that kind you'd get it over in Maryland. I hear there's a lot
of Secesh folks hiding good horseflesh. They might part to

you."

"What makes you say that, Pete?" demanded Wilkes, quickly.

 "I reckon I've heard you often enough to realize you'd
wheedle a dog to give up his tail if you wanted it."

Booth laughed. "You flatter me, Petel Where shall I go in
Maryland?"

 "Oh, cross the Eastern Branch and work southl I don't
know a living soul there myself, officially, so that's the best I
can do for you."

480 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "I'll try my luckl" Wilkes nodded. "But not to-day. Instead
I'll try one of these highly specialised nags of yours and view
the dirty city of Washington from its back."

 He was a good judge of horseflesh and after going over
the stable he rode forth on a gay little bay mare who was all
muscle and good will.

 Late in the afternoon he located just the dwelling for his
needs. It was known as the Van Ness house, built in 18~0
and now deserted. It stood on 17th Street, alone, and was
accessible to a lonely part of the Potomac. A story and a
half brick house, it had one marked peculiarity. The parti-
tion walls were of brick and those of the first floor were
continued in the cellar, dividing the under portion of the
dwelling into several unlighted cells. Nothing could have
suited Wilkes more completely. He rode back to the livery
stable, humming in the twilight, and gave orders for a horse
on which to ride into lower Maryland the next day.

 That night he again followed a rejoicing mob to the White
House and continued his investigations of the west end of
the twenty acres that comprised the grounds. And again he
heard that thoughtful slow voice from the upper window
giving to the milling crowd portions of the philosophy
wrought in his soul by the exquisite pains of his experiences.

 "The strife of the election is but human nature applied to
the facts of the case. What has occurred in this case must
ever occur in similar cases. Human nature will not change.
In any great national trial we shall have as weak and as
strong, as silly and as wise, as bad and as good! Let us then
study these as incidents to learn wisdom from and none of
them as wrongs to be revenged "

Booth grinned sardonically. "The man's uneasy," he said
aloud.

 He went directly to bed from the White House for he
planned an early start next day.

 He had not needed Pete's suggestions as regarded lower
Maryland. He had come down from Canada armed with a
letter from Thompson to a certain Dr. Queen near
Bryantown, about thirty miles south of Washington.

 He reached Queen's place late in the afternoon. The
doctor and his family looked the actor over and rose at once
to his charm. They asked him to stay over Sunday while he
searched for the horses and the farm he proposed to buy.
Wilkes was known even in this quiet back-country. That
evening he intrigued the Queens still further with
sleight-of-hand tricks and recitations from Shakespeare. And
on Sunday he went to church with them.

 After service, at the church gate, where the neighborhood
congregated for the week's gossip, Wilkes was introduced to
Dr. Samuel Mudd. Mudd was a tall, slender man of
thirty-five with fine ascetic features, keen blue eyes and
sandy hair. He greeted Booth with grave courtesy and when
Queen observed that the actor had brought a letter from
Canada, Mudd asked,

"How can I serve you, sire"

MUDDLEHEAD 481

 "By telling me where I can buy a horse broken both to
saddle and harness, yet retains its spirit," replied Wilkes
instantly.

 Dr. Mudd pulled thoughtfully at his reddish mustache. "I
think my neighbor, Mr. Gardiner, has such an animal," he said
at last. "If you'd care to ride to my place this evening, I'll take
you to him."

 Wilkes bowed and replaced his soft black hat. Dr. Mudd
returned the bow and replaced a shining stove pipe.

 That evening, Wilkes rode through the gray, crisp twilight
along the red clay roads to Mudd's house. It was a
comfortable white frame farm dwelling, set in brown herds
and surrounded by a split rail fence. Mrs. Mudd had cleared
up the supper when he arrived but in spite of his protest she
prepared a fresh meal. After supper, he sat with the family
talking brilliantly of his acting career. It was not until all the
others had gone to bed that he drew his chair close to the
doctor's and began really to tell his tale.

 He felt that he was not at his most debonair with Mudd.
The sensitiveness to opinion begot by his extreme egotism,
told him that the doctor did not like him. Why, Wilkes
couldn't imagine. He set to work to win this quiet, keen
gentleman.

 First, he gave the preamble which he had used with Sam
Arnold and Mike O'Laughlin. Leaning forward with the wood
fire lighting his beautiful, expressive face or pacing the floor,
big white fingers running through his hair, he made his
declaration of faith in the Confederate cause.

 When he paused, Dr. Mudd threw another stick of wood on
the coals. "Very pretty, my boyl" he remarked, dryly. "Now to
get down to cases, what do you want of me?"

 Wilkes bit his lip and had more than half a thought of
walking out of the house. But he needed Mudd, so he sat
down again and stretched his booted legs to the fire, saying
coldly, "I suppose you are at one with all of us in seeing that
Abe Lincoln is the backbone of Union solidarity?"

"Of what solidarity there is, yes," eyeing the actor keenly.

  "I propose to kidnap Abe Lincoln, take him to Richmond
and turn him over to President Davis as the perfect means of
giving us the victory."

"Will Davis accept him?" demanded Mudd, bluntly.

  "Will he not7 Certainly, he will accept him. If he has any
qualms, Secretary Benjamin will quiet them. I'm going on
Jacob Thompson's authority."

  Dr. Mudd, with nervous fingers on the arms of his chair,
frowned into the fire. After a long moment he said,
"Kidnaping is a dirty, dishonorable business."

  Wilkes' face went purple. "Is it as dishonorable as the acts
which brought this war on our beloved country?" he shouted.
"Could any act known to history outside of the crucifixion be
as filthy as Abe Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation? Come,
doctor, let's be frank. My honor's as dear to me as any other
Southerner's. But what does personal honor weigh

482 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

against the ending of this war? That's what I shall do, sir,
make an end of bloodshed in our lovely land.

"No more shall trenching warfare channel her fields Nor
bruise her flowerers with the armed hoofs Of hostile
paces, - "

 The doctor jerked his shoulders impatiently. "Oh, I'll grant
your intimacy with Henry IV as well as an honorable
purpose! Go on and give me details."

 Wilkes outlined the three plans clearly and succinctly.
Mudd, when he had finished, made a grimace of distaste.
"Because the North is bestial is no reason we should be.
But "

 "What is there bestial in my plan?" cried Booth. "I shall
give old Abe every care. Not a hair of his gorilla head shall
be harmed, I'll make his way sweet with myrrh and anoint
him with altar of roses if it'll ease your scruples, sir."

 "Don't be more melodramatic than you can help. Keep
cool, Booth," warned Mudd, "or you'll defeat yourself. A
conspirator must be ice. I suppose your two problems in
lower Maryland are to find the route and the proper people.
I will take you to Gardiner to-morrow. You can get a horse
from him. Tell him you wish to look at farms further south.
While you've been talking, I've been thinking of a family at
Surrattsville. The father was a stout Unionist but he died a
year or so ago and Mrs. Surratt and her son have dared
avow to those of us in the know, their equally stout
Southern loyalty. They own the tavern and are a
headquarters for Confederate loyalists hereabouts. John
Surratt, the son, is a messenger for the Richmond
government and must have a wonderful knowledge of the
country-side between Washington and Richmond. I don't
know whether he's at home or not but I'll make inquiries."

 He sat staring at the fire, thinking, Wilkes supposed, of
ways and means of helping him. But not so. Mudd suddenly
looked up to say, "It's an extremely risky and unsavory
business and I don't like it. Let's go to bed."

 Booth stared at him in silence and in silence followed him
upstairs to the guest-room.

 He bought a bay horse with one eye from Gardiner, the
next day, and went to Surrattsville which is about thirty
miles south of Washington. It was a rough, desolate hamlet
but the tavern was a comfortable-looking place and Booth
riding up to the door decided to spend several days there.
But the decision was immediately modified for the man at
the bar told him that Mrs. Surratt had just leased the place
to him and had gone to Washington to live. Wilkes sat down
thoughtfully with a bottle of brandy. The last three days had
taught him that it was going to take a great deal more time
than he had realized to mature his plans and, even were
they complete, the frightful condition of the roads must
prohibit any immediate attempts at abduction. Granted that
through young Surratt he'd be able to place relays of fast
horses along a carefully selected route, the mud

MUDDLEHEAD 483

would practically prohibit their use for weeks to come. He
had believed that by the middle of November, he would have
Lincoln imprisoned in Richmond. He now saw that this was
hopeless. He decided to spend only the night here, then
return to Washington and try to locate the Surratts. Mudd
must be beguiled into giving him the right kind of an
introduction. Patience! Patiencel Abe Lincoln's sort of
patience. And on this thought he slept. Nor was he troubled
by evil dreams.

                CHAPTER IV
             LINCOLN S FRIEND

   [HEN Booth, however, reached the National Hotel late
the next V V night, he found a letter which, once more,
unsettled his mind.

 ~ ~ The letter was from his brother, Edwin. Edwin was
going to give a benefit performance of "Julius Caesar" to
help raise money to erect a statue of Shakespeare in Central
Park, New York. The three Booth brothers, he wrote, were
to take part. Edwin would play Caesar, Junius would play
Cassius and Wilkes would play Mark Antony. Their mother
would be in the audience. What a moment for a motherl
thought Wilkes. The play was to be given on November zs.
So on November 15, Wilkes went up to New York.

 Major-General Dix, commanding the department of the
East, had been incredulous from the first about Thompson's
incendiary plot and so had the city's mayor. Both had tried
and failed to track the conspirators and both finally laughed
at Stanton's fears and warnings. After two weeks of excited
orderings and warnings by mail and telegraph, the Secretary,
thoroughly exasperated, sent Major Eckert to New York
with orders to "throw the fear of God into the damn' fools."

 Eckert reached New York late Thanksgiving evening and
the next morning set about his difficult task. But General
Dix and the Mayor were overworked and overstrained and
utterly fed up on false alarms. They declared that they could
handle any average riot but that vague notices hinting of
fires yet to be set must be ignored. How could the city be
better guarded than it already was against fires? If Stanton
had told them where the fires were to be started, they would
guarantee to put out the flames. Eckert understood their
position and was not unsympathetic. But he knew Richard
Montgomery, therefore he was in an advantageous position.
One who had heard Number Seven's colorless recital must
believe it. He told the two officials so.

 "Yesl Yesl No doubtl" shouted the much-hectored Dix.
"But where, where in this city of
half-a-million-or-I-don't-know-how-many-buildings are these
devilish fires to be set?"

 Utterly baffled, Eckert left the City Hall where the
conference had taken place. It was drawing toward twilight.
His first impulse was to return to Washington to learn if by
any chance Number Seven had turned up with further
details. Then with a contraction of his heart, he realized that
Thanksgiving week was half spent and that he dare not take
time for the trip to the capital. He decided to return to his
room at the St. Nicholas Hotel and make Secretary Stanton
a full report in cipher, asking for further orders. He boarded
a Broadway bus and sat with folded arms, oblivious to

LINCOLN'S FRIEND 485

his surroundings, a black cloud of dread befogging his keen
mind. Sherman's march was no such horror as this threatened
to be, he told himself. Sherman was not putting the torch to
dwellings filled with unsuspecting men, women and children.

 He moistened his lips and suddenly becoming conscious of
some one's gaze, looked up. Opposite him sat a clean-shaven,
shabby man, who seemed to be actually ill, he was so pale, so
haggard. At first glance he seemed to be an utter stranger to
Major Eckert, then something familiar about the fine, dark
eyes pierced through the fog of apprehension. He returned
the man's anguished stare and then recognized him. It was
Number Sevenl

 Neither man made the slightest gesture of recognition. But
when, a moment later, Eckert left the bus, Montgomery
followed him. They entered the hotel, the spy following the
Major to his room. Here Eckert locked the door, closed the
window curtains and lighted a lamp, while Montgomery sank
exhausted into a chair and began to speak.

 "I only found it out last night and dared not wire. There
was no time to use the newspaper columns. I was in despair
until I saw you To-night at ten o'clock the fires will be
started. The hotels are get paper, Eckert,  there are twelve
of them." In a weak voice he recited the names of the city's
best known hotels, adding Barnum's Museum, and several
"heaters and other places of amusement with a long list of
public buildings. "They're to use Greek fire. In the hotels they
will take rooms, pile up the furniture and at exactly ten,
squirt on the sulphur and phosphorus, lock the doors and
disappear. In the "heaters they'll work beneath the stage. In
the public buildings, clockwork. In the " He toppled over in
a faint.

 Eckert sprang to his aid with his brandy flask and in a
moment Montgomery sat up to say, apologetically, "I've
neither eaten nor slept for fortyeight hours. All I need is a
little food."

 The Major rang the bell and holding the door so that the
spy could not be seen, he ordered a bountiful meal. While he
waited for its arrival, he finished setting down Montgomery's
facts and when he had received the tray at the door, he left
the spy to his food and rushed out into the night. There were
four hours in which to prepare for the flames.

 With the list flung at them by Eckert, General Dix and the
Mayor rose magnificently to the emergency and when, an
hour later, the Major returned to his hotel, the buildings
threatened were already policed and fire apparatus in
experienced hands was waiting for the clock to strike ten.
Richard Montgomery had disappeared.

 The play of "Julius Caesar" had progressed to Ca~sar's
death when a shrill cry of "Firer" broke in on Mark Antony's
oration. Instantly the audience was in an uproar. A sudden
burst of smoke swept through the windows. Edwin Booth
Iying in C`esar's last poignant sleep, sprang to his feet and
striding to the footlights, sent his magnificent, magic voice to
the outermost doors of the "heater, hushing the outcries,
stilling the panic. As the people paused to listen, a policeman
walked up the aisle, toward the

486 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

orchestra-pit, proclaiming that the fire was in the adjacent
building, that it was under control and that there was no
danger to the "heater. And so the threatened catastrophe
was checked.

 Throughout the city, the story of the incendiary attack was
much the same. Soldiers, police and firemen by the
hundreds met flame and fear as they were born and
although in spite of their efforts considerable dollar damage
was done, no human life was lost. The net effect of the
attempt was to turn many erstwhile friends of the
Confederacy to contemptuous enemies.

 Major Eckert, feeling a decade or two younger, set out for
Washington on the following afternoon. He was on a
Cortlandt steam ferry, crossing to his train in New Jersey
when he picked up an envelope, unsealed, soiled and
unaddressed. Moving to the prow of the boat where he
could find solitude, Eckert examined the contents of the
envelope. He was dumbfounded to discover first a
photograph of Lincoln, with a noose around his neck, a
distorted face and red inkspots on the breast. It was a
precise duplicate of the card which Mrs. Lincoln had
received. As if this strange coincidence were not enough,
there accompanied the picture a letter containing minute
directions for the bearer's part in the burning of New York,
also referring to a plot to kidnap the President. There was
no name used.

 Eckert hid his find in his pocket and sauntered through
the boat. It was fairly well filled but he could see no
evidence that any of the passengers was conscious of having
lost something. The discovery was so important that instead
of taking his train, he returned with the boat to New York.
He at once sought the headquarters of the military detective
police and left the envelope with them after exacting a
promise that they would within the week, send it to
Secretary Stanton. Eckert had great faith in Stanton's
fertility of suggestion in the delicate art of sleuthing!

 Wilkes Booth had heard in Montreal of the schemes to
fire New York but absorbed in his own schemes he had
failed to think of the plan as a source of danger to those he
loved. He was horrified at the thought of his mother sitting
proudly and placidly in the Winter Garden while fire swept
against the very walls. It was, he told himself, another
example of what such despotism as Lincoln's could bring a
desperate people. More than ever he felt his duty to be
manifest.

 There was only one man in New York to whom Wilkes
hinted of his secret. This was his friend Samuel Chester, an
actor in Edwin's company. Wilkes told Chester that he was
not going to act in the North any more.

 "I've taken my wardrobe to Canada and from there, I'll
take ship and run the blockade into Charleston. I've got a
big speculation with a lot of risk but a lot of money in it.
Don't you want to come ink"

 "If it requires money," replied Chester, "I don't. And I've
got a family so don't expect me to take risks."

"I'll supply the moneyl" Wilkes took out his bill case.

 "Don't show off, Johnny Wilkes," grinned Chester. "I won't
be patronized."

LINCOLN'S FRIEND 487

  "Oh, go to the devill" grunted Wilkes and turned on his
heel. After all, he'd take no one else on until he'd met the
Surratts.

  He found himself feeling a little sentimental about his old
New York friends as the Christmas season approached. They
all loved him sol They were so proud of himl It was a pity to
think that shortly they'd all be hating him. The thought of this
hurt his vanity. If only they could be made to understand,
surely they'd not judge him harshly. He could say nothing
now, of course. But he could write, afterward. Or he could
write now and leave the letter with some one to be opened
when old Abe should be safely deposited in Richmond.

  He settled down in Edwin's beautiful library one morning
about a week after Thanksgiving and wrote a letter
embodying all the reasons which had proved efficacious with
Arnold, O'Laughlin and Mudd. It required hours of writing
and re-writing before he had completed the task to his own
satisfaction. Then he deposited the letter with his
brother-in-law, to be opened only when Wilkes gave him
permission to do so. This task completed, he began his
preparations for returning to Washington although he
promised his mother to be back in New York for Christmas.

  The attempted burning of New York appealed to the
President only as another example of what war can do to
human decency. War was the breakdown of moral law and if
General Sherman, that upright, kindly father of a family,
could put the torch to Georgia, driving whole towns into the
swamps, one couldn't be too nice in judging Jacob Thompson.
He was quite willing to admit that this war behind the lines
was illegal according to the laws of civilized nations, that the
citizens of the North had not turned traitor and were not in
the same class as the Secessionists and yet he was not willing
to agree that, if they identified the men who had done the
dirty work, they should be hanged. He voiced this
unwillingness to Stanton on the evening of the day on which
Wilkes Booth had turned his mad letter over to his
brother-in-law.

  "If if we can identify!" grunted Stanton. "You forget
Number Seven, sirl"

  Lincoln who was drooping over the end of the Secretary's
desk straightened up with interest. "So he's turned up againl
Where is her"

  "Came and went while you were visiting hospitals this
afternoon," replied Stanton. "Here's the trophy of his most
recent hunt."

  Lincoln put on his spectacles and took the de-coded letter.
It was from Jacob Thompson to Judah P. Benjamin, the
Confederate Secretary of State, dated December 3, 1864.

  ". . . I have relaxed no efforts to carry out the objects which
the Government had in sending me here. Money has been
advanced to Mr. Churchill of Cincinnati to arrange a corps
for the purposes of incendiarism in that city. I advanced
money to a Mr. Minor Major, $z,ooo in Federal currency and
soon after several boats were burned in St. Louis, involving
an immense loss of property to the enemy. Having nothing
else on hand, Col. Martin expressed a desire to burn New
York City. He was allowed to do

488 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

so, and a most daring attempt has been made to fire that
city but this reliance on Greek fire proved a misfortune. It
cannot be relied on as an agent in such work. I have no faith
in it and no attempt shall be made hereafter under my
direction with any such material. During my stay in Canada
a great amount of property has been destroyed by fire....
Should claims be passed at the War Office for this kind of
work not one dollar should be advanced until parties
concerned present proofs. Several parties claim to have done
the work at St. Louis, New Orleans, Louisville, Brooklyn,
Philadelphia and Cairo . . .

 "The nomination of McClellan, followed as it was by divers
disclosures, arrests of persons, prominent members, totally
demoralized the Sons of Liberty. . . . The vigilance of the
Administration, (Federal), its large detective force, the large
bounties paid for treachery and the respectable men who
have yielded to the temptation, added to the large military
force stationed in these States makes organization and
preparation almost an impossibility. A large sum of money
has been expended in fostering and furthering these
operations and now it seems to be of little profit.... I infer
from your personal in the N. Y. News that you wish me to
remain here for some time and I obey you. Indeed I have so
many papers in my possession which in the hands of the
enemy would utterly ruin and de" stray very many of the
prominent men in the North that a due sense of my
obligations to them will force on me the extremes" caution
in my movements . . . the attempt on New York has
produced a great panic which will not subside at their
bidding "

 Lincoln laid the shabby missive down and put his glasses
back in his vest pocket. "Small potatoes, and few in a hill,"
was his comment.

 "If I can lay hands on Jacob Thompson," said Stanton, "I'll
put him in a hell that will roast more than potatoes!"

 "I hope this war isn't going to blow out all the moral lights
in these United and dis-United States," murmured Lincoln.
Then he added clearly, "Don't let a desire for retaliation
taint your sense of justice, Mr. Stanton . By the way," with
a sly grin, "what are you going to do to the people who
planned to kidnap you, Brother Stanton?"

 Stanton sat down suddenly on the sofa. "Who's blabbed
now?" he groaned.

 "Hill Lamon told me," replied the President. "Since Hill's
come back from the front, he's done nothing but turn up
abduction schemes. That pursuit has taken the place of
music, the drama, politics, practical jokes and every other
side line with which he used to pass the time. What about
this young woman who was spying on you, Mr. Secretary?"

 "Nothing at alll Nothing at all," fumed Stanton. "Still they
might have got me, if you hadn't telegraphed me to come
back to Washington. You didn't realize you were playing
Providence to mel There is a Secession group with
headquarters across the Ohio from Steubenville. They've
kept a very pretty girl running back and forth with an
unsuspecting neighbor of mine in Steubenville, to keep them
informed when I made an anony

LINCOLN'S FRIEND 489

mous visit back home. Neighbor Burgoyne has regular
business in West Virginia and supposed the girl was teaching
in Ohio. She crossed on the ferry often with him. When I was
out there last month I was going to Wheeling with Dr.
William Stanton and they were all set for me, thanks to their
young lady spy. But you wired for me the day before I made
the trip. Detective Baker unearthed the plot two weeks later."

  "Why didn't you tell me so's I could return a few of the
compliments you've been paying me for alleged carelessness?"
grinned Lincoln.

  Stanton did not reply for a moment, then he smiled in his
turn. "Here's something else I wasn't going to tell you but it's
too good to keep as showing how different things look from
one's own side of the fence. A couple of weeks ago a group
of preachers, headed by the Rev. Byron Sunderland called on
me and suggested that if Jefferson Davis were captured and
brought here to the Old Capitol Prison, the war would end.
They offered their services personally for the abduction. They
were so insistent that I finally sent Colonel W. P. Wood to
Richmond to see if the project were feasible. He came back
last week and reported that the idea was entirely
impracticable. Davis is too well guarded. So we heard no
more from "

  It was the President's turn to interrupt. "Good God, Mr.
Stanton, don't tell me you countenanced such a plan for an
instant!" He brought his fist down on his knee. "You astound
mel You shock me, Stantonl You should have thrown those
fellows out at the first breath of their suggestion." He rose
and stood looking down upon the for-once-abashed Secretary
of War. "Nothing that's happened since I've been here has
impressed me more painfully than this. Is there no one whom
war can't contaminate?"

  He banged his tall hat on his head, twisted the grey shawl
round his shoulders and walked out.

  The following afternoon, Charles Dana, Assistant Secretary
of War called on the President. He was a heavy-bearded,
serious-looking man whom Lincoln never wearied of
reminding that he had been an associate of Horace Greeley,
the pacifist.

  Dana's eyes were twinkling as he laid some papers on the
President's desk. "Mr. Stanton says he's afraid to deliver those
in person, sir."

  "Don't praise me too highly, Mr. Danal I've never
succeeded in sup pressing Stanton for more than five minutes!
What are these? Must I read them?"

  "General Dix thought they were important enough to rush
them down from New York by special messenger. A woman
picked up these two letters from the floor of a Third Avenue
street car. They were dropped by a very handsome young
man, dark and well dressed. The woman reported that as he
talked with his companion, he gestured with memorably
beautiful white hands. I know you get many threatening
letters but one of these is so succinct we hoped it might lead
to your being willing to take on a personal bodyguard."

Lincoln sighed and opened the letter and read:

490 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "Dear Louis. The time has come at last that we have all so
wished for and upon you everything depends. As it was
decided before you left, we were to cast lots. Accordingly we
did so and you are to be the Charlotte Corday of the 18th
Century . . . Abe must die and now. You can choose your
weapons, the cup, the knife, the bullet. The cup failed us
once and might again.... You know where to find your
friends. Your disguises are so perfect and complete that
without one knew your face no police telegraphic dispatch
could catch you.... Remember, he has ten days. . . . Get
introduced, congratulate him, listen to his stories. Not many
more will the brute tell to earthly friends. Do anything but
fail and meet us at the appointed place within the
fortnight.... (signed) Charles Selby."

 Lincoln removed his spectacles and looked from Dana's
deeply concerned eyes out the window. He tried to analyze
his own feelings. There was no use telling himself that this
note didn't twist him a bit. It hurt to know a man could feel
thus about him. Must he for the next week or so look on
every stranger as a possible assassin? If he must, his
usefulness would cease.

 "Has this any connection with the photograph and so forth
Eckert found?" he asked, after a moment.

 "We don't know," replied Dana. Then he added very
earnestly, "Mr. Lincoln, won't you take these clews more
seriously7"

 "Nol No, Mr. Danal" exclaimed the President, "I dare not
take this sort of thing seriously. Here, leave it with me, I'll
attend to itl"

"And the private guard, Mr. Lincoln?" urged Dana.

 "Hill Lamon, since Congress took all the job out of the
marshalship of Washington, has nothing on earth to do but
to nurse me. He's equal to seven guards. Don't worry, Mr.
Dana. And tell dear old Stanton not to worry."

 Dana went out with a dissatisfied expression on his face.
The President picked up the letter to give it to the flames as
he had all other threats. But something unaccountable
stayed his hand. He folded the document gingerly and
placed it in an envelope on which he wrote one word,
Assassination. Then he filed it in the bureau which stood
between the windows.

 It seemed to Lincoln an inscrutable coincidence that as he
turned from the bureau, John Hay admitted Benjamin
Wade, a bitter radical Congressman, who had been trying
for months to oust Lamon from his job as Marshal.

 "Mr. President," began Wade, abruptly, "I have come to
insist that Ward Hill Lamon must go."

 "You insist?" asked Lincoln, mildly, eyeing Wade's
smooth-shaven, tragic face with interest.

"I insist. He's an enemy to the black man and you know it.
He "

 Lincoln let his anger take command for a moment. "That'll
do, Mr. Wade. Don't come to me with any more knocks at
Lamon. I backed him in his enforcing of the fugitive slave
law here in Washington. It was the

             LINCOLN'S FRIEND

only way I knew to show you fellows what that law meant,
under your very noses and force you to repeal the iniquitous
legislation. This is nothing but malicious persecution of him
by the Abolitionists. You should have learned a lesson from
Greeley. He learned his when the Grand Jury found a bill of
indictment against him for malicious libel of Lamon."

"Are you threatening me, Mr. Lincoln?" demanded Wade.

 "Take it as you please," replied the President, sternly. "I
understand you, fully. You fellows at the other end of the
Avenue seem determined to deprive me of every friend I
have who's near me and whom I trust. Now let me tell you,
sir, that Hill Lamon has been my friend since he came from
Virginia to Illinois as a lad of nineteen. He was my law
partner and rode the circuit with me. I know him, I trust him
and I love him. He's the most unselfish man I know. He's
discreet and he's the most desperate man in a fight I ever
saw. He's my friend and I'm his, and as long as I have these
great responsibilities on me, I intend to insist on his being
with me. I'll stick by him at all hazards. You can say to your
friends in the Congress and elsewhere that they'll have to
bring stronger proof than I've seen yet to make me think
Hill Lamon's not the best man I have around me."

 He paused. Wade's face was still implacable. Lincoln
debated for a moment whether to dismiss him or to attempt
further to reach his understanding He decided on the latter
and reaching out a long arm, pulled the bell rope by his
desk.

 "See if Mr. Lamon's around and send him here," he told
the doorman. Then, before Wade could voice his protest,
"You never met Lamon, did you?"

"I've never wished to meet the pompous fool," declared
Wade.

 Lincoln bit his lip but before he could remonstrate with
Wade the door opened and Lamon came in.

 He was at this time about thirty-five years old. He was six
feet two inches tall, broad of shoulder and slim of waist, with
regular features and a peculiarly noble cast of countenance.
The lips under the drooping mustache were clean cut and
very firm. He paused just within the threshold.

 "Mr. Lamon," said Lincoln, "this is Senator Wade. I want
you two gentlemen to meet each other. One time Charles
Lamb pointed to a man and said, 'I hate that fellow.' Lamb's
companion said, 'I thought he was a stranger to you.' 'He is,'
Lamb retorted. 'That's why I can hate him."'

 Senator Wade and Marshal Lamon bowed to each other,
but did not speak. The President, feeling like a schoolmaster,
went on:

 "What strikes me as queer, Senator, is that you whose
whole life is a sacrifice to what you consider your duty
should seem incapable of making allowance for the other
man doing his duty with just as much of a feeling of
sacrifice. Lamon is a first-class lawyer and a man of
education. He didn't want to take the job of Marshal but
back in 1860, my Illinois friends were convinced I'd need a
true friend, close to me, one who'd guard me with his life,
and cheer me and support me when I flagged. And they
worked on

49~ THE LAST FULL MEASURE

Lamon to take the job and, thank God, he took it. What
he's paid for it, nobody knows better than you, Senator."

Lamon moved uneasily. "Don't " he began.

 "I shall," interrupted the President, "do my best to make
Mr. Wade see you through my eyes. If he could have had
one day with us on the circuit!  I told him you were the
best man I ever saw at catch-as-catch-can. Only once did you
ever show scars of battler" He laughed with remembered
gayety, his face, so changed since the days of which he
spoke, lighting marvelously. "One day, Senator, during the
sitting of the Circuit Court in Bloomington, Lamon wrestled
at noon intermission with some fellow and got the seat of
his pantaloons split. Court was called before he had time to
change and he trusted that his coat was long enough to
cover the accident. He had to begin a plea, immediately, and
when he rose well, the coat wasn't long enough. All of the
lawyers were sitting round a table beneath the judge and
one of them quietly started a subscription paper to buy
Lamon a new pair of pants. It was passed from one lawyer
to another, each putting his name down for some absurd
sum excepting myself. I wrote that I could contribute
nothing to the end in viewl"

 He finished the story with a delighted shout in which Hill
Lamon joined. Senator Wade looked from the President to
his friend. "A very pleasing sample of Western wit," he
murmured. "I wish you good day, gentlemen!" He bowed and
jerked open the door into the reception room.

 Lincoln wiped his spectacles and put them in his pocket.
"Well, Hill, when did you return? And how is General Grant
feelings"

 "I got back about an hour ago," replied Lamon,
unfastening the long blue broadcloth cape he wore and
dropping into a chair near the President's desk. "Grant is his
usual quiet, sober self."

 "Is he whipping General Thomas on to pursue Hood
instead of settling in Nashville for the winter7"

 "Yes, sir, he's giving Thomas no peace. I'd say he was
really nagging the poor fellow. General Sherman's living
high down near Savannah. They haven't got any clothes
through to his troops yet but they're as fat as butter, and in
spite of their rags, they're the finest, toughest, sauciest lot of
fighting men I've ever seen. Sherman's as proud of them as
though he gave birth to every man Jack of 'eml"

 "Goodl Goodl But what of the country down there, Hill7
What of the plain people7"

 "Well, Sherman says his soldiers live on turkey, chickens
and sweet potatoes but that the poor women and children
are hungry. He tells them that if Jeff Davis expects to found
an empire on the ruins of the South, he ought to afford to
feed the people. He tells them that it's time they realized
war is cruelty and that you can't refine it."

Lincoln groaned. "Will it never end7"

 Lamon shook his head. "Not till Sherman and Grant do
their awful work. And the weather's so bad Grant can only
strengthen his lines and make an occasional demonstration
against Lee."

LINCOLN'S FRIEND 493

 "Another sweat of waiting!" muttered Lincoln. "I wonder if
the country can endure its I wonder if I've got enough muscle
left in my soul to back every one up."

 Lamon's clear eyes met his friend's. He did not reply to
Lincoln's wonderment but he said, with a little smile, "I heard
of a nice thing that occurred at Grant's headquarters, last
July. He saw bonfires blazing one hot night along the Rebel
lines and told some one to 'holler' over and learn the reason
for the celebration. It seemed that General Pickett, you
remember Pickett's charge at Gettysburg, had just received
word of the birth of his first child, a son."

 "George Pickettl I know him well. I got him the
appointment to West Point, the rascal, and he turned Secesh!
A delightful fellowl Welll Welll"

 "He was Grant's friend too, it seems, and also well liked by
some of Grant's staff. When they learned the reason for the
celebration they had some bonfires started on our side and
sent a note through to the Confederate lines. I made a copy
for you."

 With a very gentle smile he handed the President a bit of
yellow copy tissue and Lincoln read, "To George Pickettl We
are sending congratulations to you, to the young mother and
the young recruit. Grant, Ingalls, Suckley. July 18, 1864."

"By jingsl" ejaculated Lincoln.

 "And to do the matter up in style," grinned Lamon, "a few
days later, under a flag of truce they sent through the lines
a baby's silver service, engraved, 'To George S. Pickett, Jr.,
from his father's friends: U. S. Grant, Rufus Ingalls, George
Suckley."'

 "And those two armies locked in a death struggler"
exclaimed Lincoln. "What a wart What a wart Young
George Pickett with a sonl What a wart Thank you for
telling me, Hill. It takes some of the bitter taste out of my
mouth."

 "General Grant wants you to get down to City Point when
you can. Also he urged on me the necessity of your being
extremely careful of yourself. He says the end of the war is
now only a matter of weeks and that bitterness against you,
personally, is going to rise like a tide. He says you must cease
to send me on these errands which keep me away for months
or you must consent to a personal guard at your elbow."

 Lincoln tapped the desk thoughtfully. The idea of a man
dogging him was almost intolerable. But so was the constant
nagging of Mary, Stanton, Lamon and now of Grant. After
all, the war was nearly over and he'd be a free man againl

 "Arrange what will relieve your mind, Hill," he sighed.
"Only I won't have men in uniform and won't have them
insult people by carrying arms openly."

 "Thank Godl Thank Godl Mr. Stanton and I've had picked
men waiting months for this. I'll have one on duty in half an
hour. I'm grateful to you, Mr. Lincoln."

494 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "You dear damn' fooll" was the President's response as
he threw a long arm for a moment over his friend's
shoulder.

 Lamon's smile was uncertain and so was his voice as he
placed his dispatch box on the desk. "General Grant
wishes you to read and return these, by me. I'm willing to
go, now."

                 CHAPTER V
               JOUN SURRATT

TOT all the men connected with the firing of New York
escaped. During the weeks before Christmas several of them
were arrested.

    While they were awaiting trial, three Sons of Liberty
in Indiana were found guilty of conspiracy, insurrection and
violation of the laws of war and sentenced to death. The
judgment of the military tribunal which tried them could not
be executed unless signed by the President. When the papers
reached his desk Lincoln found himself the recipient of
violent protests and pleas from relatives and friends of the
men under sentence and he referred both the protests and
the papers to Judge-Advocate-General Holt, who
recommended death.

  Deathl The President, in the midst of a crowded morning,
glanced at Judge Holt's close-written conclusion only long
enough to absorb its purport. Legally sound, perhaps. But
Abraham Lincoln, the fixed center in a whirlpool of
destruction, felt his gorge rise at the thought of the power
his position gave him. Why should he deal death to these
men who, whatever may have been their designs, had failed
to kill7 If he ordered them to be hanged, then inevitably he
must order Jefferson Davis and his Cabinet hanged, when
the end came, as it must come.

  He placed the papers in his bureau and returned to a
report from the Secretary of the Treasury on a proposed
bond issue.

  "What," asked John Hay, a few hours later, "shall we do
with these petitions about the Indiana conspirators?"

  "File them," replied the President. "They can't hang them
until I confirm the judgment."

  John Hay grinned and obeyed. "They've caught John
Beall," he said as he returned to the President's desk. "That's
the fellow who tried to capture the steamer Michigan. He
was trying to derail an east-bound express train near the
Suspension Bridge at Niagara. He is a dirty dog. He'd have
killed any number of women and children."

  He looked at the President keenly, but Lincoln would not
commit himself beyond admitting with a nod, "Yes, he is a
low-down skunkl"

  "I wonder how much Jeff Davis actually knows about these
filthy little contrivings7" said John.

  "Mighty little, I reckon," replied Lincoln. "Of course, he
appointed Jacob Thompson and the rest of the gang but "
he paused uneasily.

  "And authorized the expenditure of moneys to destroy the
Northern morale. Well, what more do you want to
incriminate him7"

  "I'd want absolute and final proof," declared Lincoln,
crossly, "which we probably never will have." Then he went
on casually, "I'd like to have

496 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

seen those three Booth boys playing 'Julius Ca?sar' that
night in New York. Edwin tops the world I think. I like his
voice. The other two are only middling."

 "John Wilkes Booth is in Washington now," said John as
he laid the anal sheet of a document under Lincoln's waiting
pen. "I saw him drinking at the Herndon bar, yesterday."

 "I hope that means we'll have Shakespeare here too,"
inscribing his name with his usual unhurried care. "By the
way, what were you doing at the Herndon bar?"

 Young Hay returned the President's sly smile impudently.
"Sir, I was distributing temperance tracts!"

Lincoln's hearty laugh dismissed the subject of conspiracy
for the day.

 Wilkes Booth, coming out of the National Hotel that
morning ran upon Dr. Mudd who was hurrying along
Pennsylvania Avenue.

 "My dear doctor!" he cried. "You're the one man on earth
for the mom mentl I want you to introduce me to the
Surratts. You must have forgotten that you were going to
put me in touch with them."

 "How can I do that, at this time?" asked Mudd, coldly. He
was in riding clothes, his boots clay-spattered. "I want to go
change my clothes, Booth. Don't hold me, please."

 "Only to make an appointment, doctor. I have Mrs.
Surratt's address. They're on H Street, near 7th."

 "You mean they're in Washington? I didn't know thatl But
at any rate, Booth, I can't accommodate you. My brother
and I are here meeting friends who are going home with us
for Christmas. I've no time to spare." He turned to go but
came to an abrupt halt. "Hal Luck's with you, Boothl Here
comes young Surratt, nowl Surrattl Come here a moment!"

 A tall young man of twenty-two with a cadaverous face
ornamented by a little black mustache waved his hand. "All
hail, Dr. Muddl And Christmas giftl" He shook hands and
then introduced his companion, a stout youth named Louis
Weichmann. "Louis went to college with me and now boards
with us."

Dr. Mudd, after salutations, introduced Wilkes Booth.

 "I've seen you act many times, sir," exclaimed Weichmann,
"and I've always dreamed of meeting you in flesh and
bloodI"

 "You must have seen me as Banquo's ghostI" laughed
Wilkes. "Come in here where I'm stopping and join the
ghost in drinks and cigars."

 "Just so the drinks are spiritual but not unreal!"
volunteered John Surratt. "Louis and I are on our way to
buy a Christmas present for my sister but I suppose this
delay will only increase our generosity! Come along, doctor."

 They followed Booth to his room where he ordered milk
punches and cigars, stirred the fire to a splendid blaze and
moved chairs around the hearth. The talk was general for a
moment, then Dr. Mudd rose and called Booth into the hall
with him. For ten minutes, the sound of their
JOHN SURRATT 497

whispers reached Surratt and Weichmann. Then Mudd called
Surratt out, leaving Weichmann to listen indignantly to the
low murmur of a still longer conference. Finally the doctor
came in briskly but apologetically.

 "Too bad to leave you alone so longl Very ungentlemanly!
But Mr. Booth had some private business with me. The fact
is, he wants to buy my farm but doesn't want to give me
enough for it."

 Booth and Surratt now returned, full of apologies.
Nevertheless the three continued to carry on a conversation
in whispers, leaving Louis Weichmann to stare uneasily.
When the discourtesy became too much to bear he rose. Dr.
Mudd then ended the conference by saying:

 "Come over to the Pennsylvania with me, all of you. I must
attend to my guests but I want to talk to Mr. Weichmann."

 Wilkes put his hand on Weichmann's arm. "Walk with me,
my dear fellow, and tell me just how rude we are."

 The stout young man melted and the party reached the
Pennsylvania in great harmony of mind.

 Dr. Mudd's room was not so comfortable as Booth's. It
lacked the red window curtains and the armchairs. But there
was a good fire. Neither Mudd's guests nor his brother put in
an appearance. The doctor made no comment on this fact.
Perhaps he forgot it in the interest of his examination into
Weichmann's politics. The young man was working in the
War Department. He was a gentle-spoken fellow, of the
student type, preparing to enter the priesthood, when the war
should end.

 He said that he wished he could get a job in Richmond for
he was a Southern sympathiser. But that, of course, as long
as he took Union money, he was bound to play straight with
them.

"What are you referring tot" asked the doctor, abruptly.

  "You asked me just what my work was in the War
Department. Well, all I really know is something of the
military census."

  "In which I'm not interested," returned Mudd, promptly. A
moment later he murmured something to Booth about "a
weakling' and again the embryo priest was left to himself.
After a quarter of an hour of this, Weichmann again rose.
Surratt imitated him, remarking as he did so to Booth that
he'd be glad to go into the cotton speculation the actor had
described.

  Wilkes went to bed that night highly pleased with his luck.
Young Surratt had agreed to act as his agent in lower
Maryland, and would begin at once to investigate the best
routes for the kidnapers. Weichmann was an effeminate
impossibility Surratt, when Wilkes spoke of needing at least
two more men, spoke of one David Herold, an old
schoolmate living in Washington But Wilkes clung to the idea
of having an actor in the scheme, some one who would have
a legitimate excuse for being on the stage, if the theater
abduction came about. His mind returned to Samuel Chester
and he resolved to talk to him further as he was going to New
York for the holidays.

Shortly after Christmas, therefore, he called on Chester and
invited

498 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

him out for some drinks. They fortified themselves well in a
saloon, while Booth talked of his mysterious speculation and
the enormous wealth it was going to bring.

 Chester, a sad-eyed man of a cynical cast of countenance
spoke but once "What are the details7" he asked after
Wilkes had held forth for a half hour.

 But for some time, Wilkes held back. Conglomerate as
New York was of loyalty and disloyalty to the Union cause
and to Abraham Lincoln, still it was more difficult to reveal
his plot in this Northern atmosphere than it had been in the
Southern air of Baltimore. He continued to absorb brandy,
however, and in the course of a second half hour, had
gathered sufficient determination to lead Chester out of the
saloon and after looking up and down the street, to whisper:

 "I'm in a large conspiracy of fifty to a hundred men to
capture the heads of the Federal Government, including the
President and to take them to Richmond. There's literally
millions in ill I hope the abduction of old Abe will take
place at Ford's Theater, early in January. I'll be playing
there then and I want somebody to be playing with me
who'll help me. See7"

 "For God's sakel" exclaimed Chester, "I always feared
you'd go mad, like your fatherl What are you trying to dot
Ruin me and my family7"

"How dare you say such a thing to me7" shouted Wilkes,
fiercely.

"I've a notion to turn you over to the authorities," retorted
Chester.

 Wilkes seized Chester by the coat lapels. "If you breathe
it, I'll swear you fathered the schemel" he said hoarsely.

 Chester turned pale. Then he shook himself free. "Don't
ever mention this to me again, then," and he strode away.

 Wilkes stared after him in the wintry sun which shone
brilliantly on the drifted snow of 4th Street and cursed him
loudly and bitterly. But Sam Chester was quickly beyond
earshot. It was evident that Wilkes' method had been wrong
with his fellow actor. Well, there might be some one playing
in Ford's in January who would not be as stupidly difficult
as Chester.

 Restless and distrait during the next few days, he annoyed
and worried his family, particularly his mother. She tried to
beguile him into staying in New York but he insisted that his
opportunities were greater in Washington and early in the
New Year, he once more left his brother's house. But he did
not go at once to the capital. He stopped over in Baltimore
for a talk with Sam Arnold and Mike O'Laughlin. They were
very impatient and faintly derisive. He met their complaints
by turning over to them a trunk. It contained guns, pistols,
cartridges, bowie knives, a pair of handcuffs and several
false beards. The two men were to drive down to
Washington bringing the trunk in a buggy Booth had
purchased as well as a horse. Wilkes promised to meet them
there.

CHAPTER Vl

 PERCHANCE T0 DREAM                               ~

nOB LINCOLN had come home from Harvard for the holidays and [> his mother insisted that
he take part in the New Year's reception,

   which was always a great strain on everybody in the White House, with the exception of
Tad.

  "But, mother, I wouldn't lessen the strain for you and father," Bob protested at breakfast the
morning of the reception.

  "Perhaps not but it'll help you to overcome your shyness and also it will feed my vanity,"
replied his mother. "You've grown very handsome, my son."

  Lincoln gave a delighted laugh and looked from Mary to her boy. He thought Bob was the
image of his mother although Mary insisted that in the last year the young man had taken on
a more pronounced look of his father. The President was sincerely thankful that in all four of
their sons, Mary's pretty contours had softened and beautified his own physical contributions.
In Bob, the combination of Lincoln and Todd was singularly felicitous. The length of Lincoln's
jaw and the hollows in his cheeks were reduced by a fining of the firm chin, a lessening of the
high cheek bones, with a closer chiseling of the wide mouth. It was a charming boy's face with
enough of the father's melancholy cast to give it strength.

  "The fact is, mother," muttered Bob, staring at the bowl of blue hyacinths which graced the
breakfast table, "I'm helping Mrs. Harlan with her reception."

His mother and father exchanged glances.

  "Huml" murmured Lincoln. "I always did dote on the name Mary. Prettiest name in the world
for a woman."

  Bob blushed and when Tad giggled he said fiercely, "You have the manners of a chimpanzee,
Tadl"

  "Now don't start a quarrel, boysl" protested their mother. "Well," thoughtfully, "I'll be satisfied
with an hour of your valuable time, then."

"Thank you, mother!" Bob sighed with relief.

  "He's in a soft mood and actually overcome with gratitude and surprise at your leniency,
Maryl" smiled Lincoln. "You could have got two hours out of him just as easy."

Bob grinned. "Quit kicking the table-leg, Tad."

  Tad raised a round face from his bowl of mush, his blue eyes indignant. "You 'tend to you'
gels and I'll 'tend to my legs, Bob. Ma'y Ha'lan has got a lot of beaux besides you."

  "Don't repeat gossip, Tad," his mother admonished him sharply as she rose from the table.
"I do wish you'd make a real effort to pronounce your it's, my dear. You'll be twelve in April."

500 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "Oh, let him alone, mother!" protested the President, rising
also. "Come on, Tad, before they begin to abuse you."

 "I don't mind a fight with Bob," returned the little boy,
taking a second helping of mush.

 Lincoln warmed his hands at the blazing fire for a
moment, then went upstairs to his office He was smiling not
only at Tad's retort but at the thought of Bob and dear little
Mary Harlan. Nothing would please him more than Bob's
marrying young and marrying this daughter of Senator
Harlan.

 The President had a great admiration for James Harlan of
Iowa who had been a teacher, a lawyer and a college
president and possessed all the educational qualifications of
which Lincoln never ceased to mourn the lack. As a member
of Congress, Harlan had been harshly critical of the
President many times but Lincoln was convinced that the
Iowa man liked him. This was so rare a conviction for the
President with regard to the feeling of any Congressman
toward him that it was a very precious possession, although
he had not the affection for Harlan that he had for Sumner
nor could he be the friend of his heart as was Hill Lamon.
Harlan had agreed that later in the spring he would take
office in the Cabinet as Secretary of the Interior.

 At noon, the White House was thrown open to the public
and all day long, Lincoln greeted people, now with his right,
now with his left hand. Different shifts of friends and
officials stood in the reception line with the President and
his wife during the long hours. Senator Harlan and Mrs.
Harlan alternated with Secretary Welles and Mrs. Welles.
Mr. Frederick Seward relieved Speaker Colfax. Any and
every friend whom Lincoln could persuade to help, literally
lent a hand.

 Something over five thousand citizens greeted the
President during the levee. People in general paid more
attention to Mary than to her husband. She was very
handsomely dressed in a deep purple brocade with an ex-
quisite black lace shawl over her shoulders. She was
vivacious and eager while he in very weariness could only
permit his helpless fingers to be crushed by hand after hand.
He insisted that Mary should not suffer this imposition but
only bow her greetings.

 As the day wore on the throng grew rough and it required
all of Marshal Lamon's skill and strength, with the help of
both the infantry and unmounted cavalry guards to steer the
lines past the hosts and out at the great window from which
a gang plank led to the lawns. Late in the afternoon when
the crowding was at its height and Lincoln was ready to drop
with exhaustion, a voice reached him out of the medley of
sounds.

"Did you bring any mail out to-day, Abe?"

 He focused his gaze on the face below him wrinkled,
strangely changed and yet, he knew it. He put a hand on the
old man's bent shoulder.

"Zack Simpson, by lingo"

 The farmer grinned delightedly. "Yes, Mr. Lincoln and
here's Alliel" pulling forward a tiny old lady whose black
bonnet had been knocked askew.


"PERCHANCE TO DREAM" 501

 Lincoln deliberately turned his back on the milling crowd,
drawing the old couple around with him, while he smiled into
their delighted faces. -A little held bordered by walnut trees
and paw-paw thickets suddenly shut out the East Room.
"Zack," said Lincoln, "is the old farm the same7"

 "Just the same, sir." The watering faded eyes twinkled. "And
now I'll ask you the question that's been bothering me for
over thirty years. What did you do with the whetstone you
took out of the shed when you mowed the ten-acre lot for
me?"

 Lincoln closed his eyes. That ten-acre lot which edged the
creekl He spoke after a moment. "Zack, if you'll cross that
field to the north-east corner you'll find the whetstone just
where I left it in a crotch of one of the posts."

"I'll go home and look for it and if I find it, shall I let you
know, sir?"

 "Do! Dol" exclaimed Lincoln. "Thank your" He stooped and
kissed Allie's cheek and turned back to the impatient line
with a smile that did not fade for a long time.

 There was one other iridescent moment in the day. This
was long after when the crowd had all but disappeared and
Bob, in irreproachable broadcloth, gravely approached with
a slip of a girl in white silk ruffles hanging on his arm.

 "Well, Maryl Sweet Mary of Argylel Did you ever hear
Lamon sing that ballads" asked the President, bowing over the
little white-gloved hand.

 "Not yet, Mr. Lincoln," replied Mary Harlan, sweeping a
perfect curtsey, her flounces billowing like a wind-blown daisy
field.

 It was curious, thought Lincoln, that her delicate features
could be so reminiscent of her father's heroic mold. The same
large clear eyes, the same broad brow, at least what one
could see of it beneath the hair parted thick over the temples.
He told himself he never had seen so sweet an expression on
a woman's face.

 "I've found the source of that quotation I made to you, sir,
the other day," said Mary.

"The one about lilacs?" asked the President.

 She nodded her head and said softly while Bob watched
her, his heart in his eyes, and Lincoln listened, his face
infinitely wistful:

"'There was a child went forth every day And the hrst object
he looked upon, that object he became  The early lilacs
became part of this child, And the grass and white and red
morning glories  And white and red clover and the song
of the phcebe-bird.'

It's Walt Whitman's from 'Leaves of Grass."'

 "Good heavens!" exclaimed Bob, "does your father know
there's a copy of that book in his housel"

 "My mother does," replied Mary demurely. "It's a great
poem, Mr. Lincoln. I'll recite more of it to you on a better
occasion."

 The President smiled his thanks and the two having done
their duty departed.

502 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 As Lincoln, several hours later, crossed the East Room to
make his way toward the family staircase, he observed two
of the guards and Hill Lamon in acrimonious conversation
with an elegantly dressed young man whom Lincoln thought
he'd seen somewhere. He was too tired to investigate at the
moment but when Hill came to his office shortly Lincoln
said, "Who was the fellow you were arguing with, down
below? I had half a notion to tell you I'd say Howdy to him
and save you trouble."

 "It was one of the Booth brothers, John Wilkes," replied
Lamon. "He'd been drinking heavily. I didn't want the ladies
to see him. A nice fellow but he's been hanging around
Washington off and on for months in idleness."

 "I hear Edwin Forrest is going to play 'Richelieu,"' said
Lincoln. "Booth will probably act in his company. I want to
see 'Richelieu."'

 "When you go, Mr. Lincoln, don't let the date be known
ahead of time. My detectives have just discovered that the
organisation which came into being five years ago to kidnap
President Buchanan is still in existence as an apparently
harmless drinking club."

 Lincoln ran his fingers through his hair impatiently. "I've
given Blair his permit to go down to Richmond and satisfy
himself as to what kind of a peace Jeff Davis thinks he can
get."

 Lamon sighed. "But you will not let the date of your
theater visit be known, will you, sir?"

 The President shook his head. His mind had left
"Richelieu" and it was less on Blair than it was on the
Thirteenth Amendment which was to come before the
Senate again on January 6th. He was worried lest Charles
Sumner delay again its long-delayed passage by being too
finicky over the wording.

"As a matter of fact," he said aloud, "it couldn't be phrased
better."

"Oh?" ejaculated Lamon. "What's that?"

Lincoln said slowly,

 "Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude except as a
punishment for crime whereof they shall have been duly
convicted shall exist within the United States or any place
subject to their jurisdiction. Nothing could bite closer than
that. Sumner must stand aside. The old juggernaut of anti-
slavery is on the final lap of its fearful journey. I advise
Sumner to get aboard or to stand away from the wheels. But
moving him is like trying to move an elephant by the laying
on of hands."

 He picked up his pen to write a note of condolence to
Chief Justice Chase who had lost his sister but his mind was
still ruminating with pleasure on the Amendment. "A
question might be raised whether or not the Emancipation
Proclamation was legally valid. But this Amendment is a
king's cure-all for all the evils. It winds the whole thing
up. Well, Hill, to-morrow's Cabinet day and I've got to
work till midnight going over some decisions on cotton cases
Father Welles is pressing me for. Even the navy is entangled
in that devilish fluff. What do you want, Hill?"

 "In other words, will I nimbly remove myself," said the
younger man, rising wearily from his place before the fire.

"PERCHANCE TO DREAM" 503

  "Not till you tell me what brought you here. I can see
there's something bothering you, my boy."

  "There is, but you're too tired to take it up, to-night."
Lamon began to move toward the door.

  "Wait, Hilll You know I never have a free moment and this
is as good a time as another. Out with your trouble." Lincoln
laid down his pen and smiled at his friend.

  Lamon bit his lip, folded his blue broadcloth arms for a
moment in thought, kicked the fire with an elegantly polished
boot and said in his low-pitched Virginian voice, "Well, the
New York World is still harping on the alleged Antietam
episode. It's repeated the dirty lie daily for three months and
other papers are almost as bad. For heaven's sake, for your
family's sake, let me deny it."

  "Let's see," mused Lincoln, doing his best to clear his mind
of the heavier problems, for he knew this matter concerned
Lamon's reputation as well as his own. "Let's see, the theme
of that particular lie is to the effect that when I was visiting
the battlefield of Antietam, we made a special trip in an
ambulance to see the carnage, accompanied by McClellan.
That as we passed the heaps of unburied dead, I slapped you
on the knee and asked you to sing 'Picayune Butler' and it
was only McClellan's decency that headed you off."

  "That's the original lie, but it's grown in two years."
Lamon's face was flushed, painfully. "I don't care so much
about myself but how can any one knowing what you
endure " He gulped and went on more calmly. "The latest
addition is this bit of doggerel

"Abe may crack his jolly jokes
 O'er bloody fields of stricken battle
 While yet the ebbing life-tide smokes
 From men that died like butchered cattle.
 He eter yet the guns grow cold,
 To pimps and pets may crack his stories "

  Lincoln raised a thin, protesting hand. "That's enough,
Hilll" He felt nauseated, but after a moment he said, quietly,
"Write down the plain facts, Hill. It was sixteen days after the
battle. The dead were all buried. . . . No, there'll be too
much vinegar and gall in your wording of it. I'll write it for
you . . . Iet's see. On that drive over to review General
Porter's troops, I did ask you to sing me my sad little song.
And you did sing it, but we were not on the battlefield, of
course."

  He pulled a sheet of paper toward him and slowly and
carefully wrote the statement of facts.

  Lamon read it and nodded. "They ought to be drawn and
quartered. I'll mail it to the World, to-night."

  The President took out his paper knife and rubbed his
cheek, thoughtfully. "Don't do it, Hill. You and I know that
this is the truth and the whole truth about that affair but I
dislike to appear as an apologist for an

504 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

act of mine which I know was right. Keep this paper and
we'll see about it, later."

 Lamon ground his teeth but Lincoln smiled at him and
suddenly the Virginian's face melted.

 "You promise to be sketchy about any theater date, don't
you, Mr. Lincoln," he urged, again.

 "Yesl Yesl" returned the President, turning to Chase's
letter and glancing with a sigh at the "cotton" papers he had
promised Welles for the morrow.

"You'll not go alone," insisted Lamon.

"Nol Nol" a little impatiently.

"Remember that we have new evidence of plots."

 "Oh, that's enough!" snapped Lincoln. Then he laughed.
"I'll have to use on you the story I used the other day on a
man who came to get a job from me. He was armed with
vouchers as to his character and I told him to read one or
two to me. He started off and by jings, he'd read twenty
before I could get my breath. 'Stopl' I told him finally.
'You're like the man who killed the dog. The dog was
vicious and he knocked out its brains with a club. But then
he continued striking the dog till a friend stayed his hand.
"You needn't keep on," said the friend. "The dog was dead
at the first blow." "Oh, yes, I knew that," said the dog-killer,
"but I believe in punishment after death!"'"

Hill grinned. "Did you give him the job?"

"I did, sirl"

"By the same analogy will you give me the promise?"

 "I will, sir, if you'll just get out and let me set up some
socks for the Cabinet to knit on."

Lamon went out, still grinning.

But Lincoln did not get on with the knitting.

  He looked at his watch. It was eleven o'clock and he was
tired. He finished the note to Chase, then walked over to
the fire and pulled up his trouser legs in the vain endeavor
to warm his shins. His vitality was not what it had been. And
instantly the memory of the dream returned to him as it had
for days, whenever he ceased for a moment to occupy his
mind with work.

  It was not, he told himself, as he eyed the fire, that he
believed in dreams as such. He did not consider himself
superstitious in the ordinary meaning of the word. He always
had had a sense of predestination and the years at the
White House had increased his conviction that he was not
altogether master of his own decisions. And he had come to
believe completely that the Almighty was very close to the
North these days, very close to Washington, but closest of all
to Abraham Lincoln who was doing his utmost to lead the
righteous cause.

  He did not think that ordinary dreams were of any
particular significance. But, he told himself, there must be
out there, beyond time and space, a reservoir of Universal
Knowledge and at times of dire need surely

"PERCHANCE TO DREAM" 5o5

it must be given to man to tap that reservoir. How else could
the miracles of Christ be explained7 And since this war was
one of the great, significant events of all times, might it not
be that the soul of the man who carried its overwhelming
burden could in dreams slip its leash and plumb the vasty
depths of pre-knowledge of prophecy?

 Was this dream that haunted him such a one? He walked
uneasily to the window by his desk. Snow was whirling down
on Mary's pretty garden  God, how lonely it was. How
lonely life wasl He was glad to realize that Mary would be
waiting for him as usual in the sitting room. Suddenly, he
plunged across the private passageway to find her.

 The room was full of the fragrance of forced white lilacs
from the greenhouse. A warm light from a leaping cannel
coal fire gave the octagonal room with its heavy stuffed, half
shabby furniture a homelike look. This was the only room in
the White House of which Lincoln really was fond. Mary was
not alone. She and Hill Lamon were sitting at the center
table, checking over dinner lists.

 "This is a nice job for a man of brawn if not of brain,"
remarked Lamon, making a grimace of distaste.

 The President did not reply. He stood on the hearthrug in
a profound melancholy.

"What is it, Mr. Lincoln?" asked Mary, eyeing him soberly.

 "Did you ever notice how much there is in the Bible about
dreams?" he asked, rousing himself. "I've counted some
sixteen chapters in the Old Testament and four or five in the
New in which dreams are mentioned. And there are many
passages scattered through the book referring to visions. If we
believe in the Bible we have to believe that in the old days
God and His angels made themselves known to men in
dreams."

 "Is it a dream that's depressing you?" asked Mary, quickly,
while Lamon looked on, pen poised.

 "I'm not saying I believe in the Biblical sort of dream,"
replied Lincoln. "But I've been having one that haunts me as
if it were about as important as one of those."

 Mary's blue eyes darkened with anxiety. "You frighten me
when you speak so solemnly, Abratm. What was the dream?"

 "I oughtn't to have mentioned it," he said contritely. "But
somehow the thing's got possession of me and like Banquo's
ghost, won't down."

 "I refuse to be superstitioust" declared Mary, slapping a
plump hand on the table to emphasize her independence.
"But you'd better tell us the dream, my dear. A dream shared
will never repeat itself."

Lincoln smiled at her.

 "Tell us about it, Mr. Lincoln," urged Lamon, strolling from
the table to join the President on the hearthrug.

 Mary looked up at the two gigantic forms and thought of
how much more of real beauty there was in her husband's
expression than in the handsome Hill Lamon's.

"About ten days ago," said Lincoln, slowly, "I was so late
going to bed

So6 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

that I fell asleep immediately and instantly, as near as I can
calculate, I began to dream. First there was stillness. Then
I heard subdued sobs, as if many people were crying. I
thought I left my bed and wandered downstairs. There the
silence was broken by the same pitiful sobbing but the
mourners were invisible. I went from room to room. No
living person was in sight but the mournful sounds met me
wherever I went. It was light in every room and all the
furniture was familiar to me. But I couldn't find the people
and I was puzzled and worried. The last room I entered was
the East Room. And there I found the root of the trouble.
Before me was a catafalque on which rested a corpse, the
face covered. Soldiers guarded it and there was a throng of
people, some gazing mournfully and some weeping.

"'Who is dead in the White House7' I asked one of the
soldiers.

"'The President,' he said. 'He was killed by an assassin.'

 "Then such a loud burst of grief came from the crowd that
it woke me up and I couldn't get to sleep again."

"I shouldn't think you could travel" gasped Mary, white to
the lips.

  Lincoln, who had been oblivious to his actual surroundings
while he lived the dream again, came back to reality with a
start. He looked at his wife, contritely.

"O my dear girl, I shouldn't have told your" he exclaimed.

  Mary rallied at once "Whom should you tell if not met
And after all it's a cheering dream for it couldn't have been
you on the catafalque. You were a bystander."

  "So I wasl So I west" agreed the President, without
conviction. "Well, let it go. The Lord in His own good way
and time will work this out. I must get back to my work."

"Not to-night," protested Mary. "You need sleep, fearfully,
my dear."

Lamon, always sensitive to Lincoln's mood, quoted softly,

        "Sleep bath its own world "

  The President took up the quotation eagerly and went on
for several lines:

 " A boundary between the things misnamed

Death and existence. Sleep bath its own world
And a wide realm of reality "

  Mary shook her head vigorously. "I don't call that a tactful
illustration for the case in point," she protested.

  "Anyhow, I feel better," insisted Lincoln. "You were right
when you said a dream shared loses its horror, Mary."

  "I didn't quite say that, but I'm glad it's the way you feel,"
said his wife, with a cheerful smile.

                CHAPTER VII
                9PREAD OUTi

T INCOLN kept his own counsel as to when he would make
the proposed visit to the theater to see "Richelieu." But he
promised him

 J self when he awoke on the Saturday following New
Year's that he'd hustle through enough work during the next
ten hours to justify him in indulging himself to that extent.

 He worked without pause until an hour before sunset.
There never had been a busier day. It was as if every one
who had the remotest interest in the war took this particular
day to urge his or her cause. Petitions for pardons, for
passes, for special trade dispensations, flowed in an ever-
increasing flood. Members of Congress stood in his outer
office in serried ranks seething with unconcealed impatience
while various Cabinet members took precedence in making
their demands. The tremendous crisis on the Thirteenth
Amendment was pending. The Committee on the Conduct
of the War was seriously displeased with Lincoln, with
Stanton, with Grant and with the unregenerate Benjamin
Butler. Its members consumed an hour, stinging the
President like angry wasps. These were succeeded by the
elder Blair, urging greater concessions for a possible peace.
Stanton came in on Blair and the two became abusive of
each other. This was the last straw. Lincoln suddenly threw
down his pen and bolted.

 He eluded his new guard who as yet was no match for the
President's guile and slipped out the back way for a walk in
the grounds. A heavy snowfall gave him the perfect privacy
he craved. He made his way to Adams' Grove, which was a
world apart, that afternoon; so silently remote that he might
have been a boy again, wandering in the woods with his
young mother. This idea pleased Lincoln and for an hour he
tramped among the trees, thinking of his youth, of his
mother and sister, of his early earnest absurdities, some of
which made him laugh aloud and some of which brought a
grunt of reminiscent mortification.

 He thought more about his mother than any one else. His
stepmother was dear to him but he had observed that the
older he grew, the clearer and more frequent grew his
memories of his own mother. With the years, her image
became more vivid. And during the past year, at night, little
episodes that had rested untouched by memory for nearly
half a century returned to quicken his heart. Reaching the
fifties, he decided, brought its own rich virtue.

 The gentle though heavy fall of the snow was very
soothing. He felt his nerves relax and when dusk recalled
him to his whereabouts, he emerged from the trees in
cheerful mood. He returned the salute of a

508 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

guard at the north portico and would have passed into the
house immediately had not the man broken through
formalities to exclaim:

 "Secretary Stanton's gone out in a carriage looking for
you, Mr. Lincoln, and Marshal Lamon followed him.
Everybody's been upset, sir."

"When they come back, send them to my office," said the
President.

 He strode into the hall where the doorman took his
snow-covered coat and climbed the stairs, smiling. "This'll
teach 'em not to distrust me," he told himself. "Mary won't
be back for another hour so she hasn't been bothered." He
laughed aloud as he settled to the gigantic pile of documents
John Hay brought him. He confided the joke to John who
did not find it humorous and said so frankly.

 "I was just going to start out myself. Mr. Stanton fired
your guard, out of hand. I thought he was going to kick the
poor devil downstairs."

 "Oh, I'll reinstate Smith," chuckled the President. "The
joke is that for once, I'm guiltless, by jingsl"

 John Hay gave up and with compressed lips laid a letter
from one of Grant's generals before him. Lincoln continued
to smile as he adjusted his spectacles and read the few lines.
"Hah! do you know, John, this fel]ow's a philosopher and a
truly great man. He's grappled with the problem, know
thyself, and he's solved it. He's a remarkable man. The war
hasn't produced another like himI"

"Mr. Lincoln, he's been a complete failure!" protested Hay.

 "And he's discovered it and admits it and greatly to my
relief and that of the country, he resigns! He's a great
philosopher. I wish he could teach the rest of the dress
parade commanders to follow his example."

 They both were laughing at this sally when Secretary
Stanton and Marshal Lamon burst into the office.

 "Do you know I nearly shot Lamon, sir, thinking he was
an assassin!" roared Stanton.

"How come?" asked the President blandly.

 "How comer I was returning madly after failing to find you
at the Soldiers' Home and he loomed up on horseback in
the dark and commanded me to halt." Stanton glared from
Lincoln to Lamon.

 Lamon, pale, the snow melting from his riding cape, stood
panting and speechless.

 "Assassins don't work that way, Mr. Stanton," persisted
Lincoln. And then he exploded in the heartiest laugh in
which he had indulged for weeks. "I was in President
Adams' little grove all the time, by jings, harmless as a
woodchuck!"

 Hill Lamon threw up his great arms and collapsed on a
sofa. "I resign!" he groaned.

"So do Il" snarled Stanton.

"I wish I couldI" Lincoln gasped.

"I already travel" contributed John Hay.

 Stanton hesitated for a moment, then his face relaxed and
he joined the others in swelling the President's delighted
Hal Hal

SPREAD OUTI sop

 That evening, Lincoln and Hill Lamon slipped out to hear
Edwin Forrest as Richelieu. They took rear seats in the
gallery. Wilkes Booth, prowling about during the play saw the
two tall backs silhouetted against the footlights, and leaning
against the exit door watched the President's great head bent
forward in charmed concentration. If Lincoln was going to do
this sort of thing, the theater abduction was not to be
considered further!

 The attempt to kidnap the President from the White House
grounds waited only on the discovery of a further accomplice,
some one physically capable of actually knocking Lincoln
down and out at one blow from a black-jack. Wilkes was an
expert fencer but he reluctantly recognized that this skill
would not serve him in a black-jack attack on a man nearly
eight inches taller than himself. A cell in the Van Ness house
was ready for Lincoln. A boat was moored at a lonely spot
beyond the marshes on the edge of the Potomac and young
Surratt had arranged to have the party taken aboard by a
blockade runner used by the Confederate Secret Service. The
snowfall which had followed the New Year had turned the
roads south of Washington to rivers of mud, making the flight
through lower Maryland temporarily impossible.

 The greatest gamble in the plan, as Booth saw it, was
whether or not the President visited the War Office on the
night chosen. Lincoln had been ill once or twice during the
winter and it was conceivable that he might be again, to the
temporary frustration of the schemers.

 The actor spent Tuesday completing details. Sam Arnold
and Mike O'Laughlin arrived in the morning with the trunk.
He met them at the National and after giving them drinks at
the hotel bar, Booth joined them in the buggy and they drove
to the stable he had rented behind Ford's Theater.

 "The theater notion sticks, eh7" asked Mike O'Laughlin as
he walked round the shed which Spangler the stage carpenter
had converted into a make-shift barn.

 "We can't have too many plans," replied Wilkes, driving
carefully under the low roof and leaping out to eye the roan
horse with pride. "I'm an efficient campaigner. If my family
had only permitted me to join General Lee, I'd have been his
chief of staff by now."

 "And not have been obliged to go into the kidnaping
business to make your reputation," jibed O'Laughlin.

"My reputation is already established, sir," said Booth
haughtily.

 "Don't try to be funny at Wilkes' expense, Mike," said
Arnold quietly. "What's the use. Hit met I'm bullet proof." He
shivered. His delicate face was drawn. "Let's find a fire."

 "Haven't you been well, Sam?" asked Wilkes, solicitously.
"Jove, old man, you look like a plucked chicken! Come back
to the hotel and get warml"

"Oh, I'm very well," replied Sam, "thank you, Wilkes. But this
whole

510 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

business works on my nerves. I'll be glad when it's over. And
this weather puts on the last touch of gloom." He shivered
again.

 Wilkes put his arm affectionately through Arnold's. "Come
and have a drink. That's the answer."

"It isl" exclaimed Mike, enthusiastic for once.

  They sat for two hours in the bar of the National, during
which time John consumed a quart of brandy. He became
deeply excited and very irritable but he did not raise his
voice and his hand remained steady. The others, drinking
very much less, watched him with admiration not untinged
with uneasiness.

  They went over details, studying the careful map Wilkes
had made of the west half of the White House grounds and
repeating his instructions for their individual jobs until they
were letter perfect. Toward the end of the two hours, Wilkes
began to feel sure that they could do without an additional
accomplice. But Mike, in no-wise brandy-inflamed as to his
own or any one else's physical prowess derided the thought.
Arnold told Wilkes frankly that he was talking like a whiskey
hero.

  Booth cursed them both, softly, but did not urge the point
further. He dismissed the two with a lordly wave of the hand
to the boarding house he had found for them.

  He sat in thought for a while after they had left, muttering
to himself and opening and closing his big white fingers. The
bar-keeper watched him with the respect due a man who
could carry liquor as Booth did and was a little disappointed
on approaching Booth to have the young man look up at
him and say in a full rich voice:

The ambitious youth who fired the Ephesian dome

Outlives in fame the pious fool who reared itl"

  However, Wilkes was not drunk. He rose, pulled on his
gloves and walked steadily out to the front entrance where
he stood wondering if Mrs. Surratt could help him Snd his
man, if he gave up the condition he himself had imposed
that the man be one of Booth's own acquaintances. As he
hesitated a youth shambled by staring at him. Wilkes was
accustomed to the gaping admiration of strangers but this
fellow was so intent that the actor returned his look.

  He was only a youngster, but huge. He seemed as tall as
Lincoln to Booth but built like a bull with a curiously
steadfast gaze from deep-set grey eyes. His face was
beardless, white and haggard.

  Booth ran down the steps. "Halloo, young Powelll What
are you doing here7"

  The boy's face lighted extraordinarily. "I'm called Payne
now, Mr. Booth, I I "

  "Come in and have a drink and some supperl Jove, you
look perished with cold and hunger, my boy," taking him by
the arm and leading him up the steps. "We'll go to my room.
You're the very man I want to seer"

SPREAD OUTI 5 l 1

 The young man looked utterly dazed but followed willingly.
Safe in Booth's room he made for the fire.

 "Take off your coat, you'll warm quicker. Never mind what
you have on beneath." Wilkes firmly unbuttoned the other's
threadbare overcoat.

 Beneath was a soiled red flannel undershirt and blue lean
pantaloons. Booth handed him a purple silk dressing gown
and while the boy forced his great body into this, he ordered
a substantial meal. Then he poured out a small drink of
whiskey which he handed his guest saying:

 "More, when your stomach's full. And while you sip it, tell
me about yourself."

 "I can't get over your remembering me, sin I saw you in
Ford's Theater in Richmond in the spring of '61. It was the
first time I'd ever been in a "heater, my father being a
preacher. I never dreamed a man could be like you and I
made up my mind to meet you if you were to be met. I got
round to the stage door, remember, sire"

 "Haven't I just proved I remembers" Booth's fine face
glowed. "Such admiration as you expressed that night is
unforgettable. You told me you ware only sixteen but had
been in the Confederate service several months. What's
happened since?"

 "I was in constant fighting until after Gettysburg. I got a
bad wound there and was put into the prison hospital in
Baltimore. I acted as an orderly in the hospital there for a
while after I got well. I I got to care about a young lady
who was working as volunteer nurse and after she left the
hospital, I left too and got through the Yankee lines to ours
again. But last summer I got a chance to come North with
some letters for Jacob Thompson in Montreal and I took it.
In fact I made several trips, via Baltimore " He paused with
a bashful grin.

"And was she kind7" asked Wilkes, smiling in return.

 "She's a fine girl," was Payne's reply, given stiffly. Then he
went on, "I saw you in Montreal in October, sir, talking with
Mr. Clay and Mr. Thompson, and I saw you again at the
Winter Garden on November z6, when you played in 'Julius
Caesar."'

 "What were you doing in New York then7" demanded
Wilkes with sudden interest.

 "Well, I had undertaken to help burn New York. But I lost
the directions Col. Martin had given me and I got scared to
think I'd handed a rope to hang me on to any one who
picked them up, though they were not addressed. So I went
back to Baltimore and stayed at the boarding house my girl's
folks keep and took the oath of allegiance."

"But was that wiser" exclaimed Booth.

 "I don't know," with sudden sullenness, "I'm always in
trouble. While I was waiting for further orders, and mighty
sick of hanging round in my room, a sassy nigger wench
refused to sweep my floor and I handed her the knock over
the head she deserved. But instead of taking it as she would
have before the old bastard Lincoln got busy, she set up a
howl, rushed out of the house and got me hauled before the
Provost-Marshal.

51z THE LAST FULL MEASURE

He ordered me to leave Baltimore. So here I am. I reckon
the best thing for me to do is to get back to Richmond."

  "And leave your girls There's no necessity for that, my
boyl" exclaimed Booth. "I remember all about you now. You
told me, in Richmond, that your name is Lewis Payne
Powell and that your father is a minister in Florida. You had
two older brothers in the army."

  "They've both been killed!" with quick ferocity. "By God,
I hate wart Seems as if there never had been anything but
stinking battlefields in my lifer And now the South's licked,
what's going to become of us all? When Grant's and
Sherman's armies meet, there won't be a white man left
living that's ever owned a slave or fought against freeing
'em."

  The supper came in now and Wilkes tactfully went to his
desk and wrote a letter or two while his guest devoured
oysters and a beefsteak. He did not speak until Payne
pushed himself away from the table and said:

  "Well, Mr. Booth, I reckon you saved my life and I wish
I could do something in return."

Wilkes turned quickly in his chair. "Sit down, Lewis, and
hear my tale."

  Payne dropped into a chair before the fire and the actor
walked over to stand with an elbow on the mantel. The
firelight lighted his face into angelic beauty. Twilight was
closing in. A servant drew the red curtains over the windows
and removed the supper tray.

  "Lewis," said Wilkes softly, "I am a man ordained! A man
consecrated to a supreme act that will save the Confederacyl
When you passed the hotel, I was racking my brains to find
a man to help me. And you you camel Like an answer to
prayer, Lewisl"

  The quick blood mounted to young Payne's forehead. "I'll
help you, sir, though I don't see what anybody can do now
for the Confederacyl"

  "I'll tell you what's going to save her. I propose to kidnap
Abe Lincoln and hold him in prison in Richmond until first,
all our men are freed from the hell holes known as Northern
prisons and second, until peace is made on President Davis'
terms. Then we'll return the old gorilla to the White House."

  Payne scowled thoughtfully into the fire. "It's a good idea,"
he said slowly. "I've heard a lot of folks scheme about it. Of
course, if we fail, they'll shoot us, some fine sunrise, and
from their point of view, we'll deserve to be shot."

  "From their point of view, yes. But the Ruler of all nations
won't condemn us nor will history. Ours will be as great a
blow for freedom as the Magna Charta. Of course, I realize
we must face the dangers. They are stupendous just in the
degree that the game we play is stupendous."

  "Well," mused the boy. "I've been through three years of
war so I can't say that the dangers in this rock my
foundations. The point for me, sir," he looked up at Wilkes
shyly, "the point for me is that you ask my help. I'm with
you, whatever you want."

  Booth held out his hand, his eyes soft with sudden tears.
"You unman me, Lewisl Is your strength much depleted?"

SPREAD OUT! 5 1 3

 Payne grinned boyishly. He jerked off the lounging robe
and rolled up a flannel shirt sleeve, displaying an arm
muscled, Booth delightedly exdaimed, like a strong man's in
a side show.

"All I need," declared Payne, "is twenty-four hours of rest and
food."

  "That you shall have, and some clothing," nodded Wilkes.
"I'll find you a room in a boarding house where you can pose
as a sick man, and two days from now, we'll tackle the job.
I'm afraid after the loss of Col. Martin's memoranda to you,
you may be a marked man, so you must be reconciled to
remaining more or less hidden."

  Within an hour, Lewis Payne Powell was asleep in a
comfortable room, a short distance from Booth's hotel.

  When he left his new recruit, Booth strolled up to the
White House grounds for a last rehearsal of his plans.

  Stanton had done what he could to safeguard the President.
A company of Pennsylvania infantrymen camped to the south
of the White House. From this company were drawn the two
guards who paced innocently the length of the front of the
building. In a barracks located on 1 sth Street, south of the
Treasury grounds, were the barracks of the Union Light
Guard, which company furnished the cavalrymen at the north
gates. If he timed the abduction to elude notice by the
infantryman on the west side of the front portico, Booth did
not believe there would be the least danger from the two
companies south of the White House.

  He passed the cavalryman at the gate, walking briskly and
slipped quickly to the right, toward Adams' Grove, meeting
no one. Half way between the turnstile which let into the
War OfEice yard and the west end of the White House a
large clump of laurels grew against the garden wall. The
bricked path made a slight curve around the clump. Here
Booth planned to hide, with Lewis Payne. On the other side
of the wall, O'Laughlin and Arnold would crouch. The
moment they heard Booth's signal they would climb to the
top of the wall, help hoist over the President, senseless, roped
and gagged and the four would then carry him across the
vegetable garden to 17th Street where Surratt with the buggy
would be waiting to bear him to the Van Ness house. Booth,
groping in the black shadows, went through the abduction in
pantomime. It was perfectly feasible, he was sure if old Abe
went to the War Department.

  It rained for the next two days but the weather changed
during the second afternoon and by dark, it was freezing. The
White House lawns were first spongy, then hard to the foot.
When the conspirators crept to their places at eleven o'clock
it was starlight and very cold and it seemed a very long hour
of waiting before the turnstile creaked and footsteps sounded.
In a moment, Booth and Payne saw the tall, shadowy form,
but accompanied by a lesser figure. Well, thought Booth, they
were prepared for that. Lewis would knock out old Abe while
he would use his lead pipe on the stranger.

  "By jings, it's freezing harder than ever," came the
President's slow, soft voice. "Look, Major, this brick path acts
like a dug canal. There were

514 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

three inches of water in it, last night, and now there must be
a quarter of an inch of ice. But it's a Tad-size crick, not
ours, Eckert. Spread outl Spread outl It's deeper there by
the bushes and we'll go through!" He laughed and with
mock heroism in his voice and gesture, pulled the Major
quickly clear of the laurel shrub and rushed him rapidly out
into the open lawn, in clear view of the sentry now standing
watchfully at the west end of his beat.

 "Spread outl" Lincoln laughed and his words came clearly
to Booth and Payne on the still air. "When I was a boy,
Eckert, in Indiana, we had to go seven miles to the grist
mill, carrying the bag of corn on the horse's back along with
the boy of the family. I remember joining up with a group
of neighbors in just such weather as this and coming to the
crick that ran the mill, we all crowded out on the ice. It
began to crack and some fellow yelled, 'Spread out or we'll
all go through' We scattered like dried leaves and sure
enough the ice held. I've thought of that a good many times
in this war. You know that man " He lifted his hat to the
sentry's salute and lowered his voice confidentially as he
passed on.

 An hour later, the conspirators gathered in Booth's room
at the National and attacked an oyster supper. Wilkes
walked the floor, cursing his luck. O'Laughlin watched him
sardonically; Arnold, anxiously; Lewis Payne, with sympathy,
his eyes those of a faithful setter. John Surratt made a great
show of consulting a road map.

 "I told you fellows the theater idea was the only one,"
Booth declared, finally, tossing his pistol to the bed and
pouring a drink of brandy. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair
disordered. "Boldness and openness are the only keys to
success in this venture. I hate this skulking behind bushes."

 "Booth, it's the one feasible method," contradicted Arnold
who had taken enough liquor to ruffle his usual serenity.
"We'll give the old brick wall another trial."

 "No, we sure Gawd won't," drawled Lewis Payne. "I know
my luck and my luck'll never be good against Abe Lincoln's
when his is like what it was to-night." He sipped at rum and
water, shaking his head knowingly. The new blue coat and
fawn-colored trousers with which Wilkes had outfitted him
made a different being of him, showed to the full what a
splendid young animal he was.

 "So I say, Lewisl" cried Booth. "If ever a man had a
charmed circle drawn round him, it was old Abe, this
evening."

 "It sure was a warning," agreed Payne. "If you-all want my
help, it'll have to be on a new deal."

 "Well, something's got to be done soon or I can be
counted out," declared Sam Arnold. "My folks are fussing
because I don't get a job."

 "Come now, boys, I've tried out your plan," pleaded
Wilkes in his most winning manner. "Give mine a try.
Lincoln doesn't live at the Soldiers' Home in winter as you
very well know. Let's snatch him out of Ford's while
Forrest's playing."

"How can you carry out that scheme until the roads in
Maryland are

SPREAD OUTI 515

good?" demanded young Surratt who had continued to study
his map during the entire conversation. "And I haven't found
a satisfactory way of crossing at Port Tobacco yet. It'll take
money."

 "I'II give you the moneyl How much?" exclaimed Wilkes,
drawing out his pocketbook.

 "I'II want at least a hundred to stir some one's
imagination," replied Surratt.

 Wilkes peeled off several bills and threw them on the map.
O'Laughlin made a gesture toward the money and when
Surratt laughingly pushed him back, he closed his eyes and
began to snore. No one troubled to find out whether he was
clowning or in a drunken coma.

 "Now then," said Wilkes, "you take a few days off your job,
Surratt, go down to Port Tobacco and fix things there." He
then gave Arnold a fifty-dollar bill and thrust one into
O'Laughlin's coat pocket. "Will you all agree to give either
the Ford or the Soldiers' Home plan next chance, depending
on whichever place Abe first favors with his presence?"

Surratt, Arnold and Payne nodded.

 "AII right. I'll keep you informed," said Booth. "Lewis, you
help Sam to take O'Laughlin home."

"Don't need any help," mumbled Mike and he walked out of
the room.

And thus the conference ended.

 Four days later, John Surratt, mud-spattered from head to
foot, rode at a quick trot up to the door of his mother's
house on H Street and within found Wilkes Booth and his
mother awaiting him. He reported that two members of the
Confederate Secret Service, a man and later a woman, would
stop at the house on their way to Canada. He also reported
that he had found not only a boat for Booth but an
enthusiastic assistant.

 At Port Tobacco, he had been directed to a coach painter
named George Atzerodt, as a man through whom a skiff
could be found. Atzerodt was a blockade runner of the
row-boat status. Surratt described him as about thirty-three,
a short, thick, stooping man, with a receding chin, partially
covered by a curly light beard. He was a good-natured
country lout with a reputation as a clown, very ardent in the
Southern cause and still more ardent when he received fifty
dollars over and above the price of the boat. He had agreed
to come up to Washington to meet Booth at Surratt's house.
Surratt also had arranged for relays of horses and said that
if the weather held good, roads would be passable in two
days' time.

 The plan now waited entirely on Lincoln's movements. It
was announced that he would attend a play at Ford's on the
18th of January.

               CHAPTER VIII
           T1lE SAD LITTLE SONG

N the morning of the lath of January, Lincoln yielded, after de-
liberation, to the importunings of the elder Blair to be
permitted ~ to go to Richmond to see how Jefferson Davis
was feeling about peace. The President had no intention of
agreeing to peace except on his own terms but the pressure
on him by the war-weary North was all but intolerable. It
would be a relief to make a gesture toward peace even
though he was sure it would be futile. He was very cautious,
however, admonishing Blair over and over not to raise false
hopes in Davis' breast. He made Blair take with him a
letter, which he wrote while the veteran newspaper man
waited.

 "F. P. Blair, Esq. Sir: You having shown me Mr. Davis'
letter to you of the Lath instant, you may say to him that I
have constantly been, am now and shall continue ready to
receive any agent whom he or any other influential person
now resisting the national authority may informally send to
me with the view of securing peace to our common country."

 He took an hour to the writing of this note. When he had
made a fair copy and passed it to Blair, the old man rubbed
his bearded chin. "That's so diplomatic it says nothing at alll"
he exclaimed angrily. "You mustn't be "

 Lincoln interrupted gently as he took off his spectacles, "I
know you're dissatisfied, old friend, which pains me very
much. But I wish not to be argued with further."

Blair rose, thrust the letter into his breast pocket, bowed
and went out.

 Bob's sleek dark head instantly obtruded itself through the
door to the secretary's office. He had finished his course at
Harvard and was awaiting his mother's approval of his
joining Grant's army.

 "Father," he said, hurriedly, "mother's going to a tea fight,
this afternoon. Mary Harlan and I want to know if we may
ride with you in mother's place."

 Lincoln smiled delightedly. "Any particular spot she wants
to take us, Bob7"

"I didn't ask her, sirI" admitted the boy, blushing.

 "So tickled at the idea, forgot everything else, eh? All
right, my son, I accept with pleasure. Perhaps she'll want to
go to the theater with us this evening?"

 "I'll ask. Thanks, fatherI" The sleek head disappeared and
Lincoln turned back to his desk, still smiling.

The day's rush engulfed him then and he did not think again
of his

THE SAD LITTLE SONG 517

unusual invitation until Bob appeared at four o'clock clad in
his new fawn-colored broadcloth overcoat, with a gardenia in
the buttonhole. He came in, adroitly, just as a committee of
Quakers departed, rushed over to his father and seizing the
President's hand dragged him at top speed into the sitting
room.

 "I told your doorman to give me one minute and I'd
capture you, fatherl I also told Nurse-maid Crook that you'd
emerge from this room and not the office. is sitting in the
carriage and the cavalry guard paws the driveway!"

 "Everything's at the church, in other words, except the
bridegroom," exclaimed Lincoln, allowing Bob to tool him
rapidly through the rooms that separated the sitting room
from his own quarters. "I put on my best overcoat, I suppose,
sacred to funerals and parades, but I draw the line at a
gardenia."

 "That's all rightl Yours is a camellia, sir." Bob grinned and
held up his father's overcoat, the flower already in the
buttonhole.

 Lincoln laughed and pulling on his gloves followed Bob
into the hall where William Crook, one of the bodyguards
selected by Lamon, awaited them. "Coming to the wedding,
Crook?" asked the President as they hurried down the private
stairway, after Bob.

 The young guard nodded. "I guess I'll have to, Mr. Lincoln,
or never face Marshal Lamon againl"

 When they reached the carriage, Crook mounted beside the
coachman. The President seated himself beside Mary Harlan,
with Bob opposite, but as the carriage started he insisted on
changing places with his son. He enjoyed looking at the two
young faces.

 "Where are we going, Mary Harlan7" asked Lincoln. "That's
another new bonnet, isn't it7 The last one I saw you in was
purple."

 "Not purple, lavender, sir," replied Mary Harlan. "What
color would you call this one7"

 Lincoln considered gravely not only the little velvet
head-covering but the charming, delicate face beneath it.
Then he said, "I'd say the color was pink and white."

"Wrong!" cried Bob. "It's buttercup yellow."

 "Some one told your" protested Lincoln. "And a woman at
thatl No regular man ever thought of such a name. Where
are we headed, my dear7"

 "Well, Mr. Lincoln, some of my friends are preparing a
benefit entertainment for the Soldiers' Home Hospital. They
have a dress rehearsal this afternoon at one of the houses
and I thought you'd like to see it because you probably
couldn't officially attend the actual performance. I won't tell
you the name of the family to whose house we're going so
you won't be embarrassed by introductions. You shall just
slip in and out as informally as if you were back in
Springfield."

"What is the performances" asked the President, a little
uneasily.

"The singing of Scotch, English and Irish ballads in costume."

518 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "Oh, bless your" exclaimed Lincoln with delight. "How did
you know those were my favoritesof all forms of music7"

 "We all know it," replied the young girl demurely. "Any
one who's watched your face when Marshal Lamon sings
'Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt' couldn't avoid knowing it."

 "My sad little songl Yesl Yesl" He leaned back and let his
long body relax.

 The young people, content only to be together and with
precocious sympathy for his weariness, did not speak until
the carriage halted before a snowy lawn beyond which stood
a white frame house with porch of Georgian pillars. It was
a small house and unpretentious.

 Lincoln, on emerging from the carriage, said to the
coachman and the captain of the cavalry guard, "You fellows
disappear for one hour, I don't want to notify Washington
that I'm here. Crook, I reckon you'll have to come along."

 Mary Harlan gathered up her ruffles and led the way up
the path and into a little cold hall that smelled of baked
apples. "Hang up your coats, here," she ordered. When they
had obeyed, she opened the door into a pallor, which was so
like the pallor of the Lincolns' house in Springfield that the
President gasped; the same, long, low room, with rosewood
and horsehair furniture, and the same indefinable air of
homely elegance that Mary Lincoln had achieved in her own
house.

 A dozen young men and women were variously occupied
in the room. A gray-haired lady sewed at a window. All rose
as Lincoln entered but sat down immediately at Mary
Harlan's gesture.

"Well, here we arel" she said gayly. "I hope we're not late."

  "They are just having the preliminary skirmish over what
number shall be first," said the gray-haired woman, her
cheeks flushing as she looked at the President. "Will you sit
here by the window, sir, or by the firer"

  "By the fire, madam, if you don't mind," replied Lincoln,
sinking into a familiar-looking rocking chair.

  "Bob, you come over here to the piano and turn music,"
ordered a redhaired girl in a Scotch costume.

  Bob fell over a footstool in his haste to obey. Some one
struck preliminary chords and the red-haired girl in a soft
contralto began to sing,

 "I heard them lilting at our ewe-milking,

Lasses a-lilting before dawn o' day; - "

  For an hour, no one gave heed to Lincoln save to glance
with young awe, not untouched by pity, at the tragic head
resting against the crossstitched antimacassar. It was an hour
of unalloyed pleasure for Lincoln. The simple homeliness
and pathos of the ballads precisely suited him. He did not
permit himself to think but gave his mind utterly to the
music and to watching the young people and their charming
dresses. A young shopherd sang in a sweet, high tenor, "o
come with me and be my lover" A Highland chief lamented
"I wish I were where Helen liesl" and a youngster

THE SAD LITTLE SONG 519

whose voice had not yet changed warbled from beneath a
white wig, "I remember, I remember, the house where I was
born," bringing a smile to accompany the tears in Lincoln's
eyes. Many of the songs he never had heard before. Of these
he particularly enjoyed Shelley's perfect "Invocation to Night."
He asked that this be repeated and wrote down the title. At
the end of the program he wondered, he said, why no one
had sung "Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt," and his gray-haired hostess,
with a smile, displaced the young man at the piano, then to
her own accompaniment and in a soft rich soprano, she gave
him the "sad little song."

  Perhaps, when the rehearsal was over, they would have
gathered around him had Mary Harlan not led him instantly
into the hall, permitting him to call only a general Good-byl

  "They aren't going to be allowed to trouble you," she said
stoutly, as Bob helped her with her cloak. "That was the
bargain they made with me, that you'd be merely a neighbor
dropping in."

  "Well," sighed Lincoln, "I can only pay you the highest
tribute in my power. You're rightly named Mary."

  He drew her hand through his arm and led her down the
steps, Bob following.

  It was dark when they reached the White House. Bob
retained the carriage to take Mary Harlan home. Lincoln
stood for a moment with the carriage door open looking at
the two. "Thank you both," he said. "And it just occurs to me
that I've missed the farewell visit of the British Minister."

  Hill Lamon came bareheaded into the portico. "Mr.
Lincoln," he said in a low voice, "I hope the rumor isn't true
that you're going to Ford's Theater to-night. You've forgotten
your promise to me."

"dings, so I dial" exclaimed the President. "But anyhow "

  "Anyhow, sir," said Lamon, firmly, "Lord Lyons called to say
farewell to you and is returning this evening informally, if you
are willing. John Hay made the engagement positive."

  "But, anyhow," Lincoln repeated, "I wouldn't want Forrest
after my hour this afternoon. You children go in my place
with some of your friends."

"No, we'll wait until you are able to gol" exclaimed Mary
Harlan.

  "Look here," protested Bob, energetically, "I thought it was
I who is said by the papers to be paying you marked
attentions, Mary Harlan."

  "The next item will be a true one," laughed the girl, "to the
effect that two Marys are paying marked attentions to your
father!"

  Lincoln laughed heartily, closed the carriage door and went
arm in arm up the stairs with Hill Lamon.

  At seven o'clock that evening Wilkes Booth placed each
member of his gang in a rehearsed position at Ford's Theater.
The horses were hitched to the buggy and held ready in the
alleyway by Spangler.

  At ten o'clock, Booth rushed out of the theater and took a
train for New York, where he remained for a month. The
flame of his hate was

520 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

fanned while there by the trial of John Y. Beall. Wilkes
knew the unsuccessful hero of the steamer Michigan fiasco
and was full of a furious sympathy for him in his misfortune.

 Lincoln also was seriously perturbed over Beall but from
a different angle. The whole country watched the trial. There
could be no doubt that Beall was a spy and for that cause
alone merited the fate of the spy, just as Richard
Montgomery would deserve hanging by the Rebels if they
caught him. But Montgomery was a spy, only. Beall, on the
other hand, had been carrying on a guerilla warfare such as
was "condemned by the common judgment and the common
conscience of all civilized states except when done in open
warfare by avowed enemies" as General Dix said in his
report.

 Notwithstanding that Beall's guilt was beyond doubt, a
tremendous effort, North and South was made to save him.
A manifesto from Jefferson Davis was produced assuming
responsibility for Beall's acts and declaring that they were
done by his authority. But as the trial proceeded it was
obvious that the manifesto did not help Beall. For as again
Dix pointed out, even if Davis had been at the head of an
independent government, recognized as such by other
nations, he would have no power to sanction what the usage
of civilized states had condemned.

 As it became obvious that Beall would be condemned to
death, pressure was brought to bear on Lincoln to show
executive clemency. He was visited by a large delegation of
influential New Yorkers. Orville O. Browning of Illinois was
retained by Beall's friends and he prepared a petition
begging for a reprieve, which was signed by ninety-seven
Congressmen. Lincoln placed the imposing document on his
desk and made no comment for several days. James A.
Garfield called and spoke of Beall's distinguished family and
of the fine effect the President's reprieve would have on the
South. The librarian of Congress, the president of the
Baltimore and Ohio Railway, Thaddeus Stevens, Governor
Andrews of Massachusetts, the older and the younger Blair,
were among the many who made Lincoln's hours wretched
as the date of Beall's hanging approached. Finally, when
Beall's counsel, James T. Brady, who had served without
compensation called, Lincoln sent word to him that the case
was closed and that he would not see the lawyer.

 The night before the execution, John W. Forney and
Washington McLean, two distinguished newspaper editors,
called. They were accompanied by Confederate
MajorSeneral Pryor who was a prisoner and for whom they
wanted a parole. The President was cordial and granted the
parole but scarcely had he done so when Forney asked
leniency for Beall.

 Lincoln grunted but said nothing until Pryor had finished
enlarging on the grandeurs of Beall's social standing. Then
he said his last word on the case.

 "Here is a telegram from General Dix. I procured six days'
reprieve but no more for Beall. Dix says that Beall's
execution is necessary for the safety of the community. That
is true. I can and frequently do save the man who

THE SAD LITTLE SONG All

sleeps at sentry post, or the deserter, but the man who tries
to murder women and children, the derailer of trains, the
pirate, the robber with intent to kill who when caught tries
to excuse himself because he says he is a gentleman,
whatever that means, nol Nor do I intend to permit Jefferson
Davis to give his bastard government a name and place in
society, by this method. The case for John Y. Beall is closed,
my friends, and may God have mercy on his soul."

 He looked like a block of granite and he felt like one.
There was, after all, a foundation of rock on which his
tenderness toward his fellows was built. Beall had touched
that foundation.

He went to bed that night exhausted, body and soul.

                CHAPTER IX
              EVIL FANTASIES

N the 31st of January, Lincoln sent William Seward to Fortress
Monroe. He was to meet there a Confederate commission
in a ~ conference which was an outgrowth of Blair's visit to
Richmond. He had little faith in any vital movement toward
peace developing from the meeting and, after he had sped
Seward, he turned his attention to the titanic struggle which
that day was taking place in the House of Representatives.
The final vote on the Thirteenth Amendment was imminent.

 The galleries of the House were crowded with women as
well as men. The streets were full of people. A restless
multitude moved about the capitol grounds. Telegraph lines
were cleared of war news, in readiness to speed the
stupendous Yea or Nay across the continent. In every town
and village in the North folk waited for the word.

 All during the morning debate, it looked as if the
pro-slavery party would succeed again in blocking the
measure. There were the usual pleas for postponement, for
amendments and for substitutes. But finally a vote was
forced by the Republicans and the roll call began. The clerk
read each name clearly and impressively. Members and
visitors on the floor and in the galleries kept tally on old
envelopes or in notebooks. As each member voted, word was
passed by those crowding the doors to those less fortunate
in the halls, and those in the halls called the votes to the
eager throng outside. Even the Radicals had little hope for
a majority for the measure. And so when, one by one,
Democrats who for years had fought the Amendment, sadly
recognized the handwriting on the wall and voted Aye, ap-
plause swept the floor and the gallery and ran like an
ever-spreading ripple out of the capitol and into the streets
and up the streets to the White House, where Lincoln sat
waiting.

 When all other names had been called, the Speaker,
Schuyler Colfax, asked the clerk to call his. There was a
breathless hush as he stood up, his blond face working and
answered, Ayel

The Thirteenth Amendment had passed.

 The crowded room went mad. Men wept and hugged each
other. Women clapped and cried and swept unhindered onto
the floor to embrace the men who had pushed the great
resolution through. The pandemonium spread to the streets.
A salute of guns shook the city. A huzzaing mob surged into
the White House grounds and Lincoln spoke to them from
the familiar window.

 ". . . The occasion is one of congratulation to the country
and to the whole world. But there is a task yet before us to
go forward and have consummated by the votes of the States
that which Congress has begun

EVIL FANTASIES 523

so nobly. I have the honor to inform you that Illinois has
today done the work. Maryland is about half way through but
I feel proud that Illinois is a little ahead. I wish the reunion
of all the States perfected and so effected as to remove all
causes of disturbance in the future. To attain this end it was
necessary that the original disturbing cause should be if
possible rooted out. This amendment is a king's cure-all. It
winds the whole thing up. I repeat, it is the fitting if not the
indispensable adjunct to the consummation of the great game
we are playing. I can but congratulate all who are
present myself, the country, the whole world upon this
great moral victory."

  John Surratt was in the crowd on the White House lawn.
He wrote Booth that night and described the rejoicing in
Washington. "Old Abe gloated like a monkey over a stick of
candy that at last he'd ruined the Confederacy. I'm coming up
to New York to see you." He followed close on the heels of
his letter.

  Wilkes, unable to settle to his work, restless, unhappy,
suffering with the South as she watched Sherman dismember
the eastern Confederacy, tear out her very heart with fire and
sword, needed only Surratt's letter and visit to rouse his
dormant purpose. He returned to Washington.

  O'Laughlin and Arnold were working at odd jobs in
Baltimore. George Atzerodt had come up from Port Tobacco
and had established himself on the friendliest social relations
with the Surratts. Lewis Payne was keeping to himself in his
boarding house, living on the money with which Booth had
supplied him. He called occasionally on Mrs. Surratt. And
Wilkes too looked up this passionate friend of the South as
soon as he was established at the National.

  His first move was to make another effort to find an actor
to aid him on the stage. He learned that an old friend, John
Matthews, was playing with the Ford Theater Stock Company.
Wilkes went to call on him. Matthews was living in the
Peterson house across the street from Ford's. His was the hall
bedroom on the first floor. He greeted Wilkes pleasantly
enough but his caller scarcely had divulged the first words of
his plot when Matthews cursed him, adding:

"And get out of here and stay outl"

  Wilkes looked at him contemptuously. "You're a damned
coward and not fit to liver" he growled and stalked from the
room.

  The next day, Booth invited David Herold to come into the
conspiracy. David was a Washington boy whose father,
recently dead, had been chief clerk of the Navy Yard stores
and a staunch Union man. His son, at nineteen was an idle,
amiable lad, spoiled by his mother and sisters. He was
charmed beyond expression by Booth's personality and
flattered by his attention. He accepted the invitation without
question.

  Before the North at large got the news, Wilkes learned
through the Surratts that Lincoln's and Seward's visit to
Hampton Roads had failed

524 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

to bring even an armistice. He was more convinced than
ever that the salvation of the Confederacy lay in his hands.

 He was unwearying in his efforts to get a part in a play at
Ford's, but it was not until the 1st of March that he received
the promise of one. And that was for the 18th, when a
benefit performance was to be given for John McCullough.
There was nothing to do but wait for a chance to apprise
him of some prospective move of Lincoln of which he could
take advantage. Wilkes was untiring in his watchfulness of
the President. He encouraged Payne to prowl at night in the
White House grounds. On the day of the Inauguration, he
went with Dr. Mudd to witness the ceremonies.

 "I'll bet I can get within ten feet of the old dogl" boasted
Booth as they stood in the sin before the platform. "Close
enough to kill him."

 "If you try anything here, Mr. Booth," whispered the
doctor, "this crowd will tear you to pieces with bare hands."

"I don't know what fear isl" declared Wilkes.

 He slipped away from Mudd and made his way into the
rotunda of the capitol building. There he began to worm his
way to the entrance which gave onto the platform. He
actually reached the door and could see Lincoln's bare head.
Then a guard seized him. Maddened by what he char-
acterized as an affront, Wilkes struck the man. Another
guard appeared. The people gathered about bade the
disturber be silent. The guards dragged Wilkes away,
threatening him with arrest.

"Aw, he's only drunk, the bums" exclaimed one of the
guards.

 "I don't like his kind of drunk. It's fed on brandy," grunted
the other, sniffing insolently at Booth.

 But he contented himself with pushing Wilkes violently
from the basement entrance. By the time the actor had
joined Mudd again, the brief ceremonies were ended.

 He attended the reception at the White House that
evening but could not bring himself to greet the President.
He stood with folded arms at the north end of the East
Room observing with malicious disgust the vandalism of
memento-seekers. He saw them cut pieces from the couches
and chairs and even from the carpet and wondered if such
a people were worth the sacrifice he was about to maker

 He attended the ball on March 6th with no clean-cut
purpose save that of adding to his hate by another glimpse
of the President. He saw Bob Lincoln, resplendent in a
captain's uniform, with lovely little Mary Harlan on his arm.
But to his chagrin he learned that Lincoln had stayed but a
short time, leaving before Booth's arrival.

 Handsome young John McCullough now arrived in
Washington and claimed some of Wilkes' restless attentions.
Wilkes wondered if McCullough might not be worked into
the scheme and tested him out accordingly. He insisted that
McCullough view the sights of Washington on horseback
with him.

"I'm no horseback rider, old manl" protested McCullough.

EVIL FANTASIES 525

  But Wilkes was insistent and McCullough, who was familiar
with Booth's uneasy habit of mind and his love of physical
excitement, at last humored him. However, Wilkes did not
take him around Washington. He led him instead on a long
and tedious trip over the various by-roads along the Eastern
Branch that could be reached via the Navy Yard Bridge.

  "For heaven's sakel What is there to these mud traps?"
protested McCullough.

  "Well, you see, Johnny," replied Booth, "if a fellow was in
a tight fix, he could slip out of Washington this way."

  "When I leave Washington," cried McCullough, "I shall
leave on the cars. I'm all raw now with riding this old horse.
For God's sake, take me back to the hotell And don't talk
nonsense to me. I'm not expecting a Booth to have to leave
Washington by stealth."

  His tone discouraged Wilkes and he went no further
toward taking his fellow actor into his confidence. A few days
later when McCullough, as was his wont, walked without
knocking into Wilkes' room he found him seated at a table
on which were a map, a knife and pistols. He had gauntlet
gloves on his hands, spurs on his boots and a military slouch
hat on his head. As McCullough stepped in, Booth seized the
knife and sprang at him.

  "What in the name of sense is the matter with you, Booth?"
demanded McCullough. "Are you crazy?"

  Wilkes rubbed his eyes and laughed sheepishly and the
matter passed as a joke. McCullough saw that he'd been
drinking.

  Not until the 1sth of March, did any definite word of
Lincoln's movements reach Wilkes. Very late that evening, he
read in the newspapers that a play, "Still Waters Run Deep"
was to be given at the Soldiers' Home on the 16th and that
in the afternoon, the President would attend. He at once sent
Atzerodt who had become a sort of valet to him to round up
all the conspirators and fetch them to the National.

  By midnight all were in Booth's room, including Arnold
and O'Laughlin who had come to Washington several days
before to be drilled for the possible great denouement on the
1 8th. Wilkes had provided their favorite oyster supper.
There was a box of cigars as well as brandy and whiskey. On
a side table were laid carbines, bowie knives, false beards,
handcuffs and pistols.

  Wilkes welcomed them all with warm hospitality. "Fall to,
gentlemen, fall tol" he cried as the last man entered. He
began at once to ladle out oysters in generous portions and
insisted that they eat and drink well before getting down to
serious business.

  It was well on toward one o'clock when he rose in his place
and rapped on the table.

  "A new opportunity has come to hand, friends," he said.
"But first, I shall review the plan for the 18th just to be sure
there is no fundamental change necessary." He read from a
slip of paper. "John Wilkes Booth playing Piscara in the
Apostate. Atzerodt and Herold will turn off the gas all

5z6 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

over the "heater. Payne and Arnold will enter the President's
box and knock him senseless, then throw him down to me
on the stage where O'Laughlin will join me in dragging him
out to the alley. Here Surratt will be waiting with the buggy,
in which we will throw old Abe, I gagging and tying him
while Surratt drives like lightning over the bridge to Mary-
land. The rest of you will follow, discreetly but rapidly, on
horseback. So much for that. Are there any suggestions7"

 "Good God, Wilkesl" grunted O'Laughlin. "When you read
it out like that it sounds like a crazy nightmare."

 "I don't want to throw cold water," said John Surratt,
sipping whiskey and water to cover a real anxiety, "but I
learned this evening through a friend in the War
Department that our plot is suspected up there."

 "Nonsense!" cried Wilkes. "Of course, there's danger to all
of us. We face that and glory in it. What are you, cowards?"

 "Don't call names, Boothl" sneered O'Laughlin. "You're in
no position to do so. You've been all promise and no
performance so far and the thing's dragged on, a
muddleheaded farce, for months. As near as I can see, the
Richmond authorities will have no further use for old Abe
after another month."

 "Ah, won't they? Won't they?" Booth set down his empty
glass. "They'll thank us on their bonded knees for giving
them means for dictating the terms of peace."

"I'm out of it," said Arnold, rising suddenly, his face flushed.

"Sit dowel You ought to be shotI" snarled Booth.

Arnold gave him a cold, fearless stare. "Two can play at that
game, sirl

"Don't quarrel, don'tI" drawled young Payne.

 Sam Arnold swallowed, then said carefully, "Well, let's
take a vacation. Suspicion rests on me, I tell you. Not only
from my family but the neigh bors. I've got to leave home
and this part of the country."

"You don't want the money?" demanded Booth, excitedly.

 "Moneyl Moneyl Why, I'm as you might say in rags.
You've never fulfilled your promise about the cash and I'm
sick of depending on you. You're really most inconsiderate
as a boss, Wilkes. I'm not trying to insult you. I was one
with you at first, but nothing happens and I can't live this
way."

 "Just what do you mean?" asked Atzerodt who had sat
silently staring from Booth to Arnold, an unchanging grin on
his bearded lips.

 "It means Sam Arnold is a traitor!" cried Wilkes. "Waitl"
as Sam raised his fist. "Waitl Let me explain again what the
facts are that make me undertake to capture Abe Lincoln."

 O'Laughlin shouted suddenly, "If you lecture, I lecture,
brother Piscara."

"Hell, let's play poker while everybody cools dowel"
suggested Atzerodt.

"I've got a deck of cards," said David Herold, eagerly.

"Cardsl Listen to mel" shouted Wilkes. "You've given me no
opportu

EVIL FANTASIES 527

nity to tell you of the new turn of events." He then told them
of Lincoln's prospective visit to the Soldiers' Home.

 But Arnold, O'Laughlin and Surratt were out of hand now
and although they listened to the latest scheme, they would
agree to nothing and left the room. It was five o'clock before
the others departed.

 The details of that conference were clear in nobody's mind
the next day for every one had drunk heavily. But late in the
morning Wilkes called on Arnold and O'Laughlin and
apologized for anything he may have said, begging them to
agree to join him that afternoon in the abduction near the
Soldiers' Home. Surratt, he said, had yielded to his pleas and
was heartily with him again. O'Laughlin shrugged his
shoulders.

"I don't mind one more fumble at the old man," he said.

 "I'll do whatever you wish, this week," was Arnold's
unwilling concession. "But after this week, I'm absolutely
through."

 "Meet me at the cafe I told you of last night, then, going at
once, but singly," ordered Booth and he rushed out to his
horse, mounted and galloped off through the mud.

 They gathered, one at a time, in the restaurant at the foot
of the hill below the Home. By two o'clock all were present
and after several rounds of drinks, Booth whispered their
final orders.

 They all would hide in a clump of trees a quarter of a mile
below the restaurant. While the others attacked the cavalry
guard, Booth and Payne would attack the occupants of the
carriage, shooting the coachman whose place Surratt would
take and drive them across country while Booth and Payne
secured the President.

 Just before the time set for his start to the Soldiers' Home,
Chief Justice Chase called on the President at the White
House. Lincoln had been ill, had in fact been holding his
Cabinet meetings in his bedroom but he had insisted in the
face of his wife's protest that he felt well enough for the drive
that afternoon.

 Chase, his usual condescending, handsome self, greeted
Lincoln as if there never had been a difference of opinion
between them and asked for a Presidential permit for a friend
of his to trade in tobacco with the South.

 The President hesitated. "Mr. Welles says I'm a fool to
issue any more of those. Hold onl Welles is outside. We'll
have him in." He pulled the bell rope and the Secretary of the
Navy entered before Chase could voice his displeasure.

 "Mr. Welles has decided views on the matter of trade
permits, haven't you, Mr. SecretaryI" said Lincoln. "I'm rather
inclined to agree with them. Just repeat what you said at the
last Cabinet meeting, will your"

 "With pleasure," replied Father Welles, smoothing his white
beard and looking benevolently at Chase whom he disliked.
"I've had a great deal of annoyance with those Presidential
permits. Several of the holders have caned on me for
permission to pass the blockade, even demanding a gunboat
to convey theml Colonel Segar, the last of them, was very
importunate. I told him, as I've told all the others, that I
won't yield in this matter;

5z8 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

that I've been opposed on principle to the whole scheme of
special permits to trade ever since the time you, Mr. Chase,
commenced it. I am no believer in the policy of trading with
public enemies, carrying on peace and war at the same time.
I have no doubt you merely expected to make political
capital out of this corrupting and demoralising scheme, sir,
but it has impaired my confidence in you."

  Chase, who was sitting across the Cabinet table from
Welles, while Lincoln watched him from his desk, grew
purple. His smooth-shaven face stiffened.

  "I've heard a great many rallying cries in the political
world, Mr Welles," he said angrily, "but none so absurd as
one that would link Chase and corruption."

  Lincoln cleared his throat. He had desired Welles to
deliver his blast but he wanted no quarreling between the
two men. He said, quickly:

  "There are no rallying cries any morel Petroleum V. Nasby
ridiculed them out of existence." And he quoted with great
enjoyment. "'Arouse to wunst. Rally agin Conwayl Rally agin
Heglerl Rally agin Hegler's familyl Rally agin the porter at
the Reed Housel Rally agin the cook at the Crook Housel
Rally agin the nigger widder in Vance's addishunl Rally agin
Missis Umstedl Rally agin Missis Umsted's childern by her
first husband. Rally agin Missis Umsted's childern by her
sekkand husband. Rally agin all the rest of Missis Umsted's
childern. Rally agin the nigger that kum yisterday. Rally agin
the saddle kulured gal that yust to be here. Ameriky fer
white menl"'

  Welles smiled dryly. But Chase, who had little sense of
humor in general and none at all where Lincoln's pet stories
were concerned, rose with dignity.

  Lincoln came to his feet. "There'll be no rallying cries
against you, Mr. Chase, but in spite of Nasby's efforts, our
friend Mr. Welles has created such a strong one against me
and my cotton-tobacco permits that I can't permit him to
make political capital of it. Come with me to the Soldiers'
Home play and I'll tell you what I can do for you. Though
you observe, I have very little influence with this
Administrationl You come too, Mr. Welles. I know you both
are going anyhow and you may as well fill up my carriage."

  His tone made it impossible not to accept the invitation
and a few moments later the three descended to the front
entrance. But as the President put his foot on the carriage
step, Dr. Stone hurried up and caught his arm.

  "Mr. Lincoln, I can't answer for the consequences if you
go out this afternoon! Lung fever may be the least of it.
Gentlemen, add your pleas to miner You know how
exhausted the President is and now with this heavy cold "

  The President stared down at the doctor's anxious face.
Come to think of it, he did feel ill. And more than that,
there never could be a better opportunity for Salmon P.
Chase to be alone with the one man who dared

EVIL FANTASIES 5zg

and cared to warn him off the political quicksandsnear which
no Chief Justice of the United States ought to tread. He
drew back:

 "You two take my place," he said and slammed the carriage
door. To his surprise, they drove off without protest.

Lincoln went upstairs to bed.

 Dr. Stone promised that he would be well enough to attend
the benefit performance to John McCullough. But late in the
afternoon of the 18th, Mary asked him if he didn't think it
would be tactful to accept an invitetion from Charles
Sumner.

 "He has a box at Grover's Theater for 'Faust,"' she said,
"and he's asked us to go."

 Hill Lamon, who was present Lincoln was resting on a
sofa in the sitting room exclaimed quickly, "The very thingl
It's leaked out somehow that you are expected at Ford's
to-night and I don't want that. I was relieved you kept your
agreement about going to plays when your purpose had been
made public, and didn't go to the Soldiers' Home
performance."

 Lincoln smiled guiltily but made no confession. "I'd like to
hear 'Faust,"' he murmured. "Well, let it be so." He closed his
eyes, opening them shortly to say, "You can stop worrying
about me, next week, Hill. I'm going down to visit Grant for
two weeks, if nothing interferes."

"Thank heaven!" groaned Lamon.

 Nothing did interfere and Lincoln with Mary and Tad left
Washington on the River Queen on March z3rd.

 On March z7th, John Surratt went to Richmond, returning
on April 3rd, and leaving the same night for Canada. Before
leaving, he told Weichmann that when in Richmond he'd had
a conversation with Jefferson Davis and Judah P. Benjamin
and that they had given him two hundred dollars in gold. He
showed Louis several gold pieces in earnest of this.

 Wilkes Booth was dicomfited but not entirely discouraged.
The failure of the latest scheme did, however, increase his
conviction that Lincoln was under Satanic protection. If he
could not be abducted, then other and more drastic means
must be used to remove him from office. He talked with
Lewis Payne about this. Payne, after all, was the only
altruistic person in the conspiracy, excepting himself, Booth
thought. Yet even Payne was not, at first, prepared to go
farther than abduction. Even when on April 3rd news
reached Washington of the fall of Richmond, Payne was not
sure that anything like shooting old Abe would save the
South. Still, he remained in his boarding place, playing sick
and sneaking out only when Booth urged him to attend the
sessions held by a group of Sons of Liberty in a room rented
from a colored woman on D Street.

 Sam Arnold went down to Fortress Monroe and got a job.
Mike O'Laughlin returned to Baltimore. Atzerodt and
Herold continued to hang around at Wilkes Booth's heels
like unthinking hounds waiting to be loosed on their prey.

Shortly after the fall of Richmond, Wilkes told Atzerodt to
sell his

530 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

buggy, told Payne to remain in hiding and he himself went
to New York to see Samuel Chester.

 Chester, in spite of his obvious distaste for the scheme
and in spite of his previous apparent firm refusal, permitted
Wilkes to talk to him again in their favorite saloon, the
House of Parliament. The dialogue was much the same as
before.

 "But it would ruin my family if anything went wrong and
I have no money to leave them," muttered Chester.

 "I have three thousand dollars I can put at the disposal of
your family," pleaded Wilkes. "There is real money in this
thing, Chester. I haven't any myself. I or some of the party
must go to Richmond to get money. I've already spent five
thousand dollars."

 "Supposing I came in," Chester looked uneasily around
the crowded room, "what would I have to do?"

"Merely open the back door of the theater for me," replied
Wilkes.

 Chester stared at him suspiciously. "I do believe you're
crazy, Booth," he exclaimed. "Now, once for all, don't
mention this matter to me again."

 Booth brought both great fists down on the table. "My
God, why didn't I settle this myself when I had such an
excellent chance to shoot him on Inauguration Day. I was
as near to him as I am to you."

 Chester grunted and Wilkes, giving him an uncertain
glance, subsided to silent drinking of his usual astounding
amount of brandy.

                 CHAPTER X
              ANNA DICKINSON

TT was misty April dusk when the River Queen made her
moorings in Washington again. It was Sunday, the 8th, Palm
Sunday, and the

  Seventh Street wharf was deserted save for the cavalry
guard and the carriages of the President and his party.
Lincoln felt Washington close in on him like a familiar
miasma as he crossed the quay. But nothing could change
the fact, he assured himself, that Richmond had fallen,
though he still had not assimilated that glorious truth. Now,
if only Lee's army would surrender, the end of the dreadful
conflict would come. He had had no word from Grant for
twenty-four hours, of course. Perhaps the muchprayed-for
finis had been written while the River Queen had been pad-
dling up the Potomac.

 As the carriage turned into the mud of Pennsylvania
Avenue, he saw that the street was ablaze with bonfires. He
spoke to William Crook, his bodyguard who sat with Tad,
opposite Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln.

 "What are they halloo-ing about, Crook? Not still for
Richmond7 Here, stop the carriage a moment!" The
coachman pulled up. Lincoln leaned out of the carriage
window and beckoned to a lad who was breaking up a
barrel. "What are you celebrating, my boy7" he asked.

 "Why, where you been that you don't know that, Mr.
Lincoln?" grinned the youngster. "Richmond's fallen and
Grant's chasing Lee across Virginial"

Lincoln smiled and ordered Burke to drive on.

  Pandemonium reigned on the Avenue. Bands marched up
and down the sidewalks. Near Fourteenth Street was a
special stand with an illuminated sign, "Jeff Davis' Bandl"
The musicians wore Confederate gray. Again Lincoln
ordered the carriage to halt and made inquiries of a
bystander.

  "Why, Mr. Lincoln," said the man, "those fellows marched
into Washington last week, playing 'The Star-Spangled
Banner.' They claim they were with Early and got away just
before Sheridan captured them. They scuttled in here with
their tails between their legs and asked the Marshal or
anybody else to take 'em back into the Union. Marshal
Lamon gave 'em this job."

The President laughed heartily and once more the carriage
drove on.

  A huge illumination over the White House gates said,
"The Unionl It must and shall be preserved!"

  "Stanton did thatl" exclaimed Lincoln. "He's been planning
it for four yearsl"

  "Now the we' is ova', Papa day," said Tad, "Mr. Stanton
can't be Secretawy of Wa', can he? You'll have to find him
a new job."

53z THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "Stanton can be anything he wants to be," declared the
President. "Only he and I know what his work has been
worth. I'll give him my place if he wants it."

 "Mercy!" smiled Mary. "And just as your place has become
humanly endurable! Well, I'm more than willing, my dearl
Let's be off to Europe."

"Nol Nol" shouted Tad. "Califotnia o' bustl"

 His father and mother smiled but Lincoln, as the carriage
drew up under the portico, said soberly, "Mary, I reckon I'll
drive right over to Seward's house. We don't know much of
anything except that he was badly hurt in the run-away and
I'm worried about him."

 "You won't be late?" asked Mary. "Crook, don't let him
out of your sight."

"I won't, Mrs. Lincoln," replied the young man, reassuringly.

 "Mary, the war's over," protested Lincoln, as he lifted her
from the carriage.

 "And the bitterness of defeat will treble the desire of
Southern cranks to attack you, dearest," returned Mary,
smoothing down her crinoline. Her husband always would
swing her out of a vehicle as if she were a little girl but
she'd given up protesting.

 "You have a low opinion of human nature, madaml" jibed
the President, as he returned to his seat.

 There was straw before the Sewards' steps and the
door-bell was muffled. Fred Seward, the Secretary's son and
the Assistant Secretary of State, opened at the President's
knock and would have led the way into the drawing-room
but that Lincoln stood fast in the dimly lighted hall.

"Fred, I want to see your father."

 "He's very ill, Mr. Lincoln. His jaw was broken in two
places and is in an iron frame. His right shoulder was
dislocated and his whole body is frightfully bruised. He's
been delirious until to-day and he can't talk at all."

 "Poor fellowl Poor fellow!" ejaculated Lincoln. "It was just
an accidents You don't suspect foul plays"

 The young man smiled grimly. "Of course, we suspect
anything! He'd only just received word of a devilish plot
against him via Canada and France. But at least, he will live
and for all his agony, he's where assassins can't touch him
for a while. My poor mother says that's one crumb of com-
fort in a terrible meall"

 "Let me see him, Fred," urged Lincoln, "even if I can't talk
with him. We've been through several cyclones together,
your father and I, and we mean something to each other."

The young man's bearded face softened. "I'll go up and see,
sir."

 But Lincoln would not wait. He followed up the stairs and
in at the door of the chamber where his friend lay. A man
nurse rose hurriedly from the bedside and bowed.

 "I'm going to sit with Mr. Seward for an hour," said the
President urbanely. "You may leave us for that time. You,
too, Fredl" and he seated himself on the edge of the bed.

ANNA DICKINSON 533

 Only Seward's fine blue eyes were visible above heavy
bandages. Lincoln picked up the hand which lay on the
coverlidand the blue eyes smiled. The President said nothing
for a moment. He liked Seward heartily. The liking did not
occasionally flare into affection as did his feeling toward
Stanton, and this, he thought, was curious because he had
more confidence in Seward's loyalty to himself than in
Stanton's. Ever since 1861 when he had forced William
Seward to perceive that the President of the United States
was Lincoln and not Seward, the Secretary of State had been
his faithful adherent. He was in many ways more congenial
to Lincoln than any other member of the Cabinet. He liked
the New York man's vivacity and his genial ways. He ignored
his illusions of greatness as well as his loquacity and he
deeply admired his gifts as a politician and lawyer.

 As he sat looking at the injured man, he thought most of all
of how uncritical Seward had been when every one else in the
world save Mary had been harshly critical. Even Hill Lamon
had reproved him for his manners" And yet, in those early
days, when Seward had held Abraham Lincoln in contempt,
he had withheld harsh comment. The President felt emotion
rising in his throat and with a mental shake he said softly:

 "No one can tell you your necktie's riding over your collar,
right now, Mr. Secretary, eh7"

 The blue eyes twinkled and much encouraged, Lincoln went
on. "If you want some details about the late War of the
Rebellion, squeeze my handl Hahl You'll be demanding a
cigar, next.... Seward, I went into Richmond not to crow
over them, you know. Grant wanted me to take possession, as
it were. I never felt sadder in my life than when I walked
through those streets and thought of what their desolation
signified. General Lee had ordered the tobacco warehouses
and the ammunition and other stores destroyed before he
evacuated the town. The fire spread and the business section
was pretty well burned out along with some of the
residences and pillaged by the city riff-raff before our boys
got there under General Weitzel. It was still on fire when I
arrived the next day and our troops were working hard to put
out the flames. Those Richmond folks were starving and
Weitzel fed them. I'm taking for granted this interests you,
Mr. Seward?"

 His fingers were pressed quickly and he continued. "Weitzel
had made his headquarters in Jeff Davis' house, about two
miles from where we landed. A nice place with a big pillared
porch. By jings, it was well furnished and plenty of foodl Jeff
didn't live as hard as the rest of Richmond, I can tell you.
Weitzel was out when I got there, but he soon came rushing
in all out of breath to tell me that Judge Campbell and some
other Rebels wanted to see me. Campbell is just as full of
tricks now as he was at the conference on the River Queen, in
February. He almost had you once or twice, then, Mr.
Secretary."

 Again the blue eyes smiled and the hot fingers said
"Touche." Lincoln chuckled and went on.

"While we were waiting for Campbell, Weitzel told me that
the day

534 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

before when the fire was at its worst, a darky had run out of
a house and told Weitzel's orderly his mistress wanted him.
The orderly went in and was met by a lady who told him her
mother was ill and she needed assistance and protection for
moving her out of the zone of danger. The orderly sent for
an ambulance and a guard and then he discovered that the
invalid was Mrs. Robert E. Lee and the younger lady was
her daughter! They took mighty good care of them. I was
glad to hear of it. What Sherman's had to do in Georgia
sticks in my throat. I told Weitzel to let all the Richmond
folks off easy."

He sighed.

 "Well, Campbell came along and informed me that the war
was over and how about peace. I didn't let him tie me
up just let him talk and then promised him a written
memorandum next day. He looks as bad as if he'd fought
the war single-handed. The memorandum simply reiterated
the terms we'd given 'em at Hampton Roads. Before I left,
I gave Weitzel a letter to the effect that the gentlemen
who'd been acting as the Legislature of Virginia in support
of the Rebellion might now desire to assemble in Richmond
and withdraw their Virginia troops from resistance to the
General Government. On the face of it, it's a military
measure, so nobody up here can misinterpret it as a sinister
move on my part to organize a permanent State
Govemment. Isn't that so?"

Seward's eyes looked heavy.

 "I mustn't bore your" ejaculated Lincoln. "I'll tell you a
little story and then leave you in peace. Peace, literally,
eh7 Well, one of my excursions down there was in an
ambulance drawn by six mules. The roads were frightful and
the driver certainly cursed those mules as fully and com-
pletely as I've ever heard it accomplished. Finally I leaned
forward and touched the man on the shoulder. 'Excuse me,
my friend,' I asked, 'but are you an Episcopalians' The man
looked scared. 'No, Mr. President,' he said, 'I'm a
Methodistl' 'That's queer,' I told him. 'You swear just like
Governor Seward and he's a church warden!' there was no
more cussing!"

 He laughed heartily and was glad to see the amusement in
Seward's eyes. "That's about all the news," he said as he
rose, "except we brought home a yellow kitten we found
prowling in the Petersburg trenches."

 He moved softly from the room. Fred Seward and the
nurse, standing uneasily in the hall, looked relieved. The
doctor had forbidden visitors. But when they examined the
Secretary they found him in his first normal sleep.

 Mary was waiting for him as usual in the sitting room. He
slumped with a sigh into a chair before the fire.

"Change your boots for your slippers, dot" pleaded Mary.

"No, I've got to go over to see Stanton before I settle down."

 His wife sighed. "You are going to have a vacation this
summer if I have to get Congress to pass a law about it. In
fact there's nothing I'd like better than to appear in the
Senate and compare the amount of rest you get per year
with the amount they get, the lazy things."

              ANNA DICKINSON

 Lincoln's white teeth flashed. "Go ahead, Maryl I'd like to
hear you, myself."

 She joined in his laughter as she pushed a glass of milk
within reach of his hand. He began to drink it slowly as he
told her about his call on Seward. In the midst of the
account, the yellow kitten pattered briskly up to the hearth.
Lincoln lifted her to his knee and watched her with interest
while she washed her face on this precarious perch.

 "A kitten is a comfortable kind of creature," he murmured.
"Well, poor old Sewardl" He finished the account.

They sat in a silence that lasted until Lamon came in, eager
for news.

 "Now, Hill," protested Mary, "don't get Mr. Lincoln to
talking to-night! He's extraordinarily tired. I don't want him
even to see Mr. Stanton."

 Lamon leaned a powerful elbow on the mantel and looked
keenly at the President. "You're right, as usual, Mrs.
Lincoln. And Stanton's not in his office, so far as I know."

"There!" triumphantly from Mary.

 "Hill, you must remind me to tell General Grant," said
Lincoln, "that I went round and called on George Pickett's
wife while I was in Richmond."

 Y will, sir," replied Lamon with a little smile. "How did
Crook behave himself, Mr. Lincoln?"

"Admirably! I'm here, am I not?" laughing softly.

 Mary spoke quickly. "What's your next most pressing
problem, Mr. Lincoln?"

 "In general, to get the Southern States to functioning while
Congress is not in session. In particular to try to get Andy
Johnson to understand what I'm trying to do."

 "A Vice-President's understanding isn't important, my
dear," was Mary's comment. "I don't like that man. He's a
drunkard." She began to fold up the tidy she was knitting.

 "I know that was a bad slip he made at the Inaugural,"
admitted Lincoln. Y had my fears at the time. But I'm over
those. I've known Andy for many years. He's not a
drunkard."

Mary compressed her lips.

 Lamon nodded and asked, "Do you think he can lift part
of your burdens, sir?"

 The President nodded. "If he can't skin the animal, he
must be ready to hold a leg."

Mary elevated her firm little chin. "I don't want that man at
my tablet"

 "Well, you'll have to have him as need arises, my dear,"
returned Lincoln mildly. He smoothed the kitten with a long
gentle hand. "Has Tad named the kitten, yet?"

"Anna Dickinsonl" answered Mary.

Lincoln laughed. "Trust Tad's genius for a smart
christening!"

 He stifled a yawn and rose. "I'm going to bed, by sings,
and let the rest of you put the lights out and wind the clock
for the nation. I dare to

536 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

realize now how much I need sleep." He strolled off to his
room, the kitten on his shoulder.

 That familiar refuge was particularly welcome, to-night.
The huge mahogany bed would be grateful after the
cramped affairs he'd occupied for ten days. The only light in
the room was from the lamp on the round table by the
pillow. A Bible lay here and a copy of "Macbeth." He thrust
aside the heavy red window curtains and stood looking out
into the night as he wound his watch. The dull sky reflected
distant bonfires. He had stood thee a long time, the kitten
purring against his ear when the hall door opened and
Stanton, in evening dress, rushed in.

"Lee's surrendered!" he gasped.

 He darted across the room, seized the President round the
waist, gave him a mighty hug and started to sing:

 "Praise God from whom all blessings flows

Praise him all creatures "

 He stopped, pulled Lincoln's great head down and kissed
the President's hollow cheek.

"It's overt" whispered Stanton.

Then he burst into hard sobs and rushed from the room.

 Lincoln stood rigid. The relief was too great. The chairs
and tables did a fandango Or a moment before his eyes.
After a deep breath or two, he took up his night lamp and
opened the door into Mary's room. She was asleep, her
great braids drooping in the familiar way over the edge of
the bed. Since the fall of Richmond, she'd been sleeping
well. He returned soundlessly to his own quarters.

 Now he lighted the gas and looked about him. There by
the fireplace hung the map with its great black blotches the
slave map, he had worked out four years before. He
deliberately unhooked it and with his jackknife cut it to
pieces and began slowly feeding it to the fire.

They must head off Sherman....

There would be no more death....

Godl

 He stretched out his long legs and leaned back in the
rosewood rocking chair. The kitten clambered over the back
and leaped to the night table which held his little milk
pitcher.

 Perhaps, after prolonged labor in childbirth, a woman felt
like this. Just about like this, utterly worn out, but happy,
knowing all was well with the child He closed his eyes for
a moment and thought he was back on the River Queen,
listening to the bombardment of Petersburg. No, it was a
knocking on the door. Elphonso Dunn, one of the
bodyguards, put his head in.

"Lee has surrendered, Mr. Lincoln," he whispered, loudly.

 "I know, my boy, I knowl" whispered Lincoln. "I'm trying
my best to soak it in."

ANNA DICKINSON 537

 Yt's midnight. Won't you go to bed, sir?" The young man
came in and with a persuasive air handed the President his
old dressing gown.

 Lincoln heaved himself to his feet. "Not a bad notion, I
reckon. Jings, look at Anna Dickinsont Young woman, you're
under arrest!"

 Dunn laughed and, seizing the little thief, dropped her into
his coat pocket. She immediately thrust forth a small face
which she began to wash sedulously.

 Lincoln said good night to the guard and turned off the
lights. He would undress after a moment and dropping to the
bed, he fell instantly asleep.

                CHAPTER XI
              CHARITY FOR ALL

T dawn, the thunder of guns Antietam! Gettysburg7 Heaps
of unburied dead whom he, Abraham Lincoln, had sent to
the trenches What was the use of firing on dead men? It
must be stopped! He jerked himself up indignantly and sat
blinking. Booml Booml The window glass in his room
tinkled to the floor. The White House trembled to its roots.
Suddenly, Lincoln laughed aloud. As he did so both doors
of his room opened. Mary came through one. Through the
other, John Hay appeared, followed by Taddie, both
solemnly walking on their hands. They paraded around the
room and out again, uttering raucous sounds.

 Husband and wife smiled, first at the young people, next
at each other. But the smile slowly faded as grey eyes gazed
deep into violet and then Mary cast herself into his arms.
They clung to each other in silence.

 Mary saved them both from breaking down by freeing
herself and saying, severely, "Abraham Lincoln, you slept in
your clothes last nightl"

 "Yes, ma'am," he replied meekly, and went about making
his toilet, grateful for the steadying force of simple duties.

 As soon as he was dressed, he joined Tad and John Hay
on the south steps of the Treasury Building which
commanded a view of Pennsylvania Avenue. The sun was
only just rising but the familiar street was packed with an
embracing, singing, laughing, weeping crowd. The horse-cars
could not move. Racing from side streets came several steam
fire-engines which planted themselves in a group, nose to
nose and proceeded to bellow hoarsely. Stanton's salute of
five hundred guns was augmented by the firing of the
cannon in Lafayette Square. The red glow of the sunrise
over the capitol was shortly obscured by rain but nothing
reduced the ardor of the people. A small boy perched on the
iron fence near the President's group flung a bunch of
unlighted firecrackers at Tad and screamed, "There's the
Lincolns." A man caught sight of the President and beckon-
ing to the crowd, scrambled over the fence, shouting,
"Speech! Speechl"

 Lincoln was in no mood for speaking. He fled into the
Treasury Building. Early as it was, the employees had
assembled and were now gathered in the great main
corridor, singing:

  " Praise Him all creatures here belowl

Praise Him above, ye heavenly hosts "

 The President drew his sleeve across his eyes and covering
his lips with a cold, shaking hand, slipped unobserved
through a side door into the White House grounds. He
made his way past the lilac hedge by the stables

CHARITY FOR ALL 539

toward the kitchen entrance, pausing once as a familiar scent
broke in on his pre-occupation.On this sheltered south slope,
the flowers were opening precociously. He broke off an
exquisite, half-blown spray and buried his face in its
indescribable fragrance. The little round purple buds were
wet with April rain.

 Mary, waiting for him at the breakfast table, pinned the
spray on her India muslin breakfast-sacque.

"Your favorites always come early there by the stables!" she
exclaimed.

 "It's a homely blossom and as sweet as home is," he replied,
accepting his cup of coffee from the butler. His hand was still
shaking and he smiled at it ruefully. "Those Treasury fellows,
Mary "

 Just outside the windows which gave on the north lawn with
a view of Adams' Grove, there arose a mighty chorus:

"O say can you see, by the dawn's early light "

 "Let's have that window closed!" urged the President. "I
can't stand any more."

 As the butler hastened to obey, Tom Pendel, the
door-keeper came in "They want you to speak, sir."

"I can't, my boyl" looking at Pendel beseechingly.

"I'll stave 'em offl" exclaimed the man stoutly, closing the
door.

 "Now here's where I put my foot down," said Mary, who
had been watching her husband's twitching face with anxiety.
"You eat those eggs and three slices of toast. Here it is, hot
and crisp. James, you go lock that door into the hall."

 Her cheeks were pink with vehemence. Lincoln obeyed her
literally and afterward climbed the private staircase with Mary
holding firmly to his elbow. She deposited him in his office
and spoke to William Crook standing slim and alert at the
door.

 "Listen to me, William Crook," lifting a small plump
forefinger, "only the usual visitors! No strangers, I don't care
how they come recommended by themselves!"

 "Nonsense, Maryl" protested Lincoln, half irritated. Then he
smiled and hastened across the room. Andrew Johnson was
standing at the window. The two men shook hands cordially.
Mary bowed and went out with her nose in the air.

 Johnson was fifty-seven years old but looked ten years
younger, in spite of his embattled history. He was nearly six
feet tall and strongly built. His hair, as thick and as black as
the President's, fairly crackled with vitality. His clean-shaven
face with its long nose, too sensitive of nostril, the lips, too
much compressed and drooping, told little of the dreadful
years in Tennessee. His eyes were as magnificent as Hannibal
Hamlin's, his predecessor's, black, deep-set, intelligent, and
in Johnson's case, unfathomable.

When he spoke it was in a soft drawl. "I hope I'm not
intruding, Mr.

540 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

Lincoln. I came early to avoid the crush. I want to offer my
congratulations and to present a petition!" He smiled
whimsically.

 "You too, Brutusl" exclaimed Lincoln. "Well, if no one had
pestered me more with petitions than you, Mr. Johnson, this
would be an easy job. What can I do for your"

 "I want to protest earnestly against Grant's terms of
surrender to Lee. He shouldn't have been allowed to
surrender as a soldier of honor. Grant should have retained
the entire command as prisoners of war and held Lee in
confinement until instructions could be received from this
Administration." His voice grew tense. "Do you know, Mr.
Lincoln, Grant's sent that whole army off home, on parole,
taking their horses with them7"

 "I would expect General Grant to do about that," replied
the President, looking at Johnson with a peculiar sinking of
the heart. "Sit down, and let's talk it over."

 The Vice-President dropped into the chair beside
Lincoln's desk, crossed his knees and sat motionless.

 Lincoln pulled out his paper knife. "What do you think
we'll gain at this point, Mr. Johnson, by increasing General
Lee's agony of mind7"

 "General Lee is a traitor, sir, and should be treated as
such. I'm entirely indifferent to his state of mind." Johnson's
voice was cool.

"You have nothing personal against Lee7" asked Lincoln.

 "Nothing. I'm doing my utmost to see this whole tragedy
only in terms of the Union although they did their best to
crucify me body and soul, in Tennessee. They dragged my
sick wife from bed and imprisoned her. The exposure killed
my son. They pulled me from a train and manhandled me
with every physical insolence they could devise. My life has
been in hourly jeopardy. Yet I know that Lee had nothing
direct to do with all this. No, he only upheld the whole
traitorous gang from which this poisonous vapor escaped,
upheld them with his army. How long would the rebellion
have lasted without Lee7 I tell you, Mr. Lincoln, treason is
a crime, the very highest crime known to the law and these
are men who ought to suffer the penalty of their treason."

 Lincoln moved uneasily but Johnson's even voice, an
exceptionally pleasant voice, floated on.

 "To the unconscious, the deceived, the conscripted, to the
great mass of the misled, I would say, mercy, clemency,
reconciliation and the restoration of their government. But
on those who deceived, on the conscious, intelligent,
influential traitor, I would inflict the severest penalty of
their crime."

 The President told himself that he ought not to be
impatient. After all this was the man who alone of all the
Southern Senators in 1861 had remained true to the Union
and in the Senate Chamber yonder had stood up and defied
Secession to seduce Tennessee from her loyalty. This was
the man who as military Governor of Tennessee had held
the old State to the Union, attainted though she was. The
North owed an enormous debt to Johnson.

CHARITY FOR ALL 541

 He put a firm though gentle hand on the Vice-President's
knee. "I tell you, my friend, if you think you can restore this
nation on the Mosaic law, an eye for an eye and a tooth for
a tooth, you lack understanding of human nature. The wisest
measure Grant could take was to send all those men home."

 "And what will happen when they get there7" demanded
Johnson. "What will human nature lead them to dot They'll
attack and rob the folks who've been loyal. And all your work
of reconstruction will go for naught. You'll see anarchy in
Tennessee, in Louisiana, in Missouri and "

 "You don't know the people," interrupted Lincoln. "It
couldn't but be that every man not naturally a robber or a
cutthroat would gladly put an end to such a state of things.
Neither non-Union nor Union men want their homes
destroyed or want to continue the war. They need only to
reach an understanding with each other. I propose to have
neighborhood meetings called everywhere, all entertaining a
sincere purpose for mutual security in the future whatever
they may before have thought, said or done about the war or
about anything else. Let all such meet and waiving all else,
pledge each other to make common cause against whoever
persists in making or aiding further disturbance. The practical
means they will best know how to adopt and apply. At such
meetings, old friendships will cross the memory and honor
and Christian charity will come in to help these afflicted
people."

 "You really believe that, sir7" demanded Johnson. "Is that
as far as your disciplining of these traitors will got"

 Lincoln brought his hst down on his desk and shouted, "It
was hate that made this wart The war is over. Let no man
come to me asking me to express his revenge or his hate for
him. By the cross of the Saviour, I'll not do itl"

 Johnson bit his lip and for a moment there was only the
sound of Washington's celebration to be heard in the room.
Then the VicePresident said, huskily, "I suppose I'm naturally
a violent man, Mr. Lincoln. If it hadn't been for my wife, I'd
have been dead in some political feud, long before the war.
She's been the restraining force that's helped me to get this
grip on myself. And I can keep it except when I think of what
Southern chivalry did to her. Perhaps I do permit something
personal to come into my attitude but " He scowled
thoughtfully and sighed, "Nol Nol I cannot see it as you do."

 "Then you must let me do the seeing," said Lincoln, gently.
There was no mistaking the authority in his voice, however,
as he went on. "You must stand foot to foot with me against
those men in the Capitol whose nostrils belch revenge. There
shall be no revenge, Johnson."

"What'll you do with Jeff Davis, sir7"

 "Give him a chance to run away, clear to Mexico or
Europe. I propose to keep my eyes strictly at home while the
leaders of the rebellion skip abroad if only they have the
sense to do so. Do you see, my friends"

"I see," replied Johnson, "but how are you going to carry it
out7"

542 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 His skepticalvoice disappointed the President. He leaned
back in his chair and let his vision wander far beyond the
man facing him, over a panorama of battlefields where lay
thousands of still grey and blue forms which had paid the
last full measure of devotion. Their wounds like those of the
dead Caesar were poor, dumb mouths that bade him speak
for them. But not to counsel murderl Nay, it was not
revengeful demands from soldiers living or dead that
troubled him. It was the demands from civilians who never
had smelled blood that would keep mutiny smoldering in the
broken hearts of the South. And as revengeful as any were
the men nearest him, members of the Cabinet as well as the
Vice-President. He must make his own stand known
immediately. And yet, he had a curious conviction that this
would be another losing fight for him as had been his
struggle to direct the reconstruction of the seceded States.
Charles Sumner had absolutely blocked the Presidential plan
there. This matter of handling the Confederate leaders was
closely bound up with the policy for reconstruction. It was
going to be difficult very difficult. Well, thank God, he still
held the whip-hand. He'd remind people of that. He rose,
and in a decisive manner said, "You'll greatly oblige me, Mr.
Johnson, if you'll refrain from talking revenge from this time
forward."

 Johnson rising also, looked distinctly affronted. "I have
never acknowledged the right of any man to muzzle me, Mr.
Lincoln."

 Lincoln's eyes suddenly twinkled. "Then I'll have to ask
Mrs. Johnson to take a hand. I believe in petticoat
government. Look where it's put mel"

The Vice-President smiled coldly and went out.

 Secretary Stanton passed him in the doorway. "Look here,
Mr. Lincoin," he demanded, "do you know the terms that
fool of a Grant has given Leer I tell you, sir "

 "Sit down, Mr. Stanton." Lincoln had always observed that
men raved less when sitting than when standing. "Now then,
I've had no official word as to what General Grant has
done, but I know what his purpose was when I left him. He's
done the right thing You go to the window, Stanton and
bow. It'll calm those fellows outside, perhaps."

 The Secretary of War jumped impatiently to his feet and
stalked over to the open window. The crowd by now had
packed the south as well as the north side of the house.
Cheers greeted Stanton's appearance.

 "Speak to 'em, Mr. Secretaryl" urged Lincoln. Grinning to
himself he turned to his desk and began to sign documents.

 Stanton leaned out into the softly falling rain obediently
and began to talk. He was an excellent impromptu orator
and Lincoln, signing mechanically, listened with pleasure.
But at the closing sentence the President's eyebrows began
to go up.

 "Let us ask Divine Providence to teach us how to be
humble in the midst of triumph, how to be just in the hour
of victory and how to so

CHARITY FOR ALL 543

secure the foundations of this republic, soaked as they are in
blood, that they will last forever and ever."

 A mighty roar came from below. Stanton bowed and came
back to his chair.

 Lincoln laid down his pen. "I take it from your speech,
then, that you're going to let Jeff Davis go."

 "Gol Do you call that justices" demanded Stanton. "No, sir,
we're hard after Jeff Davis. Grant's got to keep Lee. I want
him and Davis in the same basket. We must let them see
what they've been doing. I'll hang them and a half a dozen of
the chief traitors in each state. That'll teach 'em."

 "Mr. Stanton," said Lincoln, slowly, "we'll do nothing of the
sortl" He steeled himself for an argument but the mercurial
Stanton laughed.

"Well, cut off their heads, them" he said. "But not to-day!"

"I accept the armistice! What do you hear from Sherman7"

 "Nothing," answered the Secretary. "I don't even know
whether he's heard of Lee's surrender or not."

 "I hope the fighting's stopped, down there. I want General
Grant to come up here for a talk and I'll send for Governor
Pierpont, too. He's been carrying the government of Virginia
around in his breeches pocket for so long I'm doubtful
whether or not it'll function. But he's the spokesman for the
Virginia loyalists. By the way, I told General Weitzel to let
the Virginia Confederate legislature get together long enough
to recall its army."

 "What?" demanded Stanton, the familiar ugly rasp in his
tone. "Well, of all the damn fool performances! Can't you see
we must have nothing to do with Rebel legislatures, that we
can't7"

 "My message was purely a military measure," interrupted
the President, gently. "The Confederate troops are subject to
recall, until peace is established, by the Confederate
legislature. Come, Mr. Stanton, there are fireworks enough
outside. Let's not have any within."

"Then you refuse to discuss your fatal acti" cried Stanton
despairingly.

 "I'll tell you just how it happened," said Lincoln. "I couldn't
foresee that Lee would surrender his whole army
immediately. I put into Judge Campbell's hands an informal
paper repeating the instructions I gave Seward when he met
the commissioners at Hampton Roads in February. And I
added that if 'the war be now further persisted in by the
Rebels, confiscated property shall at least bear the additional
cost and that confiscation shall be remitted to the people of
any State which will now promptly and in good faith withdraw
its troops from the resistance to the Government.' Nothing
new in that proposal, Stanton. I've made it many a time.
Judge Campbell thought the legislature would do this so I
told General Weitzel to let 'em try."

 "But it's wrong to countenance any Rebel legislature, Mr.
Lincoln," said Stanton, very earnestly, "for any purpose. You
set a precedent that'll make endless trouble."

544 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "I don't agree with you," said Lincoln. "Good God, what
does it matter how it's done, so that this shattered people is
restored to normal life?"

Stanton groaned, hopelessly.

  Lincoln changed the subject abruptly. "Are you going to
get down to Fort Sumter on the 14th when we raise the flag
again? I think either you or I should be there and I certainly
can't leave Washington so soon again."

  "Nol Nol I'm needed here to unscramble the eggs," replied
Stanton impatiently. "And you must stay here under close
guard. For many months now, the vindictives of the South
are going to be hard after you. I'm going to be frank with
you, Mr. Lincoln."

  "Do you insinuate that this conversation has hitherto
lacked frankness on your party" Lincoln's tired eyes
twinkled.

  "I mean that I'm going to tell you, sir, that your attitude
on the matter of assassination is pure bravado. No sane man
living really courts murder. Look the facts in the face, Mr.
Lincoln. Do you want to die to-day  to-morrow?"

  Something icy clutched at Lincoln's heart. "Certainly notl"
he ejaculated.

  "Of course not! You're human like the rest of us. Then I
warn you again and most solemnly that you must keep away
from public places and gatherings. If you don't, nothing can
save you, nothing."

  Stanton was so earnest, Lincoln was so sure of his
affection beneath his nerve-racked manner that something
of the Secretary's fears crept clay-cold into his brain. He
shivered, then laughed at himself.

  "I think perhaps, though I'm not sure, that I could
shoulder a gun and march into battle firmly enough,
Stanton, but you make a woman of me with this question. I
promise you again to be careful."

  "I suppose that's all I can hope for," grumbled Stanton,
rising. "Has Henry Ward Beecher agreed to speak at Fort
Sumter?"

  "Yes, he's going to drop in here in a day or so to get
suggestions," replied Lincoln.

"I like him. He's a great and good man," moving toward the
door.

  Hill Lamon appeared as Stanton disappeared. "I think," he
said, "the only way you'll get rid of that mob outside, Mr.
Lincoln, is to talk to 'em. They've been demanding you since
breakfast time."

Lincoln glanced at the clock. It was just before nine. So long
an hourl

                            CHAPTER XII
                         O MISTRESS MINE:

T INCOLN never had felt less inclined to make a speech than at this moment. His relief, his
anxieties, so mingled in his weary mind

 ~ that he desired nothing so much as to be silent. But he knew the persistency of crowds,
so with a sigh of resignation he walked through the close packed waiting room, across the hall
to the bedroom over the main entrance from the window of which he frequently spoke. He
found Tad already providing amusement for the throngs below. The boy was struggling before
the window with the butler who was trying to take a large Rebel flag from him. Just as Lincoln
entered, Tad broke free and began to wave the flag over the ledge. A mighty surge of hand
clapping rose from below.

 The President stepped forward and stood with a hand on Tad's small shoulder.

 As far as he could see stretched an agitated mass of people. As the crowd spied him, an
extraordinary roar of voices rose. Hats were thrown in the air. Handkerchiefs and banners
fluttered. The smoke of unheard firecrackers drifted upward. Bands blared faintly through the
Niagara of human clamor. Lincoln could not bear much of it and stretched out his great arm
in a faint hope that he might lessen the din. To his astonishment, the silence was instant. The
people stood waiting and he knew they expected him to voice everything which they could not
express.

But he could not meet their need!

 An acute consciousness of all that had happened in the four years just past rushed into his
mind with cyclonic force, shook him, paralyzed his tongue. After a moment, he uttered a few
broken and inadequate phrases. And then he appealed to the people for help trusting to their
sense of humor to give them understanding.

 "I see you have a band," he remarked, quietly.               ;

"Three of 'em!" shouted some one.

 "Goodl" Lincoln went on. "Then I propose that they play a certain tune. I have always
thought 'Dixie' was one of the best airs I ever heard. I understand that our adversaries over
the way have attempted to appropriate it. I insisted yesterday that we have fairly captured it
and presented the question to the Attorney-General. He gave his opinion that it is our lawful
prize. But before the bands strike up, I propose three cheers for General Grant and all under
his command."

 He led the cheers, then proposed three more for "our gallant navy." After these, the bands
burst into the tune which had not been heard in

546 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

Washington since 1861 and Lincoln smiled at its
remembered gayety as he moved away from the window.

"I told you I couldn't make a speech," he said to Hill Lamon.

 "It was pretty bad," agreed Hill, "but the crowd didn't know
the difference."

 "Yes, they did. But they understood and were kind. I must
not make any speech I don't prepare first. I'm too tired and
I make a botch of any extemporaneous attempt," declared
the President, irritated by his own inadequacy.

 Mary, who had been standing with a quieting hand on
Tad's arm during the short ceremony, exchanged glances
with John Hay and said, "Mr. Lincoln, I've asked the
Harlans to ride with us this afternoon."

"I hope that includes Mary HarlanI" The President's eyes
brightened.

 "I hope sol" replied Mary. "You and I must see what we
can of her before Bob gets back. But her mother wasn't sure
of Mary's plans when she accepted for herself."

 They were moving together toward the hall and Lincoln
said softly, "Do you really think Bob has a chance therel"

 "I have no idea," replied his wife. "She's so demure about
him and so friendly with every onel My dear, she's the
dearest girll"

"You're in love with her yourself!" jibed Lincoln.

"I am," very soberly.

 "Well, your taste always was goodl" with a contented little
laugh. "Here, where are you leading me? I've no time for
any sitting-room conferences to-day. I've ten days' arrears in
correspondence and documents on my desk and look at that
reception rooml"

 The public hall and staircase was packed with visitors.
Mary, however, kept his great hand clasped in both of hers,
pulling him gently into the pleasant room. "I won't take two
minutes. You must hear Bob's letter about Mary which just
arrived from somewhere west of Richmond."

 "Well, in that easel" He permitted her to tug and push him
across the room into his chair before the tiny spring fire. He
stretched out his legs with a sigh.

 "You must get the true inwardness of this, Abra'm. It's a
letter from a boy at the front to his mother waiting in
anxiety to learn what's happened to himl" She unfolded the
single sheet and read, "Dear Mother, I heard that you and
Mary Harlan visited Richmond yesterday. I do think it was
foolish. Didn't father realize that the Rebel capital was no
place for you two Marys7 I shall be relieved when I hear you
are safely back in Washington. How did Mary enjoy the trip?
Did she enquire for me or were her thoughts all for John
Hay? Curse that manl I'm glad you and father see how
extraordinarily lovely she is. I wish I could say the things to
her that the President does. Can't you give her a hint that
he's not her most ardent admirer in our family? I hope
General Grant and his staff will be ordered to Washington
shortly. Do give a hint to father and old Stanton on that,
too. Your loving son "

O MISTRESS MINEI 547

 Lincoln listened, enchanted. All the world of war and intrigue was for a perfect moment
wiped from his mind. He laughed delightedly. "But don't you hint, Maryl The boy must do
his own courting!"

 Y'll not make any promises," returned Mary calmly, folding the letter and replacing it in
her pocket. "You will send for Grant, won't you7"

 "He's been sent for, my dear, but scarcely, I am afraid, for the purpose of bringing Captain
Lincoln up here to cast sheep's eyes at his lady lover I wish Bob wasn't so bashful! He needs
a few leaves from John Hay's bookl"

 "No, he doesn't! John is delightful but his witty impudence wouldn't suit Bob. Bob's a great
deal like you, my dear, and if you wish to understand his state of mind, you must remember
your own courting days."

 "God forbid he'd be such a fool as II" protested Lincoln, "and God bless them both. Just
think, to be in love again, in Aprill Lucky Bobl In love in April What's that thing of
Whitman's7

"When the snows had melted
 When the lilac scent was in the air
 O pastl O lifer O songs of joyl
 Lovedl Lovedl Lovedl Lovedl . . .
 But my love, no more, no more with your"

 "Not that last liner A thousand times, nol" cried Mary. "Abra'm, how can you7"

 She flung herself on her knees beside his chair and hid her face on his breast. He looked
down on her wonderingly, then bent and kissed her shining braids.

"It's just a poem, darling Maryl" he murmured.

 "You always say Whitman is a prophet. Don't quote that again, for God's sakel" lifting her
tragic eyes to his.

 He returned her look sadly. He must share his thoughts with some one or go mad. He must
find some one to whom he could show that shadow which darkened his soul, that shadow
which expressed itself in the fateful dream. But what utter cruelty to show it to Maryl

 He rose, lifting her with him and said casually, "You know, Mary, Walt Whitman and I
have one thing in common and that's a bilious streak!"

 She said nothing and he added, "I'm looking forward to that ride this afternoon."

 "It will do us both good," agreed Mary, now meeting his effort. "The woods are lovely.
Perhaps we'll find some dogwood, wet and cold as it is." She glanced at the timepiece on the
mantel. "It's twenty minutes past nine and I am due to leave for the hospitals at half past."

 "Jingsl Is it that later" muttered the President, and he rushed into his of Eice.

 James Speed, the new Attorney-General, was standing beside the Cabinet table. Lincoln
gave a glance half humorous, half irritated at his pile of documents. "No more executions,
Speedl The chief butcher is going

 out of business!"                                             ;

548 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 Speed, handsome, in spite of a heavy beard, laughed and
said, "I know how you feel about thatl" Then he added
soberly, "These are the police detective reports on the
alleged illegal activities of Ward Hill Lamon, Leonard Swett,
Thurlow Weed and others, in cotton trading. The War
Department has asked me for my opinion and you
remember you requested me to go over the matter with
you."

 Lincoln sat down with a sigh. He was utterly weary of the
long reports Police Detective Baker was perpetually making.
Baker would cast suspicions on the Virgint As for Hill
Lamonl "By jingsl" he ejaculated, "I'd answer for Lamon
with my lifer"

 Speed looked silently at the President with fine eyes so
like those of his brother Joshua, that dearest friend of
Lincoln's youth, that Lincoln actually started. "Speed," he
exclaimed, "did Joshua ever tell you what fools we were
about women?"

The Attorney-General shook his head.

 "I suppose it's as well," sighed Lincoln. "Well, get on with
the papers, Speed."

 "I think," the younger man rubbed his head in perplexity,
"I think, sir, you'd better let me read this to you, skipping
the verbiage. The matter has gone out of Mr. Dana's hands
into Secretary Stanton's and Mr. Stanton is angry and is
hard after the case."

 "I seel Go ahead but be as brief as you can." He closed his
eyes and listened closely for ten minutes then interrupted to
say, "The nub of the thing is that Baker's unearthed a
scheme in which I am to be beguiled into issuing a permit
to a man named Lazarre to trade in cotton in an illegal
contract alleged to have been made with Hill Lamon,
Leonard Swett, Thurlow Weed and others. Well, sir, I'll not
issue the permit and that jostles the plan, if there is one, to
an early and sterile death. What next7"

"The next step is to satisfy Mr. Stanton."

 "Mr. Stanton can't be satisfied. He'll have to endure me
and my little ways."

 The Attorney-General rose. "Ward Hill Lamon ought not
to embarrass you this way, Mr. Lincoln."

"He doesn't," said the President, "just to disregard
grammar!"

  However, as Speed went out, Lincoln pulled the bell rope
and sent for Lamon. But he had worried through two hours'
work before Hill arrived with apologies. He had been
attending court.

  Lincoln looked at him for a moment, then said quietly,
"Hill, I want you to promise me to stay out of cotton
speculations."

  "I promise, sir," answered Lamon, readily. "May I know
the whyfor of this?"

  Lincoln paused. The war with all its forces so destructive
of character was over. He believed that Hill had been,
always, a man of integrity. If he had been weak for a
moment, the cause of the temptation was removed.

  "No, Hill, I reckon least said soonest mended in this Do
you know, I had the dream again, last night that sobbing
and the catafalque "

O MISTRESS MINEI 549

  "It's only a dream, Mr. Lincoln," exclaimed Lamon, "the
fancy of an overstrained mindl When it comes, think of the
happiest thing you know."

  "Bob and Mary Harlan, for example!" smiled the President,
turning back to his desk.

  But as he ground on through the crowded hours he was
always conscious of the shadow and conscious of a growing
sense that he must meet and understand that shadow if he
was to know peace. Somewhere, somehow, he must find an
hour of loneliness and silence. He made a determined effort
to cast the feeling of melancholy out of his mind. Mary was
not back from the hospitals when he ate his dinner. But she
had left strict orders that the sitting room was to be locked
during his meal there. He settled himself with a copy of
Petroleum V. Nasby propped open against the water pitcher
and at intervals for half an hour, Crook, out in the hall, the
waiting crowd in the reception room and John Hay in his
office three doors away, smiled in sympathy at the peals of
laughter which percolated through the sitting-room walls.

  Mary came back before he could return to his office and
insisted that he go at once for his ride. He protested only
mildly and shortly followed her voluminous lavender skirts
down the staircase. The carriage was waiting with the
cavalry escort. Lincoln groaned as he lifted his hat to the
salute and said to Mary as they whirled with a mighty clatter
down the driveway, "Well, this crime against liberty won't be
continued much longer, thanks to Grant and Shermanl"

  In a few moments they drew up with a noisy flourish before
the Harlans' door. Mary Harlan was waiting on the steps and
explained that she was substituting for her mother who was
nursing a sudden headache. While the President, uttering
proper sentiments of sympathy for Mrs. Harlan, was
delightedly handing young Mary into the carriage, Senator
Harlan appeared.

  He was a striking-looking man of forty-five, wearing the
monotonous and obscuring beard of the period. But the
features left uncovered, the straight nose and the large eyes,
were singularly handsome.

  After he had received their congratulations and felicitations
over the great news from Grant, Lincoln turned his attention
to the younger of the guests.

  "Mary Harlan, is that your Easter bonnets" gazing critically
at a confection of pansies and apple blossoms.

  "I thought you paid no attention to ladies' clothes, Mr.
Lincolnl" Mary Harlan's dimple showed.

  "I'm not sure as to that," he retorted. "But I do know I
always recognize spring when I see it and comment thereon,
don't I, my dears" smiling at his wife.

  "AlwaysI" agreed Mary Lincoln. "And it is spring, in spite
of the weather! I'm taking you across the Eastern Branch. It's
warmer down there and we may see dogwood."

550 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "We couldn't see any if there were hedges of it with this
army around us," grumbled the President. "HalloolThey've
put guards on the old Navy Yard Bridgel" as they
approached that flat and unimpressive wooden structure.
"When did this happens"

 "A month agol" replied Harlan. "At least I was held up
then, when taking a ride. I was told that some sort of a
vague plot against the Administration had been unearthed
in Lower Maryland."

 Mary Lincoln's face changed color and the President said
quickly, "Senator, when are you going to take over the
Department of the Interior7 You are badly needed in the
Cabinet. I'm going to want men with the long view on
capital and labor."

 "In May, I shall be able to take the portfolio," replied
Harlan. "I heard that Charles Sumner might be Secretary of
State." His eyes twinkled. "How, may I ask, do you expect to
get any work done with all the sound and fury in the
Cabinet? Stanton and Sumnerl Whewl"

 "I'll pray like the man in the thunderstorm," replied
Lincoln. "'O Lord, if it's all the same to you, give us a little
more light and a little less noisel' We've lived through the
war, so I'm certain we can weather through even Stanton
and Sumner on reconstruction. As a matter of fact, Stanton
is not so dangerous a fighter as Charles Sumner. He's not so
egotistical. Stanton is all bark and no bite Well" as every
one smiled "a little biter"

 "He's fiendish in his office," said the Senator. "But I
contribute for what it's worth the fact that I saw him playing
mumble peg with Major Eckert, this morning, about six
o'clock. Stanton said they were practicing the arts of peacel"

 "I'd say his powers of expression were limited," commented
Mary Lincoln' eagerly scanning the roadside for signs of
spring blossoms.

 "Speaking of powers of expression," mused Lincoln, "you
ought to read a letter Mrs. Lincoln received this morning
from Bob, to assure her he was safe. There wasn't one
word " His wife pinched him. "What have I done now7" he
demanded.

Mary Harlan's eyes twinkled. "How is Bob7"

 Lincoln began again. "As I was trying to explain, one had
to read between the lines to understand that his heart "

 "Now that the war's over, Mr. Lincoln," interrupted Mary
Lincoln, firmly, "aren't you going to hurry Bob out of the
army and make him get on with his law work7"

 "Judging from his present aspirations," replied the
President with a broad smile at Mary Harlan and a wink at
her father, "we shan't have to do any hurrying and making."

 The young girl blushed from the tip of her chin to the
white line of parting in the soft hair under the forget-me-not
bonnet. Lincoln eyed her with frank delight. There was to
him something infinitely sweet that with the ending of the
war's four years' nightmare should come Bob's charming
love affair. It renewed one's faith in the legality of
happiness. For a

O MISTRESS MINE! 551

long, long time it had seemed as if nothing were legitimate
but grief. He looked down at his own Mary. She was far
lovelier as Mary Lincoln, the mother of a grown son, than she
had been even as a bride. Life with all its agonies had been
becoming to her.

He caught Mary Harlan's eye and smiled.

 "Bob," she said, dimpling, "has inherited your beautiful teeth
and smile, Mr. Presidentl"

 "Good gracious!" he ejaculated. "Some one has discovered
a good point in this grizzled old front of mine. I'll have to
make note of that for the cartoonists especially those fellows
in Punch."

"I'll never forgive any of them," exclaimed Mary Lincoln.

"Nor I," agreed Senator Harlan with sudden grimness.

  Lincoln was surprised and touched. "Give yourselves no
uneasiness over any of those old malignities," he said. "I've
endured a great deal of ridicule without much malice and
have received a great deal of kindness not quite free of
ridicule. I am used to it."

  No one spoke for a moment. The carriage was moving
slowly up Good Hope Hill and tried to turn out of the heavy
clay to make way for two men on horseback. Both were
young and elegantly clad, though mud spattered. One of them
bowed, taking off his hat. The other glared at Lincoln like a
malevolent young tiger.

  "Those are the actors, John McCullough and John Wilkes
Boothl" exclaimed Mary Harlan, staring excitedly as the two
passed and craning her neck to follow them down the hill.

  "Which was which?" asked the President. "One of them
looked mad about something. I reckon he doesn't share your
enthusiasm for my smile, Mary Harlan."

  "That was John Wilkes Booth," replied the young girl. "Isn't
he lovely? I suppose he was deep in a part and never saw
who was in the carriage."

  "Let's hope he had some excuse for his insolence," sniffed
Mary Lincoln.

  Lincoln leaned back and allowed both eyes and fancy to
wander over the fields. "Nothing so hits the normal spot in a
man as the sight of a farmer Flowing," he said. He was silent
for a moment, then went on, "I'm trying hard to think of a
poem that'll do justice to this occasion. One part of my mind
quotes:

 "For God's sake, let us set upon the ground
 And tell sad stories of the death of kings

And then I think of poor Jeff Davis and go on:

How some have been deposed; some slain in war;

. . .; some sleeping killed;
All murdered; for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps death his court and there the antic sits
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp "

552 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

He paused and stared at the Maryland countryside, thinking
of Davis and his frustrated dream of glory.

  Harlan ventured to break the silence. "Of course, you'll be
obliged to hang Jeff Davis."

  Lincoln started, turning on the Senator grey eyes in which
the reminiscent light suddenly was quenched. He leaned
toward Harlan and said quietly but with all the finality at his
command, "Not another man from this day forth shall die
for his connection with the Rebellion, if I can prevent it.
Senator, you spoke as if you wanted Davis to hangl"

  The man from Iowa stiffened. "If we don't treat the
leaders of the Rebellion as traitors always have been treated,
this Union never will be safe from attacks within. Davis and
his satellites must hang, deeply as I deplore it."

  "No, they shall not hangl" Lincoln sighed and observed for
the first time that the April wind was cold. "They shall live
and suffer what is more painful than hanging; that is regretl
The sense of failure will choke their ambitions for the rest
of their days. That's punishment enough. That's the
punishment of God which no man can escape."

  "I believe public opinion will not permit you to save
Davis," reiterated Harlan.

  Mary Harlan suddenly leaned forward to put a small white
gloved hand on the President's knee. "And what quotation
is in the other part of your mind, dear Mr. Lincoln? We
can't bear to have you look so tragic."

He laid his great palm gratefully for a moment over her
little fist.

  "The other part of my mind, Mary Harlan, is as festive as
a young lamb skipping among the daisies. It says:

"'O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O stay and heart
Your true-love's coming.... Trip no further, pretty
sweating, Journeys end in lover's meeting  Every wise
man's son cloth know."'

 The younger Mary looked at the older Mary. "He must
have been a wonderful lover."

"He is one," returned the elder. "He has improved with the
years."

"Hearl Hearl" chuckled Lincoln.

"What other nice thing is in your mind, sir?" urged Mary
Harlan.

 "A dream of California," replied the President, leaning
back once more and closing his eyes. "A dream of a new life
in California. I know a poem about California by Walt
Whitman."

 "Now, no more poems from him, Mr. Lincoln," protested
Mary Lincoln. "I don't like his implications "

 "There's nothing about California in that poem, anyhow,"
volunteered Mary Harlan.

"Daughter, are you admitting you've read Whitman? He's an
indecent

O MISTRESS MINEI 553

rubbish-monger. I certainly can't permit thatI" Senator
Harlan's face was flushed.

 "But, father dear," began Mary, "he doesn't compare with
the Old Testament for "

 "That's enough, daughter! We'll not compare the Bible with
'Leaves of Grass."'

 But she was by no means suppressed. "And yet you swear
by Robert Burns, father!"

 Lincoln roared with such spontaneity of amusement that
even Harlan joined him. But the Senator quickly sobered to
says "Nevertheless, if there were more young people buying
the Bible and fewer buying 'Leaves of Grass' it would be
better for the state of the country."

 "That reminds me of a little story about Bible selling!"
exclaimed Lincoln. "A certain Bible peddler was making his
rounds through the frontier woods when he came on a poor
little cabin chock full of children. The mother appeared to be
working hard but it was evidently one of those households
where nothing but dirty dishes and unmade beds thrive. The
peddler saw at once that here was a field for work and after
he'd talked to the mother a little while about her soul's
salvation, he asked her if she owned a Bible.

 "She was right mad and indignant. She told him they might
be poor but they weren't heathen. The peddler urged her to
show him the Book. She started at once to search; on the
rafters, under the eaves, in the chimney closet, under the bed.
Then she called the children in and they rooted the cabin
out. At last, the biggest of the young ones dug from the
debris under the bed, a few tattered leaves of the Book of
Job. The peddler was horrified but the mother didn't budge
an inch. 'I knew,' she said, 'that we'd had a Bible, though I
had no idea we were so near out."'

 Once more laughter filled the carriage. Then Mary Lincoln,
testing the weather with her glove off, announced that they
must turn toward home at once. During the remainder of the
drive, the two men discussed the problems of the Department
of the Interior, from the Indian unrest to the opening of new
lands in the West.

               CHAPTER XIII
             FONDLY DO WE HOPE

   TILDES BOOTH and John McCullough returned to the
city V V shortly after the President and his friends. As they
dismounted

 ~ ~ before the hotel, Atzerodt, who was waiting to take
the horses to the stable, told Wilkes that Mrs. Surratt wished
to see him. Leaving McCullough, Wilkes at once went round
to the house on H Street. Mrs. Surratt, a big, raw-boned
woman of forty-five, closed the door of the pallor and said
in a low voice:

 "I can tend to that business of yours to-morrow or next day
if you'll loan me your horse and buggy. I have to go out to
Surrattsville in reference to some money due me on land my
husband sold." She picked up a white silk mitt she was
knitting and seated herself before the fire.

 "I'm sorryl" exclaimed Wilkes. "Atzerodt sold the buggy
outfit yesterday. But I'll let you have ten dollars to hire one
with."

 "Thank your" She knitted rapidly, a competent figure in
heavy mourning. She must have been handsome once but
there was something austere and hard about her now which
repelled Wilkes. The only touch of softness he'd ever seen
in her lay in the fact that she invariably wore at her throat
a brooch containing a photograph of her husband.

"Have you heard from your sons" asked Wilkes.

 "A telegram. He's in Montreal and has reported to Jacob
Thompson. The Canadian helpers left on the 8th."

 Wilkes moved impatiently. "Then they may not be here in
time. I shall strike whenever the iron is hot. Shoot to kill."

Mrs. Surratt looked up at him. "You've actually reached that
point?"

 Wilkes threw back his beautiful head and thrust his fingers
into the breast of his short riding coat. "I travel"

"Do Payne and Atzerodt know?" asked Mrs. Surratt.

 "Not the fool of a German, certainly. But I'll tell Lewis
Payne. He'll be with me to the hilt."

 Mrs. Surratt nodded. "Let me repeat your errand, then. A
slip in the slightest detail may cost you your life. John and
Atzerodt a month ago placed at our tavern in Surrattsville
two carbines with ammunition, a monkey wrench and a rope,
telling Lloyd, our renter, to hide them until needed. You
wish me to check Lloyd to see that the articles are within
quick reach and tell him that it's you who'll demand them."

"Precisely! And be sure you identify me to him."

 "Oh, he knows you by sight, I'm sure. But I'll take care. I
plan to have Weichmann drive me out and back. It's no trip
for a woman alone, these days. He's such a fool that he has
no suspicions. Will you stay to supper?"

FONDLY DO WE HOPE 555

 "Yes, thank you," replied the actor. "But I must leave
immediately after to break the news to Lewis Payne."

 But after the evening meal, a girl friend of John Surratt
called bringing a letter she had received from him and Wilkes
delayed to read this. Then Weichmann came down to the
parlor demanding music and Wilkes and Miss Ward obliged
with some duets. Later Wilkes recited poetry for them and so
it was well on toward ten o'clock when he left the house. He
felt more desire for drinking than for an argument with Payne
so he returned to his room at the hotel and ordered a rum
toddy.

 While Booth was reciting poetry at the Surratts', Lincoln
was receiving a guest whom he was exceptionally glad to see,
not so much for reasons of state as for the fact that he
earnestly desired to ask this man a queslion. When John Hay
announced Henry Ward Beecher, Lincoln laid down his pen
with a sigh of relief. As if, he told himself, the doctor had
come at lastl

 Beecher was a little more than fifty at this time, a
striking-looking man, clean shaven in an age of whiskers, with
the orator's mobile lips and with eyes of searching
intelligence. He wore his iron grey hair, which was very thick,
brushed straight back from his forehead. It gave him a very
wideawake appearance, the President thought.

 "Well," said Lincoln as they shook hands, "you've ceased
cursing me regularly in the Independent. What do you do for
a staple victim now? I remember the fearful things you said
in '6z or '63. They taught me to ignore that kind of criticism."

 Beecher's smile was a little twisted as he seated himself on
the opposite side of the grate. "We ordinary mortals didn't
understand your magnanimity, Mr. Lincoln. You're heaping
coals of fire on my head by sending me down to Fort
Sumter."

 Lincoln grinned. "I wanted the best man for the jobl Fort
Sumter stands in the public mind as the occasion of this
terrible war. That's where the old flag received the first
official shot and dropped in shame. I want you to rear it
again, Beecher, but not in pride. Rear it in humility. For take
it anyway you will, this war has been a humiliating thing."

 "I will be humble," agreed the preacher, "but I can't agree
that there's been no glory in this war. Where in the history of
the world has a people ever risen against their own blood to
set black men freer Don't tell me that the freeing of the
slaves was not glorious, sirl"

 "I have no notion of being so foolish," returned Lincoln,
looking at Beecher with eyes in which the four years' story of
the Civil War was written. "Nevertheless, don't boast down
there. Be as chivalrous, as gentle and as magnanimous as the
event demands."

 Beecher, reading the wordless sorrow in those eyes, said
with unwonted modesty, "I wish you'd make the address,
sir you who've borne the brunt of battle. Don't protest, I
beg of you. When I think of your unparalleled burdens during
these four bloody years, when I think of your patience and
fortitude and your disinterested wisdom "

556 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

  "Don'tlDon'tI" begged Lincoln. "The credit goes to Grant
and Stanton and to a million others. You must make the
speech. I'm not so competent as you and I mustn't leave
here anyhow. My job right now is to save Jeff Davis'
life his and Stephens' and all the rest of those mistaken
dreamers. Stanton's gone entirely crazy. He's as bad as
anybody, hollering that we must hang three or four leaders
in every seceded State. Stanton's my chief care, outside
Andy Johnson." He watched Beecher keenly.

  The preacher shook back his hair with a gesture half of
impatience, half of disbelief. "Surely in your long intercourse
with Edwin Stanton, sir, you've learned to look behind his
bitter tonguel He doesn't mean that."

  "He means just that," said Lincoln, quietly and
deliberately. He knew there was friendship between the
famous preacher and the Secretary of War and he wanted
Beecher to use his influence, if he had any.

  Beecher resolved his mind of that doubt by saying, "I
understand Stanton better than most men do, though I never
knew him until a few months ago. I came up Wall Street
one day and met a friend who told me that he'd just got
back from Washington and that Stanton couldn't hold out
much longer. He was breaking down. Well, it struck me all
in a heap. I walked into one of those offices in Wall Street
and said, 'Will you allow me pen and ink?' And I wrote him
just what I'd heard. That he was sick and desponding. But
that he must not despond. The country was saved and if he
didn't do another thing, he'd done enough. I sent the letter
and in a few days I got his reply. If it had been from a
woman answering a proposal it wouldn't have been more
tender. And when I went to Washington to meet him, he
was as tender as a woman, as a lover."

  Lincoln's eyes moistened. "Yes, he's shown me that side,
too. But don't be deceived, Mr. Beecher. There's nothing
tender in his thoughts about the Rebel leaders. He's a wolfl"

  Beecher looked affronted for a moment then his face
cleared. "I shall go talk to him and try to prove you're
mistaken, Mr. Lincoln."

  "That's precisely why I brought the subject up. I hoped
you'd do just that," smiled the President. He took out the
paper knife and ran it through his hair and unbuttoned his
vest with a long sigh. "Well, so we've rounded the circle of
Hell and have come back to Fort Sumter againl I'll never
forget the travail of spirit with which I came to the
determination some four eternities ago this month to
provision that fatal place." He looked out the window and
tried once more to realize that the circuit Lad been
completed. But in place of that realization came again the
thought that Beecher would give him the help he needed.
He turned back to say abruptly, "Mr. Beecher, do you
believe in a future lifer I've been thinking about that a good
deal lately."

  "Do you mean you've been thinking about future life or
earthly deaths" asked Beecher. The indefinable air of the
minister of the gospel suddenly changed their relationship.
It was no longer citizen deferring to the Chief Executive but
pastor instructing parishioner.

FONDLY DO WE HOPE 557

 "I suppose, as a matter of fact," confessed the President,
"I've been searching for 'intimations of immortality.'"

 Beecher nodded. "People can no more help being always
conscious of the surge of death on the shores of life than
those who dwell on the seashore can ignore the sighing of the
ocean on the beach. Especially after one reaches forty is one
conscious of the other world beating, as it were, on this."

"Then there is another world?" asked Lincoln.

  "When a man dies and you go to his funeral you say,"
Beecher got up and began to stride around the Cabinet table,
"you say, a man is dead. But the angels say, a man is born."

  "Angels!" ejaculated Lincoln. "Do you believe in that kind
of an hereafter, Mr. Beecher?"

  "Why not?" demanded Beecher. "Does it matter by what
name we call the inhabitants of heaven? Yes, I believe in
heaven, Mr. Lincoln, and I know how to get there, too."

  "I'd give ten years of my life to have that conviction," said
the President. "How do you propose to make the transit?"

  "By following Christ, Who is perfectly definite. He said, I
am the way. Christ knew. His is the final authority for who
but God would say, I am the road. Press me with your feet."

  Beecher spoke in tones indescribably thrilling. Lincoln felt
his weary pulses quicken. And yet, he told himself, it was only
such a thrill as he got when Hamlet spoke through Booth.
Was Abraham Lincoln doomed to be only an onlooker at all
men's faiths?

  "I believe absolutely in God," he said, finally, "but for the
rest, Beecher, I reckon I'm caught on a spiritual sand-bar."

  Beecher's face lighted. "I know just what you meant Last
fall I was on a huge Govemment steamer on the Ohio. We
were so big that the pilot made no ventures out of the known
channel. The water was falling fast and we saw that the craft
which had ventured were in trouble, even small boats. In one
place several rafts were caught on a sand-bar. But our pilot
swung as close to them as he dared and our wake flooded
every one of the little boats freer I don't know whether I'm
a big enough craft to flood you off, sirl You see these were
little fellows and you don't come in that category!"

  "I know those sand-bars and snagsl There's an infinite
number of allegories in them. The Mississippi River enriched
my life in more ways than one." Lincoln looked at the
preacher thoughtfully. He'd never been able to pin any
well-educated Christian down to a definite statement about
his belief in heaven. But the folks he'd known back in Indiana
who could scarcely write their own names had a concreteness
that would defy the pope.

  "If you preachers," he said aloud, "could give your
congregations an absolute confidence in immortality they'd
follow you by any route you'd

558 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

tell 'em, however hard. That would float me or any man off
any spiritual sand-bar."

 Beecher jerked his head impatiently. "But don't you see
that if you believe in God, the rest must follow? He will give
you confidence. No mere man can do that. It lies between
you and your Maker, a relationship on which even a
clergyman cannot intrude."

 Lincoln felt definitely checked. Beecher had nothing for
him. His pretty baubles for women couldn't be magicked
into red meat for a hungry man. "I'm just naturally a mere
onlooker, I suppose. You mustn't take me too literally. I
reckon my spiritual curiosity got the best of me," he sighed.

 "You belittle your soul-strivings when you speak so,"
protested the preacher. "Why trouble about heavens If God
were real enough to you, you'd leave all that to Him. And
you know, He is real. You meet Him constantly, and
recognize Him, just as when you pass an open window and
hear some one playing the piano, you say, I recognize thatl
It's a Beethoven Sonata. So in life you recognize strains of
God in a child's innocent affection, in a lover's glow, in a
mother's self-denying love."

 "Yesl Yesl" stirring uneasily. "You had your mother
through your boyhood, Mr. Beecher, to manhood7"

 The preacher shook his head. "She died when I was three,
so she's been only an angel to me, all my life until a few
years ago. Then I found among a packet of old letters in my
father's study a bundle of my mother's letters to him. They
began with their first acquaintance and continued into their
married life. And as I read those, Mr. Lincoln, at last I knew
my motherl What the four Gospels are to the life of Christ,
those letters are to my mother's. I remember there was one
letter in which she spoke freely and frankly of her love. That
to me is her Gospel of St. John's, which was God's love
letter to the world."

 Lincoln thought of a still, stiff form Iying under a
buffalo-robe in a log cabin in Indiana, with blunted
finger-tips resting on the coarse brown fur. He could recall
the touch of those fingers when they had been alive, as
vividly as if he were feeling them that minute. But he didn't
see how any man could speak of his mother's intimate life
as freely as did Beecher. Had his mother left love letters, he
couldn't imagine himself reading them. He believed any
average man would burn his mother's love letters unread.
But perhaps a really great pulpit orator like Beecher must
have the temperament which made such an act possible and
proper.

 He eyed the preacher wistfully. There was no doubt that
Henry Ward Beecher had a sublime sureness. Beautiful
face  What a family that mother of his and Lyman Beecher
had produced!

 "You look like your sister," said Lincoln. "She came down
to see me, a while back. Had doubts about my sincerity with
the Emancipation Proclamation. My stock has never been
very high with your family, Mr. Beecher, I'm afraid."

 "Don't say thatI" protested Beecher. "Harriet came back
from the interview your loyal friend."

FONDLY DO WE HOPE 559

 "I blamed her and her 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' with making
this war," laughed the Presidentl

 "You told her among other alleged facts," nodded Beecher,
"that the war was killing you and you'd never live to see the
end of it. Well, peace is here, Mr. Lincoln, and so are youl
Your faith has been great save as concerns God's goodness
to you."

 "I've never doubted His goodness to me," was the
President's sober reply. "What I do doubt is my own ability
to judge what He means by goodness. I believe He was on
our side during the war or we wouldn't have won. But I'm
not sure what His attitude is toward me, the human being
who four years ago released the spring which induced that
mortar shot to drop on Fort Sumter. Is my life completed
Why do I have this inner fear that it may be and why am I
not reconciled7"

 He knew as he spoke that as Beecher had intimated he was
asking a question no human being should ask another, even
a minister. Had his own intellectual honesty not given him
that knowledge, the expression in Beecher's eyes would have
warned him that look of pained inadequacy which he had
seen far, far too often in men's eyes when he gave them a
glimpse of his inner starvation.

 He relieved Beecher by rising before he could frame a
reply, saying, "After all, that's important to no one but
myself!"

 "If Jeff Davis knew your attitude toward him and his fellow
conspirators, he'd hope that your life certainly was not donel"
exclaimed Beecher. "The answer is vital to the whole Southl
The North might fumble along without you, sir, but the
South's very existence depends on Abraham Lincoln."

 The President put a thin hand on the younger man's
shoulder. "You go down to Fort Sumter, my boy, and put the
flag back in her place with the sure message for the South
that they who sow in tears shall reap in joy."

 "I'll try, Mr. Lincoln," said Beecher humbly, and he went
out, closing the door softly.

                CHAPTER XIV
             STANTON, TnELOVER

T INCOLN sat without moving after Beecher's departure.
Outside the window, Washington was still celebrating. Band
music, firecrackers, . ~ blank cartridges and the dull,
unceasing roar of many voices floated through the window
to his unheeding ears. He was reasoning with himself about
his disappointment with Beecher, and he convinced himself
shortly that he'd been preposterous in his demands on the
minister. But the edge of disappointment did not dull. He
was glad when the door opened, admitting the next
contingent of visitors.

 Fifteen men filed into his office and Hill Lamon, his eyes
twinkling, intraduced them.

 "This, Mr. President, is a Confederate band which left
Early's forces a couple of weeks ago, in order to pay its
respects to you."

 Lincoln now understood the twinkle in Lamon's blue eyes.
He walked gravely forward and shook hands with the
visitors. Then the leader, with his bearskin under one arm
and a tissue-wrapped parcel under the other, cleared his
throat, set his heels together and gazing at the President
with the glazed eyes of one who with difficulty repeats from
memory, made a short speech.

 "Mr President, on behalf of my fellow musicians, I wish to
thank you for the great task you have finished in guiding the
ship of state through four years of tornado to a safe port.
We wish to assure you of our loyalty to you and the Stars
and Stripes. And we wish to present you with a slight token
of our esteem."

 Lincoln bowed and unwrapped the parcel and with
difficulty refrained from bursting into laughter. From an
enormous and elaborate silver frame a large engraving of his
own worn face stared up at the President!

 He cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, I thank you for this
token of your esteem. You did your bests It isn't your fault
that the frame is so much more rare than the picture. And
I thank you for your words of praise. It pleases me that you
came back to your loyalty to the Union before the
Confederacy actually crumbled."

 "Mr. Secretary Welles is waiting to come in, sir," said
Lamon, and with the skill begot by intensive experience, he
maneuvered the drum major and his flock out as Welles
came in.

 Lincoln thought the old man was looking ten years
younger. The two shook hands smiling as the band marched
down the hall, playing "Dixie." Then Lincoln said, abruptly:

"How do you stand on Jeff Davis, Mr. Welles?"

The Secretary of the Navy smoothed his beard, thoughtfully.
"Try him

STANTON, THE LOVER 561

for high treason before a civil court and if he's found guilty,
let him pay the penalty. I'm for a speedy trial. But I agree
with Seward that the Rebel State papers must be examined
first, preferably by an able economist like Dr. Lieber. Seward
wants a military commission to hold the trial and to include
murder, with conspiracy to burn cities, in the other
accusations."

Lincoln smiled sadly. "Poor old Davisl"

 "I can't seem to pity him," dryly. "He gasconaded the South
into this trouble. He always was the great I aml Now let him
pay." Welles blew his nose on an enormous silk handkerchief.

 The two men were standing before the fire. The evening
was cold. The yellow kitten began to claw her way up the
President's leg and he stooped to loosen her claws and place
her on his shoulder.

 "We have a very nice tiger-striped cat at our house,"
remarked Welles. "She insists on sleeping on my feet at
night."

 "I've always liked cats," murmured Lincoln, his mind on the
picture of Jefferson Davis fleeing for his life while Abraham
Lincoln vainly extended his arms to stay his executioners. He
felt tired and very old. The kitten sprang from his back to the
Cabinet table and after sharpening her nails on the red felt
covering, began to bat with a diminutive paw at a drooping
spray of early lilacs. Tad must have placed them there.

"Davis must be allowed to run away," said the President.

 "But why?" demanded Welles. "I don't think even
Christianity demands thatl"

 "Suppose we lay aside any sentimental or ethical
arguments," suggested Lincoln. "We all agree that our sole
aim is to restore the Union. Will it aid or hinder us in that
work if we kill off Jefferson Davis and his associates7"

 The older man parted his coat tails and warmed his back at
the blaze. "I think he ought to be tried. I'm not as
blood-thirsty as Stanton. Cowards are always blood-thirsty, on
paperl"

"I wouldn't call Stanton a coward," objected Lincoln.

 "Perhaps not in so many words, sir. But in your heart you
know he is. Do you know, he always carries a seven-inch
dagger? I have little respect for anything about Stanton save
his undoubted energy and his devotion to his job. He is
intriguing against your reconstruction policies at this
moment."

 Lincoln looked down at Welles in surprise. "Why this
renewal of hate, Mr. Welles?"

 "Well," admitted the Secretary of the Navy, "it's the last
trivial straw, I suppose. But a friend of mine went to Stanton
at my urging and asked for a pass into Richmond. Stanton
told him to go to hell."

 "And your friend preferred Richmond, strangely! You
should have sent him to me. The pressure on Stanton is
tremendous and his nerves aren't his strong point."

"There's no pressure on you, of courser The man's an
intriguer, sir, as

562 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

you'll find shortly. He's playing with the radicals while he
gives you his approval."

 "Well, I'll just have to meet that when it comes," said
Lincoln. "In the meantime, Mr. Welles, I want to ask you for
a promise. I don't want you to give it now. Think it over.
But when Jeff Davis comes up in the Cabinet meeting
to-morrow, don't talk hanging."

 Welles smiled ruefully. "Does this serve as notice that
you're going to put the screws on us as you've been known
to do before7"

"I don't want to have to," Lincoln smiled in return.

 The Secretary sighed and walking over to the table opened
his portfolio. "Here's a proclamation Seward and I agreed
upon. It closes those ports in the South we haven't already
got our grip on so that the Government may begin as soon
as may be to impose and collect duties. Will you look it
over, sir, and affix your signature."

 Lincoln read the paper and then signed it with the remark
that this was the kind of document he liked to issue. Welles
thanked him and departed. It was a quarter past ten.

 The noise in the White House grounds had been
increasing all the evening and as Lincoln again took up his
pen to begin work on the speech he had announced he
would make on the morrow, Parker, the guard on duty,
came in to say that there were a good many Congressmen
in the foreground of the crowd, demanding a speech from
the President.

 "I can't speak to-night, my child," exclaimed Lincoln. "I
mustn't try to speak again until my thoughts are written
down or I'll be misquoted by the papers."

 "Yes, sir," said Parker, respectfully, closing the door. But
he opened it shortly to deliver a note from Congressman
Hooper saying he thought it advisable for Lincoln in person
to dismiss the crowd which was growing unruly. The
President reluctantly dropped his pen and followed by
Parker crossed the hall to the familiar window in the state
bedroom.

 It was very different from the morning crowd. He
supposed many of its members had spent the day in
drinking. There was a maudlin note in the shouts.

 He leaned out of the window. And again to his surprise
there was instant silence. Very clearly but gently, he
explained to them that he must not speak until he had
prepared his words. "And I'm very tired," he said. "You will
go home now, won't you, and call on me again to-morrow
evenings"

"You bet we will, Abel"

"Hang Jeff Davis on a sour apple treel"

"We'll bring you Davis' lousy scalp, Mr. Lincolnl"

"Draw and quarter the traitor and hang him in the Senate as
a warningI"

Lincoln pulled down the window.

 But the crowd was dispersing and he returned to his desk.
In two more hours he completed his speech. He read it
through, grunted, and walking across the room, threw the
paper into the fire. Mary came in a moment

STANTON, THE LOVER 563

later and ordered him off to bed. He obeyed her, gratefully,
but he could not sleep and shortly he got up to sit before the
window. He knew he could not rest until he had thought out
what he must say the next night.

 He was fully aware that the people would expect him to
make an address of thanksgiving and of gloating. But on
these grounds he felt completely sterile; devastated like the
country around Petersburg. His soul was the sepulcher of all
the dead men North and South on whom four years ago Fort
Sumter had loosed the dogs of war. Others could throw off
the horror of the Rebellion, even those who had lost those
dear to them but he could not now, nor, he knew, would he
ever be able to do so. For his had been the final
responsibility his and Jeff Davis'. Before the ultimate
judgment of God they must plead their cases.

 He did not question the immediate ethics of the Northern
cause. He never had wavered in his conviction that slavery
was wrong. Nor that he had done his immediate duty in
saving the Union. But deep within him was a disillusionment
so profound that it had cut his joy in life at the roots.

 If democracy had worked, if American democracy were
anything more than an increase in material opportunity over
anything the world had known hitherto, it never would have
permitted slavery to exist, or finding it in existence at the
founding of the Union, true democracy would have wiped it
out in the writing of the Constitution. And again, though the
fathers had proved weak, the sons, had their democracy been
pure, would have ended slavery by compensated emancipation
long before Abraham Lincoln had pleaded with them to do
so.

 Nay, democracy, which had been his soul's star, had fallen,
leaving him lonely as no human being could endure to be.
Democracy had been his mistress and she had turned
prostitute.... Granted that under God the Union had been
saved from immediate disruption, could it be lifted from the
dust and blood of men's lusts? Would they permit him to do
so? . . . Democracy the last, best hope of earth and America
had besmirched her. Democracy, that yearning of man's spirit
to grow to its full, unhampered by tyranny; surely it was the
finest flower of human aspirations. But it was only an
aspiration, never to be realized. Neverl . . . God Almightyl for
four years Abraham Lincoln had been head butcher of a
slaughter-house! . . . Nay, it could not be sol Not Lincolnl
Not the boy, the man, who had hated death since his memory
beganl Since when? He knew precisely. He had not
understood death until he saw his beautiful mother Iying rigid
in the cabin. Now with eyes wide on the crackling fire he saw
again the mud-daubed fireplace, the red-checked table cloth,
the bark-covered stanchions of the bed, the red blankets and
the buffalo-robe on which lay her hands Sometimes in his
dreams, several times of late, he had seen those hands and
had tried to clasp them around his neck as of old.... Strange
death, so icy, so stiff, so indifferencet Death, the terriblel His
first real tears had been shed then when he was nine; a man's
tears, for his mother. The great drops were running down his
cheeks now.

564 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

HerelThis was childish! He was as bad as a morbid womanl
He wiped his face and came resolutely back to his speech.

 The people must do their own rejoicing. For him the job
of putting the Union again on its legs. He would give a plain
talk on methods. The newspapers would report it. Folks
would say he was disappointing and would talk about the
speech to prove that it was disappointing and perhaps one
man in a thousand would thus imbibe its purpose. Ought he
to speak of his scheme of colonization for the negroes7 If he
could enveigle the majority of the colored people to move
to South America or Africa onto territory bought by
America and deeded to them on some plan by which they
could take it and self-government over as fast as they made
the land support them, would not some such scheme be the
one sure road to the negroes' best happiness? They never
could be accepted on equal terms by Americans (O
democracy!) and no human beings could be happy who were
despised socially. Moreover, if the supply of labor were
reduced by colonizing the black labor out of the country, by
precisely so much would the demand for and the wages of
white labor increase. With colonization or the prospect of it,
the carbuncle on the social elbow of the South would be
lanced and a single generation would see it healed.

 The rain had set in again, but gently. He loved the sound
of it on the portico roof. Rain on the lilac hedges
below the prairies were flushing green out yonder on the
Mississippi.

 But he would not mention colonization in to-morrow's
speech. No use making folks craw-bound with too many
ideas at oncel He chuckled suddenly as he recalled Tad
stuffing his pet turkey with corn until its neck looked like a
red gourd and of the boy's calling in Dr. Stone to aid the
bird's digestion. But there was no doctor on earth who could
relieve a peon ple over-stuffed with political expedients.

 The speech must be merely a plain reiteration of methods
of restoring the Southern States to active participation in the
Federal Government, the methods he had found most
practical, by actual experiment. Perhaps he'd better light the
gas and get to work. He struck a match and blinked at his
watch. It was half-past twelve. The guard at his door must be
changing for he heard loud whispers in the hall. Then the
door was thrust open without the courtesy of a knock and
Mr. Stanton rushed in accompanied by the guard.

 "Whewl" the Secretary gasped. "I had a nightmare about
you, Mr. Lincoln. All right, Smith, get outl"

 "Must have been realistic to have brought you over this
time of night, Mr. Stanton," said Lincoln, gently. "My dear
friend, you mustn't carry me on your heart as a woman
carries her first bornl"

"You're about as irresponsible as a baby," snapped Stanton,
crossly.

 "I'm behaving in an exemplary manner," protested the
President. "Now admit it and have a glass of buttermilk with
me. Who's going to chaperon you back home through the
dark7 Shall I?" his eyes twinkling.

"I can take care of myself, because I admit I'm scared, Mr.
Lincoln."

STANTON, THE LOVER 565

Stanton unbuttoned his overcoat, revealing his night-shirt
tucked into his pantaloons, and poured himself a glass of
buttermilk, after which he replenished the fire.

 Lincoln watched him, smiling. Queer Stanton, about whom
both Welles and Beecher were rightl

 "I'm scared, all right," admitted the President, warming thin,
bare shanks, gratefully. He'd forgotten the fire. "I suppose
neither you nor I would have made good soldiers, Stanton.
We'd have been leg cases, sure as guns. I've got a whole file
of 'em. Fellows who've run away. I've never had one of 'em
executed. Always told myself, it might have been Lincoln  or
Stanton or Seward or McClellanl"

 "You've done your utmost to destroy discipline in the
armies, I know that," grunted the Secretary of War. "Why in
hell aren't you in bed, saving your strengths"

 "I have queer dreams. Bed's no comfort to me," replied
Lincoln simply. "And when I'm awake, my mind's no comfort
to me either. I suppose it never will be again 'Now farewell,
tranquil nights!"'

 Stanton's great dark eyes, always difficult to read through
his spectacles, studied the President deliberately. "You ought
to be the happiest man on earth, Mr. Lincoln. To quote
Othello further, 'you have done the state some service and
they know'".' To the state, I might add the world and
humanity History will remember! You're tired. Nothing
could show me so well how played out you are as this. Your
mind fails to take in the fact that the war is over."

 Lincoln walked across to the window and listened to the
rain for a moment. Stanton set down his empty glass and in
his carpet slippers, shuffled over to the President, there, to
take his hand and pat it softly.

"Tiredl Tired to the very corer Lincoln, I love your"

  Lincoln could not speak, but he clung to the warm hand
with an indescribable sense of comfort.

  He allowed Stanton to lead him to the bed and to pull off
the faded dressing gown and to tuck the bedclothes about
him, the humor of the situation swamped by its tenderness.
He closed his eyes at Stanton's command and with the
Secretary sitting on the bed-edge, held to his fingers as to the
one hold on reality. Reality was death the only reality? . .
. Jesus Christ, the one true democrat the world had
known? Stanton's hand was very muscular Nothing of the
woman in this touch-aye but the lover too rain on the young
wheat out there on the Sangamon 'the early lilacs became
a part of this child'

CHAPTER XV

 TIlE ELEVENTU OF APRIL                          ~

    ILKES BOOTH wakened early the next morning in spite of the V V fact that he'd
gone to bed the worse for brandy. He was ridden

 ~ ~ by an unease so extreme that even drunkenness did not give him rest. He required
no spurring from Canada to urge him on with his designs. Whatever may have been Jacob
Thompson's suggestions, to whatever degree of criminality the Confederate agent may have
been willing to carry the war behind the lines, Wilkes did not require Thompson's
promptings to change the idea of kidnaping to murder. Brandy and Booth's own egotism
were sufficient motive-forces both to conceive and to execute the crime.

 The frustration of all his ill-formed schemes had hurt his vanity. And to hurt the vanity
of a nature like Wilkes' was to rouse it to a fury of resentment akin to insanity. The news
of Lee's surrender had come to him less as a shock to his Confederate patriotism than as
a final reason for punishing Abraham Lincoln. He could not now save the ravaged Con-
federacy but he could destroy the man responsible for the collapse. And far more
important even than this, he could focus the attention of the world on John Wilkes Booth.

 It occurred to him, while he was having his pre-breakfast drink, that there was no reason
why he could not carry out practically alone the scheme he'd often heard discussed in
Canada, that of clearing away not only the President but the Vice-President, the Secretary
of State and of the Secretary of War. Grant, he told himself, should be wiped out for good
measure.

 He ate lightly and went to call on Lewis Payne. Lewis, pale from his long imprisonment,
was Iying stretched on his bed, fully dressed. He sat up as Wilkes entered.

 "Look here, Mr. Booth," he exclaimed, "I've got to get out or go crazy! Can't you do
something to help met"

 "Yes, my friend," replied Booth, impressively. "You are to help me play Brutus to old
Abe's Caesar. In other words, I am going to kill the man who has destroyed the nation."

 Payne rose from the bed uneasily. "I don't reckon you're called on to take any such step,
sir. What good would it do now7"

 "Supposing I shoot old Abe, you shoot Stanton, Atzerodt shoots Andy Johnson, and
O'Laughlin kills General Grant7 Don't you see that Mr. Davis and General Lee can at
once take advantage of the confusion resulting, march on Washington and reverse the
ending of this hellish wart"

Payne bit his nails and stared at Booth. The actor had never looked

THE ELEVENTH OF APRIL 567

handsomer. His face was thin and drawn but his expression
was one of complete exaltation.

  "Don't try to understand, dear Lewisl" exclaimed Wilkes.
"Trust me to see this with a larger vision than is possible to
you. Trust me, my one and only faithful friend! Obey me
blindly, thinking only of our country and what we are doing
for her. I know, I know, that God has called me for this work.
I strike for my country and her alone. A people ground be-
neath this tyranny pray for this end. Lewis, help met"

  The cadence of his beautiful voice was unbearably moving.
Quick tears sprang to young Payne's deep eyes. "I'll help
your" he said, huskily. "You'll take care of me? see that it
comes out all rights"

  "Nothing shall harm you," replied Wilkes very earnestly.
"Here, let's drink on ill Then I'll go find Herold and
Atzerodt."

  They did away between them with a bottle of brandy. A
good deal too much for Payne, who admitted he'd had no
breakfast. He now declared he was going up to Willard's
Hotel and see General Lee whom he'd heard was being
brought there a prisoner.

  Booth shook his head. "Would you join the Yankees in
staring at Uncle Robert's misfortunes" he demanded. "Lewisl
No, you go over to Mrs. Surratt's for breakfast and I'll see
you there, later. And don't forget you are your father, a
Methodist preacher, up from Florida. You look the part in
that eary-candle-light coat I bought you."

  Lewis grinned boyishly and pulled on the black frock coat
which did indeed give him a clerical appearance. Wilkes who
had been consistently careful not to appear in public with his
protege followed him now until he saw Mrs. Surratt's door
close on his great back.

  He found George Atzerodt at the crude stable back of
Ford's Theater, currying the one-eyed bay. The roan was
saddled, waiting for his exercise and Booth mounted him,
bidding Atzerodt to throw the saddle on the bay and come
along.

  It was still but a little after nine when they rode slowly up
Pennsylvania Avenue. The street was for the moment in only
a normal state of confusion. Washington was resting while
gathering energy for renewing the celebration later in the day.
They passed the White House then by a circuitous route
reached Seventh Street and ambled out toward the Soldiers'
Home. The mud was deep and the going very slow. Booth
said nothing of his schemes until they had dismounted at the
cafe at the foot of the hill. But established there at a table he
plied Atzerodt with rum and then asked him how he'd like to
have a share in a million dollars.

  Atzerodt grinned and wiped his curly beard. His bloodshot
blue eyes lighted up. "I'd given up hope of that. What's the
newsy"

  "The news," whispered Wilkes, "is this." He leaned close to
his fellowconspirator's none too clear ear and rapidly outlined
the butcheries he had planned.

  Atzerodt rubbed his chin. "I hadn't reckoned on getting
mixed up with any killing," he muttered.

568 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "There'll be only Payne, Herold, O'Laughlin, possibly
Surratt and myself to divide that million," whispered Wilkes.

 "Is the get-away to stand? Same as Surratt and I worked
out7 Horses, boat and all7"

"Absolutely."

"When will the money be paid7"

 "As soon as we reach the Confederate capitol, in gold,"
replied Wilkes with blazing eyes as he watched the German
mind work.

"What does Herold do?" demanded Atzerodt.

 "He acts as my helper because I've got to work against a
man with bodyguards. Your job will be simple. I'll get you
a room in the Kirkwood House where Andy Johnson's
living. You find out his room number and on the night yet
to be agreed upon, you stab him in his sleep."

 "Well," muttered the other, "I reckon I could do it if I was
drunk enough and not too drunk."

 "Good boy! Here's my hand on it. Now you continue as
my groom until you hear from me. Have another drink."

 On returning to the city, Wilkes called at the house on H
Street. He found Payne and Herold singing in the parlor
with Anna Surratt. Weichmann and Mrs. Surratt were off on
their errand for Wilkes at Surrattsville. Payne to Booth's
satisfaction already had won David Herold's enthusiastic
consent to "do anything to help dear Booth, follow him to
heaven or helll" Wilkes sat down at Mrs. Surratt's desk and
wrote to Mike O'Laughlin in Baltimore telling him to come
immediately to Washington.

 There remained now only to choose the time and place of
the various attacks. His imagination at once reverted to the
Ford Theater plan and he set off to discover what was the
week's program there.

 The people were surging up and down Pennsylvania
Avenue in vast numbers. Governor Pierpont of Virginia told
Mr. Lincoln when he reached the White House about nine
o'clock that morning that the only way one could make
progress along the main thoroughfares was to join a parade,
for all of them sooner or later headed for the Executive
Mansion.

 "I reckon that's true," smiled the President, "from the
sounds I've been trying to ignore all morning. Well,
Governor, you can draw the administration of the sovereign
State of Virginia out of your breeches pocket and level it
now in the face of any manl I suppose you're planning to
move out of Alexandria down to Richmond, at once."

 "Yes, Mr. Lincoln," drawled Pierpont, taking the chair by
the desk and returning the President's smile. "What attitude
am I to assume toward the Rebel portion of the State7"

 "I'm holding to my established idea, that those who take
the oath of loyalty can go on with their interrupted functions
of citizenship."

 "Goodl" the Governor nodded. "I have here, sir, a list of
men whom I want you to see personally; Virginians of old
family, who left the Union reluctantly. If you can put these
men at once in positions of authority, it will do more than
an army to restore order in Virginia."

THE ELEVENTH OF APRIL 569

 "That's the method!" exclaimed Lincoln, "and we must act
before Congress can thwart us. My thought is that the general
plan we used in Louisiana and Tennessee is sound but that in
each State we must meet the special needs as they arise. We
can't go very far wrong so long as our basic philosophy is
reconciliation. I told General Weitzel to let the Confederate
legislature of Virginia meet long enough to recall their armies
from the field." He looked at Pierpont, expectantly.

"Has this been done7" asked the Governor.

"I haven't heard," replied Lincoln.

 The Governor spread a great pile of papers on the table.
"Anything to get people home againl"

 "Peace will carry them back to their cabins just as soon as
they are freed from the army," declared the President.

 "Peace that passes understanding," said Pierpont in a low
voice. 'The peace of God."

"If we can compass it, we poor mortals," murmured Lincoln.

 They spent three hours over the lists of names, not ceasing
their labors until John Hay came in to say that the Cabinet
members were waiting in the reception room. But by that
time, Lincoln told the Governor, they'd about set trembling,
frantic old Virginia, on her feet again.

 "Come to me next week, Governor, before you make the
move to Richmond. I'll have some further ideas for you then."
He rose to greet the incoming Cabinet.

 All were present save Seward, who was represented by his
son, Fred. After a short interchange of felicitations,
McCulloch, the new Secretary of the Treasury, brought
forward the cotton question. There had been an enormous
capture at Savannah and he was "embarrassed how to dispose
of it." Lincoln listened without comment to the animated
discussion which followed. Cotton had been a running sore
ever since the war started but after all it was a minor ill now
and would cure itself. He would let his mind sag, a little,
while the Secretaries aired their views, with every one of
which he was thoroughly familiar.

 But Stanton roused him after a while by saying, savagely,
"Andy Johnson was drunk again yesterday."

"How can you prove that?" demanded the President, sharply.

The room suddenly was very still.

"Did you see Johnson drunk?" Lincoln's voice was harsh.

 "No, but I was told so by unimpeachable authority. You do
yourself harm with the country by championing him, Lincoln."

 "Mr. Lincoln," corrected Gideon Welles, loudly. "Is this a
proper subject for a Cabinet meeting, Mr. Stanton?"

 "It is, since Mr. Stanton has brought it up!" The President
leaned forward over the table, his gaunt face working, his
eyes full on Stanton's spectacles. "Andrew Johnson is not a
drunkard. I've known him for years. He's a first-class man.
I'm willing to go on the stand and swear he's not been under
the influence of drink since that slip on March 4th."

570 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

  "I'm in hearty agreement with Mr. Lincoln," said Secretary
McCulloch. "I see a great deal of the Vice-President. He
lunches on tea and crackers, as I do and he keeps no liquor
in his suite. But, after all, as Mr. Welles suggests, the
personal habits of a Vice-President are not material."

  "Nothing about Andrew Johnson can be immaterial,"
declared the President clearly, "as long as the threat of
assassination hangs over me. But important or no, I want to
say that this whispering campaign against him in the official
must ceases" He brought his fist down on the table.

  There was an uncomfortable silence which Stanton himself
broke by saying, briskly, "I suppose Sherman knows what to
do with Jeff Davis when he digs him out from the present
Rebel capitol at Greensborough. He should put the traitor
in irons and send him up here to us. Unless you've already
pardoned him, Mr. Lincoln."

  There was deliberate insolence in his manner. But last
night's memory of Stanton was keen in Lincoln's mind.
Before Father Welles' indignation found words, he laughed
quietly and remarked:

  "Well, that's not in the realm of the impossible, eitherl
Governor Pierpont and I had a debauch of pardoning this
morning! It read like a roster of the First Families of
Virginia. The old Dominion's almost ready to break bread
with us again. I hope every head of every seceded State will
come to me the same way. That's the way to handle the
Rebels. Reminds me of a little story.

  "Years ago a lot of young folks out in Indiana got up a
Maying Party. They found an old scow on the riverbank and
paddled themselves over to a little island that wasn't much
more than a sand-bar and there they fixed their supper,
planning to come back by moonlight. Well, they enjoyed
themselves and at moon-up went to paddle home. Only to
discover that the scow had floated offs

  "There was a lot of giggling and gabbling then with some
of the girls crying. But the stream wasn't very deep and
finally one fellow suggested that every young man hoist the
girl of his choice to his shoulder and wade to the bank with
her. That tickled everybody and with the girls laughing and
protesting, but clinging like wild-grape vines, the crossings
were made until there remained on the sand-bar only a very
small, puny young man and a very tall and hefty old maid.

  "Now, you see that's the way it's working out with Davis
and me. The folks with these pardon petitions are going to
get one Rebel after another out of this unhappy situation
until there's only Jeff and me left on the island. And I'm
afraid he won't consent to carrying me over and I'm afraid
you people will make trouble about my carrying him, if he
consents."

  Every one laughed, including Stanton. Then Lincoln
added, soberly. "It's more than likely to happenl There are
worse men than Jefferson Davis and I wish I could see some
way by which he and the people would let me get him over."

THE ELEVENTH OF APRIL 571

 "I think we can trust General Sherman to deal adequately
with the preliminaries," said Secretary Speed.

 "Does any one know Sherman's feelings with regard to the
Rebels?" asked Welles.

 "His brother's speech in the Senate was clear enough as to
how he stands," said Stanton. "John Sherman is a statesman.
He says there should be no terms granted. That we should
not only brand the leading Rebels with infamy but the whole
rebellion should wear the badge of the penitentiary so that
for this generation at least no man who has taken part in it
would dare to justify or palliate it."

 Lincoln looked from one face to another while Stanton
quoted these sentiments. There was, he thought, not a man
at the table who did not in his heart agree with Senator
Sherman.

 "General William Sherman doesn't agree with his brother,"
said the President, slowly. "He told me that night on the River
Queen, before the last drive on Richmond that the South is
broken and ruined and appeals to our pity. That to ride the
people down with persecutions and military exactions would
be slashing away at the crew of a sinking ship. He said he'd
fight as long as they fought but when they gave up, and asked
for quarter he'd go no further. I'm going to tell you frankly
that I'm with the General and not with the Senator in this. Is
there more business to come before the meeting?"

 Fred Seward remarked somewhat hesitatingly that his father
thought he ought to lay before the Cabinet letters which had
been received by him during the President's recent absence
at the front. They were from the American consuls in London
and Liverpool and gave detailed reports of a conspiracy
against the lives of Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Stanton, Mr. Seward,
General Grant and General Sherman. The revelation of these
plots had been made to the consul's secret agents, in Paris.

"How imminent is the danger?" asked Lincoln.

 "Well," replied young Seward, "one letter states positively
that two desperate characters sailed from Newcastle last
month on a ship laden with war supplies for the Confederacy,
to consummate the crime. They are to receive $s,ooo each for
the job. The consuls and my father are convinced that this
menace is to be taken most seriously."

 "Haven't I been telling you so?" shouted Stanton, his face
a greenishwhite. "Where there's so much smoke there's bound
to be a firer And you do nothing, Mr. Lincolnl"

 "But what would you have the President do?" demanded
Secretary Welles, rubbing his handsome nose. "Shall he
barricade himself in his office and do business through iron
bars and over a loaded howitzer?"

 "You haven't been threatened, sir," retorted Stanton, "or
you'd not be flippant. And if the President had any
imagination "

 Lincoln smiled. "I have enough at least to keep the goose
flesh roused! You have copies of those letters, Mr. Seward?
Then give one set to Mr.

s7z THE LAST FULL MEASURE

Stanton and the other to Mr. Lamon. I don't know what
better action to take."

 "I'm sorry to have had to intrude it on such a day as this,"
said young Seward, "but father thought the report was
probably true."

 "I don't doubt it's true," agreed Lincoln, the shadow for a
moment darkening his vision. "Gentlemen, we'll meet at the
same time to. morrow." He bowed and walked over to his
desk.

 As soon as he was alone, he locked the office door and
went to work on his speech. He ate lunch in his
office corn-meal mush and an apple. By midafternoon it
was finished and he thrust the close-written sheets into his
breast pocket.

 Hill Lamon came in the moment the door was unlocked.
With him was handsome John Usher, retiring Secretary of
the Interior. Lincoln walked across the room to meet them.

 "Well, Mr. Usher, I'm glad to see youl I've been wanting
to hold you up to Lamon here as a model of relief from the
whisker effect," smiling approval at Usher's smooth-shaven
face.

 He turned to Lamon. "If you knew, Hill, what an
improvement it would be for you to get rid of those horse's
tails on either side of your upper lip, you'd not sleep till it
was done. Or at least, wax 'em and look ferocious!"

 The young man smoothed the offending appendages
tenderly. "I'll make a bargain with you, Mr. Lincolnl I'll
shave when you dot"

 "Now look here, Hill, if I shave, the people who've been
calling me gorilla will think I've taken the appellation to
heartl"

 "I'm sure Stanton's regretted giving you that horrible
name," protested Usher.

 "I wonder if he hasI" said Lincoln, thoughtfully. "Well,
Hill, are you ready to start for Richmond7"

"Fred Seward " began Lamon.

  Lincoln lifted his hand. "Spare me! You fellows are going
to unnerve me yet. Ding don"! Ding don"! You keep it up.
If you can, without too much discomfort to yourself, let me
forget. Here's your passport, Hill. See Weitzel quietly." He
dropped his hand on Lamon's shoulder, slid it down his
mighty arm and clasped his palm. "Good-by, Hilll God bless
you." He gazed into his friend's familiar eyes, reading there
a deep world of anxious affection. "God bless you, Hilll" he
repeated. "I'll look for you by Sunday."

  Without a word, Lamon wrung the thin hand and walked
to the door but hesitated there and looked back. Lincoln
waved his hand and then Lamon with dragging feet went
out.

  Lincoln sat down for a talk with Usher concerning Indian
affairs. After the ex-secretary left followed a long interval,
during which he shook hands with a stream of callers filing
in an unbroken line past his door. At twilight, he went into
his room to dress for supper. The Harlans were to be there.
Mary followed him.

"My dear, won't you lie down for fifteen minutes? You look
so fright

           THE ELEVENTH OF APRIL

fully tired and the evening's going to be hard. Crook is
guarding you from interruption in the hall and I'll guarantee
no one will break through my doorl"

 "Perhaps I will," said Lincoln, suddenly aware of his aching
nerves. "I'm glad to see you in white again, Mary, like what
you have on. But I admit I prefer you in gay colors. How
long "

 "My dear," protested Mary, but gently, "after all, I have
buried a son and I have lost two brothers in battle, since I
came to Washington."

 "I know, my darling! I knowl But we've been too sad. We
must be gay once morel" He looked at her wistfully. Could
she out of her fund of wit and former gayety will the shadow
from him?

 She smiled up at him. "I shall get a new pink, very pink
gown, my dear, for myself, and a red necktie for youl In the
meantime!" she led him to the sofa under the south window
and when he had stretched out with a sigh, she spread a
crocheted cover over him, kissed him and closed the door
noiselessly.

 The shadow settled deeper. "I know what you are," he
muttered, "you're death-fear. All these warnings have shown
you up. Abraham Lincoln, you're a cowardI" He lay for a
moment breathing deeply, staring with inner eye at the
shadow. Death-fear? Nol only horror, only reluctance to
go. Reluctancel A thousand times that mild fermi He must
not, could not go until his job was done. Four years from
now, perhaps

 He jerked his head uneasily. Why not be honest? Would
he be ready to go in four years? Hamlet knew the answer.

" Who would fardels bear,
 To grunt and sweat under a weary life
 But that the dread of something after death
 That undiscovered country from whose bourn
 No traveler returns...."

 He murmured the words slowly. "That undiscovered
country " Aye, there was the rub. Whither? Beecher had
failed him. Yet Beecher was sure and Beecher had an
intellect as keen or keener than his own. Faith was fact, to
the preacher. If only it were so to himl Could he see immor-
tality as Beecher saw it, why then the bare bodkin might
pierce when it would and find him content.

 Harlan was a strong churchman. Did Harlan believe in
heaven? What did the men in his Cabinet, what did all these
people he saw daily think about it? Did they carry about in
their hearts a shadow like his? He knew that they did not.
He knew, had known all his life, that he was a marked man,
a man set apart to feel strange influences, to know
mysterious agonies of the soul.

 What would Harlan say if he asked him the question he'd
asked Beecher? Hand out platitudes from a creed of course.
If he asked little Mary Harlan? The child would be
frightened. It would hurt her sense of security in the scheme
of things. No, this had got to be wrestled with

574 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

alone. And God helping him, he would wrestle with it.
He'd meet his doubts head on and conquer them. And
thus find peace.

 Death. He began by picturing himself as no longer
existing, as no longer He gave a great start.

 Mary had come in and was lighting the gas. "I'm sorry
to disturb you, dearest, but the Harlans are here," she
said.

 CHAPTER XVI                                    ~

                        IN GLADNESS OF HEART

 ~ T supper, Mary Lincoln wore white silk in full decolletage with a t~ necklace of amethysts.
Mary Harlan wore pink tarlatan and a 1 ~ wreath of moss roses crowned her soft hair. Mrs.
Harlan, in ivory satin, showed as fine a throat and arms as did her hostess. The President gazed
complacently at each charming woman and then said to Harlan:

"Senator, just what did you or I ever do to deserve this7"

"We didn't!" retorted Harlan, smiling. "But men are the fortunate sex."

 "You can say that even after the last four years?" asked Mrs. Harlan. "I've been thinking quite
the reverse."

 "Oh, I'm sure men are the fortunate sexl" exclaimed Mary Harlan. "I'd love to be an officer
like Bob and wear the gorgeous uniform. The swordsash alone is worth the price almostI"

 "To say nothing of the swordl" interjected Mary Lincoln. "Think of the joy General Butler has
had out of that enormous jeweled scythe he wearsl I saw him walking up F Street on a slippery
day this winter displaying all his regalia. Every one was grinning at him. He was too silly,
strutting and slipping, his little fat tummy a foot ahead of his enormous nose and the sword
behind like a kangaroo's fain I'll show you."

 She left her soup and by a miracle of mimicry instantly became Ben Butlers stumbling over
his sword, swollen with absurd pomposity. Her husband and her guests laughed delightedly and
the President said as she caught her sweeping train up and returned to the table:

"What a long tail our cat's got to-night!"

 Mary twinkled at Mrs. Harlan. "Mr. Lincoln's becoming an absolute connoisseur in ladies'
dress. Though I must confess to you confidentially that he's often unfortunate in his choice of
metaphor!"

"Comer" protested Lincoln, "you know how fond I am of cats."

 "Worse and worse," sighed his wife. "Now when my old black mammy saw me in my first
train I won't say how many decades ago she exclaimed, 'You-all sho is decked out like de
Lawd's little sisters'"

 "But she didn't speak so flatteringly about your first hoop-skirt," the President reminded her.
"As I recall your story, she insisted you were wearing the devil's umbrella! And she was right.
Hoop-skirts are the invention of Satan."

"I'm with you, therel" Senator Harlan agreed emphatically.

 "I've heard they are going out in Paris," said Mary Harlan. "How immodest we're going to feel
showing our " She paused with a blush.

"Showing the world we have lower extremities7" smiled her mother.

576 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

"Personally I'll be glad to have a silhouette less like a
pyramid. Mrs. Lincoln, don't you wish the Directoire styles
would return?"

 "Not for me," replied Mary. "Only youth could become
those slinking skirts. And doesn't it seem queer to have
reached the age where one must make such an admission?
I can recall precisely, when I was Mary's age, how I looked
on forty-five. I thought that life wouldn't be worth living
then. And here I am, being dragged, kicking and protesting,
toward fifty yet still finding life worth while."

 "Men are fortunate," mused Mrs. Harlan. "The mirror
holds no terror for them at any age. And after a woman is
thirty "

 "Yes, I know," agreed Mary Lincoln, quickly. "What I'm
hoping to do is to find a philosophy which will reconcile me
to wrinkles and grey hair."

 "What are these women talking about, Senator?" Lincoln
demanded. "Here you and I've been thinking that our wives
outshine young Mary when they really get their blood up
like to-night and they "

 "They are simply singing a requiem to hoop-skirts,"
interrupted Mary Lincoln briskly. "Well, let's hope that when
crinolines go out, beards will gallantly accompany theml"

 "This is an intensely personal conversation," complained
Harlan, smoothing his handsome brown whiskers.

 "Isn't itl" agreed Mrs. Lincoln, affably. "And such a relief
after the topics of the past four yearsl Did you hear that
some newspaper reporter had discovered that dear Mr.
Gideon Welles in profile looks like that portrait of Marie
Antoinette going to her execution and he's now known
among the elite as Marie Whiskerette? What would the dear
man say?"

 "No one would be more amused than fuel" exclaimed
Lincoln. "In Cabinet meeting, last winter, he showed us a
clipping from one of Orpheus Kerr's stories. It was to the
effect that a dying soldier wanted his grandmother to come
to see him. But there was no time to fetch the old lady, so
some one asked Mr. Welles to impersonate her. The
Secretary was very much Battered. Said he'd be glad to
oblige but the fact was, he'd just bought Noah's Ark and was
too busy fitting it up as a first-class monitor to leave. Welles
enjoyed the jibe immensely."

 "I'm relieved to learn that Orpheus Kerr has one reader
beside my husbandl" exclaimed Mary Lincoln. "I insist that
a generation from now, Kerr's one claim to fame will be that
my husband enjoyed himl It doesn't seem to me he's half as
funny as Petroleum V. Nasby."

 "Here! Herel I must 'arouse to wunst' on Kerr's behalfI"
cried Lincoln, and he plunged into a defense of the peculiar
form of humor which he claimed had helped to keep him
sane through many a bitter hour. He quoted pages of the
nonsense in proof of his point.

 "What a memory you have, sirl" sighed Harlan. "I'd give
anything for even half your power. I suppose it's a gift and
one is born with or without it. Were you conscious of
memorising those excerpts?"

 "No," replied Lincoln. "I always remember whatever moves
me or deeply interests me. I suppose that we pioneer folks
who were starved for

IN GLADNESS OF HEART 577

literature developed a section of our brains you more
fortunate citizens didn't need. When there was only one good
book among twenty families, you learned it by heart as soon
as your turn came. It's a great blessing. I suppose I could
recite practically all of Macbeth if put to it. But I'm not
unique. A number of my contemporaries out there on the
prairies could do the same."

 "I doubt that," said Harlan, smiling. "I wish more people
realized with how wide a range of science and literature your
mind is stocked."

 "Heart Hear!" cried Mary Lincoln. "Can't you have some
handbills printed about it, Senator7 I'd love to send some
to well, to Salmon P. Chase, for instance. He's so
insufferably patronizing to my husband."

 "I was thinking of Chase, myself," nodded Harlan. "He was
talking to me to-day about " The Senator paused awkwardly.

 The President laughed softly. "About cotton-trading permits
for his particular friends, I suppose, and that led to a few
biting generalities concerning my boorishness."

 "He's going to make trouble, I'm afraid, about your decision
against the trading." Harlan looked embarrassed as well as
concerned. "He was asking my point of view, I'll admit."

 "No, he won't make trouble," said Lincoln, calmly. "He'll
make a lot of loud thunder, then he'll do what he's been told
to do. It was always so when he was Secretary of the
Treasury. He's like a boy I once saw at a launching. When
everything was ready, they picked out this boy and sent him
under the ship to knock away the trigger and let her go. At
the critical moment everything depended on the boy. He had
to do the job by a welldirected, vigorous blow and then lie
still while the ship slid over him. The youngster did everything
right but he yelled as if he was being murdered from the time
he got under the keel till he got out. I thought the hide was
all scraped off his back but he wasn't hurt at alll The master
of the yard told me that this boy was always chosen for the
job, that he did his work well, that he'd never been hurt but
that he always squealed in the same way. That's just the way
with Mr. Chase. I knew he wasn't hurt, that he was doing his
work right and I paid no attention to his squealing. He only
wanted to make us understand how hard his task was and that
he was on hand, performing it."

 "Nonetheless," said Mary Lincoln, when the laughter had
subsided, "I can't forgive him for adding so much to the
unpleasantness of your position by his incessant screaming.
And he's still at it. Mr. Stanton's a good deal like him."

 "Mr. Chase was a great Treasurer," mused Senator Harlan,
leaning back in his chair as the butler removed his salad
plate, "and Stanton on the whole has been a competent
Secretary of War. It's strange that Stanton should have been,
for he's a narrow-gauge man. He has none of the qualities,
for example, that made Jefferson Davis a brilliant success in
the same job under President Pierce. A good deal of the
success of the North un

578 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

doubtedly has been due to the military foundations laid by
Davis. Providence certainly moves in mysterious waysl"

 "Davis wasn't merely a soldier," observed Lincoln. "He had
a good many of the qualifications of the statesman. He saw
this country with a large eye. Some day people will
appreciate the broad scheme of road and railway surveys he
put under way in the far West. Our grandchildren will be
enjoying the benefits of Davis' broad vision while they scorn
him as a traitor. He was the fellow who under the guise of
military expediency insisted that a quick land route must be
opened to California instead of depending on the trip round
the Horn."

Harlan nodded, then smiled. "His camel-corps was a fiasco,
though."

 "What was that?" asked little Mary Harlan, as the four
older people laughed.

 "You've heard of General Beale7" replied her father.
"Well, sponsored by Davis, he imported camels from Syria
and proposed to move military supplies across the desert by
caravan. It was a successful experiment. The camels were
swifter and in every way superior to horses or mules, but the
effort never got beyond the experimental stage."

"How picturesque!" exclaimed young Mary. "Why note"

 "Because something still swifter than those ships of the
desert intervened," smiled the Senator. "The steam engine."

 Lincoln gave a sudden shout of laughter. "Last time, of the
few times I talked with Jeff Davis, he told me the Indians
and some of the guides out there on Beale's route swear
that the camels which escaped into the ranges bred with the
native animals and that they've actually seen a critter that's
a cross between the camel and the Rocky Mountain goat."

"Poor Davisl" ejaculated Harlan when the table was quiet
again.

 "He has a lovely wife," contributed Mrs. Harlan. "I've
heard that it is her ambition to be the first queen of the
Confederacy which has given her husband certain illusions
of superiority and have made real harmony impossible in
their Cabinet."

 "He was doomed not to succeed anyhow," said the
Senator, "so long as he founded his government on slavery.
It's his belief in slavery that'll hang him."

 Lincoln spoke quickly. "Whenever they've wanted me to
have a soldier shot, I've asked myself, Will this man serve
his country better living or dead7 You must ask yourself that
question about Davis, Senator."

 "But Jefferson Davis repudiated his loyalty to his country,"
protested Harlan. "He insists he's no longer a citizen of the
United Statesl"

 Mary Lincoln rose abruptly. "From the uproar on the
lawns, I'd say that Mr. Lincoln had better show himself
before the house walls are crushed inl"

 "When we came," said Mary Harlan, "Tad was entertaining
them as best he could. He was showing a series of
transparencies in the window, of his own make, which he
said told the history of the war in a hundred words."

IN GLADNESS OF HEART 579

  "No!" ejaculated the President. "I must get him to repeat it
for us, later."

  A group of friends awaited them at the foot of the private
staircase and after a moment of handshaking and felicitations,
all followed Lincoln upstairs to the familiar north window. He
gathered himself together for the effort.

  The mass of people was well illuminated by the lamps and
lanterns which had been set in every window and along the
roof and portico. It was raining and there were many
umbrellas, which was disconcerting. But there were also many
colored lanterns on poles and many sizzling torches Brass
bands blared.

  Lincoln took from his breast pocket the fold of manuscript,
opened it and lifting a candle from the sill held it beside the
closely written pages. But some one reaching a long arm from
behind the window-drapery took the candle and held it
steadily for him. There had been an instant's hush as the
President appeared. Then there arose such a detonation of
cheers as he never before had heard. There was something
terrible in this acclaim they were giving him. He endured it
for a moment, then wiping the tears from his cheeks with a
sweep of his coat sleeve, he began to speak. The moment his
lips moved there was silence.

  "We meet this evening not in sorrow, but in gladness of
heart. The evacuation of Petersburg and Richmond and the
surrender of the principal insurgent army give hope of a
righteous and speedy peace, whose joyous expression cannot
be restrained. In the midst of this, however, He, from whom
all blessings flow, must not be forgotten. A call for a national
thanksgiving is being prepared and will be duly promulgated.
Nor must those whose harder part give us the cause of
rejoicing be overlooked. Their honors must not be parceled
out with the others. I myself was near the front and had the
high pleasure of transmitting much of the good news to you;
but no part of the honor for plan or execution is mine. To
General Grant, his skillful officers and brave men, all belongs.
The gallant navy stood ready, but was not in reach to take
active part.

  "By these recent successes, the reinauguration of the
national authority  reconstruction which has had a large
share of thought from the first, is pressed much more closely
on our attention. It is fraught with great difficulty. Unlike a
case of war between independent nations, there is no
authorized organ for us to treat with-no man has authority to
give up the Rebellion for any other man. We simply must
begin with and mold from disorganised and discordant
elements. Nor is it a small additional embarrassment that we,
the loyal people, differ among ourselves as to the mode,
manner and measure of reconstruction...."

  He read on, holding the attention of his audience but
feeling that his hold was through its affections and not
through any particular interest he aroused. But he persisted.
This problem was one which must be brought home to the
plain people. The only spontaneous applause he received was
when he said:

580 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 I       "Twelve thousand voters in the hitherto slave-state of
Louisiana have

adopted a free-state constitution, giving the benefit of public schools
equally to black and white and empowering the legislature to confer
the
election franchise upon the colored man."

 Under cover of the applause, Wilkes Booth who, with Lewis Payne,
was standing just below the window, snarled, "That settles it, the dirty
dogl Shoot him, Lewis, where he stands!"

 Lewis gripped the actor's arm. "Too risky here. Control your feelings,
sirl I feel as mad as you dol"

 "Madl" Booth's low voice was full of unutterable hate. "If I had my
pistol here, nothing could save himl"

"Hush, for the love of Godl" pleaded Lewis.

 The applause subsided and Booth with it, though he muttered, "It's
the last speech he'll ever maker"

 Lincoln, as he completed each page of manuscript, dropped it to the
floor. Here Tad, scrabbling on all fours, picked up each as it fell and
whispered, "Morel Morel" until Senator Harlan pulled the boy gently
but firmly to his side. Here Mary Harlan put an arm over his shoulders
and Tad remained contentedly quiet until his father's last word was
spoken.

 The President returned at once to his office. It was only nine o'clock
and there were many people waiting for him. Among others were
Representative Daniel Voorhees and Senator Lane. Voorhees caught
Lincoln's arm as he passed through the reception room.

 "This is a question of life or death within twenty-four hours, Mr.
Lincoln."

"Come in," said the President wearily.

 There filed in with the two Congressmen an anxious-looking man and
a woman in a black silk shawl on whose white face horror struggled
with self-control. The look was familiar to Lincoln. He seated himself
and his callers, then waited. The story told by Lane and Voorhees was
of an aged clergyman in Tennessee who after losing all in the war had
sought to save himself and his family from starvation by supplying the
Rebels with quinine and ammunition. He was to be shot on the
morrow. The clergyman's daughter and her husband were petitioning
for executive clemency on the ground that the old man was suffering
from senile dementia.

 Lincoln listened patiently but found it very hard to bring his mind to
bear on the case. He was not unsympathetic but, he told himself,
although the day had been an easy one on his brain it had been hard
on his emotions and he reckoned that side of him was numbed with
weariness. Voorhees was a good fellow and was doing his best but it
looked as if the poor old preacher had been guilty as Satan. The
daughter perhaps felt a lack in the Congressman's presentation for
suddenly clasping her hands she interrupted and began to talk rapidly,
though with hard-won calm, of her father's record as a minister of the
gospel. As she spoke, something pricked Lincoln's memory. He leaned
toward the woman.

IN GLADNESS OF HEART 58

 "Luckett, madam7You said your father's name is Luckett7 Not Henry
M. by any chancel"

"Yesl" she exclaimed. "Yes, that's my father!"

 "Why, he used to preach in Springfield, Illinois, didn't he7" queried
Lincoln.

"Yes, Mr. President" the daughter's voice caught "he preached there."

 "Why, I knew him welll" ejaculated Lincoln. "I've heard him preach
often. He's a tall, angular man like I am and I've been mistaken for him
on the street. He was a man of enormous faith. He could preach
anybody into heavenl And he's to be shot to-morrow! Nol Nol There'll
be no shooting or hanging in this case. Henry M. Luckettl There must
indeed be

 something wrong with his mind or he wouldn't be in such a scrape
as thisl                                        |
 You may rest assured, my child, that your father's life is safe."i

 He rang the bell and called for John Hay to whom he dictated a tele-
gram ordering the execution of Henry M. Luckett to be suspended until
further word came from the President. "And that further word will never
be sent," he added to Luckett's daughter.

 The three tried brokenly to thank him but he urged them gently to-
ward the door, repeating to himself, "Henry M. Luckettl Nol Nol
There'll be no shooting or hanging in this easel"

 During the next hour as he listened to the infinite variety of needs
urged                                          i

on him by his callers, he was thinking of Luckett and of Beecher.
Both
of them so sure of God and of heaven, yet Luckett so passionately
unwilling to test that God and that heaven. Would Beecher behave
like this7
Or was he doing Luckett an injustice and was the panic all on the
daughter's side7 Certainly panic was a most natural feeling on her
part.

                   CHAPTER XVII
             NEITHER LET IT BE AFRAID

   ARY was preparing for bed when her husband finally quit work V
for the day. As he came slowly into her room, she turned from , ~ . -
the mirror before which she was brushing her long hair and shook her
head.

 "You poor tired things I waited for you in the sitting room until I fell
asleep over my book. You must be at least a thousand times more
weary than I aml"

 He dropped into a rocking chair by her dressing table, clasping his
knee with long brown hands. "Mary, do you remember Henry Luckett,
the preacher?"

 Mary frowned in concentration, the brush following the heavy
chestnut strands, slowly. "Um yes! He was a good deal of a ranter, as
I recall. Abra'm, I'm getting grayl"

 "Well, he's been in a devil of a scrape. His daughter came to me to-
night with a pitiful story." He repeated the tale.

 "You let him off, of course," said Mary, beginning to braid the shining
locks.

 "Yes, I did. But, Mary, these preachers puzzle me. You'd think an old
fellow like Luckett would be glad to go to the heaven he's so sure
about."

"I don't see why a preacher's life shouldn't be as precious to him as

 I     yours is to you or mine is to me. After all, they're human.
That's a queer

comment for you to make, my dear.... Abra'm, just look at the grey
around my temples" . . . I'm getting old." Her eyes widened with
sudden
terror. "Oldl Mary Toddl"

 Something frantic in her voice roused her husband from his
preoccupation with Luckett's and Beecher's states of mind. He looked
at her attentively; not in search of grey hairs but to verify the note of
terror in her voice. Her distended pupils told him what he wished to
know.

 "But," he said, earnestly, "you don't expect me to observe that, do
your It's impossible for me to see change in you. I'm too close to you."

 But Mary was pursuing her own line of thought. "To lose my lovely
skin and my teeth and my hairl It's horrible! Old age is living death."

 "After all," groped Lincoln, "the thing that's growing old is just the
house you live in, your little cabin. It's bound to lose a few shingles
from the roof as time goes on and the logs will have to be re-chinked
more frequently. But everybody admits that the longer you live in your
home the more hallowed it becomes."

 "What woman wants to be hallowed7" wailed Mary. "I want to be
lovely." She stared unseeingly at him.

NEITHER LET IT BE AFRAID 583

  Lincoln sighed. "I reckon I could understand you better if I hadn't been so ungodly ugly all
my life."

  But for once she did not protest at his disparagement of himself. "Old agel I'm forty-six. It's
comingl It'll be here in another ten years and there is nothing to be done about it. It's as
inevitable as the Rebellion was. Your simile fails. Any attempt to patch the roof or chink the
walls is futile. 'Summer's honeydew cannot hold out against the wreckful siege of battering
years.' Shakespeare faced it."

  "And around the dear ruins," quoted Lincoln softly, "each wish of my heart shall entwine
itself verdantly still."

  Mary did not respond. "One thing is surer I'll not be one of those dreadful old women who
make abortive efforts to look young. What I can do cleverly, I will " defiantly "but" with
a sudden focusing of her gaze on his "what I must and shall do will be to evolve a philosophy
that will reconcile me." She gave a little dry sob.

  Her husband put out his long arm and catching the flowing sleeve of her eider-down
dressing sacque, drew her gently to his knees. "My darling girl, doesn't it do you any good to
know that if you were a hundred years old, you'd still be beautiful little Mary Todd to met"

  "Yes, it helps," she said, soberly kissing him, "but, oh, my dear, you can't imagine what an
essential pillar of her being a woman's vanity is! I simply can't picture myself as existing
without it. I doubt if I have strength in myself to grow a philosophy to take its place. You
don't know what it is to find yourself so totally swamped and inadequate."

  "Don't I?" demanded Lincoln, grimly. "I'm struggling in my own innards right now with a
worse problem. And it's torture."

  His words shattered at one blow all of Mary's unwonted concentration on herself. "I'm a
shallow-brained fooll What's the trouble, my dear? Tell me."

  "That's just what I mustn't do," declared her husband. "It's not fair to you to load you with
a problem you'd take too seriously, and it's merely a question in metaphysics."

 "How could such a question be torture?" asked Mary.          ;

"That's where my weakness comes in, you see."

  "Tell me," urged his wife, a small hand coaxingly on his shoulder. "I won't take it too
seriously."

  He shook his head. "No, you can't be impersonal about it and you'll be upset. Anyhow, I
can't get it into words. I tried to express it to Beecher, yesterday, and got nowhere."

  "If you can talk to him you can talk to me," declared Mary jealously. "Sharing helps. I've
been eased by sharing with you to-night."

  He was sorry that he had brought himself into the conversation. He had no business to pull
Mary into the shadow. And yet, as he felt that faithful small hand on his shoulder, the desire
to confess to her overcame every scruple and he began deliberately to try to phrase the
unphrasable.

"I suppose I'm being troubled as you are by the approach of old age.

584 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

I hope that's all there is to it. I'm ten years farther along the
trail than you are, dear wife, and the question that's facing
me is, what follows old age at least, that's part of the
question."

 He felt Mary's fingers tighten. "You mean what follows
deathl You fear assassination I "

 "No, I don't fear it," he insisted. Then sighing, he added, "I
told you I couldn't mention it without your getting upsetl"

 "I'm as calm as the church's firm foundation," declared
Mary. "You can tell me anything and I won't even think
hysterically. What did Beecher say when you asked him that,
as I suppose you did7"

 "Well, you see, Beecher is so sure of heaven, himself, that
he simply can't picture the mind of any one who isn't as sure
as he is."

 Mary returned his gaze steadily. "You never told me you
had doubts. I know you have little use for creeds but I
thought your deep faith in an all-loving God was
unshakable!"

 "So it is. But knowing there is God doesn't inevitably
include knowing there's immortality. And" finding an
inexpressible relief in opening his heart "I'm not sure that
it's doubt of immortality that constitutes the shadow.
Perhaps it's my inability to interpret what may be meant as
a warning or even a command.... Or maybe it's merely my
inability to reconcile myself to going even twenty years from
now. You see I, too, need a philosophy."

"You need religion," said Mary promptly. "You need Jesus
Christ."

 "What could He do for met" asked Lincoln, gently.
"Supposing mind, I only say supposing one doesn't believe
He was God on earth, what of Christ, then7"

 "Even supposing that," she replied sturdily, "He had a
sureness about the hereafter which no man ever had in the
same way. And His conviction that He knew is comforting to
any one even though He seems not God. Let not your heart
be troubled, neither let it be afraid. Sufficient unto the day are
the evils thereof."

 He looked beyond Mary into the fire. Matchless words
spoken indeed from a matchless confidence. Let not your
heart be troubled. To any one who believed Christ was God
that admonition must be as soothing as a mother's hand in
the dark of a nightmare. So much for faith.... But what of
the interpretation of the shadow7 It was premonition of
what7 But this he would not ask Mary now.

 "You have an inestimable advantage over me," he
remarked after a moment, "in your orthodoxy. A mind like
mine is a curse to its owner. Mary, my job here isn't done
yet. Who'll bind the nation's wounds7 Who is left in the
North who feels to the South as I do7 I feel " He hesitated,
groping again for words.

Mary supplied them. "Like as a father pitieth his children."

 "Yesl Yesl Mary, I think Grant feels that way, too, but he
doesn't know how to manage the politicians. He's shown that
throughout the war. Who'll save poor old Davis and his
fellow-failures7 Mary, the whole Cabi

NEITHER LET IT BE AFRAID 585

net has pulled on the black capl And who'll clinch the victory
for the negro by using moderation in the interpretation of
the Thirteenth Amendment? Andy Johnson's as bitter toward
the southern leaders as a green persimmon.
Seward Seward's "

 "Seward's a mere opportunist." Mary was pale but her voice
was firm. "And Stanton will always belong to the man who
can boss him as a bully always does."

 Lincoln went on: "Charles Sumner might scorn to qualify
as a public executioner but there's no doubt he's willing to
crush the southern white for the sake of the darkies. Mary,
I don't think I'm egotistical when I say I think I still have a
job and one demanding peculiar qualities in the possessor."

 Mary slipped from her perch on his knees to walk uneasily
about the room. When she returned to stand before him she
was deadly white and her voice was a little husky as she said:

 "I think you're the most far-visioned and most able
statesman in America to-day, my dear. But even at that if
God really wants democracy to live, if He really is in favor of
the Union as we think the outcome of the war has proved,
He isn't depending on one man to preserve it. God ul-
timately will save the Union, whatever happens to your" She
looked at him with unutterable anguish in her blue eyes.
"Whatever happens to your" she repeated, and suddenly
clasping her hands before her eyes she burst into tears.

 Lincoln put out his long arm and drew her to his heart.
She stopped weeping, immediately, and they sat cheek to
cheek, watching the leaping fire.

 After a moment she murmured brokenly, "Let not your
heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."

He drew her closer still. "You comfort me," he said.

               CHAPTER XVIII
              APRIL TWELFIrl

MMEDIATELY after breakfast, the next morning, Lincoln
went over to the War Office for direct news from the front.
The rain of the previous night had passed, leaving only a
light mist through which the sun shone warmly. Between the
brick path and the wall, tulips and hyacinths were in full
bloom but the crocuses which had dotted the lawn had all
been crushed by the crowds of the past few days. The oaks
and walnuts in Adams' Grove were bursting with rose-tinted
buds and the lilac bushes near the turnstile were reeling
sweet.

 The President walked slowly but lightly, his head up,
drawing deep breaths of spring into his winter-ravished body.
He could feel the sap rise in his soul.

 The telegraph room adjoining Stanton's office was in full
swing. Lincoln paused for a few moments to greet his
friends.

"Well, boys, what's the news from General Sherman?"

 "None yet, sir," replied Major Eckert. "But General Grant
will reach Washington to-morrow."

 "There is a new letter from Petroleum Nasby just out, Mr.
Lincoln," called David Bates. "He has a good deal to say
about your visit to Richmondl"

 "Nol Has fuel" The President grinned broadly. "I haven't
been to my office yet so haven't seen my copy. Is it good
and saucy? That's the way I like 'em."

 He sat down on the edge of Bates' desk and took the
clipping from the boy's hand.

Saints' Rest, wich is in the Stait uv Nou Gersey

April lo, ~865.

 I survived the defect uv Micklellan (who wuz truly the
nashen's hope and pride, likewiz) becoz I felt assoored that
the rane of the goriller Linkin wood be a short won. That in
a few months at furthest General Lee wood capsher
Washington, depose the ape and set up there a constooshnal
guverment based upon the grate and immutable booth that
a white man is better than a rigger.

 I survived the loss of Atlanter and Savanner and
Charleston becoz dependin on Suthern papers, I bleeved
that them places wuz given up,  mind, given up becuz the
Confedrets desired to Consentrate for a crushin blow.

I survived the fall of Richmond tho it wuz a staggerer becuz
I still bed

APRIL TWELFTH 587

faith that grate and good man Lee did it for strategy that he
mite consentrate hisselfsumwhers else and when the
Ablishenists geered me and sez "Richmond" and "Go up bald
head" to me, I stroke my fist at 'em and sed Wat and you'll
see. I wuz alooken for the blow thet wuz to feller the
consentrashun.

It cum....

 Stanton, hearing the President's voice, appeared in the door
of his office and his harsh tones broke in on Lincoln's
delighted drawl.

 "Good morning, Mr. Lincolnl I have a very troublesome
problem here for which you're responsible."

 The President looked over his spectacles. "Hello, Mr.
Stantonl You must listen to thisl"

 "I'm sorry, but it's impossible at the moment." The color
rose in Stanton's tired face.

 "You don't appreciate Nasby's genius, I'm afraid," sighed
Lincoln, comically. He rose and after placing the letter in his
pocketbook, he followed the Secretary into the inner office..
There he leaned against the high desk and waited.

 Stanton picked up a telegram and said abruptly, "I have
censured General Weitzel for not seeing to it that prayers for
the President of the United States were included in the
church services in Richmond on Sunday. He replies that the
tone of his conversations with you in Richmond justifies the
omission. Will you tell me just what you said on the subject
to Weitzel7"

 Lincoln with difficulty held back a contemptuous grunt.
Surely this was too trivial even for Stanton. But evidently not,
for the Secretary went on, "Weitzel permitted the churches to
open on the general condition that no disloyal sentiments be
uttered. But the clergy in the Episcopal churches who had
formerly offered prayers for that traitorous Davis prayed only
for those in authority and omitted the President of the
United States. It is a studied affront to you and your office.
What order had you given Weitzel?"

 Lincoln felt more annoyance than he cared to show.
Nothing could be more distasteful to him than the empty
forms appertaining to his office. He knew how Stanton
delighted in dignities of place and ordinarily he was willing to
take that fact lightly. But the fussiness of Stanton in this
instance was deliberately ungenerous and as absurd as it was
unnecessary.

 Y don't remember hearing prayers spoken of while I was in
Richmond," he said, impatiently, "but I've no doubt General
Weitzel acted in what appeared to him to be the spirit and
temper manifested by me while there."

"I can imagine what that spirit and temper were," sneered
Stanton.

 "Now I will let him have itl" thought Lincoln. He went on,
aloud, "What I ordered Weitzel with regard to the Richmond
people was to let them down easy and I say the same to you,
Mr. Stanton. Leave the preach

588 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

erstostew in their own juice. The welfare of the office I hold
is in no degree dependent on the petitions in the Rebel
prayer-books. This sort of bullying is particularly unpleasant
to me."

"Bullying!" Stanton's voice was outraged.

 "Well, you've got the fellow down, haven't you? Good
God, would you ask him to pray for you while he's spitting
out the broken teeth? They wouldn't stand for that even in
a little boys' fight. The important thing at the moment in
Richmond is to find out what their so-called legislature is
doing. I reckon I'll get a telegram off about that at once."

 He returned to the outer office and seating himself at
Eckert's desk, wrote a message to Weitzel, ". . . Is there any
sign of the Rebel legislature coming together on the
understanding in my letter to you? If there is any such sign,
inform me what it is. If there is no such sign, you may
withdraw the offer."

 He handed the message to an operator. "Send the reply
over to me as soon as it arrives." Then he stood in thought
for a moment. Poor old overworked Stantonl Slowly drawing
Petroleum Nasby's letter from his pocket, he went back to
the Secretary's desk.

 "Just listen, Mr. Stantonl This scratches the itch you can't
reach." And quite unrebuked by Stanton's look of fury he
went on with the effusion:

 "Lee surrendered. Good hevinsl Is this the dyin' in the last
ditch? Is this the fightin' till the last man was an inanimat
copse? Is this the bringin' up the childern to take ther
places, as the old ones peg out under Yankee bullits7 Lee
surrendered! Why this ends the bizniz. The South is
cankered. Conkeredl Conkeredl CONKERED. Linkin rides
into Richmond. A Illinois X rail-splitter, a buffoon, a ape,
a goriller, a smutty joker, sets himself down in President
Davis's cheer and rites despatches. Where are the matrons
uv Virginia? Did they not bare ther buzums and rush on z
the Yankee baynets that guarded the monster? Did they not
cut ther childern's throtes and wavin' a Confedrit flag in one
hand plunge a meat knife in z ther throbbin' buzum with the
tother rather than see ther city dishonored by the tred uv a
conkerers foot7

 "Alarsl not wunst. Pir contrary, I reed in the papers that
they did rush wildly through the streets with their childern
in ther arms. But it wuz at the Yankee commissary train
who gave 'em bred and meat which they eat vociferously . .
. this ends the chapter. The Confederacy is deaf. Its
gathered up its feet, sed its last words and deceest."

 Lincoln paused to shout with laughter. Stanton eyed him,
helplessly, and then gave a delighted titter which grew in a
moment to a nerverelaxing guffaw.

 "I'll leave this with you as I have a copy at home," said
Lincoln. He laid the clipping on the desk, nodded and
walked thoughtfully out.

 As he moved along the garden wall he pondered on
Stanton's lack of a sense of proportion. The Secretary would
kick up as much of a fuss, bring up as heavy guns over as
trivial a matter as that of prayers in Rich

APRIL TWELFTH 589

mondas he would over the shifting of the supreme command
of the army. He undoubtedly would make more trouble in
Richmond over a sentence in one or two church services than
Weitzel would make in imposing Federal control on the
whole city.

 He paused for a moment facing Adams' Grove, only half
conscious of the rising summer in the tiny world of trees and
shrubs while he struggled to throw off the persisting feeling
of irritation toward the Secretary of War.

 "I'm not fair to the old fellow," he told himself. "Time and
again he's saved the country by this arbitrary meddling and
overzealousness of his." He reviewed in his mind innumerable
crises in which Stanton's dauntless self-assurance and czarism
had pulled the army out of apparently insuperable
difficulties.. One had only to balance his great qualities as a
war minister against his petty qualities as a friend to see how
fully the good outweighed the bad. Mary and Hill Lamon
protested often against his patience with Stanton's tyrannies.
Well, they hadn't protested that week in September in 1863
when Stanton bullied the President and the Cabinet into
backing him while he played the brutal czar and saved
Kentucky and Tennessee from the Rebels.

 He laughed as he recalled that September episode. Stanton
whooped an orderly out to the Soldiers' Home one night and
routed the President out of bed, with a mysterious request to
come instantly to the War Office. Startled, Lincoln pulled his
trousers and coat over his night-shirt and galloped hatless
into the city.

 In Stanton's office he found the entire Cabinet assembled
with Generalin-Chief Halleck, all more or less in undress and
all waiting much alarmed for the President's arrival. Stanton
had refused to make explanations until he came. But when
Lincoln was perched on the high desk stool he announced
that the Army of the Cumberland under General Rosecrans
was starving, man and beast, and that its morale was so
broken that a sneeze from the Rebels would destroy it. Even
without the sneeze, ten days would see the Army wiped out
by hunger and consequent disease and desertions.

 "That will give the enemy the gateway to the West, through
the Alleghanies. Reenforcements and supplies must be sent
within a week. How are we to do its I've called you all
together to have the resources of the country pooled."

 "No matter if we do pool everything, Mr. Stanton," the
Secretary of the Treasury protested, "it'll take two months to
get adequate reenforcements up there."

 Stanton yelped, "I'll have zo,ooo men there in five days if
I'm given powerl I'll rob the Army of the Potomac."

 "You couldn't get 'em to Washington from Manassas in five
daysl" Lincoin exclaimed. "What chance have you to send 'em
the 1,zoo miles to Chattanooga7"

 "It would take a minimum of three months" General
Halleck declared flatly.

590 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "Three hellsl" roared Stanton. "You can all get out of here and go
back to bed, except you, Mr. Lincoln. I want you here for authority."

 "But, Mr. Stanton" Lincoln shook his head "you'll paralyze the
country for months."

 "Do you mean you'll not back met" exclaimed the Secretary of War.
"Dare you risk the catastrophes You can't realize you won't realize
you " Stanton paused. Articulation failed him. He shook as with a
chill. Tears ran down his cheeks.

 Lincoln slid from his stool. "Do what you think best, Stanton. What
do I sign firsts"

 The Secretary of War sniffed violently at his cologne bottle. "The
rest of you go back to bed," he gulped.

 Meekly the others filed out-even Halleck! Then with the President
quietly obeying orders, Stanton got to work. For four hours they
dictated messages. Within twenty minutes after the first wire, replies
began to come in. At 3.30 that morning they were able to telegraph to
Rosecrans, "Have arranged to send 16,000 infantry under Hooker.
Will have them in Nashville in five to six days."

 By seven o'clock that morning, the heads of three railroads which
Lincoln had commandeered had arrived in Stanton's office. By eight
o'clock, all traffic had been cleared along the route and the first
troops entrained at Bealton, Virginia. Every half hour thereafter more
troops departed. Stanton commissioned all train dispatchers and
station masters along the route as captains, with orders to arrest any
soldiers leaving the trains. He ordered 8,ooo negroes set at work
changing the gauge of one of the railroads. He ordered an
acquaintance in Cleveland, in the President's name, to go at once to
Cincinnati and take possession of all railroads south of the Ohio and
to call on any manufacturer for more rolling stock.

 At noon of September z4th, Lincoln left Stanton and went to take
care of his own work. He returned at intervals during the next
thirty-six hours, to find that Stanton had not slept nor left his office.
But on the evening of the zsth, about nine o'clock, when the President
put his head into the Secretary's room, he discovered him stretched on
the old horsehair sofa, a cologne-saturated handkerchief over his face.
Lincoln carefully withdrew and Major Eckert showed him the dispatch
that had sent Stanton to sleep. It was from General Hooker, stating
that the last man of a reenforcement of z3,ooo had entrained that
afternoon and that a caravan six miles in length was racing over the
Alleghanies.

 Within ten days the entire force had reached Chattanooga and the
gate" way to the West was saved.

 As this memory with all its details passed rapidly before his mind's
eye, Lincoln's irritation with Stanton gave way to a not unamused
gratitude. It was with good humor fully restored that he observed Tad
walking slowly across the lawn, with the yellow kitten on his shoulder.

 I       "Tadl" he called.

The boy sauntered toward his father. "Papa day, give me a dollar?"

APRIL TWELFTH 591

  "That's a good deal of cash this early in the morning," said
Lincoln as his hand slipped automatically into his trousers'
pocket. "What's up7"

  "I want to buy fireworks. A bunch of us kids is going to
whoop it up on old JefE Davis. Come on with me, Papa day,
while I buy 'em." He slipped a beguiling small hand into his
father's.

  "Well, if it won't take too long," agreed Lincoln. "Put the
kitten inside the hall and tell the doorman I'll be back
shortly."

  He forgot that there was such a thing as the necessity for
safeguarding himself A great flush of well-being for a moment
crowded every anxietyhis own and other people's from his
mind. With the little calloused palm in his, he strolled
through the vegetable garden, lifted Tad over the south fence
and for a little while watched the Union Light Guard drilling
on the rough ground known as the Treasury Park. Then the
two walked slowly east to Pennsylvania Avenue, chatting
amiably. But as they reached the door of the Kirkwood
House at Twelfth Street, Lincoln's conscience returned to
duty and startled him from his preoccupation with Tad's plans
for a celebration. Andrew Johnson lived at this hotel.

"I'm going in and call on the Vice-President, son," he said
suddenly.

  "But you promised to shop with me," protested Tad. "I don't
want to talk to old Johnson."

  "What grudge have you got against him?" asked Lincoln,
looking down on the forage cap which adorned his son's head.

  "Him? Oh, he's all right. He's a good old fellow. He bought
a dolla's wo'th of lemonade from me the othe' day at my
hospital stand on the lawn and he made old Treasurer
M'Culloch shell out too. But I'm sick of politics, I can tell
you. I'm going to be a farmer when I get to be a man, no
matte' how much they tease me to be President."

  "What makes you think they'll tease you to take that very
unwelcome office?" asked his father. "Anyhow, I reckon they
won't want a President who can't pronounce his R's."

  "I can too pronounce 'em and you know it, when I put my
mind on ill" cried Tad, indignantly. "I've been pronouncing
'em at least half the time lately. And I know they'll want me
to be President because I'm your son."

  Lincoln, with one foot on the steps of the Kirkwood House,
laughed delightedly. "You go ahead and get your
snap-crackers, boy, and when you've finished call for me here.
Now, don't make a fuss. Here's some hush moneyl" He
pressed a quarter into Tad's palm. Father and son grinned at
each other and Lincoln went on into the hotel.

  As he approached the desk in the lobby, he observed that
the clerk was speaking to a short, heavy-set man in slipshod
clothes, with his flaxen hair hanging over his collar. The man
slunk away as the clerk turned hastily to the President.

  "Get on with your friend," said Lincoln. "I only want to see
Mr. Johnson."

  "Friend!" ejaculated the clerk. "He's not even an
acquaintance. He's hostler, hanger-on or what-not to John
Wilkes Booth. He has been skulking

592 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

around here ever since breakfast and I was trying to find
out what he was up to before throwing him out."

 He was leading the way up the staircase as he spoke.
George Atzerodt had no intention of revealing the purpose
of his visit to the clerk. Booth had impressed thoroughly on
his henchman's slow mind that he was to get Vice-President
Johnson pointed out to him by some one not connected
with the hotel. He was to locate Johnson's room, also. Now,
in the absence of the clerk he asked several persons if they
knew the Vice-President by sight, but by the time the clerk
returned he had had no success and he concluded that a
short absence would have a salutary effect. He slipped out
to the stables.

                CHAPTER XIX
          FOR OFFENSES MUST COME

T INCOLN found both Vice-President and Mrs. Johnson at
home. He had not met Johnson's wife before. She was Iying
in an armchair . ~ before a brisk fire, a bowl of half-blown
lilacs on the little marbletopped table at her elbow and a
copy of Har70er's Weekly in her lap. She wore a black merino
frock with a flat collar of white lawn caught at the throat by
a cameo brooch. A pink knit shawl reflected a little color in
her white cheeks. Eliza Johnson was a semi-invalid, for she
was fighting against consumption. It had developed under
the hardships of the war. Yet, in spite of her delicacy, she
was beautiful, Lincoln thought, as he bowed over her hand.

 Her eyes, a soft hazel, were extraordinarily large, her nose
was pure Grecian, her mouth generous and beautifully
curved. Her whole physiognomy was that of a big nature and
a keen intelligence.

 Johnson had been writing at a table. Now, at a glance from
Eliza, he hastily pulled on his coat. The two men then seated
themselves before the fire.

 "This is homelike," said Lincoln. "I hope the opening
weather finds you feeling a little more spry, madam."

 "I'm doing well, Mr. Lincoln," replied Mrs. Johnson in the
soft drawl of Tennessee. "Mrs. Lincoln, they tell me, is
standing up under the strain."

 "She's as lively as a humming bird and as cheering. Tad
and I would go under if it wasn't for Mother's laughter, I
can tell you. She's threatening to come to see you but I don't
know when she'll make it. She doesn't exactly have to set the
bread to rise but she does have me and the Executive
Mansion heavy on those little hands of hers."

 "I know," nodded Mrs. Johnson. "Tell her there's no hurry
though I'd be delighted and honored to see her"

 "You're looking tired, Mr. Lincoln," Johnson's quiet voice
broke in. "When do you propose to take a rest?"

 "Just as soon as you and the Cabinet are
re-tempered mollified to a softer consistency, as it were.
I'm no great shakes as a blacksmith but I'm going to have a
try." He laughed softly

 Johnson's black eyes twinkled. He turned to his wife. "My
dear, I warned you that Mr. Lincoln was going to try to
make me over. You're the one he must consult. Maybe you
won't want your magnificent creation tampered with."

 Lincoln looked from one to the other. Every one knew
that when Eliza McArdle, the young schoolteacher, had
married Andrew Johnson, the young tailor, he had been an
illiterate, untrained cub and that for all his

594 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

great natural cleverness as a politician, he owed all that he was to her early teaching and
her continued polishing of his rough metal. The Lincolns and the Johnsons had much in
common.

 "I have only one criticism to make of your work, madam," said Lincoln, at last. "Your
husband doesn't realize what a good job you made of him. If he could do that, he wouldn't
be so sore at what he calls the aristocrats and half his hatred of the Secessionists would
disappear."

 "You mean," exclaimed Eliza, "that if he could only recognize the fact that he's the peer
of the best of 'em, his bitterness would drop from himl That's true."

 "Even my wife or your wife couldn't and can't change the fact that you and I are both
plebeians." Johnson spoke quietly but his black eyes glowed.

"That word simply hasn't any meaning in America any more than the

 word aristocrat has," returned the President. "Personally I don't care whatj

I'm called. God knows I've had my choice of hard titles as you have,
Mr. Johnson. You've done more for the Union cause than any one I know,
and yet your attitude denies the very bedrock of the Union, that all men
are created equal. You say you're a plebeian. You rave against aristocrats.
You waste your strength hating weak sisters like Jeff Davis and Judah
Benjamin. Hate will hamstring you, Johnson. Vengeance is unworthy of
a man of your intellectual caliber."

Johnson folded his arms, compressed his thin lips and said nothing.

 A red spot appeared in one of Mrs. Johnson's thin cheeks. "Perhaps you don't
understand all my husband's been through, sir," she exclaimed. "He's had "

 The President interrupted her. "He's had the toughest job of the war. Of the public men
of the South, he's stood alone against the passions of Secession. He's held old Tennessee
to her moorings while she weltered in

 successive tornadoes; Shiloh, Ft. Donelson, Chattanooga, Lookout Moun-;

fain I needn't count 'em over to you, the battles he's helped her weather.
Whenever anybody criticizes your husband to me I tell him no one has a
right to judge Andrew Johnson who hasn't suffered as much and done as
much as he has for the nation's sake. Yes, ma'am, all that and a hundred
facts more I know and appreciate. And yet, I'm going to ask Andrew Johnson to make
a still greater sacrifice for the Union. I want him to give up
all thought of vengeance, even of punishment for the southern leaders,
and turn his great abilities to healing the nation's wounds."

 Eliza spoke as if her husband were not present. "You can't change Andrew Johnson's
nature, Mr. Lincoln, and after all, it's his nature that's made it possible for him to endure
and accomplish what he has. You rule by diplomacy. That's your nature. Andrew rules by
force. That's his nature. I remember when Nashville was besieged and the city leaders
begged him to give up and surrender, he drew his pistol and said, 'I'm no military man but
I know we can hold out and any man who talks of surrender, I'll shoot.' Well, the Union
troops rallied and the city was saved. That wouldn't have been your way but it was Andy's."

FOR OFFENSES MUST COME 59s

 The Vice-President moved uneasily and interrupted, with a
curious expression in his deep eyes. "You think it's the names
they've called me that makes me hate the aristocrats. Well,
it's not. Do you know what I think of every day of my life and
what I'll get even with Jeff Davis for if it takes ten years?" He
spoke with impressive dispassionateness. "They threw my sick
wife and my dying son into the street and they turned the
house I built with my own hands into a barracks."

 Lincoln thought of Mary ill and of Willie, dying Willie in
the streets, dying. Sudden tears dripped to his cheeks. He
leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment
while he collected himself. The two watching him wore a look
of pity not unmixed with awe. The President's expression had
the extraordinary sweetness and resignation of a death mask.

 "Just what do you want my husband to do, Mr. Lincoln?"
asked Eliza Johnson, softly.

 Lincoln opened his eyes and said slowly, "I am haunted by
a presentiment that I shall not live after the coming of peace.
I want to commit my charge into hands that are kindly."

 Great lumps appeared on Johnson's lean jaws as his teeth
clinched on Lincoln's words. Beads of sweat showed on his
upper lip. He leaned toward the President and ejaculated
through set teeth, "Assassination! And you expect my blood
to remain uncurdled if those dogs assassinate you? Youl No,
Mr. Lincoln, you ask the impossible! By God, I'd hunt them
down if it took the entire armyl I'd wipe out every damned
aristocrat in the Confederacy and hang them if I had to do it
with my own handsl"

 "Hush, Andrewl" Mrs. Johnson laid a thin hand on her
husband's knee. Automatically, his own closed upon it. "Mr.
Lincoln," she went on, "you mustn't misunderstand Mr.
Johnson. If it's your ideas of reconstruction you're thinking
about, don't be concerned. My husband believes in your
program."

"But it's a program of conciliation," insisted Lincoln.

 She nodded. "I know. It's a healing of the nation as Christ
would have healed it. And, as I fear only Christ could do it.
But one can try. Can't one, Andrew?" turning to her husband.

 But Johnson sat staring at Lincoln with anguished eyes and
did not reply. And after a moment, perceiving that he had
given the Vice-President more than he could bear, Lincoln
made his adieux and went out.

 He did not wait for Tad, but leaving word with the clerk for
the child, strode out of the hotel.

The misty sun felt good.

 George Atzerodt, now in the bar-room, saw him go and
made of the fact an excuse for saying to an officer standing
at the door, "That was old Abe, eh? Looks like an easy fellow
to know."

 Colonel Nevins looked at Atzerodt with amusement in his
eyes. "He is easy to know. Why didn't you speak to him?"

"I would have," grinned Atzerodt, "if I'd been in my Sunday
clothes.

596 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

I'm wearing these because I'm trying to see Andy Johnson
and he prefers poor folks. A tramp can always get a good
word from him. No, I ain't a tramp, if that's what you're
grinning at. All you folks'll laugh out of the other side of
your mouths yet. I'll admit I'm about broke now but I got
friends enough to give me as much as will see me through.
I'm going away some of these days but I'll come back with
as much gold as will keep me all my days."

"Let me in on the bonanza," smiled Nevins.

Atzerodt returned the smile. "I might, later."

 The colonel, who faced the door into the lobby, said
suddenly, "There goes Mr. Johnson into the dining room
now."

 Atzerodt turned eagerly but too late. "Gosh," he muttered,
"I gotta see himl Do you know which is his rooms"

"Yes, it's near mine. What's the idea, friends" curiously.

 "Well, Andy borrowed money from my old German father,
once, and I'm going to get it back."

 The officer shouted with laughter. "So that's your gold
miner Well, go after him hardl He's a mean cuss, I've heard.
Come, I'll show you his room, for they won't let you into the
dining rooml"

 He crossed the lobby and Atzerodt followed him up the
stairs, where Nevins pointed out a closed door to him.
Atzerodt muttered the number to himself and then with a
word of thanks turned back to the stairs. The colonel went
into his own room but later as he left the hotel he saw
Atzerodt still lingering before the entrance.

"Well, did you collects" demanded the colonel.

Atzerodt shook his head. "Haven't even seen him yet."

 "He's alone in the dining room now. You can't miss him,"
chuckled Nevins. "Good luck to your"

 "Thanks!" ejaculated Atzerodt. He once more entered the
hotel and peered in at the door of the dining room.
Johnson, eating his solitary meal, was quite unconscious of
the man's sullen scrutiny. The head-waiter, accustomed to
the interest shown by every one in this distinguished guest,
allowed Atzerodt a long moment of gaping before he closed
the door in his face.

 The conspirator was, as he had said, without funds and so
had drunk very little that morning. As he walked along
Pennsylvania Avenue he pondered, uneasily, on the two
famous men he had seen at the Kirkwood. Johnson's face
had made no impression on his feelings but as he recon-
sidered Lincoln's a sensation of uneasiness and vague regret
touched him.

 "Booth's a blasted fool," he muttered. "There's nothing to
hate about that man. He's never hurt a fly, betcha. For two
cents I'd cut back to Fort Tobacco and go on with my own
job." He bit off a chew from the remnant of a black plug.
After all, why did he stick to the actors Booth was all
promise and no performance, as Arnold had said. Here he
had been for hours hanging round the Kirkwood House,
breakfastless and drinkless, spying on a man he'd been told
off to stab although he'd never seen the
FOR OFFENSES MUST COME 597

man and had no possible grudge against him. After all, he
didn't know that the Confederate government was in on this
and would make them all rich. He had only Booth's word for
that. It was possible that Booth was lying to them and was
merely using them all to make himself famous. What other
excuse could Booth have for waiting for Lincoln's going to
the "heater? Why, any one could shoot Lincoln any time and
anywhere! The Richmond government if they wanted to make
way with old Abe wouldn't stand for any such nonsense as
the theater scheme.

 But Mrs. Surratt was a hard-headed dame and she believed
in Booth or she wouldn't have him round the house the way
she did and let John Surratt do the actor's errands. When
John came back from Richmond he always brought gold, so
the Secesh government did give money for secret jobs. The
stable-keeper had told him Surratt had shown him three $100
notes in his pocketbook. Booth always had big bills with him
too. Mike O'Laughlin claimed Booth had borrowed $500
from him last fall but that was probably a lie. Or else
O'Laughlin's whining that he was hard-up was a lie.

 Ruminating slowly, his thought now turned to Andrew
Johnson. The man had broad muscular shoulders and a chest
like a blacksmith. "He don't know the meaning of fear,"
Atzerodt told himself. "They say that out in Tennessee they
tried everything but shooting on him and he fought 'em all to
a standstill. If he didn't put the fear of God into 'em, I heard
a fellow say, he put the fear o' Johnson. You'd need a
cannon to kill that Carolina cracker."

 He halted, staring unseeing at a plane tree's yellow-patched
trunk. This plan of trying to stab Andrew Johnson in the
dark Christ I Had Dave Herold ever seen him? By God,
he'd go tell Herold a thing or two about this job Booth had
made them partners inl

 He knew about where to find Herold. The boy had made
a half-hearted attempt to become a druggist and it was
probable he would be hanging around the drugstore at
Fifteenth Street and the Avenue. The guess proved correct.
A slender, insignificant youth in a short fawn overcoat which
had once belonged to Booth and with a little round-rimmed
white felt hat pulled low over his grey eyes, lounged idly
before the red-andgreen-glass druggist's symbol.

 Atzerodt shambled up to him. "If you ain't got nothing
better'n this to do, come round and help me exercise the
horses."

 David pulled irresolutely at a small mustache which did not
conceal a rather shapeless mouth above his receding chin. "I
wasn't going I was just waiting "

 "Come on, Dave, I want to talk to you. I've just seen some
one you're interested in. Come on," jerking his head
peremptorily.

 "Well, just for a little while." Dave fell into step with
Atzerodt. "You see, George" in a low voice "Grant's
expected in town and Booth told me to locate him."

"You thought you'd meet him in the drugstore buying sulphur
and

598 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

molasses for the spring clean-out, I suppose," grunted
George, with heavy sarcasm. "Who's going to tackle Grant,
that fighting pup? Not melI'd rather try to stop Pickett's
charge with a broom-straw." He laughed heartily at his own
wit. "Haven't got a bottle with you, old man?"

 David nodded and when they reached the privacy of the
alley behind Ford's Theater, he pulled a whiskey flask from
his breast pocket and handed it to his companion.

 Edward Spangler was sitting on an overturned water-pail,
his back against the stable wall, a corn-cob pipe hanging
from his mouth, eyes closed. He was snoring loudly.

"Pretty, isn't fuel" giggled Dave.

 The two gazed with amusement at the middle-aged face.
It was blotched and swollen and discolored with drink and
decorated by a stubble which had been growing since his
Sunday shave.

 Herold uncorked his whiskey flask and held it under
Spangler's bulbous nose. The nostrils quivered, the lips
worked and with a particularly heavy snort, Booth's
confederate awoke. Herold hastily corked the bottle and
made great show of putting it back in his pocket.

 "Heyl" protested Spangler, "that's no place for good
whiskey. Or ain't it good? Hand it over for an expert to test,
Davel"

 Again the bottle made a round. David after his own pull
examined it gravely and said, "Not enough to be worth
saving!" And with a laugh they finished the pint.

 Herold and Atzerodt now established themselves on a box
close to Spangler and George began to speak with authority
on the dangers of his and David's share in the conspiracy.
The whiskey had warmed him by the time he had completed
his description of Johnson but it had not stiffened his
courage. "I say I don't like the job. I don't like any of it," he
declared.

 "What don't you like, old fellow?" asked a pleasant voice
from the rear door of the "heater.

 The three started. It was Wilkes Booth. He joined them,
deliberately flicking his riding whip at his highly polished
riding-boots and with the other hand settling the high stock
he affected when on horseback. "Aren't you happy, old Port
Tobacco?" he inquired, affectionately.. "I thought we'd given
you the easy job."

 "Say, Mr. Booth, did you ever stab Andy Johnson?"
grinned Atzerodt. "Now, I never stabbed anything more
dangerous than a pigl Did you ever see Andy? Nol Well, I
have, and let me tell you when I think of sneaking into his
bedroom in the dark Say, how about Mrs. Johnson? Do we
stab her too or leave her alone to squeal the news?"

 Booth replied coldly. "If you'd attended to your work
adequately this morning, George, you'd have discovered that
Mrs. Johnson is an invalid and occupies a separate room
from her husband. Eddie" turning to the stagehand-"the
President's been asked to attend Ford's day after tomorrow.
If you hear through the box-oflfice of his acceptance before
I do, let me know for I want to show you about the
President's box."

FOR OFFENSES MUST COME 599

 Spangler took a deliberate bite of plug and handed the cake around, all helping themselves
save Booth. "I'm smoking, thanks. Eddie, you're going to help met"

"Yes, I guess so," replied Spangler, good naturedly.

 "You guess sol" repeated Wilkes. "That's no answer to a man with my responsibilities."

"I told you I'd help and I will," said Spangler, rising.

 "Goodl Atzerodt, are you out of it or do you saddle my horse for me, this;

morning? I'd like to know now among just how many the million dollars is
to be divided. If Dave does the job alone, he gets your share, that's certain.

 Hey, old heart of oak?" slapping young Herold on the shoulder. ;

"Bet your lifer" cried Dave, his weak face setting in firmer lines.

 Before Atzerodt's mind's eye danced a memory of three $100 notes and of a dozen gold
pieces. There was real money to be had, without doubt. He jumped up with alacrity.

 "Don't spend that share till you get it, Davel" he grinned. "Which horse this morning, Mr.
Booth?"

"The one-eyed bay," replied Wilkes, gravely.


CHAPTER XX

 FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES                        ~

T INCOLN found Mr. Welles waiting for him among the other visitors | thronging the White
House and had him in at once. He wanted to ~ talk again to the Secretary of the Navy on
the matter of assembling the Confederate legislature at Richmond. Welles was still hostile
to the idea.

 "My thought was," said Lincoln, "to have the men who had done tile dirty work come
together and undo it."

 "They'll use the opportunity to conspire against us," warned the Secretary.

 Lincoln shook his head. "They're too exhausted for any more of that. Civil government
must be reestablished at once. There must be courts and law and order in the South or
society will be broken up. The disbanded soldiers will turn into guerillas and robber bands.
I want Virginians who have been leaders to come together and turn themselves and their
neighbors into good Union men. But you're all against me."

 "I haven't much faith in negotiating with large bodies of men," remarked Welles. "Each
will encourage the other to ask what no one of them would think of asking alone."

 Lincoln ran his fingers through his hair. Perhaps it might be as well to give in to the
Cabinet on this point. After all he could do almost all that needed to be done through his
arrangements with Governor Pierpont. He changed the subject abruptly.

 "I've just been having a chat with Andy Johnson and his wife. She's a fine woman. I went
over to their hotel to see if I could get her to shut Andy down on his everlasting talk about
destroying what he believes is aristocracy, down South."

 "Well, his wife could do it where no man could," agreed the Secretary of the Navy. "Any
pretty woman can influence Andy."

"Oh, comer" protested Lincoln.

 "Nothing scandalous, I assure your" smiled Welles, smoothing his beard. "He's susceptible,
but not too susceptible. I've never heard any one even insinuate that he ever let a neat
ankle interfere with his fanatical sense of duty to the Union. On the other hand, he never
failed to note one en passant, even a Rebel ankle."

"Can't try and convict him of treason for thatl" grunted the President.

 "His secretary was telling me," Welles went on, "that there was a family out in Nashville,
the Hepers, for whom Johnson felt a particular enmity. They had all the characteristics of
gentility he despises and they had fought him tooth and nail from the moment he'd been
made Military Governor

"FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES" 601

of Tennessee. He finally swore that one more affront and
he'd jail the whole family. Not long after this, he was walking
along the street in Nashville on which the Hepers lived. As he
passed their house Mrs. Heper and her daughter were sitting
on the porch. Madam Heper leaned over the rail and spit in
Johnson's face and Miss Heper drew her handkerchief
through her lips to wet it and flipped it in his eyes you know
the trick. Johnson snatched the handkerchief and without a
word tramped on to his office. Then he sent a squad of men
and arrested the whole Heper family."

"I'll not say they didn't deserve itI" exclaimed Lincoln.

 Welles nodded. "He was purple with rage and rightly. Well,
the Hepers as aristocrats had influence and they started using
it in every possible way to hound Johnson into freeing them.
But they only succeeded in closing his steel-trap jaw the
harder. And then, by some hocus-pocus, Miss Heper managed
to get herself brought before him. Two weeks in jail had
enriched her vocabulary of hate and lady or no lady bastard
Carolinian was the least of her epithets. Johnson stood behind
his desk watching her she is devilish pretty-and let her talk
herself exhausted. When she finished he said gently, 'Madam,
here is your handkerchief. I had it washed and ironed for
you.'

 "She gulped and stared at him. He has a fine, clean, steady
eye, you know. And then she began to blush, redder and
redder. And then she began to sob, no make-believe, his
secretary told me, but shamed sobs like a repentant child.
And, be gad, Johnson shook out the handkerchief and walked
round his desk and put his arm around her and wiped her
tears with it. 'Therel Therel' he said, 'Therel Therel' And she
put her head down on his shoulder and had a good cry, with
Johnson patting her back and looking with a sad little smile
first at the girl and then at his secretary. After a moment, she
recovered herself and went out with the handkerchief in her
hand. That evening, Johnson ordered the Heper family
released and he never had a word more trouble with 'em. If
it had been Pa Heper who came to his office, Johnson would
have knocked the fellow down."

 Lincoln was much intrigued by this tale. He chuckled and
nodded. "There's great nobility in Andy Johnson. But he's
afraid to let people see it. What kind of a President do you
think he'd make, Mr. Welles?"

 "He might grow to fine heights," replied the Secretary, "if,
as you suggest, he didn't stifle his inherent fineness. There's
no doubt that he was a great executive in Tennessee. The
next four years will tell a good deal. I question very much
though whether he could ever be nominated, let alone
elected."

"So do I," agreed Lincoln, soberly.

 He went over the papers Welles had brought for his
signature, affixed his name carefully and went to lunch,
turning this new angle of Andrew Johnson's character over in
his mind. When the meal was finished, he hurried over to the
War Offfice and found, as he had hoped, that General
Weitzel's reply had arrived. "The passports have gone out for
the legislature and it is common talk that they will come
together."

602 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "Shucks!" exclaimed Lincoln. "It's five days since I talked
with Campbell. This delay doesn't show the proper spirit."

 "We've received a copy of the call Campbell issued with
your permission, Mr. Lincoln," said Stanton, appearing
suddenly in the doorway. "If"  with an air of complete
triumph "this doesn't prove everything I've been saying to
you, I'm a fooll"

 The President took the sheets. They were a telegraphic
copy of Weitzel's letter to Campbell and the call to the
Confederate legislature. The Southerner had willfully
distorted Lincoln's guarded permit. "The object of the
invitation," said Campbell, "is for the government of Virginia
to determine whether they will administer the laws in
connection with the authorities of the United States. I
understand from Mr. Lincoln that if this condition be
fulfilled, no attempt would be made to establish or sustain
any other authority." The call to the General Assembly
contained the same distortion of facts. It announced the
consent of "the military authorities of the United States to
the session of the legislature in Richmond. The matters to
be submitted to the legislature are the restoration of peace
to the State of Virginia and the adjustment of questions
involving life, liberty and property that have arisen in the
States as a consequence of the war."

 "Weitzel must have lost his mind," grunted Lincoln. "All
right, Mr. Stanton, you win." He sat down at Eckert's desk
and wrote slowly with long pauses for thought. It was a full
hour before he had completed the message to General
Weitzel. "I have just seen Judge Campbell's letter to you of
the 7th. He assumes, it appears to me, that I have called the
insurgent legislature of Virginia together as the rightful
legislature of the State, to settle all differences with the
United States. I have done no such thing. I spoke of them
not as a legislature but as 'the gentlemen who have acted as
the legislature of Virginia in support of the Rebellion.' I did
this on purpose to exclude the assumption that I was
recognising them as a rightful body. I dealt with them as
men having power de facto to do a certain thing, to wit: 'to
withdraw the Virginia troops and other support from
resistance to the General Government' for which in a paper
handed to Judge Campbell, I promised a special equivalent,
to wit: a remission to the people of the State, except in
certain cases, of the confiscation of their property. I meant
this and no more. Inasmuch, however, as Judge Camp bell
misconstrues this and is still pressing for an armistice,
contrary to the explicit statement of the paper I gave him,
and particularly as General Grant has since captured the
Virginia troops so that giving a consideration for their
withdrawal is no longer applicable, let my letter to you and
to Judge Campbell both be withdrawn or countermanded,
and he be notified of it. Do not now allow them to assemble,
but if any have come, allow them safe return to their
homes."

 He took the paper into Stanton's room. "There, sir, does
that satisfy your"

 Stanton jerked his head irritably from the mass of papers
on his desk and read the telegram. As he read his expression
changed. He turned to

"FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES" 603

the President with a delighted smile. "It does the jobl Thank
God. And clever I Mr. Lincoln, are you by any chance an
opportunist in your policies7"

"Are you?" asked the President, returning the smile.

 Stanton said contentedly, "Now we've only to make those
rascally clergymen see the light and Richmond will be on the
right path. Our friend Number Seven is in Mr. Dana's office,
sir."

 "Ahl" Lincoln, who had been stiffening himself for another
wrestling match with the Secretary, received the abrupt
announcement with double pleasure. "Let's have him in."

Stanton rang his bell.

Montgomery looked tired and more nondescript than ever.

"Well, friend, how goes it7" asked the President, shaking
hands.

 "All well, so far, sir," replied Number Seven. "But I'm glad
the war's about over. There's a lot of hotheads up there in
Canada. Nobody knows where they'll break out next. They're
generous though. They gave me a hundred and fifty dollars
for the expenses of this trip. I've credited the cash to my
account with this Governmentl"

 "Didn't the hanging of Kennedy and Beall teach them
anything?" demanded Stanton.

 "Oh, they'll do no more burning of cities or wrecking of
trains. But you have no idea of how Sherman's march has
infuriated them. Stories of the excesses of his troops are the
chief topics of conversation. And I'll admit, it does seem as
if Sherman had been er excessive."

 "Not at alll Not at alll" declared Stanton. "The South asked
for it. Who started this war, eh?"

 "This policy of an eye for an eye sometimes overreaches
itself," said Montgomery, in nowise perturbed. "Some of the
stories are heart-rending and I don't doubt they're true.
Anyhow, they make the Confederates feel vicious. All of the
Confederate commissioners, for example, believe that
General Sherman ordered the pilfering and burning of
Columbia, South Carolina."

 "He didn't," said Lincoln. "He ordered the burning of public
buildings and manufactories. All libraries, asylums and
private dwellings were to be preserved. Columbia was burned
by catching fire from the cotton-bales the Rebels had set the
torch to before the Union men entered the city."

 "What difference does it make who burned that hell-hole?"
asked Stanton. "I'm in hearty accord with General Halleck.
He wrote Sherman that if he captured Charleston he hoped
by some accident the place could be destroyed and a little
salt sowed on its site to prevent the growth of future crops of
Nullification and Secession. Sherman told me when I visited
him in January that his whole army burned with an insatiable
desire to wreak vengeance on South Carolina and he almost
trembled at her fate, but she deserved all that seemed in
store for her. By God' who can be sentimental about that
traitorous State? She's the cause of this wart"

"I'm not pitying her, sir," replied Montgomery, steadily. "I'm
only warn

604 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

ing you that revenge has unexpected reactions, sometimes.
The stories of robbery, insult, bullying and destruction that
Sherman's bummers have perpetrated "

"There's been no rape, as a matter of record," interrupted
Stanton.

  "But cruelties," insisted Number Seven. "Women in bed
with childbirth robbed of their bits of jewelry, old people
thrown bodily out of their houses, children separated from
their parents; those and a thousand other details inflame the
minds of the Rebels in Canada."

  "Well, that's the inevitable back-wash of war. And who
hollered louder for war than South Carolina?" demanded
the Secretary of War.

  Lincoln began to pace the floor uneasily. "It's all a
mistake. Do you remember last fall, Mr. Stanton, I
telegraphed Grant at City Point suggesting that he confer
with General Lee and stipulate for a mutual discontinuance
of house burning and other destruction of private property7
And Grant replied that it couldn't be done or words to that
effect. Spoke about burning for retaliation being done only
by military order. Burning for retaliation!" Tears filled his
eyes.

  "It has to be, Mr. Lincoln." Stanton spoke very earnestly.
"Don't you see that it's inherent in the very nature of war,
if we're to sicken the people of war."

  "Jacob Thompson told me," Number Seven's level voice
continued, "that the Rebels caught a Union lieutenant and
seven of his men foraging. They killed them, mutilated them
and pinned papers on their breasts, 'Death to foragers.' The
next day eighteen more Union privates met the same fate.
Sherman then ordered prisoners to be shot man for man
and left by the roadside labeled so that every Rebel could
see that for every life he executes he takes one of his own."

  "And what did Wade Hampton, the Rebel commander, say
to that7" cried Stanton. "I'll bet Thompson didn't tell that.
Wade's reply was that he'd execute two for onel"

  Black horror swept over Lincoln. All that the last few days
had brought of surcease to agony of soul disappeared and he
was twisted by such an anguished realization of the depths
to which his compatriots had sunk that he could not control
himself. Great sobs burst from him. "Stopl" he gasped.
"Don't tell me mores" He took a deep breath, fighting for
control, and took the cutting from Nasby from his pocket.
"Did you read this through as I advised you, Mr. Stanton7"

  "Oh, for God's sakel" shouted the Secretary. He turned to
Montgomery. "Have you something in particular in mind
with regard to Jacob Thompson you wanted to tell us7"

  "It is only gossip," replied Number Seven. "I repeat it only
to show the extremes to which despair and hate have driven
these people. Thompson told me that a proposition had
been made him to rid the world of the tyrant Lincoln,
Stanton, Grant and some others. The men who had made
the proposition, he said, were bold, daring men and able to
execute anything they would undertake without regard to
cost. He said he was in favor

"FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES" 605

of the proposition but had determined to defer his answer
until he had consulted with his government at Richmond. He
was only awaiting their approval. He thought it would be a
blessing North and South to have these men killed."

 "Well, we've received the same kind of proposals about Jeff
Davis et al.," said Lincoln. "Such stuff means nothing. Davis
will ignore them as I have.... Did you see General Barnes'
funeral parade to-day, Stanton7 He was the vainest man I
ever met. If he'd known how big a funeral he'd have he'd
have died years ago."

 He grinned and shook hands with Montgomery and that
keen-eyed personage, meeting the President's gaze, suddenly
chuckled and then burst into the only laughter the War
Offfice had ever heard from him. Lincoln went thoughtfully
back to his neglected desk.

 But the day was destined to be one of curious interludes.
As he bent over his letters trying to restore the spiritual
balance which he had lost in Stanton's office, John Hay came
in to say that the actor James E. Murdock was among the
crowd in the reception room. He wanted to thank Lincoln for
giving a reprieve to a young relative who had slept on
sentinel duty.

 "I know how much you enjoyed hearing him recite last
year," said John, "and thought we might sandwich him in
between Wade and Stevens who are laying for you."

"Murdockl Yesl" exclaimed Lincoln.

A moment later, the handsome' close-shaven actor came in.

"How can I thank you, Mr. President" he began.

 Lincoln interrupted, holding the proffered hand, "How can
we pay you for your splendid work for the Union cause, sir?
How many thousands of times have you recited for our sick
and wounded. The Sanitary Commission ought to raise a
monument to you."

"But I've saved no lives, sir," protested Murdock.

 "Well" Lincoln's eyes twinkled "if you feel that way, you
might recite something from Shakespeare for me."

 "I haven't been doing much in that line of late," said the
actor, "but if you'll indicate something I happen to know "

"Hamlet's soliloquyI"

 Murdock placed his tall hat on the mantel, smoothed his
hair, eased his cuffs, folded his arms and began in his
matchless voice:

"To be, OT not to be: that is the question:"

 Lincoln listened with bowed head, drinking in the words
which so consummately voiced his needs of soul. When
Murdock finished, Lincoln repeated softly:

 "The undiscovered country from whose bourn

No traveler returns "

 Then, eyeing Murdock speculatively, he asked, "Do you
believe in life after deaths"

606 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "Yes, Mr. Lincoln. Simply because I can't imagine time or
space without myself within them."

 "Hah!" The President's gasp was of surprised pleasure.
Here was the sort of reply Beecher hadn't been able to give
him. "Is that all7" he urged the actor.

"Yes, Mr. Lincoln, but it's enough."

"Enough?" The President smiled. "You are frugal."

 "I've spent a lifetime accumulating even that much
spiritual wealth," retorted Murdock.

 "That's not wealth," protested Lincoln. "Wealth is a
superfluity of what we don't need. And that bit of spiritual
manna is an essential for your peace, eh7"

 "It is indeed, sir." The two eyed each other speculatively
and then Murdock said, "I wonder if you'd permit me to say
the Lord's Prayer7"

"Go ahead, my boy, I'll join you."

 President and actor knelt by the Cabinet table and
repeated the simple, childlike plea. It carried with it the
aroma of nearly two thousand years of authenticity and was
unalterably comforting.

 Murdock was not in his office ten minutes but when
Lincoln turned back to his desk and picked up a report
from Seward's office, he felt as if he had been gone an
hour. He found himself, as he read a statement of the
difficulties France was raising in Mexico, striving to picture
the twentieth century without Abraham Lincoln somehow
being a spectator. He could not do so.

CHAPTER XXI

             APRIL TnIRTEENTH

WILIGHT came early, stealing in with a gentle rain long
before the routine moment for lighting the gas. Lincoln,
when he could - no longer see, dropped his pen and rose not
to call for light but to oban impulse to get out among
growing things. In a garden, new planted, one could forget
the devastation and the stench of war.

  He rang the bell. "Dunn," he said to the guard who
answered, "you go find Anna Dickinson. I'm taking her for
a walk in the kitchen garden."

  He waited patiently while listening to Dunn calling "Kittyl
Kittyl" down the hall and grinned when shortly the man
came in, red faced but triumphant. "She was in the state
bedroom, in the middle of the silk bedspread, sharpening
her claws. Lucky Mrs. Lincoln didn't catch her."

  Lincoln placed the purring yellow ball on his shoulder.
"Hear that, sister?" he demanded. "If the Missis catches you
there, you won't have any tail left. You sharpen your claws
on Thad Stevens' shin, after this."

  With Dunn beside him he made his way through the back
premises to the garden. The dusk concealed all save dim
lines of young plants but did not detract from the nameless
sense of new life which hung in the air. Out of decay, young
growth, Lincoln told Anna Dickinson, purring against his
cheek.

  He walked along the path just south of the brick wall
which separated the garden from the front lawn, drawing
deep breaths, his gaze withdrawn. It had been a less
crowded day in some ways than he had experienced for a
long time and yet it had left him more wearied than he had
been for weeks. His unexpected break-up in Stanton's office
had left him trembling and he still "felt his insides
quivering," he muttered.

"What say, sir?" asked the guard.

  "Dunn," said the President, "I reckon there's no doubt but
what there are fellows out to assassinate me."

  "They can't get you since you let Mr. Stanton put us men
on duty, sir." The young man's voice was very firm.

  "I'm not really scared," mused Lincoln. "Though I admit
that the secretiveness of the thing bothers me sometimes.
You see when you join the army and go into a battle you
know what to expect and where to expect it. But in my
situation, you get suspicious of every place and everybody.
At least I do, sometimes. Though, I'll admit, I forget it as
far as my callers are concerned. No, it wasn't what he said
about assassination this afternoon that upset me so."

"What was it, sire" asked Dunn, his young voice thick with
sympathy.

"It's part of it's what Sherman's had to do down South,
Dunn. No

608 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

doubt but what he's contributed an enormous share toward
putting a quick end to this war and I can't be grateful
enough to him for it. But that march to the sea My boy,
it's a denial of every hope the fathers wrote into the
Declaration of Independence. It's the last shovel of dirt
thrown on the body of our poor raped dream of democracy."

 "Well, the Rebels would have done the same to us if
Meade hadn't stopped 'em at Gettysburg. And they were
going to try it again when Beall and his gang went after the
steamer Michigan. They were going to free all the Rebel
prisoners and march through the Middle States, destroying
as they went. It's only lack of opportunity that's kept old Jeff
Davis from having a Sherman's march."

 "That's true and only makes the spectacle worse. Dunn, of
all wars, a civil war is the most inexcusable."

 "It had to be, Mr. Lincoln!" The young man's voice in the
sweet spring darkness was serene.

"Youth!" sighed the President, "youth!"

 Perhaps Mary's horror of old age was right if it brought
one such griefs as it was bringing him. Maybe a speedy
ending to it to die; to sleep; no more; and by a sleep to say
we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that
flesh is heir to, 'tie a consummation devoutly to be wished.
What agonies had wrung Will Shakespeare to bring him to
that point? Life must have rutted and gutted him worse than
it had Abraham Lincoln. For Lincoln wanted to live on and
finish his job. A hundred years from now? Fifty years from
nowl The sweat started as he struggled to picture these
United States then. He could envisage Lincoln rotting in his
grave and yet he could not, as Murdock had declared, make
of Lincoln, nothing. It was a thought worth wrestling over.
This sense of individuality, this entity that was Lincoln; this
flesh, these bones, this brain, were they Lincoln? Were they?

 He leaned against the wall, kitten and guard, garden and
spring, war and America, forgotten. Who was Lincoln?
Where was his home?

 Light running footsteps did not fully rouse him but when
Tad caught his hand, shaking it impatiently, he emerged with
a sigh to say, patiently, "Yes, son!"

"Mother's waited supper half an hour! Do come this
instant!"

"Dunn, you shouldn't have let me be late," said Lincoln,
reproachfully.

 The guard's voice was indignant. "I have been urging you
to go in for fifteen minutes, Mr. President."

 "I didn't hear youl Too bad," apologized Lincoln. "Anyhow,
I'm feeling better. Where'd Anna Dickinson got" as he
moved toward the kitchen.

"She might have climbed up the wall. I couldn't see, sir,"
replied Dunn.

 "I just saw her in the state bedroom, sharpening her claws
on the silk quilt," chuckled Taddie. "I thought maybe you'd
gone in there like you do sometimes to think. That quilt's
Anna's favorite place. They say when a cat sharpens her
claws it's getting ready to rain. I hope it won't rain to

APRIL THIRTEENTH 609

morrow. There'll be another illumination because old Grant
will be here. I bet Bob'll say some of the wed fire is to'."

 "Those R's of yours are sprouting famously, Tad," said his
father as they raced up the stairs together.

 "Where were you and what were you doing7" demanded
Mary, crossly, standing by the dining-room door.

"I was in the vegetable garden, leaning against the wall,
thinking."

 She looked up into his face, lips compressed, and then as
she looked, her lips relaxed, her eyes softened and she said,
quietly, "Come in and eat before the meal is ruined. John
Hay says Nicolay has got to come home from the mountains,
illness or no illness. That the whole contents of the Federal
prison camps have moved into the White House since Lee's
surrender and Nicolay is the only one with nerve to say no.
I don't see why you don't tell them to wait the few days left
before peace is declared. You are looking more tired than
I've ever seen you, my dear, and that's saying a good deal."

 The President began his soup absentmindedly. "There was
a woman in, to-day, who was pitiful. Her seventeen-year-old
boy had run away from home in Nashville to join the Rebels,
last winter. He was taken prisoner and landed in Fort
McHenry. She saw him there and says he's a living skeleton
and sicker of war than any boy on earth. She went to Stanton
to get him paroled and struck him on an off day. He all but
threw her out. So she came to me."

"Of courser" sniffed Mary.

"I'm proud they feel that way," declared Lincoln.

 "Well, perhaps I am too," twinkled his wife. "But you do get
imposed on. What did you give her a Post Offhce job for
her son7"

 "She had the surgeon's certificate that the boy would be
sick for months and would be better off at home. So I gave
her a letter to the commandant to permit her to take him
where she will, upon his taking the proper parole never to
take up arms against the United States again. To remove a
boy from that environment and give him to his loyal mother
is better for this country than to let him die or to let him get
well in a hot-bed of hate."

 "And you didn't give either of them a Post Officel You are
getting calloused, Abra'ml"

"Oh, comer I'm not that bad, Maryl"

"You're worse, isn't he, Taddie7"

  "I bet you'd be glad he was President if it was your son,"
said the small boy, seriously. He did not join in his parents'
laughter but waited in a bored attitude until he could be
heard. "Papa day, I want some flags. Will you tell old Stanton
to give me some7"

  "You've just heard what kind of a temper Mr. Stanton's in,"
protested his mother.

  "He'll give me anything Papa day asks for," retorted Tad,
his mouth full of rhubarb sauce.

610 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "We'll put him to the test," said the President. He took out
a page from his notebook and wrote:

 "EDWIN M. STANTON, Secretary of War. Dear Sir: Tad
wants some flags. Can he be accommodated?

A. LINCOLN.

I ad seized the paper and bolted.

 "Tad used to be so unselfish," sighed his mother. "But he
never opens his mouth now except to say give me or I want."

"He's at the hog age," said Lincoln. "Every boy gets there."

 "You do say the most disgusting things more disgusting
because they're usually true," groaned Mary.

They eyed each other with amused understanding.

 Lincoln was only beginning his heavy evening's work when
Tad marched through his office waving a shell-torn Rebel
flag. "Here, I didn't know that was the kind of banner you
wanted. I don't like the ideal" cried his father.

 Tad slammed the door behind him. But the memory of
that banner with all its implications was with Lincoln when
at midnight he started for bed. It brought with it too a
thought of Sherman's terrible job. He went into the little
boy's room, retrieved the flag and rolled it up with gentle
hands. Then he gave it to Crook who had just come on duty.

"Stow this away where Tad won't find it," he said.

"Where would such a place be, sir?" asked the guard,
smiling.

 "That's your puzzle," replied the President, laughing as he
went off to his room.

 He was roused the next morning by the dropping of
something heavy on the side of his mattress and delayed in
opening his eyes, suspecting that Taddie had come to call
him to account for the loss of his flag. But he was
undeceived when a rough young cheek rubbed against his.

 "By jingsl Captain Lincolnl" he cried, sitting up to gather
Bob into a bear hug.

 "Not much of an officer but a first-class errand boy,"
returned Bob with a grin.

"This means General Grant has arrived, I hoper"

 "Yes, sirl He's at Willard's. He'll appear at Cabinet
meeting to-morrow or before if you wish it."

 "Can't be too soon, God bless himl" Lincoln sprang out of
bed and strode over to the washstand. "Have you seen your
mother?"

 "Yes, sirl She's dressing. Also Tad. He's running round in
his night-shirt, yelping that some one's robbed him."

"Were you present when Lee gave up?" asked Lincoln.

 "Yes, I was, sir." Bob's clear eyes left his father's face and
fastened on something far beyond the open window.
"General Lee could have saved a lot of lives if he'd have
seen the inevitable and given up two or three days sooner.
One of his own generals told him that. But he had perfect
faith he could get his ~s,ooo men to Lynchburg, then strike
south and join

APRIL THIRTEENTH 6

General Johnston against Sherman and prolong the war
indefinitely. So he struck out west from Richmond with
Grant following along south of his retreat and Sheridan
racing ahead to get round in front of him and cut off the
road to Lynchburg. Our men did as much as thirty miles in
one march, exhausted as they were. It was hopeless for Lee,
hopeless."

 Lincoln listened patiently. He knew all this but he would
not lessen Bob's sense of importance by telling him so. He
dressed himself slowly.

 "Well," the young captain went on, "on April 7, General
Grant sent a note to Lee, asking him to surrender. Lee
sidestepped by asking what terms of surrender we'd offer,
and kept right on running and fighting. General Grant the
next day sent a reply saying he'd meet Lee anywhere he said,
to arrange definite terms. Then he moved up close to Lee's
rear-guard so's to be handy for receiving communications
and the running and the fighting continued. We on the staff
and General Grant had cut loose from headquarters trains
and had no baggage or camp equipment. The general didn't
even have his sword. We slept anywhere, on porches or in
any bivouac that would take us in Grant's a real soldier."

 This was the sort of detail Lincoln wanted to hear. He sat
down beside Bob.

 "On the night of the 8th, we caught up with General
Meade and ate at his mess. At least all the staff did but
General Grant. He had an awful headache and couldn't eat.
He hadn't really slept for a week and ate next to nothing
anyhow. He lay down on a sofa in the house Meade was
using and we doctored him up as much as he'd let us. I think
it was Colonel Porter had the marvelous idea of a mustard
foot bath and a plaster for the back of his neck. But nothing
helped. He walked the floor with pain. In the middle of the
night another letter came from Lee. He wasn't licked yet, by
Jove, for he said he didn't think the emergency had arisen to
call for the surrender of his army so he couldn't meet Grant
for that end. But that as far as his proposals would tend to
the restoration of peace, he would meet General Grant at
1o.oo A.M., the next day."

 "And that's where I came inl" exclaimed the President. "I
instructed Grant firmly on the 3rd of March, forbidding him
to engage in any political discussion or conference or to
entertain any proposition except for the surrender of
armies."

 Bob nodded. "General Grant wrote back he'd no authority
to negotiate for peace. I went out in the yard at four in the
morning and Grant was out there pacing up and down and
holding his head."

 "By sings, the little fellow was crazy with anxiety!"
ejaculated the President, "and we all thought he had no
nerves."

 "Colonel Porter said to him," Bob went on, "that there was
one consolation in the pain he was suffering. He never knew
Grant to be ill that he didn't get good news and he was
getting superstitious about it. We wanted him to ride in an
ambulance but he wouldn't. He climbed on old Cincinnati
and rode off after having a cup of coffee. About noon,
another note came from Lee, giving up and asking for the
meeting. General Grant

612 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

sat down by the roadside and wrote a note telling Lee where
he was and to appoint the place, then he moved on toward
Appomattox Courthouse. Colonel Porter asked him how his
head was then and General Grant grinned and said the pain
left him the moment he read Lee's note."

"I told you," said Lincoln, "nerves!"

 "We met in the best house in Appomattox, belonging to a
man named McLean. Just a usual parlor, you know. Grant
sat at a marble-topped table in the middle and Lee at one
near a window. Some of the big bugs on our staff sat but the
rest stood around. It was quiet like a funeral. After all the
days of gun-Sre it was wonderful to hear the hens clucking
through the window. I couldn't help wishing General Grant
was dressed up a little for the occasion. He just had on an
ordinary blue uniform with nothing to mark him from a
private except a pair of shoulder straps. His coat was
unbuttoned. His boots were all red clay and his pants were
spattered and he had no spurs and his gloves were an old
pair of yellow cotton. He just looked like nothing at all
compared with Lee."

The President guffawed.

 Bob Sushed. "Well, I know what you mean but all the
same you should have seen General Lee. He had on a new
grey uniform, buttoned to the throat and spotless and a
magnificent sword set with jewels and fine spurs shining like
silver and long clean buckskin gauntlets."

 "All dressed up to keep his morale!" grinned Lincoln.
"How come he was so spotless? No one will accuse Lee of
not having been in the thick of battle."

 "Well," conceded Bob, "Colonel Marshall, Lee's military
secretary, told us that we'd pressed 'em so hard they'd had
to burn up their baggage and they'd each chosen their best
suit before abandoning the train. It's a pity, by the way, that
all General Lee's military papers were burned."

"And then " the President prompted.

  'Oh, it didn't take long. Lee and Grant exchanged remarks
about having met each other in Mexico in 1848 and then
General Grant said that he hoped their meeting would mean
a general cessation of hostilities and he gave quite a little
lecture on the subject of peace which I thought bored Lee
for as soon as he could cut in, he asked General Grant to
put the terms of surrender in writing. So Grant called for his
order book and wrote very rapidly without looking up except
once, at Lee's sword.

  "When he handed the paper to Lee, the general took out
his spectacles very slowly and put them on and read while
we all held our breaths. You know, I suppose, that Grant in
demanding the surrender of the army, said the officers could
keep their side-arms, baggage and horses."

Lincoln nodded. "Plenty of trouble that made up here."

  "Grant knew what he was doing," declared Bob. "When
General Lee read that, he said, 'This will have a very happy
effect in my army.' I suppose this concession gave him nerve
to ask for more. He said, 'The cavalrymen and artillerists
own their own horses in our army, differing thus from the
plan of organization of the United States. I would like to
under

APRIL THIRTEENTH 613

stand if these men will be permitted to retain their horses.'
General Grant said that the terms in the letter applied only
to officers. he thought for a moment and added that he
hoped and believed this surrender would be followed by all
the other armies' laying down their arms. 'I take it,' he said,
'that most of the men in the ranks are small farmers and the
country has been so raided by the two armies it is doubtful
whether they'll be able to put in a crop to carry themselves
and their families through the next winter without the aid of
the horses they are now riding and I'll arrange it this way. I'll
not change the terms as now written but I'll instruct the
officers I shall appoint to receive the paroles to let all the
men who claim to own a horse or mule to take the animals
home with them to work their own little farms.' Lee looked
pleased and said, 'This will have the best possible effect on
the men. It will be very gratifying and do much toward
conciliating our people."'

 "Grant's the man for me, by jingsl" exclaimed Lincoln. "He
ought to talk Turkey to the butchers in my Cabinetl"

 "General Lee was short on paper on which to make a reply
so Grant loaned him some and while the letters were being
copied, General Grant introduced the members of the staff
to General Lee. Lee didn't speak to any of us except General
Williams, who was his adjutant when he was superintendent
at West Point. He only bowed, his face very stern. Of course,
it was a devilish hard moment for him. But I wasn't sorry for
the old traitor, I can tell you."

"You're young," grunted his father.

 Bob ignored this slighting comment. "He told General
Grant he'd send back the thousand or more prisoners he'd
just taken as he had no food for them. His own men were
living on parched corn. He was expecting supplies from
Lynchburg and would like his men fed from them when they
came. We knew those supplies had been headed off so
General Grant said he'd turn over ~s,ooo of our rations, and
that about ended the meeting. General Lee went out on the
porch to wait for his horse and stood there striking his hands
together and looking off at his poor old army."

"Poor old Lee, you mean," interpolated the President.

 "No, I don't," returned Bob, stoutly. "But here's something
you'll smile at. When we got over to our headquarters we all
gathered around General Grant expecting to hear him say
something profound for the occasion. Well, he turned to
General Ingalls and asked, 'Do you remember that old white
mule So-and-so used to ride in the City of Mexico?' And
then he went on to tell of tricks that mule used to play. It
wasn't till late in the evening he talked about the surrender."

 "Grant's easy to understand and easier still to admire," said
Lincoln. He sat for a moment watching Bob's tanned face
which even these few months in the army had matured
markedly, then he rose and began to finish his toilet, thinking
of the supremely dramatic moment his son had described so
artlessly.

614 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "What happens first, son?" he asked as they descended
together to breakfast. "Mary Harlan7"

 Bob flushed and grinned. "Well, not until I've eaten,
anyhow, father. And I'm not on leave, you know, except I
can sleep and breakfast here. Where's Hill Lamon7 I've got
a souvenir for him."

 "He's off on an errand for me in Richmond. I hope he'll
get back by to-morrow. Your mother is planning doings and
I like to have Hill at my elbow."

 "I don't see why you send him away," protested Bob. "His
real job is guarding you. Major Eckert is as good at
diplomatic errands as Hill."

 "Not by a thousand jugfuls, is fuel" said his father.
"Eckert's a great fel low but Hill's a natural diplomat."

"Nevertheless, I feel uneasy when he's away."

 "Hush," whispered Lincoln as they entered the dining
room. "Don't get your mother started."

 "I've a good notion to," muttered Bob. "She's capable of
telegraphing Hill to come back, bless her."

 But he did not carry out his threat and the breakfast
proceeded with nothing more annoying to discuss than the
disappearance of Tad's Rebel flag.

               CHAPTER XXII
            O MONSTROUS FAUI Tt

  HERE was no word from Sherman when Lincoln
reached his desk 1 immediately after breakfast so he went to
the telegraph office. There was nothing there. He found
young David Bates and Charles Tinker chuckling over the
reply General Sheridan had wired to a long series of
questions put to him by Secretary Stanton. "No, inclusively,"
was the laconic message.

  Lincoln smiled. "That reminds me of the old story of the
Scotch country girl on her way to market with a basket of
eggs for sale. She was wading across a little creek when a
teamster called from the opposite bank, 'Good morning, my
lassl How deep is the creek and what's the price of eggs?'
'Knee-deep and sixpence,' answered the lass. And at that she
wasn't as good as Sheridan, was she? He answered
twenty-four questions in two words."

He was still smiling as he entered Stanton's office.

  "Have you seen General Grant as yet?" he asked the
Secretary, who was standing before his desk writing a letter.

"Not yet," replied Stanton. "I suppose you've seen Bob."

  "Yes, and got the inside story of the surrender." Leaning
on Stanton's blotting pad, he repeated Bob's account, almost
verbatim. The Secretary's tired face relaxed and though he
grumbled again over Grant's presumption in giving the
Rebels their horses, it was evident that he was touched. But
not by Lee's tragedy as it turned outl

  "Poor Grantl None of us have had sufficient sympathy for
his anxieties. But I wish he'd come down harder on the
traitorI"

  "Grant knew the way out of the woods," returned the
President. "We must try to make him ease down a little now
the worst is over."

  "There'll be no easing down in this Department for weeks
to come," retorted Stanton with great energy. "And Grant's
got to be on the job. We've got to stop all drafting and
recruiting, curtail purchase of arms and ammunitions, reduce
number of generals and staff officers and remove all military
restrictions upon trade and commerce so far as may be
consistent with public safety."

  Lincoln heaved a great sigh. "Sing on, heavenly warbler! It
helps me to realize I've wakened out of the four years'
nightmare. But you must loan Grant to Mrs. Lincoln
to-night. She wants him to join her party at Ford's to hear
'Our American Cousin."'

  Stanton's face darkened. "Neither you nor Grant ought to
appear in a "heater. Underneath all this rejoicing, there's a
sinister note, Mr. Lincoln. The bitterness of the South
against you and me and Grant "

616 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 The President interrupted. "Well, I'm not honing to go, for
a good many reasons. But I've promised Mrs. Lincoln and
so my word's out. I hear you're having a reception to-night
at your house for Grant. How about the dangers in that?"

 "Surely, Mr. Lincoln," said Stanton, "even you can perceive
the difference between a small group of carefully invited
guests in a private house and a public theater packed with
the hoi polloi. Where's your friend, Lamon? Didn't you
promise him to keep out of "heaters?"

 "I promised not to go when my coming was announced.
But I don't see how I can get out of this," troubled as he
thought of Hill's care of him.

"I'll talk to Mrs. Lincoln," declared Stanton.

 "You see, she and Mrs. Grant had a little sort of social
misunderstanding down near City Point and this party is to
be one of those female diplomatic sessions where all wounds
are healed and all scars declared honorable," grinned
Lincoln.

 "Humphl" said Stanton. "Well, still no word from Shermanl
I wouldn't put it past that fellow to make a peace pact with
Jeff Davis, if he catches the arch-traitor at Greensborough."

 "Oh, he's not liable to do anything foolish!" protested
Lincoln, fuming away. He looked over a pile of telegrams in
the cipher-room. Then he went back to the White House to
find a treasure in his mail.

 The first letter in the pile on his desk was from his old
friend Zack Simpson, telling him that he had found the
whetstone precisely in the spot indicated by the President.
And above the raucous uproar of Washington, Lincoln for
a moment heard the sound of the sharpening of a scythe and
the swish of the long blade through the wheat. He would
have given his right hand to have returned, a boy again, to
that harvest field.

 Mary came in toward noon to tell him that she was about
to send word to Ford's asking them to reserve the
President's box for the following night. And she asked him
if General Grant had as yet accepted the invitation

 "Not yet and I don't know but what Stanton'll be over here
to persuade you to let both Grant and me back out. He says
there's real danger in our going."

 "Then you shan't got" exclaimed his wife, the pupils of her
eyes dilating. "I'll call on Mr. Sumner to take your place."

 "Don't be in a rush," smiled Lincoln. "To-morrow will
bring its own solution of the problems that worry us to-day.
I've always found it so. Go ahead and reserve your box and
to-night we'll plan how to fill it."

 Mary returned to the sitting room uneasily, but she called
a messenger and sent him on the errand, as her husband had
bade her.

 It was nearing the noon hour when the White House
messenger reached Ford's Theater. At about the moment he
entered the lobby, Wilkes Booth put his head in at the door
of the office of the manager of Grover's Theater.

 "Do you intend to invite the President for to-morrow
night's performance, Mr. Hess?" he asked.

"O MONSTROUS FAULT!" 6r7

 "Yes, of course! I'm glad you reminded me!" exclaimed the
manager, picking up his pen.

 Wilkes waited while the note was written and placed in the
hands of a theater employee. "I suppose the Lincolus will be
overwhelmed with invitations," he said, turning to go. "The
anniversary of Fort Sumter will be celebrated in a way that'll
outdo everything so far."

 The manager nodded. "I should have got that invitation in
earlier. I suppose you'll be coming here to gape if the
President accepts?" laughing.

"Hardly to gape," replied Booth with dignity.

 He walked out of the theater and made his way to the
telegraph office where he sent a message to O'Laughlin.
"Come to Washington, to-day." Then he went to the
Pennsylvania House where he had taken a room for Atzerodt
on March z7th. The Port Tobacco man was still in bed.

Wilkes eyed the bloated face on the pillow with extreme
distaste.

 "Look here, Atzerodt, you've got to stop drinking for the
next two days. Things are coming to a crisis. We'll need
absolutely clear heads."

 Atzerodt was sober and very sullen. "You know as well as
I do, Booth, they ain't a one of us will do the job sober. And
you're a nice one to talk! How many drinks did you have
before breakfast this morning? My old father used to tell me
that the man who drank whiskey before he ate his breakfast
was a fool and a sure-enough drunkard."

"Have you had your breakfast?" demanded Booth.

 "No, I ain't. They don't serve meals in bed to this room.
How do you know things is coming to a
what-you-may-call-it?"

 Wilkes told himself that if he didn't mollify this man, he
would certainly foil the plot at the crucial moment. He went
out and told a chambermaid to send up a meal, then
returned to say pleasantly, "This room is pretty bad, I'll
admit. I want you to move to the Kirkwood House, to-
morrow. I've taken a nice room for you there, directly above
Andy Johnson's."

 "What sense is there to that7" growled Atzerodt. "Do you
expect me to stab him through the ceiling?"

 "It's mere coincidence," replied Booth. "It happened to be
the only empty room on the third floor. You have to pass
Johnson's door to reach it. You'll be very comfortable there
and I'll be round to see you, and give you a thorough drilling
on details. For God's sake, old fellow, watch yourselfl Drink
if you must but only enough to keep your courage up."

 "Where's Herold7" asked Atzerodt. "Why don't you put him
in with met One to watch the other7" with a sour grin.

"I might," Booth replied thoughtfully. "Dave's a good boy."

  "He ain't all there if you ask me. But that makes him all
the better for what you want."

  'Merciful heavens, I hope they'll hurry that breakfast!"
laughed Booth. "1 can't talk sense to you until you've eaten,
I can see that." He returned to the hall and waited there until
the tray appeared when he took it to Atzerodt, himself.

618 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 The Port Tobacco man brightened at once but Wilkes did not try to converse further
until the last fried egg had disappeared. Then he said, "I suppose a swig of brandy is in
order now, according to your wise old father's rule," and he poured a small drink from his
own flask into a tumbler and watched Atzerodt take it down.

 "Well, you're a pretty good provider for your family of bummers," grinned the carriage
painter. "I'm ready for orders."

 "Orders are that you keep quiet and moderately sober to-day, and that you study this
map of your escape route through Maryland. Lookl" He laid a carefully drawn map on
Atzerodt's knees. "We must each travel alone. Have a horse outside the Kirkwood House.
When you've done your job, walk slowly out to the street, mount your horse and ride
slowly for at least five minutes, then break into a trot and start for Georgetown. In
Georgetown "

 Atzerodt thrust the map aside. "Why not start direct for Greensborough and see what
the folks think of our job7"

 "Certainly not," was Booth's vehement response. "I'm the one to manage that."

 "All right," said Atzerodt grudgingly. "You want to realize, though, that the rest of us
are risking just as much as you are. How does this map work7"

"I've indicated with a red dot the towns where we have friends. You
memorize those towns, to-day. I'll send Herold over and you can recite the
names to each other. To-morrow I'll supply you with the names of the
 friends Surratt located for us."                            i

 Atzerodt nodded, impressed at last by the completeness of his superior's plans. "All
right, boss," he said, "I'll get busy."

 Booth gave a sigh of relief. Only O'Laughlin was more difficult than this ignorant lout.
He went thoughtfully back to his own hotel for dinner and then retired to his room to
work out details and wait for O'Laughlin. Much, of course, must stand over until he knew
which theater Lincoln would attend.

 At five o'clock that afternoon, Mike O'Laughlin arrived in Washington with three
companions. On their way up Pennsylvania Avenue they stopped in several saloons and
drank but Mike shook them off when they reached the National Hotel and went in quietly
to ask at the desk for John Wilkes Booth. He was directed to the actor's room.

 Booth, shaking hands with him, said, suspiciously, "Have you been drinking too much7"

"Do I look it, Great Mogul?" demanded O'Laughlin.

 Wilkes gave him an appraising glance. His old schoolmate's pale face was a little flushed
but his black eyes were steady. He was well groomed, his mustache and little "imperial"
carefully trimmed and his black suit pressed.

 "You look the gentleman and scholar, old manl" smiled Booth, slapping him on the
shoulder.

"Since you admit that fact," laughed Mike, "I'll admit that I've been

"O MONSTROUS FAULT!" 619

deliberately trying to convince three convivial friends who
came down from Baltimore with me that I am pretty well
pickled. We came over, you understand, to see the parade
and illumination for Grant to-night and to have a good time.
We've called at four bars and one bawdy house since five
o'clock. In other words, I'm preparing my alibi."

 Wilkes nodded. "Good enough. And it's only six-thirty now.
Let's order up supper and get to work."

 "I'm agreeable"" Mike took one of Wilkest cigars and
settled himself in a comfortable chair beside the table.
"Where's the rest of the gang7"

 "Atzerodt's at the Pennsylvania House. Herold's either with
old Port Tobacco or at home. He promised me not to go out
sight-seeing to-night. John Surratt's hovering round
somewhere. I doubt if we can expect him to do any more for
us. His mother is too nervous about it."

"Isn't the old lady sympathetic to the latest developments"

 "Well, sufficiently for my needs. She's going to do an errand
for me, tomorrow. But she doesn't want John mixed up in the
actual deed."

"I suppose she expects him to mix in on the loot, though,"
sneered Mike.

 "Up to date, he's done more than any of the rest of you,"
returned Wilkes, coolly. "And I may be doing him an
injustice. He might come in here to-night. But all this is
beside the immediate point. I want you to get General
Grant."

"Never laid eyes on himl" ejaculated O'Laughlin.

 "You with Old Stanton's giving a big reception for him
to-night at his house. You go up there and mix with the
crowd and take a good look at him. You can tell 'em you're
a lawyer from Kentucky. By God, you'd pass for one, Mike,
with your goatee and your black clothes!"

 O'Laughlin looked pleased. "Well, they can't do more than
put me out. After I've familiarized myself with his mug, then
what7"

 "Then we work like the devil to-morrow and find out where
he'll be in the evening. The blows must all be timed for the
same moment. Maybe fate'll be kind and send him to the
theater with old Abe. In that case, you and I work together.
You can see that we can't lay out a long-visioned program.
We must be ready to act rapidly when opportunity arises. In
a general way and for your guidance I'll say that we might
plan to strike in our several places, precisely at ten o'clock
to-morrow night."

 "I see," said O'Laughlin, his eyes contracting. "And after
striking, what then7"

 "We'll have a horse waiting for you wherever you say and
you must ride like the devil for Surrattsville. I'll meet you
there, if possible. If not, move for yourself and meet me at
Greensborough."

 Mike nodded. "That takes care of Grant and old Abe. Who
has Seward?"

 "Lewis Payne. We've been able to work out everything
there, because of old Seward's illness. I'd like to have had
Surratt tackle Stanton and we may be able to arrange that,
yet."

The supper arrived now and the subject of the conspiracy was
dropped

Ho THE LAST FULL MEASURE

while the waiter came in and out. After the meal, Wilkes
gave Mike a bowie knife and a pistol and Mike went off to
trail Grant.

 Once more Washington was celebrating. There was an
especial illumination of the War building and of the White
House. There were bands playing. There were torch-light
parades. And there was a gentle mist falling, a gray, wet
shadow following the shouting, singing mob, first to the War
building, then to K Street where General Grant was
receiving his friends and admirers at Secretary Stanton's
residence.

 About ten o'clock, Stanton's son, David, was accosted in
the hall of the house by O'Laughlin, who asked the young
man if his father was at home.

 "My father is out on the steps, speaking to the crowd,"
replied young Stanton. "If you'll go out on the porch, you'll
see him."

 "I'd like to wait in here so as to talk to him," said
O'Laughlin. "I'm an old friend-a lawyer." While he was
speaking, he was staring into the brilliantly lighted parlor
where he could see the little man whose face the past four
years had made familiar to every newspaper reader. The
famous general was slightly built and round-shouldered and
his face was covered by a close-cropped reddish-brown
beard. His eyes were blue and very gentle. There was no one
in the parlor less heroic looking than Ulysses S. Grant.

"You'd better go out," urged young Stanton. "This is a
private affair."

"I'm sorry to have intruded," said O'Laughlin suavely.

 He made his way to the porch just as a band began to play
again before the door. Shouts came for Grant. O'Laughlin,
swaying a little, for he had been drinking heavily, saw the
General come out with a lady on his arm, followed by
Stanton and Mrs. Stanton, and other guests. Mike touched
an officer on the arm and asked him if Stanton was in.

"I suppose you mean the Secretary?" queried the guest,
scowling a little.

 "Yes, sir," replied O'Laughlin. "I'm a lawyer in town. I
know him very well."

 "There's Secretary Stanton," said the guest, nodding toward
his host and turning his back on Mike.

 Mike fingered his pistol and edged back into the hall. "Is
General Grant in?" he asked a young man. "I want to talk to
him."

 "This is no occasion for a talk," returned young Hatter who
was one of the War Department telegraph staff. "If you'll go
out in front of the house you'll see him, clearly enough."

"But I want to talk to him," insisted O'Laughlin.

 Hatter took firm hold of Mike's elbow. "You go out in the
street where you belong, my friend."

"Remove your hand, sir," ordered O'Laughlin with alcoholic
dignity.

 "You remove yourself," retorted Hatter, pushing him firmly
out to the porch and down the steps.

 Grant had finished his modest little speech and for a
moment the crowd was silent. In the delicate mist, each
kerosene torch wore a rainbow halo and the mass of faces
was iridescent. Then the band broke into a familiar

"O MONSTROUS FAULTI" 6

 air and thousands of voices took it up as thousands of restless
bodies                                          !

turned and followed after the blaring horns.
      "Glory! Gloryl Hallelutahl Glory! Gloryl Hallelujahl
      Our God is marching onl"

 O'Laughlin followed, singing also until the parade broke up on
Pennsylvania Avenue.

                   CHAPTER XXIII
              FOR THOU DIDST CALL MEt

TT was nearing eleven o'clock that night when General Grant finally
| broke away from his admirers and kept an appointment with the
President. Lincoln received him in the sitting room where Mary after
a moment of conversation left them alone.

 "Sit down, General," said Lincoln. "I suspect this has been a harder
day for you than any during the war."

 Grant smiled as he followed the President's example, and took a
rocking chair before the small grate fire. "People worry me with their
kindness. This war hasn't been a one-man job. What would my
attempts have been worth if we hadn't had Sherman and Sheridan7"

 "Truer But you were the bulldog who held the Confederacy by the
throat and bit and chewed, giving the others their chance at his flanks.
And anyhow, thanks to all of you, all of you, the war is ended. Yes, sir,
the war is ended."

 He fell silent, once more letting that fact lave his soul like water
after bitter drought.

"What news do you have of Sherman7 Where is he now?" finally the

 i      President asked.

 "I know he's marching toward Raleigh," replied Grant, "but I have no
details. I sent a messenger to him, of course, about Lee's surrender,
but no reply has come as yet. I miss the Richmond papers since the
city burned. I used to get regular news of Sherman's progress through
the Rebel reportersl But I'm positive there's no bad news. The Rebels
would have seen to it that we heard any such."

 "Speaking of Richmond, General, that reminds me of a little story of
my own. I went around while I was there to call on George Pickett's
wife and baby. I heard about your christening present!"

 "George is a good soldier and a fine fellow," nodded Grant. "What's
his wife like? He married only a year or so ago, you know. I heard old
Ben Butler's gang burned up the Picketts' plantation on Turkey Island,
in revenge for my telegram to you saying, 'Pickett has bottled up
Butler at Petersburg.' Their spy system was at least as good as oursl
It was entirely unnecessary, that burning."

 "Tad attended a circus lately and tells me that one of the side shows
had a large hog, labeled Ben Butler, the educated pig," said Lincoln.

 Grant's blue eyes twinkled. "I'd like to see that show! What is Mrs.
Pickett like, Mr. Lincoln?"

 "Lovely! Lovelyl Though she looked on me with small favor, I can
tell yout I sneaked away while I was down there and found my way
alone to

"FOR THOU DIDST CALL MEl" 623

their little house. I rapped at the door and a beautiful girl
with a baby in her arms answered it.

"I said to her, 'Is this George Pickett's place?'

"She didn't crack a smile. 'It is, but he's not at home.'

 "'I know that,' I told her, 'but I just wanted to see the place.
I am Abraham Lincoln, George's old friend.'

 "'The Presidentl' she said. And then she added slowly, 'My
husband loves you.' I could see that she didn't have any love
for me, however, and it hurt, though I didn't blame her. But
her baby didn't know I was an enemy and he held out his
arms to me. For a wonder she let me take the little fellow
and he and I exchanged kisses. A fine, big boyl Let's see, how
old would he be, now? I think he's bigger than any of ours
were at that age."

 Grant thought for a moment and then said, "He must be
about nine months old. Well, I'm thankful his father wasn't
killed during the war. I suppose the dear old fellow's ruined.
It seems queer for me, of any man out of West Point, to have
any money, but I have a little and I'm going to share with
George, if he'll take it. Butler's burning his place the way he
did sticks in my throat."

 The President said nothing to this. The contradiction
between Grant, the ruthless warrior, and Grant, the friend,
was one of the anomalies of war which was more inexplicable
to him than perhaps any other; unless it was Sherman's
capacity for killing and destroying contrasted with his private
character. His mind on Sherman again, he said, "I wonder
how those folks down there like being driven back into the
Union by Sherman."

 "Coffin, the newspaper correspondent, said that he thought
some of them were pretty well reconciled," replied the
General. "While he was visiting Sherman, a planter came
down the Savannah River with his whole family, wife,
children, negro woman and her children of whom he was the
father and with a crop of cotton he wanted to sell. He had no
complaints. Just wanted to make some money off the
Yankees. Glad to accept any situation that would let him get
a good price for his cotton."

 Lincoln laughed. "I seel Patriarchal times once morel
Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Hagar and Ishmael, all in one boatl
I'd like to have seen them."

 "If some one would write the history of Sherman's march in
terms of the good it's done and going to do, the South might
not be so bitter about it," mused Grant.

 "They'll never forgive Sherman, General," said Lincoln
slowly. "He's earned the undying gratitude of the North and
the South will hate him through their children's children.
Poor Shermanl"

"Sherman doesn't mind, just so he helped end the war,"
grunted Grant.

 "I hope he'll be as lenient with Johnston as you were with
Lee. I was delighted with your handling of that, General. I
want you to make an especial point of it when you appear at
Cabinet meeting to-morrow. I want you to say how you feel
about Davis. How do you feel?" a little

624 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

anxiously. "Do you agree with me that the wise solution is to
let him escaper"

 "Yes, sir, I do, except for the fear that he'll go down to
Mexico and set up a hostile government."

 "Well, let himl" ejaculated the President. "Any man that
can set up a stable government in Mexico, even if it's
hostile, deserves credit. He'd take all his malcontents with
him and thus clean the stables for us himself. No more
bloody assizes, Generall"

 "Rightl No more bloodshed," agreed Grant, heartily.
"You'll soon make your Cabinet agree with you."

 "I haven't yet, even after considerable effort," sighed
Lincoln. "You know the old saying, 'Hell holds no fury like
the non-combatant.' Well, you'll hear that vindicated I
reckon, tomorrow."

 "I know Andy Johnson feels chockful of vengeance," said
Grant. "But what does a Vice-President amount to,
anyhow?"

"A good deal, if the President peters out," replied Lincoln.

 Grant's blue eyes darkened. "I'm glad you brought that up,
sir. Are you being very careful7 I make no bones of saying
that I think you're in great danger. Not from defeated
soldiers but, in harmony with your quotation, from Rebel
non-combatants."

 "Do you think my danger is any greater than yours7" asked
the President, gravely.

"Yes, sir, I do. You wrote the Emancipation Proclamation."

 "So I dial" Lincoln nodded. "So I dial And I'm not
shedding any tears over that fact. Well, I'm being careful,
reasonably careful, that is." He would have liked to tell
Grant that he was sick to the vomiting point of being
constantly warned against assassination but he wouldn't risk
hurting the General's feelings. So he changed the subject.
"Do you know where I'd like to be to-morrow, General7 At
Fort Sumter, hearing Beecher wind the thing up. No one
could do it so well as he. General" taking out his paper
knife "how does a soldier like you look at the hereafter7"

 Grant, who, Lincoln knew, enjoyed nothing more than
sitting quietly before his tent and talking all night with a
friend, lighted a fresh cigar and crossed his knees.

 "I suppose most of us are mere fatalists, Mr. Lincoln. If
death comes, it comes. If there is an hereafter that is, a
heaven finer If not, well, there isn't and that's all there is
to it."

 "I think I could work myself into that state of mind,"
mused the President, "if I were a soldier. But, to get down
to cases, if an assassin does get Abraham Lincoln, will it
matter to this country7"

 "It would be the greatest loss this country could possibly
sustain! It would set the Union cause back fifty years. Yes,
sir, we'd lag and limp at least that long before the wound
healed; over the time it will take under your fostering. I
don't believe you have any illusions as to that yourself, Mr.
Lincoln."

Lincoln sat thinking with his chin on his breast. If Grant was
right and

"FOR THOU DIDSTCALL MEl" 625

looking at the matter impersonally, looking at himself as a
tool in the hands of the Infinite Planner, he knew Grant was
right, why then, what of Andy Johnson's attitude and what of
Lincoln's responsibility for changing it?

 "You understand that I'm not trying to add to the strain
you're under," Grant went on, "but seeing what you mean to
the South as well as the North, I can't help feeling that you've
no right to be careless. I don't want to make you
nervous or or Well, I'm no diplomat, sir, I know it's a
whole lot harder to face the thought of a hidden knife than
twenty thousand rifles on a battlefield but but "

 "I don't let my mind dwell on that, although I know it's
extremely unlikely they'll let me live beyond the making of
peace."

"You know it7" ejaculated Grant, leaning forward, eyes dark.

 "I know it and I'll confess it saddens met as a soldier
wouldn't be saddened."

 "But, Mr. Lincoln, how can you know it7" urged Grant,
holding a match in his hand till it burned his fingers.

 "The knowledge has followed in the wake of a dream," said
Lincoln and he told Grant of that rise and fall of a tide of
sobs and of the still figure on the bier.

 "You can poohl poohl at it," Lincoln said when he had
finished, "and I shan't blame you if you do. But the fact
remains that since that dream first came I've known, and I've
wanted to reconcile myself to going. I suppose I have a
certain extra amount of self-conceit over the average man of
courage and that adds to my difficulty.. If a man could
dissolve his ego "

 He paused. Grant was watching him with painful eagerness
but with something of bewilderment in his blue gaze. The
President realized that he was getting beyond the General's
depth. The soul of integrity and kindliness but no philosopher
was this very great soldier. His simple and direct thinking was
part of his greatness.

 "I reckon what I mean," Lincoln began again, "is that I'd
like to believe in the old-fashioned hell-fire and gold-paved
heaven."

 "Well7" said Grant, "with modern improvements, why can't
you? I've often thought that heaven's no harder to believe in
than it would be for an inhabitant of another world to believe
in this earth. Or for instance for a monkey to believe in the
telegraph. What you believe really depends on your mental
development, doesn't it7 The old fellows believed in hellfire
because they didn't know it was impossible. Now we can't
believe in immortality merely because we don't know how a
system of immortality could be worked out. But maybe a
hundred years from now, folks will know enough. Since the
telegraph was invented, I tell you I'm prepared for
anything even flying machines or a real heaven."

 Lincoln turned this view over in his mind. "Maybe electricity
is the beginning of the answer," he murmured, then his mind
went off at a tangent. "Well, I've had a pretty good life on the
whole. I used to think

626 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

it was overhardwhen I was a boy and I still have an ache in
my dry old heart when I think of what I've missed by having
no education. I can't say I've had a great deal of happiness,
but I've had a great deal of amusement. If I have any
complaints to make I'd say the only important one is that
I've been lonely a large part of the time. And that the past
four years have been curdled by an overdose of agony."

 "You're unfortunate in not being able to look on war
impersonally," said Grant. But the banality of his comment
was outweighed by the quiver of his lips as he watched the
President.

 Neither man was speaking when, a moment later, Mary
came in. "I'm sorry to intrude." She looked hesitatingly from
one to the other. "But it's nearly twelve o'clock and I think
you'd both be better for a full night's rest."

 "I know Mrs. Grant would say the same," agreed the
General as he rose.

 "Won't you and Mrs. Grant go with us to the theater
to-morrow?" asked the President. "Laura Keene is playing in
'Our American Cousin.' They say it's as funny as a Nasby
letter."

 Grant gave Lincoln a disapproving glance, started to
speak, hesitated, then said, "If we're in the city we'll take
great pleasure in accompanying you. But I'm anxious to get
away and visit my children. They're at school in Burlington,
New Jersey, and if I can get through in time, I shall do so."
He smiled suddenly. "Unless as my superior officer, you
insist!"

"Jingsl I've a notion tol" laughed the President.

 "Well, I'd obey," sighed Grant. "Though I'll admit I'm so
tired of being tied down I'm nearly ready to desert."

"Don't do thatl Don't do thatl" cried Lincoln in mock alarm.

 "Or if you do," suggested Mary, "take Mr. Lincoln with
youl I'd like nothing better than to get him out of
Washington for a while. Could you start to-night?"

 "This, General," said the President, "is technically known
as calling the bluff."

 "No, it isn't," declared Mary, stoutly. "I more than half
mean it. You two go up to Saratoga for a week and then
come back and do Mr. Stanton's bidding."

 "I don't doubt you and Mrs. Grant could fill our places
more than adequately during our absence," grinned the
General as he picked up his campaign hat.

 "Oh if you think we'd let you and Mr. Lincoln go off to
Saratoga without us, you're under a great illusion!" Mary's
dimple showed.

The three laughed and General Grant went out.

  "If Grant doesn't come, I think we'll ask Noah Brooks,"
yawned Lincoln.

  "Grover's Theater invites us there," said Mary. "But I think
I'll send Tad and his tutor, if Bob doesn't care to attend."

Lincoln nodded. "I want to see Laura Keene."

"FOR THOU DIDSTCALL MEI" 627

"Abra'm, let's not go." Mary's voice was comber as she took
his arm. "Mary, I'm going. I can't live in hiding and I won't.
And I need a good laugh." They were crossing the
guest-chamber toward her bedroom.

 "I can't get my own consent, after what you said, this
morning," sighed Mary. "And yet I think the spectacle of us
cowering in the White House as a precaution against attack
while the whole world tracks up and down these halls is
absolutely silly. And I think the Lord will take care of you.
He will if there's such a thing as answer to prayer."

Lincoln kissed her and went to bed and almost immediately
fell asleep.

 Just before dawn he woke up with a start and lay listening.
But except for the tentative early notes of a thrush and the
hushed fall of rain, he heard nothing. He was under the
impression that some one had called him. The door into his
wife's room was open. He crept from his bed and listened
standing just over her threshold. The regular sound of her
breathing told him that unless she had called in her sleep it
was not Mary who had roused him. Yet the impression was
so vivid that he next opened the door into the hall. The
guard was sitting wide-eyed in a chair, facing him.

"Did you speak or hear any one speak, Smith7" asked the
President.

"No, sir." A look of alarm rose in the young man's eyes.

 "It was nothing," Lincoln reassured him. "I reckon I was
dreaming." He closed the door softly and returned to his bed,
saying ruefully to himself, "Am I trying to play little Samuel
at my age7"

 He pulled the covers up to his chin and lay with his eyes on
the grey square of the south window, waiting for sleep to
return. Softly, delicately, the rain continued to fall. The room
was full of the primeval scent of the wet garden Where had
he left off7 Ah, yesl this flesh, these bones, this brain, were
they Lincoln7 What was individuality A mere difference in
brain-folds7 Was an identical force speaking through Grant
and Lincoln, through Fred Douglass and Lizzie Keckley,
through Jefferson Davis and Robert E. Lee and old John
Brown7

 Suppose it were true. Suppose this was the key to the
scheme: a mighty, conscious, creative entity as subtle and as
all pervasive as electricity, but possessed of every capacity
men's souls and minds possessed: an entity which manifested
itself through all forms of life. If so, why7 To what end7

Why Jeff Davis and Abraham Lincoln7

 He wiped the sweat from his forehead on the sleeve of his
nightshirt and pressed forward into the unknown. Why these
two men with their differences which had brought the
holocausts Could it be because that conscious force owed its
own expression to the laws it had created7 Or that having set
in motion the machinery of the Universe it must abide by the
formulae of its own inventions If the law of heredity
produced Jeff Davis and Lincoln and Fred Douglass and a
slave trader, did it mean that the force deliberately limited by
a good or bad or inadequate brain, its own spiritual
expressions It looked, yes, by the eternal verities! it looked as
if this were true.

628 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 It looked, yes, by the eternal verities, it looked as if
existence were a stupendously earnest game in which the
creator had set himself the task of bringing all life to vivid
consciousness of its complete identity with Him. Personality
depending on brain-folds which in turn depended on the
original law. But within that personality, be it slave trader or
Henry Ward Beecher, the creator himself, however hidden
by the slaver's lusts or manifested by Beecher's poetic vision.
Within both the struggle and the urge toward the light,
submerged in the slaver, all but visible in Beecher's best
moments.

 Perhaps this was what folks would do eventually with the
theory of evolution put forth by the Englishman Darwin and
so much discussed by Lincoln's friends at the Smithsonian:
they'd hitch it up with immortality.

 And when as the aeons rolled, man became completely
conscious that his soul and the creator's were one and the
same Lincoln covered his eyes with his hand, giddy,
breathless. For a moment, he lay thus and then again he was
conscious of being called. But he knew now that he heard
not with his physical but with his soul's ear.

 The oblong of the window had turned to palest grey and
in spite of the rain, a robin piped in ecstasy.

 And so, and so, if he could disassociate himself from this
person, this Lincoln, if he could think of Lincoln as Lincoln
thought of his hand or his foot, then death, O where thy
stings

 The soft, soft patter of the rain, the enchanting odor of
the lilacs, the thrilling melody of the robins: all so old, so
very old, so natural, so primeval  life and how much more
than lifer For it expressed the eternal force that he too
expressed that he was.

 This call, heard with his spiritual ear, what was it but the
wakening knowledge that he was not Abraham
Lincoln save for this moment of existence. Actually he was
one with all life forever. The call, did it not mean that that
larger segment of himself which dwelt far, far beyond the
outposts of human thought, was putting itself in communion
with that infinitesimal segment known as Abraham Lincoln:
telling Lincoln that all was well.

All was welll

 He lay without motion while a flood of peace rose in his
soul, overflowed into his mind and saturated his body. It was
a sensation absolutely unprecedented in his whole life
experience. There was an inexpressible sense of harmony, of
serenity, of happiness possessing him to the exclusion of
every anxiety. And with an increasing wonder he realized
that for the first time since conscious thought began with
him, he was not lonely. Never to be lonely againl That which
was imprisoned in the poor frame of Abraham Lincoln had
envisaged its real identity, had sighted its true home.
Happinesst This, then was happiness! Its other name was
God.

               CHAPTER XXIV
             APRIL EOURTEENTU

{\Y and by James came tiptoeing in with an arm load of
kindling. The K President watched him build the fire. That
black face bending so (J earnestly over the homely chore, he
thought, was no uglier a sheath than Lincoln's for the
creator's purpose. James lowered the windows and fell over
a chair in his effort to move softly.

 Roused from his half trance of felicity by the look of
abject contrition in the servant's dark eyes Lincoln exclaimed
"It's all right, Jamesl I've been awake since earliest dawn. So
you think I need a fire this morning, eh?"

"Yassirl It's raw, gusty, rainy, coldI"

 "All that on the same dayl I hope it'll do better than this
down at Fort Sumter," said the President.

"This here's Good Friday. Hadn't oughta rain to-day."

"So it isl" mused Lincoln. "So it is."

 "Yassir," warming the faded dressing gown, "the Lawd sat
in the garden of bitterness come to-night."

"Perhaps that's why it rains," suggested Lincoln.

 "It oughta be," agreed James, amiably contradicting
himself. "I reckon I'll get the other fires going." He closed
the door.

 The President rose, dressed absentmindedly and went to
his office. He had recalled suddenly the fact that having had
his personal meeting with Grant he could relieve the
General of keeping a like engagement this morning. The
man was frightfully crowded at the moment. No one could
appreciate what a little lightening of the load would mean
better than himself. He wrote the General a note.

  LlcuTENAwT-GENERAE GRANT: Please call at 1 1
A.M. to-day instead of at 9 as agreed last evening.

A. LINCOLN.

Then a line to Fred Seward who was taking his father's
place.

 "Please call a Cabinet meeting at eleven o'clock to-day.
General Grant will be with us.

A. LlNcor N.

 He read through a pile of mail, laying a good deal of it
aside to be dealt with later. But a letter from General Van
Alen of New York he paused over. It asked him not to
expose himself to the fanatic's bullet as he had at Richmond.
His first reaction was the familiar rise of sadness

630 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

in his heart. But almost immediately the sadness receded
before the new sense of peace. He drew a fresh sheet of
note paper toward him.

 "DEAR SIR: I intend to adopt the advice of my friends
and use due precaution. I thank you for the assurance you
give me that I shall be supported by conservative men like
yourself in the efforts to restore the Union, so as to make
it, to use your language, a Union of hearts and hands as well
as of states. Yours truly,

"A. LrNCO~N."

 He told himself he'd show the last part of Van Alen's
letter to Andy Johnson. This would be a good man for
Johnson to know. He wrote a line to the newspaper
correspondent, Noah Brooks, telling him to call during the
afternoon. That would let him complete his theater party at
the last minute if Grant failed him.

 The lilacs on the table were beautiful. He always thought
of Whitman now when he was conscious of the scent of
these so simple blossoms. Dooryard bushes. The sort of bush
your wealthy man was apt to scorn because its foliage turned
dusty and flea-bitten as summer wore on. But your plain
American liked 'em, had grown up with 'em as well as with
snowball bushes and their little black bugs. The first flowers
the women took out to the cemetery in the spring were lilacs
and snowballs. And Walt Whitman was the plainest kind of
an American. At least Lincoln paused with a frown of
concentration at least the personality the world knew as
Walt Whitman was of the essential soil of these United
States, of the earth, earthy. But Whitman's soul was
certainly an extra large segment of the universal spirit.

Bob came in, smiling. "How about breakfast, sir7"

  Lincoln pulled the boy's face down to him and kissed his
cheek. "Captain," he said, "tell me what happened after the
meeting between Lee and Grant7 Some one said a Rebel
soldier tried to run Grant out of camp when he called on
Lee."

  "He dial" laughed Bob. "But you aren't going to make me
talk again on an empty stomach! If you'll come along to
breakfast, I'll regale you with any number of juicy anecdotes
about the hob-nobbing between the two armies."

"I accept the briber" Lincoln rose and followed his son.

  It was long since breakfast had been disposed of in so
leisurely a fashion. Mary, always these days extraordinarily
sensitive to her husband's moods, watched him with growing
surprise. This mood went back to the early days of their
marriage. It was even more singularly happy and tender.

  She took his arm as he ascended the stairs when Bob had
left them, and looking up into his face she said softly, "You
have at last completely realized that your big trouble is over.
You show it in your face."

  He patted her hand. "Maryl You don't knowl I reckon I
couldn't make anybody understand how full of peace I am."

APRIL FOURTEENTH 631

 "You look to me," she said, "like a good old-fashioned
sinner who's got religion!"

 "Maybe I have," he smiled. "Whatever name you give it, it's
made me "

 He paused. A messenger had touched his elbow. "A note
from General Grant, sir."

 Mary waited at the stair top while he read. He shook his
head with a sigh. "Grant isn't going with us to-night. People
are going to be disappointed."

 "Let us give it up, too," suggested Mary. "People have lost
interest in seeing us. I'll have some nice people here for
supper and "

 Lincoln interrupted. "No, let's go on with it. If we stay here
we'll not have a moment's peace. People are so excited and
pleased that they don't know how to express themselves
except by coming here and shaking my hand off. It's almost
as bad as a New Year's reception. I sympathizewith them
but look at my horny old hand."

 Mary gave one glance at his inflamed and swollen fingers
and groaned. "You poor thing! Then we'll go. If that's the
only way out which pleases you," she added reluctantly.

 "I want a gizzard full of laughter. I'll invite some one in
Grant's place as the day goes on. Ahl There's Schuyler
Colfaxl I must see him. He's going out to California on an
errand and I want to send a message by him."

 He hurried toward the reception room to greet the Speaker
of the House. Colfax was a small blond man, looking less
than his forty-odd years and with so genial an expression that
his friends knew him as Smiler.

 "So you're 'bound for Californy, with your banjo on your
kneel'" exclaimed the President. "Come into my officer I've
got a chore for you to do when you get there. You know this
country's going to be flooded with soldiers out of a job in the
next few months. It's going to make a bad economic situation,
especially in the South where the darkies are looking for
employment."

 "Why don't you carry out your dream of colonizing the
riggers, Mr. Lincoln?" asked Colfax, turning up the tip of his
chin beard and nibbling at it.

 "Haven't you had breakfast, you poor old Hoosier7"
enquired Lincoln, solicitously.

 "Sorry, sirl" laughed Colfax, smoothing down the blond
appendage. "My dear old mother still tries to cure me of that
habit! Just because one effort to colonize failed, you aren't
going to give up, are you?"

 "No, I'm not. But it's a scheme fraught with tremendous
difficulties, and it's only one of many of my ideas about
taking care of the black man," replied Lincoln.

 "You could take care of the Rebel soldiers by transporting
them to Texas, according to Charles Sumner," said Colfax,
"and giving their plantations to the enslaves. I think myself
something like that could be done with the leaders of the
Rebellion, unless a miracle should happen and

63z THE LAST FULL MEASURE

you harden your heart to the point of beheading the whole
lot of the traitors."

 "There will be no more bloodshed, Mr. Colfax," said
Lincoln, wearily. "I've said that a thousand times. I've a good
notion to print it and hang it round my neck to save
argument."

"Congress will fight you on it, Mr. Lincoln."

 "Let 'em. Nevertheless, not another ounce of blood shall
be spilled. No one shall be cast into prison. The terrible debt
has been paid by the debtors, Northern and Southern The
great job right now is to help the people adjust themselves
to the new economic conditions, not only for their direct
welfare but to help pay our enormous war debts. And that's
where you come in."

Colfax ostentatiously pulled out his purse.

 "Don't worryl"grinned the President. "Increased taxation is
just the pound-of-flesh idea. You gradually reduce the
taxpayer to the skeleton stage. No, what I want to do is to
increase the mining of gold and silver. I'm convinced there's
an unlimited supply out there in the Rockies and I want to
get the disbanded soldiers interested in mining it. There's no
reason why we shouldn't pay our debts and one day become
the treasury of the world."

 "How are the poor fellows to grub-stake themselves, Mr.
Lincoln?" asked Colfax. "And isn't it absurd to think of a
hundred thousand soldiers, more or less, prospecting in
those wilds at your invitations"

 Lincoln interrupted. "I don't think anything so impractical.
But I do propose to encourage western immigration with the
idea that the few thousands who may respond will naturally
increase our gold and silver supply, to say nothing of what
homesteaders will do to add to our food wealth. I want you
to talk to leading Californians about this. You're an old
newspaper man and a trained observer. Look over the field
and bring me back a practical report. And incidently,"
chuckling, "see if you can locate a job that will be open four
years from now for an old ex-President."

 "Do you think seriously of moving to California, Mr.
Lincoln?" asked the Congressman, eagerly.

 Lincoln paused. The rain lashed heavily against the
window. "I'm only thinking in general terms of the future,
Mr. Colfax," he replied with a curious gentle serenity. "But
I believe the far West might offer greater opportunities to
my two boys than Springfield." He rose and held out his
hand.

 "But this is not good-by, sir," said Colfax, as he looked
pityingly at Lincoln's hand and took it carefully in both his
own. "I want to come round dater to-day with George
Ashmun on some further business."

 "Come along," nodded Lincoln. "You'll have to squeeze in
when you can."

 He glanced at the clock as the Speaker left. It was going
on to nine. He must get over to the telegraph office and
look for news of Sherman and of Thomas. There was always
the chance that Lee's surrender had been con

APRIL FOURTEENTH 633

tagiousclear across the country! As he rose from his desk,
however, General Cresswell was shown in.

 "Hello, Cresswelll The war's overt" cried Lincoln, offering
his left hand. "We're waiting for news from Sherman that he's
received Johnston's surrender. Yes, sir, the war is over. But,"
with a sudden renewal of pain in his heart, "it's been an awful
war, Cresswell."

 "We needn't think of its horrors any more, Mr. President,"
said Cresswell, "and may I remark that the ending of the
struggle has made a great difference in your looks. You're
still tired but no longer agonizing, eh7"

 "That's it! That's it, Cresswell. But what are you after7 You
fellows don't come to see me unless you want something. It
must be something important or you wouldn't be here so
early."

 "Well," admitted Cresswell, "I am after something. But I
haven't pestered you for many favors, now, have I7"

 "No, you haven't. There isn't a man in Maryland who's
deserved more from this administration nor asked for less.
ShootI"

 The General brought out a paper. "An old college mate of
mine is in prison. He's been a Confederate soldier but he's
ready now to be a good Union man. I have an affidavit here
vouching for his sound character. I want to get him out."

 "That's not such a hard favor to grant. You did right to put
it in writing. I don't care to read it, though. I know," with
eyes twinkling, "that you know how to make an affidavit. But
you fellows are going to get everybody out of this mess
except Jeff Davis and me, by your constant petitions; which
reminds me of a story." He repeated his oft-told tale of the
picnic on the island.

 Cresswell laughed heartily and Lincoln wrote on the
affidavit, "Do this. A. L.," and followed the General to the
door.

 But here he was stopped by an old friend from Illinois,
Richard Yates, now a Senator. Yates wanted another
Illinoisan whom Lincoln knew and respected to be appointed
collector of the port of New Orleans.

 The President had been deluged with applicants for the
post but had found no one who suited him. Kellogg, Yates'
applicant, however, he believed precisely filled the bill.

 "Yes, you'll do, Mr. Kellogg," he said carefully, "if you'll
always keep in mind the kind of attitude I want you to
maintain. I want you to make love to those people down
there. Do nothing in revenge. Deal without malice. In your
every act remember that our only object is to preserve the
Union. Promise me always to act on this premise and I'll
have no anxiety about you. I've got to send many Northern
men south until the Southerners take the oath of allegiance.
And you Northerners will keep the wounds festering and
disrupt the Union if you go there in hatred. And I shan't
hesitate to recall any man I discover with his forefeet in the
trough."

 Colonel Kellogg flushed slightly. "I am glad to make the
promise, Mr. Lincoln."

634 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

  The President eyed him steadily. Kellogg was the right
man now. But how would he stand up under the difficult
conditions that now obtained in New Orleans7 Well, time
must show.

  "Time is the best prime minister," he said aloud. "But we'll
step on time's tail for a moment. I want your commission
issued now." He rang the bell and gave John Hay the
necessary instructions. "You fellows wait downstairs until the
reply comes from the Secretary of the Treasury," he
suggested. "I've got to go over to see friend Stanton."

  John Hay waited behind the departing visitors to say, "Our
old incumbrance, John P. Hale, is in the reception room.
Shall he wait or will you clear him out now, Mr. Lincoln?"

  "Incumbrance7" The President raised his eyebrows. "No
longer, Johul He's our honorable Minister to Spain."

  "There never was a more improper appointment, I
suppose," grinned young Hay. "But harmless. Do you know
that Mr. Welles says that Mr. Seward looks on that old party
hack as an abolition leader?"

  "Hale will be all right in Spain," said Lincoln. "Seward
wanted him to go to France. So be grateful for the situation
as it is. And there need be no sour grapes in the Cabinet. I
offered the Spanish job to any of them who wanted it and
they all refused. Father Welles is sore because Seward wants
the Hon. Mr. Hale sent over on a man-of-war. I'm supposed
to settle the quarrel but I shan't. I'll see him for a moment."

  Standing by the door, he shook hands with Hale and told
him a story and then moved with him out to the reception
room where he chatted for a few moments with a group of
Senators and Representatives. Then he firmly walked out of
their reach and out of the house to that so poignantly
familiar path to the War Office.

  He walked bareheaded through the rain, drawing deep
breaths of the fragrant air. Once he paused and laid his
hand on the new tendrils of a clematis vine that hugged the
wall. "Life," he murmured, 'lifer Greetings to you, brother."
Then he walked on, smiling.

There was still no word from Sherman.

  "I can't endure the thought," he said to Stanton, "that
Sherman may still be raping that countryside down there.
Do you suppose that having received Grant's news about
Lee, he'll lay offs""

  "Not unless Johnston lays off, naturally," replied Stanton.
"What's this about you going to the theater to-night7"

  "I invited Grant, but he's refused. Don't pester me, Mr.
Stanton. I'm in a most tranquil frame of mind, this
morning."

  The Secretary of War took off his glasses, wiped them and
put them back, staring intently at Lincoln the while. "You
are looking very peaceful, Mr. Lincoln. I'm mighty glad to
observe it. By God, I'm glad! Nobody wants you to keep that
look more than I but you'll have to let me say my say.
General Grant was here early this morning. He told me of
your invitation and I told him what I thought of it. He said
he was only looking

APRIL FOURTEENTH 63 s

for an excuse not to go and so he sent you word that he was
going up to see his daughter Nellie this afternoon."

Lincoln sighed.

 Stanton sighed in return and eyed the President sternly,
and then with a helpless jerk of his shoulders said his last
word on the subject. "Since you're set on going, you ought to
have an additional and competent guard."

 "Stanton," exclaimed Lincoln, "do you know that Major
Eckert can break a poker over his arm?"

"No, I didn't. Why do you ask such a question?"

 "Well, I think it was in 1862 that your chief clerk, Potts,
bought a lot of pokers for the various open fires in your
building here. I happened to be in Eckert's office one day
and found the Major chaffing Potts about the poor quality of
iron in the purchase. He proved them to be cast iron by
tensing the muscle of his left forearm and breaking four or
five pokers across it. Now, I'm thinking Eckert is the kind of
a man to go with me this evening."

 "If you think I'm going to encourage the theater project in
that or any other way," replied Stanton, grimly, "you're
mistaken. I have some important work for Major Eckert this
evening and can't spare him."

 Lincoln grinned. "Well, I'll ask the Major myself and he can
do your work to-morrow." He went into the cipher-room and
put his hand on Eckert's shoulder. "I want you to come to see
'Our American Cousin' with us to-night, Major, but Mr.
Stanton says he can't spare you. This, notwithstanding the
fact that I told him what a guard you'd make with your
poker-breaking proclivities. Now, Major, come along. You
can do Stanton's work to-morrow and Mrs. Lincoln and I
want you with us."

 Eckert, who had heard the recent interview between Grant
and Stanton, shook his head ruefully. "I thank you very much,
Mr. Lincoln, but the work Mr. Stanton has for me can't be
put off."

 "Very well," returned the President, "I suppose I'll have to
ask some one else to guard me in order to pacify Mr.
Stanton. But I'd rather have your" He laughed heartily. "Only
because you can break a poker over your arm, of coursel"

He went out, still laughing.

CHAPTER XXV

             LET DOWN TnE BARS

 ,` BOUT nine o'clock that morning George Atzerodt
walked briskly 4-\ into the Kirkwood House and registered
"My room's already ~ ~ taken," he informed the clerk,
pocketing the key. "I'll send a friend around with some
traps."

 The clerk looked after the shabby figure doubtfully. But
John Wilkes Booth had taken the man's room so it must be
all right.

 Atzerodt was to meet David Herold in the lobby of the
National Hotel. The young man was waiting for him, his
usually stolid eyes bright and uneasy. He took the key from
Port Tobacco and agreed to meet him at one o'clock at
Naylor's livery stable. Herold went up to Booth's room, and
came down carrying Booth's overcoat in which were
concealed a pistol and a bowie knife. He took these to the
Kirkwood House and left them in Atzerodt's room.

 Atzerodt, leaving Herold, made his way to a saloon and
took several drinks, after which he went to a livery stable
and hired a dark bay mare giving the livery man five dollars
for the afternoon. He rode away to kill time until his
appointment with Herold was due.

 As he moved up Pennsylvania Avenue he saw O'Laughlin
coming out of a house of ill repute with several companions.
He shouted at O'Laughlin but got no response. "Drunk,
already, the fool," hiccoughed Atzerodt.

 Wilkes Booth, in the meantime, was sitting with Payne in
the latter's bedroom, going over last details. The one-eyed
bay horse which Wilkes had bought the previous autumn was
to be tied in front of Seward's house shortly before ten
o'clock that night.

 "I've got Atzerodt and Herold out now, arranging for their
horses and Spangler will take care of mine," said Booth.
"How are you feeling, Lewis7"

 "I'm all right," replied the younger man. "But if the others
are drinking as much as you, this attempt will be even a
worse failure than the others."

 "Don't attempt to dictate to me, sirI" exclaimed the actor.
"I'm beyond any human curbing now. My hand is steady and
my eye clear. But I am concerned about O'Laughlin. I saw
him this morning. He acted like a school-boy out for a
holiday. No sense at all of his responsibilities! When I do
locate Grant's whereabouts for the evening I'm not at all
certain I'll be able to locate Mike'st My responsibilities
would overwhelm me if I weren't supported by the glory of
my mission. You pay your bill here, to-day, Lewis, and give
proper notice that you won't want the room after this
evening. We'll leave no debts behind us. This afternoon, I'll
send you anal word."

He nodded to Payne and strolled out of the hotel.

"LET DOWN THE BARS" 637

 Wilkes was thinking as he walked, not of the details of his
plan, but of himself and of the figure he would cut, that
night, no matter what theater the President attended. He,
John Wilkes Booth, had access to the stage wings of any
"heater. If it should be Grover's and not Ford's, he knew the
employees. Ten minutes and a few dollars he was certain,
would assure him of no molestation from them. He
considered what clothing to wear. Black evening clothes? or
why not Brutus' costume? He toyed with this last idea for
several moments before he recollected that he had none of
his costumes with him in Washington. Dark clothing, then,
with a soft hat and a cape. He would enter Lincoln's box
from the rear, leap to the stage, pause for the whole house to
see him, utter an appropriate phrase and then to horse and
awayl

 He sauntered into Ford's Theater to call for mail. Henry
Ford, as he handed Booth his letters, remarked that the
young actor was looking unusually well, "which is gilding the
lily for the best-looking man in Washingtont"

 Booth laughed and, taking the letters, seated himself on the
doorsill to read them. Ford watched the beautiful face
admiringly for a moment, then he said with a grin, "Booth,
the President has the State box to-night. He's bringing Grant
and possibly General Leel"

 Wilkes looked up from the long letter he was reading and
said, angrily, "Neverl Lee wouldn't let himself be paraded as
the Romans did their captives!"

 "Of course, I'm only joking about Lee," returned Ford. "But
Lincoln and Grant will be here."

 Booth caught his lower lip in his teeth and, folding his
letter, rose and started thoughtfully for the Kirkwood House.
He was as much worried about Atzerodt's morale as he was
about O'Laughlin's. His first move would be to investigate
Johnson's quarters and see what he could do to complete the
details of Port Tobacco's job. Reaching the Kirkwood he
wrote this message on a card:

"For Mr. Andrew Johnson: Don't wish to disturb you; are you at
home? "J. W. BooTn."

 A boy took the card to the Vice-President's room but
Johnson was not in and Wilkes strolled out to the Avenue
again where he stood thinking and shivering in the bleak
wind. He'd better drop in on Mrs. Surratt and ask her to take
his field-glasses out to Surrattsville and while there check up
the landlord to see that he would be on the job that night to
hand over the weapons and the rope he'd been concealing.
The rope especially! It might, when stretched across the road,
prove to be more efficacious in throwing horses than pistol
shots in the dark. But before he called on Mrs. Surratt, he'd
go to Grover's Theater for the rest of his mail.

 He moved slowly on, dreaming, and all but ran into Mike
O'Laughlin who caught him by the arm and said mysteriously,
"Guess who's in towel"

638 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 Booth stared at O'Laughlin. "You may not be drunk but
you certainly look it."

 "Oh, shut up and listen!" Mike put his lips to Wilkes' ear
and whispered, "Surratt's here. He's in Booker's barber-shop.
Come in and get a haircut."

 "By Jovel" exclaimed Wilkes. "If this isn't like Providence,
I don't know what isl" He slapped O'Laughlin on the back
and they hurried together to the shop, near Grover's
Theater.

 John Surratt was Iying in a chair, getting a shave. He
winked at Booth who slid into the next chair, demanding
that his hair be trimmed, while O'Laughlin ordered a
thorough face steaming. It was a half hour later when the
three emerged refreshed into E Street, before anything of a
private nature passed among the three. Then Wilkes said,
quietly:

 "To-night at Ford's, John, at ten minutes past ten. You be
there at ten to call the hour to my watchers in front, as
agreed upon. That's all I want of you."

 Surratt nodded, carelessly. "I'm going up to Canada
to-night, so don't look for me, afterward."

"Good luck to your" They shook hands and parted.

 O'Laughlin said, "We mustn't be seen too often together.
I'll drop round to the stable during the afternoon." He
strolled away.

 Booth, who had been quite unconscious during this short
interview of the world about him, suddenly realized that
people about him were cheering and he came out of his
preoccupation in time to see General Grant drive past. The
General's carriage was moving rapidly. He was on his way to
the White House.

 Promptly at eleven, Lincoln brought Grant into his office
where members of the Cabinet awaited them. Stanton had
not arrived but Father Welles was prompt as usual. Fred
Seward was standing modestly in the shadows.

 "How's your father, Fred7" asked the President as Grant
and Welles shook hands.

 "A little better, I think, sir," replied the young man. "He's
really a great Stoic, Mr. Lincoln. I wish I believed I could
endure pain half as well as he does."

 Lincoln nodded. "Give him my love and tell him I'll get
over to see him soon."

"Thank you, sir." Fred moved back to make way for Hugh
McCulloch.

 The President greeted the newcomer, then walked over to
his desk chair and dropped into it a little wearily while
Grant held his symposium. McCulloch, he thought already
was showing in his keen, clean-shaven face the wear and tear
of his few weeks as Secretary of the all but bankrupt
Treasury. Eight months of that terrific burden had almost
killed Fessenden. Lincoln wondered again how Chase had
managed actually to thrive under his long tenure of the
office. It was as thankless a job as the Presidency. The
general public had no understanding of its technicalities and

"LET DOWN THE BARS" 6

always united with Congress in berating and belittling the
men who sacrificed themselves to its extraordinary
intricacies.

  Handsome, whiskered Speed came in, panting, and after
him Postmaster-General Dennison, smooth shaven too and
with delicate features. And Usher, also without whiskers.
Perhaps Mary's suggestion was prophetic and whiskers were
going to accompany the hoop-skirt into oblivion!

  Grant looked bored but he was answering patiently all the
questions the Cabinet members were pouring out on him. In
a pause for breath, Welles asked for news of Sherman.

  Grant shook his head, as he seated himself near the
President. "I'm anxiously waiting to hear. He ought to be in
Raleigh now."

  "What is his attitude on peace terms, General7" asked
Dennison. "The same as yours?"

  "Of course, neither Sherman nor I make the peace terms,"
replied Grant impatiently. "That's not the soldier's job. And
I'm glad of it. Although I heartily wish General Lee
represented the South rather than Jeff Davis. In our talk the
day after the surrender I said to Lee, 'General, will you go
and meet Mr. Lincoln? I don't know where he is. He might
be at City Point or at Richmond or in Washington, but I
want you to meet him. Whatever you and he agree upon will
be satisfactory to the reasonable people of the North and
South. If you and Mr. Lincoln will agree upon terms, your
influence in the South will make Southern people accept
what you accept and Mr. Lincoln's influence in the North
will have the same effect on Northerners and all my
influence will be added to Mr. Lincoln's.' General Lee
looked pleased and said he would be delighted to do
anything in the world he could to bring about a pacification.
But he added, 'General Grant, you know I'm a soldier of the
Confederate Army and I can't meet Mr. Lincoln. I don't
know what Mr. Davis is going to do and I can't undertake to
make terms of any kind."'

  Lincoln felt very much moved by this sudden statement of
confidence in him from Grant. He waited a moment for
comments from the Cabinet members but only Welles seized
the opportunity. The Secretary cleared his throat. "Mr.
Lincoln has been the steady and abiding friend of the South.
No one is better qualified than you are or I am to testify to
what the strength of the President's friendship is, General
Grant. We both have been the recipients of its unchanging
qualities for four years." His eyes were tear-dimmed.

  "We have, sir, but," added Grant firmly, "I'm not going to
let you put me off my particular application of Mr. Lincoln's
great qualities to the peace making. I'm going to hammer on
that line "

  "If it takes all summer," interrupted the President,
laughing a little huskily. "You do me too much honor,
General."

  Grant smiled. "And you can't put me off except for the
moment, either, Mr. Lincoln. I'm going to strike again when
word comes from Sherman. The lack of news from him
worries me."

Lincoln said slowly, "I have no doubt that favorable news
will come

640 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

soon for last night I had my usual dream which has
preceded nearly every important event of the war. Generally,
the news is favorable which succeeds the dream. The dream
itself is always the same."

 The six men now seated with chairs pulled out informally
from the long oak table turned curious faces toward him. He
was conscious of the varied degrees of skepticism if not of
mild derision in each man's eyes. Once he would have
squirmed; would have felt keenly this difference from all
about him and have withdrawn into his loneliness. But
to-day his sense of kinship to that which lay back of the
personalities of these men transcended all the old
sensitiveness. He could not tell them he was tapping deeps
of which they were unconscious but he would share his sense
of prophecy with them.

 "What was the dream, Mr. Lincoln7" asked Welles, gently
as one encourages a child to tell a fairy tale.

 "It relates to your element, the water, Mr. Welles. I seem
to be in some singular, indescribable vessel, moving with
great rapidity toward an indefinite shore. I had this dream
preceding Sumter, Bull Run, Antietam, Gettysburg, Stone
River, Vicksburg, Wilmington and so on. I had-"

 General Grant interrupted, "Stone River was no victory. A
few such fights would have ruined us."

 The President looked at Grant inquiringly. The General
had always acted a little jealous about that battle. But any
discussion of course would be worse than useless. "You and
I might differ on that point, General " he said. "At all
events, my dream preceded it. I had it again last night and
judging from the past we shall have great news very soon. I
think it must be from Sherman. My thoughts are in that
direction as are most of yours."

 The little half smile of derision was on each face as
Stanton bustled in. "Well, gentlemen, news at last! Here's a
telegram from Sherman, sent yesterday. 'We entered Raleigh
this morning. Johnston has retreated westward. If I can
bring him to a stand I will soon fix him."'

"Is that your great news, Mr. Lincoln?" asked
Attorney-General Speed.

 "No, I don't think so," replied the President. "I don't feel
as if it was. However, let us proceed to business. I suppose
we must prepare to open free intercourse with the South at
any moment, now."

 "I propose," said Stanton, loudly, "that I issue the proper
orders. The Treasury will give permits to all who wish to
trade and I will order the vessels to be received into any
port."

 Mr. Welles gave Stanton a scathing look. "I suggest that it
would be far better for the President to issue a proclamation
stating and enjoining the course to be pursued by the several
Departments."

 Lincoln suppressed a smile as he caught the exchange of
glances between these "two old bull-dogs" as he called them
to himself. "Stanton trying to hog into the navy as usual. My
money's on Wellesl" But he did not speak.

"LET DOWN THE BARS" 641

 "I'd like to be relieved of the Treasury agents," said
McCulloch. "They're a continual source of corruption."

 "I'm absolutely against them. They demoralizewhole
sections," declared Grant.

 Stanton rose and brought his fist down on the table, his
usual preparation for an impassioned speech. There was no
longer any necessity for this sort of bull-dozing. Lincoln
forestalled him by saying:

 "The Secretaries of War, Navy and the Treasury have given
more attention to this subject than I have. I'll be satisfied
with any conclusion you will unite on."

Stanton grunted disgustedly and sat down.

 For a moment Grant, Welles and Stanton discussed the
trading matter, then the Secretary of War rose once more.
This time he unrolled a manuscript and very politely asked
the Cabinet to hear an ordinance he had prepared "with
much care and after great deliberation, for reconstruction in
the Rebel States."

 Lincoln moved uneasily. If Stanton would only tend to his
own knitting However, he'd let him read the paper, and
then head off prolonged discussion.

 Stanton dealt for the most part with the reestablishment of
the government of Virginia, quite ignoring the fact that
Pierpont was already functioning. Lincoln recalled with a
warm glow, his session with the Governor of Virginia a few
days before.

 Secretary Welles spoke the moment Stanton ceased
reading. "A proper State government was formed in Virginia
when we acknowledged Pierpont as duly elected."

 The President rose and walked over to his usual place at
the head of the table. "Mr. Stanton," he said, "I suggest that
you furnish each member with a copy of that paper for
criticism and suggestions. In its general scope, it's
substantially the plan we have talked over in the Cabinet at
times. I think it is Providential that this great Rebellion is
crushed just as Congress has adjourned and there are none
of the disturbing elements of that body here to upset us. If
we're wise and discreet, we'll get the States functioning and
order prevailing before Congress comes together in
December. I think this is important. We can do better,
accomplish more, without them. There are men in Congress,
who if their motives are good, are nevertheless impractical
and who possess feelings of hate and vindictiveness in which
I can neither sympathise nor participate.

 "I hope there'll be no persecution, no bloody work, after
the war is over. As I have stated frequently no one need
expect me to take any part in hanging or killing these men,
even the worst of them. Frighten them out of the country,
open the gates, let down the bars, scare them offl Enough
lives have been sacrificed. We must extinguish our
resentments. There is too much desire on the part of some of
our good friends to be masters, to interfere and to dictate to
those States, to treat the people not as fellow

64z THE LAST FULL MEASURE

citizens. There is too little respect for their rights. I do not
sympathise in these feelings, either."

 He paused, looking from one man to the other with great
deliberation. Then he added a few words on the unfair and
stupid attitude of Congress in refusing to recognize the new
State government of Louisiana and closed by repeating, "I'm
thankful Congress isn't in session to embarrass us."

 No one spoke for a moment after the President had
finished. He hoped that the silence meant they understood
that while he was open to suggestions, he proposed to put
through reconstruction on the lines he had so many times
discussed and that he would override any opposition.

 The hrst man to speak was Fred Seward. "Mr. Lincoln," he
said deferentially, "the new British Minister, Sir Frederick
Bruce, has arrived in Washington. At what time will it be
convenient for you to receive him7"

 "At two o'clock to-morrow," replied the President. "Don't
forget to send up the speeches beforehand. I would like to
look them over."

 "If no one has any more business, I must get back to my
desk," said Stanton.

Y reckon we're all in the same Ox," smiled Lincoln, rising.

 For just a moment the men clustered around him,
commenting on his buoyancy of spirit and his improved
looks.

 "That dream of yours seems to have acted like a dip in the
fountain of youth," smiled Welles. "You looked a wreck
when I saw you yesterday."

 "As a matter of fact," said Lincoln, soberly, "I feel as old
as the hills, but I'm enjoying the feeling! And you mustn't
laugh at my dreams, friend Wellesl"

 "I'm not inclined to, after the demonstration you gave us
this morning," replied the Secretary of the Navy, dryly. He
shook hands and the others followed him out of the room,
only Grant remaining.

 "Do come along to the "heater, to-night, General," urged
the President. "I can't believe Stanton really influenced you
in your refusal."

 Grant gave Lincoln an inscrutable look. "I think you take
a wrong attitude toward Mr. Stanton's carefulness, sir.
We've made all our plans to take the five o'clock train
to-day. I think we can make it although I've mountains of
work to move first."

 "Well, I'm sorry," said Lincoln, shaking the outstretched
hand. "Sorry and envious! Good-by, General. Thank your"

"Good-by, Mr. Lincoln, and thank you." Grant went out.

It was one o'clock.

CHAPTER XXVI

      TEiEY PRAY TO TElE SELFSAME GOD

ENERAL GRANT drove rapidly to Willard's Hotel where
Mrs. Grant was awaiting him. As he rushed through the
lobby, David ~ Herold observed the small, undistinguished
officer and pointed him out to John Surratt. The two were
hoping for a glimpse of General Lee. The whisper had gone
round Washington that the Confederate general was a
prisoner at Willard's. They were unable to verify this but
Herold, gossiping with a waiter, heard that the Grants were
leaving shortly for New Jersey. He set out at once to find
Booth.

  He found the actor in a livery stable at the rear of the
National Hotel, negotiating for a horse. David, breathing
rapidly, paused in the doorway and listened to the
negotiations. Booth made no gesture of recognition and the
boy, shivering from both excitement and the biting wind,
waited with obvious impatience.

"No, I want the sorrel horse I've always had," Booth was
saying.

  "Can't be done, Mr. Booth," replied the stableman; "that
there horse is engaged. I got a nice little bay mare about
fourteen hands high, I reckon you'd like."

  "Well, let's have a look at herl" returned Booth. "I want a
real horse, you understand."

"You always do and I always give you one," retorted the
man.

  He turned back into the dim aisle between the stalls and
David whispered quickly, "Grant leaves Washington late this
afternoon."

"Damnation!" muttered Wilkes.

  But before he could say more, there was the sound of
dancing hoofs on manure-deadened boards and the
stableman appeared with the lively little mare. Wilkes
examined her shoes and felt of her withers, then nodded.
"Saddle her up and give me a tie rein."

  "No, I won't neither. She breaks her bridle if you hitch
her. Get a boy to hold her." The stableman spat tobacco and
eyed Booth, casually.

  "She's got to be hitched," declared Booth. "I'll be stopping
for a drink, when I leave here and I can't be sure of finding
a boy."

"You can't tie this horse except in a stall," insisted the man.

  Booth hesitated. The little mare gave every evidence of
stamina and he wanted her. "Very well," he said reluctantly,
"I've got to go to Grover's Theater to write letters and I'll
put her in the stable there."

  The liveryman nodded and went into the harness room
while Wilkes held the mare.

  "Go find O'Laughlin and tell him to follow Grant's every
move," he whispered to Herold. David rushed away.

644 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 'Where's the best place to take a ride round Washington?" Wilkes asked the stableman
as he returned with saddle and bridle.

"You've been 'round here long enough to know all the rides," replied
 the man, spreading the saddle blanket carefully.            ;

"Not as long as you travel How's Crystal Springs7"

 "A good place but it's pretty early for it and even if it's not raining it's certain not a good
day for the country."

 "Oh, that doesn't bother mel" Wilkes adjusted the curb-bit. "I'll ride out there when I
finish with my letters." He swung lightly into the saddle and rode the prancing little horse
out onto the Avenue and then at a trot to the alley back of Ford's Theater.

 David Herold, in obedience to Booth's order, set out to find O'Laughlin, but hrst he
stopped at Naylor's stable to keep his appointment with Atzerodt. Port Tobacco was
waiting for him, having already stabled the dark bay. Herold hurriedly engaged a horse
which he had ridden before and ordered it kept for him until four o'clock. He declined
Atzerodt's invitation to drink and refused to listen to the older man's reiteration of his
fears about tackling Johnson, but set out on a thorough-going search for O'Laughlin. So
Port Tobacco went off to brood over a lonely glass of beer.

 Wilkes put his horse into the familiar make-shift stable, then sought Spangler. The
carpenter was at work with "Peanuts," a stage hand, preparing the President's box. Two
balcony boxes on the right hand of the house, facing the stage, had been thrown into one
by removing a partition. It would be a long leap from the box to the stage. Henry Ford,
who was supervising the preparations for Lincoln and Grant and their party, had had all
the usual chairs removed from the box and had had the two men bring in some red velvet
easy chairs from the reception room as well as a sofa and chair from the property room.

As Booth strolled in, Ford said to one of the helpers:

 "You go up to my bedroom and bring down the rocking chair you'll find there."

 "Whatl" cried Booth, "you are stripping yourself as well as the reception rooms"

 "Not exactly," replied Ford. "The rocker belongs to the red velvet set in the reception
room. But the ushers got to sitting in it and greasing it with their hair so I sent it upstairs
to save it. I'll put it in this corner, nearest the audience, for the President. He always
prefers a rocker. How do you like my decorations7"

"I'll go to the dress-circle and observe," replied Booth.

  A few moments later he was staring at the Treasury-regimental flag, borrowed for the
occasion, a blue silk flag with white stars which Ford had hung in the center of the
President's box with two American &as above. On the middle pillar was a framed picture
of George Washington.

  'Very appropriate, Harryl" called Wilkes. "I congratulate youl How long shall you be
here?"

"THEY PRAY TO THE SELFSAME GOD" 645

"Almost through nowl Is there anything I can do for you?"
replied Ford. "Later, perhaps," replied Wilkes. "Later!"

 He went back to the alley and standing within the door
tried to collect his thoughts. His brain felt red hot and his
eyes burned. He could not remember just what he had
planned to do. Herold's news had driven everything out of his
mind like dried leaves before an eddying gust. Supposing
Grant got away from them, after all? He could have attended
to the General himself, in the "heater. But there was no
telling what O'Laughlin would do now. It would be necessary
to call another conference. Not at the National. Perhaps in
the room on D Street. Or in Payne's room. Then he must get
word round before four o'clock. Or if not, Lewis had better
not give up his key so soon. Had he told David Herold where
to meet him? He couldn't remember. Sic sem'5er tyrannisl
That was the phrase which had eluded him so long. The
motto of dear old Virginia. He said it aloud in his fine
mellifluous tones. His little mare turned her delicate head to
look at him and whinnied. A scud of rain dashed against his
hot face. He jumped as if a cold hand had touched his cheek.

 "Mrs. Surratt! That's the next business!" He looked at his
watch. It was after one o'clock.

 The same scud of rain dashed against the office window at
which Lincoln stood for a moment after Grant left him. A
dreary day. The wind whined through the crack between
upper and lower sash. Whine of wind and drip of taint The
old melancholy touched him with familiar pain.

 What were these dreams that pursued him? Just to make
the case supernatural, suppose that that phantom body on the
bier was Abraham Lincoln. Even after his supreme
experience at dawn, was he any more ready to go? Was he
any less wedded to this old machine; this shell, Lincoln; this
dear, familiar, ugly vehicle for his soul? Head dropped
against the window frame, hands clasped behind his back, he
ignored the figures in the doorway, waiting for him. He must
seize his moments, to-day, in spite of every one.

 Granted the conviction of his real identity with that greater
soul, could he be reconciled to letting go of this gnarled old
physical being, this house of his mortality? He groaned softly
and muttered, "Not yet; oh, not yet! Let me finish this chore.
Just this chore. If you can hear me, waitl Waitl Hold it backl"
He was entirely motionless, eyes closed. And then he heard
 was it Mary's voice, or his own or did it come from beyond
the frontiers of the conscious mind? - "Let not your heart be
troubled. Neither let it be afraid."

And peace once more flooded his heart.

 He turned to the waiting visitor, his face serene. It was
Major J. B. Merwin of Connecticut.

 "Well, Major," said Lincoln, cheerfully, "it's a long time
since we stumped the State of Illinois, together! We little
dreamed what we'd go through in these four years, eh? I've
got another errand for you." He was interrupted by the
entrance of James with a tray heaped high with food.

646 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

The President laughed. "I see Mrs. Lincoln's given me up.
Did you bring extra plates, James7 That's right. Now then,
Major, show you forgive me for keeping you waiting an
hour. Fall tol"

 "It didn't matter how long I waited, Mr. Lincoln," said
Merwin, shaking out a napkin, "but I should say it was bad
for you to take such liberties with the dinner hour."

 "Oh, this rush can't keep up forever! People are excited
about the coming peace. And so am I. Merwin, Ben Butler
some time ago made a suggestion about the disposal of
colored troops, after the war, which I think I can
appropriate, now the war's over. There really doesn't seem
any place for these good colored fellows who have borne
arms. They'll get a bad reception if they try to go back to
their alleged homes."

 "I've heard all kinds of suggestions, sir. What's Butler'sP"
asked Merwin, spreading a pat of butter on his baked
potato.

 "He wants the colored men to be carried down to Panama
to dig that much-talked-about canal. It's really a good
notion, Major. I've gone into it carefully and in some of my
free moments recently, I've jotted down my ideas on the
subject. I want you to take the paper up to Horace Greeley
and Henry Raymond. Have them read it and urge on them
the feasibility of beginning to educate public opinion in this
direction. It's especially important to interest Greeley
because of the wide influence of the New York Tribune."

 Merwin, eating slowly, said in his thoughtful way,
"Whichever of you deserves credit for the idea, it's a good
one. I'm not sure, however, that the fact of its coming from
you will help it with our Horacel"

 The President laughed. "And isn't that precisely why I'm
sending it via your He'll listen to you, even when you are
cracking up one of my schemes. Besides, Greeley's got to
realize the war's over and get off my back. Yes, sir, the
war's over. Have you read what my self-appointed chaplain
says about it7" He drew out Nasby's letter and read it with
as much joy as if he had never before seen it. Merwin
roared with laughter and the two men finished the meal
without further reference to Merwin's errand.

 But when the Major made his adieu, Lincoln, handing him
the papers on the canal project, said, "Merwin, we've cleared
up a colossal job. Slavery is abolished. I always believed it
would be. In 184z I predicted that the day would come when
there wouldn't be a slave or a drunkard in the land. I've
lived to see one prediction fulfilled. I hope to see the other
realized."

 He shook hands with Merwin and asked one of his
younger secretaries, Edward Neill, to tell him who was
waiting in the reception room. Neill enumerated a goodly
number, among others the Vice-President. Lincoln pulled
the bell rope and ordered Johnson to be brought in.

 The two men, seated knee to knee, did not speak for a
long moment. Johnson finally broke the silence by
remarking that the weather had been especially bad for
several days.

"THEY PRAY TO THE SELFSAME GOD" 647

 "Good pasture weather, though," said the President. "How
is Mrs. Johnson?"

 "Fair, for her, thank you, Mr. Lincoln." Johnson cleared his
throat. He looked extraordinarily sallow and his face was
drawn.

 "You don't look so very well, Mr. Johnson. I reckon you
need to get out to pasture, yourself."

 "I'm subject to gravel attacks," said the Vice-President. "I
had one last night. Damnable pain. Makes a man irritable as
a chained dog. There seems to be no cure for them. My wife
suggests prayer, as a last resort."

"Do you believe in prayer, Johnson7" asked Lincoln.

 "Well, I've said a good many times in my younger days that
I didn't. But I'll admit that several times during this war when
it looked as if Nashville was going to be pulled out from
under my feet by the Rebels, I've got down on my knees and
prayed. And it's certain that we never lost Nashvillel" He
smiled a little wistfully.

 The President returned the smile then asked, gently, "What
can I do for you, Johnson?"

 "Well, my disease is in Dr. Stone's hands so I didn't call to
give you a recital of my physical symptoms. But Stone can't
do anything for my anxiety over the political situation! I'm in
hopes you can reassure me as to that. I'm speaking of the
peace terms, in the light of what you said to Mrs. Johnson
and me yesterday. I suppose one of the signs of my plebeian
blood is that I'm superstitious. You left me with an
overwhelming sense of responsibility and loss, Mr. Lincoln.
And that, combined with the gravel attack, gave me a night
that was as near a foretaste of hell as I think any one could
live through. I'm beaten, sir, and I called around to-day to ten
you so and that if anything does happen to you, I'll do my
utmost to carry out the program of leniency you desire. When
I say that, you understand that I'm not as full of the milk of
human kindliness as you are. But I'll do my best to act with
malice toward none and with charity for all."

 Lincoln leaned forward with a hand on either of Johnson's
knees. "I knew there was great news coming, Johnsonl" he
said, huskily. "How am I going to thank you?"

 The Vice-President shook his black head. "I don't deserve
thanks. BuY'  with a firm attempt at a smile "if you really
want to thank me, prove to me that I'm a superstitious fool
by guarding yourself day and night."

 "I will," said Lincoln, meekly. He rose and stared unseeing
over Johnson's head, while a wave of nostalgia for this strange
business called life deepened the melancholy of his face. He
suppressed it, at once, and dropped his hand on the
Vice-President's sturdy shoulder.

"God bless you, Johnson. Good-byl"

 "Good~ternoon, Mr. Lincoln," returned Johnson
stubbornly. But his face was working as he moved blindly
toward the door.

 John Hay rushed in from the secretaries' room. "Mr.
Lincoln, did you forget your promise to visit the 'Montauk,'
this afternoon?"

648 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 The President took an apple out of the fruit basket on his
desk. "I must travel Do you suppose they've forgotten7"
hopefully.

 "Not a chance, sir," replied John, scornfully. "Two
admirals, a captain and, from their looks, I'd say seven
boatswains, with the ship's cook are awaiting you in the East
Room."

 "Mrs. Lincoln's supposed to go, too," groaned Lincoln. "I
forgot to tell her. By jings, I should have gone down to Fort
Sumter for a restl"

 "These vain regrets!" John's black eyes were twinkling. "I
spoke to Mrs. Lincoln a few moments ago and she said
she'd forgive you once more. She is waiting in the sitting
room."

 The President heaved a great sigh. "Saved againl John,
you've added ten pounds to my weight. By the way," he
added more seriously, "I actually do weigh 180 pounds.
What do you say to that7"

"I say it's important if true," grinned the young man.

 Crook came in and walking carefully across the room said
in a low voice, "Mrs. Lincoln thinks you should wash up, sir,
before starting."

 "Go out and tell everybody I won't be back till three
o'clock, John," ordered Lincoln, starting off to obey Mary's
orders.

 It was only a few moments after two when Mr. and Mrs.
Lincoln boarded the U. S. iron-clad monitor "Montauk" and
began a careful inspection of its inner secrets.

 And at two, young Weichmann opened the door of Mrs.
Surratt's house. He was going to the livery-stable for his
landlady and he ran into Wilkes Booth with his hand on the
doorbell.

"Hello, padre, where are you going7" asked the actor.

 "Mrs. Surratt wants me to drive her out to Surrattsville
again," replied Weichmann. "I'm going to hire a buggy."

"Where's Mrs. Surratt7" was Booth's next question.

"In the pallor." Weichmann went on down the steps.

  He found Atzerodt at the stable. He told Weichmann he
was hiring a horse for Payne. They were taking a ride into
the country. The horse and buggy would cost six dollars for
the half day. The "padre" paid for the rig from the ten-dollar
bill Mrs. Surratt had given him and drove back to the house.
He tied the horse and went upstairs to his room for his
gloves. When he came down he noticed through the open
parlor door that Booth was still in close conversation with
Mrs. Surratt. Weichmann went on out to wait for Mrs.
Surratt and shortly the actor appeared, waved his hand at
the "padre" and disappeared.

  Shortly his landlady, a paisley shawl over her huge black
skirts and a little black bonnet trimmed with jet beads on
her head, came down the steps. She rustled across the walk
and placed one gaitered foot on the step, then exclaimed,
"Stopl Let me get those things of Booth'sl"

  She hurried back, to return immediately with Wilkes'
field-glasses and an envelope of business papers. Then they
drove off briskly through the grey April air. The roads were
very muddy but the grass by the roadside

"THEY PRAY TO THE SELFSAME GOD" 649

was green and about an hour out on their way, a group of
soldiers was stationed at ease, their horses nibbling the young
clover.

 "Now what do you reckon those fellows are doing here?"
asked Mrs. Surratt. She did not wait for Weichmann's guess
but told him to pull up opposite an old farmer, working in a
tobacco field, and repeated her query.

"They're pickets, guarding the road," replied the farmer.

 "They are very particular!" sniffed Mrs. Surratt. "They never
said a word to usl"

 "And they're called in generally, at seven," grunted the old
fellow. "Pretty kind of guards."

 "I'm glad to know that," remarked Mrs. Surratt and she told
Weichmann to drive on.

 While the landlady and the "padre" were pushing through
the red mud of the Maryland country road, Wilkes Booth was
keeping himself busy in the alley back of Ford's Theater. It
was impossible for him to concentrate for any length of time
on anything. He chatted for a little while with one of the
actresses who was rehearsing for the evening's performance.
He chatted with the Ford property man. He sent a
scene-shifter to get a rope with which to tie his horse. He
took the property man, Spangler, and "Peanuts" into a
restaurant which had a rear door on the alley and had a drink
with them. He chatted to these men, too, very gayly with now
and then a flash of bitterness for the capture of Lee's army.
And all this time he was waiting impatiently for the theater
to be left alone, that he might prepare the President's box for
his evening's work. At intervals, he mounted the mare and
galloped up and down the avenue, looking for O'Laughlin.
And all the time, he carried on a silent conversation with
himself.

 "I am going to do what Brutus was honored for and what
made William Tell a hero. Only I'm striking down a greater
tyrant than either of them knew. My act is purer than either
of theirs. One of them hoped to be great himself; one hadn't
only his country's but his own wrongs to avenge. I hope for
no gain. I know no private wrong. I strike for my country and
her alone. A people ground beneath this tyranny pray for this
end. God can't pardon me if I'm doing wrong but I see no
wrong except in serving a degenerate people. God, try and
forgive me. Bless my mother. Do You hear me?"

                          CHAPTER XXVII
                        BRETnRENANDEOVERS

T INCOLN rushed back to the Executive Mansion at three o'clock. The | lower rooms were
thronged with visitors waiting to see him. He ~ passed through the crowd as hastily as he
could, offering his left hand which now, however, was nearly as sore as his right. He had
promised Mary to ride with her out toward the Soldiers' Home, later in the afternoon and
so when at last he reached his office he made a determined effort to grind through the
grist of callers with expedition.

  One after another, his secretaries introduced the people. Nearly all of them wanted
something. He signed a pardon for a soldier about to be shot for desertion, remarking, "I
think this boy can do us more good above ground than underground." He wrote on an
application for the discharge of a Confederate prisoner, "Let it be done." The Governor
of Maryland called, asking a favor. "Anything to keep the people happyI" grinned the
President, granting it. One of Sheridan's staff officers entered with dispatches. John Hay
had just brought in Secretary Stanton and several prominent army officers who wished to
discuss certain details of disarmament. Lincoln broke away from them to shake hands with
the newcomer and inquire about Sheridan and "the boys in the field."

  He scarcely had rejoined Stanton's group when Neill appeared with a stout,
much-flustered woman. Before she could introduce herself Lincoln called to her
delightedly, "Why, Mamiel" and gave her his crippled fingers.

  She looked up into his face, holding the swollen hand in her hard palms. "Then you
remember your old hired girl, Mr. President?"

  "I never forget a friend," smiled Lincoln. "What can I do for you, my dear7"

  "My husband is in the army and I need him sore. Now it's over, won't you send him back
to met"

  "I certainly will. You tell Mr. Neill just where your husband is and come around
to-morrow for a pass through the lines. How are things with you, Mamie7"

"Pretty hard, sir. I've supported myself and the children all through
 the war and I'm about used up."                             ;

  Lincoln dug some bills out of his pocket and thrust them into her hand. "Give her a
basket of fruit, Neill. People keep us overloaded, as a kind of thank offering, I suppose,
because the war's over. Good-by, my dearl Come back, to-morrow. I know Mrs. Lincoln
will have some clothes for the children."

Stanton touched him on the arm. "You'd better come to my office,

BRETHREN AND LOVERS 651

later, Mr. Lincoln. I've got a better system than you have.
People wouldn't dare to impose on me this way."

 "All rightl" The President nodded and after a general
good-by again turned his attention to the continuing file of
visitors.

 It was nearly four o'clock before the line dwindled and
Lincoln was just wondering if he could slip away to his wife
when a soft giggle from the door into the sitting room made
him turn in his chair.

 Mary Harlan was coming in, wrapped in a bright red cape,
her face flushed with wind and mischief. She dropped him an
elaborate curtsey. The President came to his feet to make a
profound bow.

 "Mother was calling on Mrs. Lincoln and they began to
whisper so I've come to call on you."

 "Be seated, my good lady, and tell me what I can do for
you," said Lincoln solemnly.

 "I suppose that's the tried and true formula?" Mary seated
herself, facing his desk.

 He nodded. "Whenever I see you, my dear Mary Harlan, I
always think of Walt Whitman. Have you discovered any new
beauties m 'Leaves of Grass' or has your respected father
made way with the poor little book?"

 "If you'll promise not to give me away," whispered the
young girl, "I'II tell you that I put it on the top shelf of the
bookcase, rather behind the melding and father has forgotten
all about it. Yes, I've found lots of new beauties."

 "Do you think Whitman is a religious man?" asked Lincoln.
"You know your father says he's an atheist."

 Mary's eyes deepened. 'What does it matter whether he's
religious or not? He feels the way we all really feel. Father
was outraged when some one told him about Whitman's
poem, 'To Him That Was Crucified,' but I wasn't."

 "Well, I think Walt is going it pretty strong," mused the
President, "when he couples himself with Christ and says they
will journey up and down the earth together, till they make
their ineffaceable mark upon time. 'Till we saturate time and
eras, that the men and women of races, ages to come, may
prove brethren and lovers as we are."'

 "I don't care much about that kind of thinking," was Mary's
frank comment. "I like the pictures he makes of what he sees
and the way he feels about America. Come to think of it, Mr.
Lincoln, he is religious. You know that long poem on Time?
It ends on a very religious note."

 Lincoln knew the greater part of the poem to which she
referred. But he did not propose to permit that fact to
deprive him of the keen pleasure of hearing some of its
hear/searching phrases from these young lips, from this young
memory which, please fate, never would be haunted by the
visions which haunted Walt Whitman and Abraham Lincoln.

"Repeat what you can recall of it, Mary Harlan," he said.

"I learned several lines with which to confound my father,
when we

65z THE LAST FULL MEASURE

come to battle again," laughed the girl. And there was still a trace of
laughter in her voice as she repeated:

 "I swear I think now that everything without exception has an eternal
scull

 "The trees have, rooted in the groundl the weeds of the sea travel the
animals!

"I swear I think there is nothing but immortality!

 "That the exquisite scheme is for it and the nebulous float that is for
it, and the cohering is for it;

 "And all preparation is for ill And identity is for ill And life and ma-
terials are altogether for itl"

 Lincoln sat with his eyes closed while the sweet voice repeated the
tremendous credo but he opened them, when she paused, to ask, "And
do you call that religion, my child7"

 "Well, if you believe in immortality, you have to believe in God, don't
you?"

"Yes, I reckon you do," he answered slowly.

 Mary suddenly shivered and drew her red cloak closer. "What a day
for mid-April!"

 Quickly compunctious that he should have cast his shadow even for
a moment over the girl's bright youth, Lincoln said, "Well, what do you
think of our Bob since he captured the Confederate Army7"

 "He's very modest about it," giggled Mary Harlan. "He doesn't lay
claim to any such prowess."

"That boy's bashfulness will be his ruination!" with twinkling, tired eyes.

  "He's not shy with mel" protested Mary. Then blushing, she said
nothing more but looked at the President in her half-wistful, half-shy
way, which was so intrinsically young and so intrinsically girlish.

  "I'm glad to know that," said Lincoln, slowly. "As I know young men,
they don't make 'em any better than Bob. As the saying is, the Lord
made him and then broke the mold."

"I think he's very like his father," murmured Mary Harlan.

  "He's better balanced than I am," Lincoln replied judicially, "both by
nature and by the educational equipment we've been able to provide
him with. You see "

  Mary Harlan interrupted, eyes dancing. "You know you sound like
a recommendation for a major-generalship! Like some one who wishes
to have a friend jumped from a bank clerkship to the command of a
regiment."

  "By jingst" cried Lincoln, "you saucy little baggage, I've a good no-
tion " Laughter interrupted him.

  "What's the great joker" demanded a bright voice and Mary Lincoln
sailed into the office. "Your mother is waiting for you, dearest child,
and I'm going to take this man out for an hour where even cheering
little beings like you can't get at him."

                         .
                         ?
                         .
                         
BRETHREN AND LOVERS 653

 "Won't you and your family come to the theater with us
to-night?" asked the President.

 His wife answered for the girl. "Mrs. Harlan has already
declined, Mr. Lincoln. It's strange how difficult it is to make
up that partyl However, let's excuse ourselves and run away
for an hourl"

 Mary Harlan made her adieu quickly and the President
pulled his wife's hand within his own and patted it.

 "Do you want any one to go with us, dear?" she asked,
looking up at him.

"No, I prefer to ride by ourselves, to-day," he replied.

 A few moments later, as they walked through the lower hall
two ladies bowed and the President and his wife shook hands
with them. They introduced themselves, Mrs. Hess and her
sister.

 "Oh, your husband is the manager of Grover's Theater,"
exclaimed Lincoin. "We're sorry that we couldn't accept your
kind invitation to attend the play there to-night." He looked
down at Mary. "Did you send word, my dear?"

 "Oh, we knew, this noonl" said Mrs. Hess, smiling. "John
Wilkes Booth dropped into the theater this noon as he often
does. My sister and I happened to be there and he told us
that you were going to Ford's. We're heartbroken and
jealous!" smiling. "But we didn't come to reproach you, Mr.
President, nor to presume on your time. We came to see Mrs.
Lincoln's beautiful conservatory."

 A lame soldier at this moment monopolised Mary's
attention and Lincoln after waiting a moment offered to
escort the two ladies to the greenhouses. "I'm immensely
proud of what Mrs. Lincoln has accomplished here," he
explained, as he opened the glass doors for them. "Look
yonder, at the lemon tree they've got to growing. Isn't that
interesting?" He beckoned to the head gardener and told him
to pick a bouquet for the visitors and then left them.

 Mary was waiting in the carriage and he sank down beside
her with a sigh of pleasure.

 "The sun's come out for our special benefit," said Mary.
"Isn't it lovely! A green-and-gold world after all the clouds!"

 Lincoln nodded and as they swung out of the gates he
touched the little gloved hand which lay on her lap. "Mary,
we've had a hard time of it, since we came to Washington.
But the war's over. With God's blessing we may hope for four
years now of peace and happiness and then we'll go back to
Illinois and probably pass the rest of our days there in peace
and happiness."

 "I'm glad to see you feel so contented, my dearl" Mary
moved closer to him. "It's wonderful when you think of all
you've weathered through and of your conviction that you
never would. Yet here you aret We'll never believe in dreams
again, will wel"

 "Wonderful!" he agreed. "Everything is wonderful. Perhaps
most remarkable of all is that I've found a philosophy."

654 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 She did not want him to fall into a serious vein and so she
asked with a little laugh, "Is it broad enough to help a
female who is facing old age with her knees trembling?"

 "Yes," he said, soberly. "It enables one to talk about the
future as happily and as surely as Bob and Mary Harlan do.
This moming,Iwoke at dawn and it all came to me. Whether
you grow old or I live or die  Your grey hairs "

 Mary gave a soft little cry. "Abratm, don't spoil the drivel
You're going to finish your job. Let's plan what happens
when the job is donel"

 He gave in to her, though a little reluctantly. "This is the
happiest day of my life, Mary. I'm just full of peace. I can't
remember a day that even approaches it unless it's that
afternoon when you and I came to an understanding after
the break in our engagement. Jings, what a day that was!"

 Mary laughed. "I wonder if there ever were two men more
afraid of marriage than you and Joshua Speedl"

 "I reckon there's a lot of them, right now," the President
assured her. "That's where the story books are one-sided.
They talk about nothing but maidenly modesty and girls'
reluctance to tie themselves to a queer relationship when
many a lad feels even worse."

 "A queer relationship!" protested Mary. "Welll So that's
the best you can dot"

 "It is queer! Nothing could be queerer than you and I
doing team work. And we've done it well."

 "Oh, I could mention several couples here and in
Springfield who have made a go of it who outwardly seemed
even less promising than we. There were " And she began
to enumerate friends of their early married life.

 Lincoln laughed immoderately as they recalled the
domestic infelicities of early Springfield society and he spoke
of some of the cases he had handled in court. "I wonder
what shape my old office is in," he added. "Do you suppose
Herndon has kept my old green bag and my old copy of
Byron."

"Don Juan, it was," said Mary with a sniff.

 The President grinned. "I got that bag when I first began
to ride the circuit and I tell you I was proud of it. Do you
know, Mary, that group of us riding around the Illinois
prairies were especially privileged in associating with a man
like Judge Davis."

 "I guess the privilege was mutual," said Mary. "And I must
admit that it always seemed to me that there was as much
horse-play in that circuit riding as there was a play of legal
wits."

 "That reminds me of a storyl" Lincoln chuckled delightedly.
"Judge Davis was always boasting about himself as a horse
trader and I told him finally that I was pretty good in that
line myself. Well, we kept that up for several weeks and at
last one night we agreed to test each other's ability by
making a trade between us, the next morning before court
sat. The horses were to be unseen up to that hour and no
backing out under a penalty of twenty-five dollars. So sharp
at nine in the morning the Judge

BRETHREN AND LOVERS 655

appeared leading the worst horse I ever saw, all thigh bones
and swaybacked, ribs sticking through the hide, hoofs the size
of soap kettles and the same shape. Everybody was hollering
that I was licked when I came up with a wooden saw-horse
on my shoulder and set it down beside Davis' old skeleton. I
told the Judge it was the first time I ever got the worst of it
in a horse trader"

  When they both had wiped their eyes, Mary remarked,
"Well, I don't see but what that story merely proves the truth
of my commentl"

  "So it doest So it doest" agreed Lincoln, laughing again.
"Well, we can't go back to those old days but if we live we'll
have some good times. I'm going to see the Holy Land and
you're going to see England and we'll visit California and find
out if we'd like to settle there. We've laid by some money
and I'll get to practicing again."

  "That's the way I like to have you look at the future." Mary
slipped her hand through his arm.

  "We must be more cheerful. Between the war and the loss
of our darling Willie, we've been pretty miserable" smiling
at her "but now we dare to face things with a reasonable
amount of hope."

  "How differently people greet us now from what they did
when we first came to Washington," Mary remarked as a little
cheer broke from a carriageload of men and women who
passed them. "When I think of the insults we've received "

  "Don't think of them," interrupted the President, serenely.
"They understand us better now. That's all."

  "You're more forgiving than I am. I can neither forgive nor
forget. By the way, shall I ask Charles Sumner to come to the
"heater, to-night?"

  "If you wish. They're going to insist that I have some sort
of a guard, so what do you say to inviting Major Rathbone
and his stepsister, Miss Harris7"

  "Yes, that's a good idea," replied Mary. "There'll be plenty
of room for a large party, you know. Bob might like to come
if he's not too tired."

  "It's turning cloudy again and you'll be cold," said Lincoln.
"I must be back by five o'clock." He spoke to the coachman
and the carriage was turned although they had not yet
reached the Soldiers' Home.

  It was cold and gusty again when they reached the White
House and they were glad to be back. As the President
stepped from the carriage to the portico he saw crossing the
lawn two old friends from Illinois, Governor Oglesby and
General Haynie.

"Come back, boysl Come backl" shouted Lincoln, waving~is
arms.

  The two men turned and after a laughing exchange of
greetings in the portico, the President bade them wait in the
reception room while he washed his hands. He was standing
before the basin in the little washroom of his office when
Charles Dana came in.

  "Hello, Danal What is it7 What's up7" he called, soaking
his sore fingers luxuriously in the cool water.

"I have a telegram from the provost marshal in Portland,
Maine, which

656 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

Mr. Stanton wanted you to act on," replied the Assistant
Secretary of War.

"Read it to me, my boy, while I soothe my hands," said
Lincoln.

 Dana obeyed. U'I have positive information that Jacob
Thompson will pass through Portland to-night in order to
take a steamer for England. What are your orders7'"

"What does Stanton say?" asked Lincoln.

"He says, arrest him, but that I should refer the question
to you."

 The President wiped his hands gingerly. "Well," he said,
slowly, "no, I rather think not. When you've got an
elephant by the hind leg and he's trying to run away, it's
best to let him run."

Dana scratched his chin and went out.

.

CHAPTER XXVIII

                   FATE

    HILE Lincoln relaxed himself for a little gossip with
his old V V friends, Wilkes Booth went to work in the now
empty "heater.

 ~ ~ He first examined the door which opened from the
dress-circle into the passageway leading to the President's
box. Weeks before the manager had burst the lock when he
could not find the key. It had not been mended. Booth
wanted to provide for barricading this door against any one
who tried to enter from the dress-circle. He had with him a
stout wooden bar, provided by Edward Spangler. It was
three and a half feet long, the width of the passage. In the
wall opposite the door, he dug a mortise to receive one end
of this bar. The other end, braced against the door, would
hold it closed for the length of time Wilkes required for the
assassination. He tested the efficacy of the barricade, found
it satisfactory and then concealed it in a corner of the
passage.

 The next step in his preparations was to loosen the screws
on the locks of both doors into the double box. Usually the
President's box was locked against intruders, after his entry.
Wilkes was providing against this. It was possible that the
loosened locks would be discovered. For that contingency he
provided another resource. He bored a hole in the door
nearest the rocking chair, beginning it with his gimlet and
reaming it out with his knife until it was large enough to
look through or to shoot through. This completed, he
cleaned up shavings and plaster dust from the mortise and
returned to the alley. There he took another drink in the
restaurant with Spangler, then set out on the little mare to
round up his forces.

 This last drink made him feel slightly sentimental. The
thought of his mother was with himeof her horror and
shame. He must counteract that, not only with her, but with
all the world which loved him and his acting. He quite forgot
the letter he had left with his brother-in-law and suddenly
decided to write to the newspapers. He dismounted at the
stable of Grover's Theater and went into the office to write
a confused explanation of his deed. This letter he signed,
"Men who love their country better than gold or life, J. W.
Booth, Payne, Atzerodt, Herold."

 He sealed, stamped and addressed the statement to the
editor of the National Intelligencer and mounted his horse,
the letter in his pocket. As he rode along the avenue he saw
John Matthews whom he had tried to interest in the
conspiracy, weeks before. He called to the actor and urged
his mare up to the curb. Then he asked Matthews to deliver
the letter in the morning unless he saw Booth in the
meantime. They chatted for a moment but were interrupted
by the passing along the street of a long line of prisoners of
war Lee's officers.

658 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 'Great Gods" ejaculated Booth, striking his forehead, "I no
longer have a country!"

 It was consistent with the irony of war that General and
Mrs. Grant also should pass at this moment in a carriage
loaded with luggage. Wilkes caught the astonished Matthews'
hand in a feverish grip, muttered good-by and turned his
horse after the Grants' equipage. He followed it up the
avenue, now and again riding forward to glare at the
occupants until Mrs. Grant's startled and annoyed expression
warned him that he was being careless. He then galloped off
to find out if possible if O'Laughlin was on Grant's trail. He
located Mike with a group of friends watching a parade of
Arsenal employees toward the White House and ordered
him in a fierce whisper to get to the station at once and take
the evening train to Philadelphia.

 "Grant is going to New Jersey on it, fooll Why is it
necessary for me to do all the work?"

 "Well," drawled O'Laughlin, "in order to draw all the
reward would be my guess." Nevertheless, he started briskly
off in the direction of the station.

 With only a half-satisfied expression in his feverish eyes,
Wilkes watched him for a moment before going to the
drugstore where he would find David Herold. The boy was
waiting for him, sober and anxious. Booth clapped him on
the shoulder and told him to fetch Atzerodt to Payne's room
at the Herndon House. He hoped Surratt would be there
too. By six o'clock he was eating supper with Lewis Payne.

 Mary Lincoln was having an early evening meal that night
with no guests because of the theater engagement. At six
o'clock she sent James for the President. He was reading
Petroleum Nasby to Governor Oglesby and General Haynie
and as usual gave no heed to the first call. James came back
at five-minute intervals to repeat the whispered message and
finally in desperation appealed to Crook. The guard
beckoned Oglesby aside and after apologizing, explained that
the President was going to the theater and that it was really
necessary for him to go to his supper. The Governor laughed
and he and Haynie took their leave.

 Lincoln was silent at the evening meal. He suddenly felt
very tired and for all his inordinate pleasure in the theater
and his long insistence on attending this evening's
performance, he was aware of a growing reluctance to going
out. He'd prefer an evening secure from intrusion in the sec-
retaries' office, talking to Bob and John Hay. He did not
speak of this to Mary but when at the close of the light meal
Noah Brooks came in, he expressed his feelings to the young
correspondent.

 "I sent for you, Brooks, because I'd had a notion of taking
you to the theater this evening with Mrs. Lincoln and me to
see 'Our American Cousin.' But Mrs. Lincoln's already made
up a party to take the place of General and Mrs. Grant, so
you can do as you please about coming. I see you've got an
ungodly cold and that's why I'm not more urgent. I wish I
had as good an excuse myself."

FATE 659

Brooks grinned. "I might give you a cold, though the notice
is shortl" "Thank you for nothing," returned the President. "I
know we've got to go. We've told the management of Ford's
and the place will be filled with folks anxious to feast their
eyes on our beauty. It will be bad enough for Grant to have
disappointed them without me slipping up on them too."

  "I'd like nothing better than to go with you, sir," said
Brooks. "But if it makes no difference to you, I think I'd
better go home and nurse this cold. I really feel sick with it."

  "Wise boyl" Lincoln nodded and after a word or two about
the war in the West, they parted.

  The President, who had met Brooks in the upper hall,
paced slowly toward his office door where William Crook was
standing.

  "Mrs. Lincoln thinks you'd better get an early start for the
"heater, sir," said the guard, "and she's asked me to admit no
more callers."

  "I've got a good many things to attend to before we go and
I feel unaccountably blue, Crook." Lincoln frowned in a
puzzled way. Where and why had that earlier serenity left
him? "I wonder if there's trouble at the front. I'm going to
pay a rush visit to the War Offfice."

  It was as if his feet were blocks of lead. Every muscle in his
body ached with weariness. He had believed that these
sudden moods of acute metancholy had left him forever: vain
faithl "Come, Crook," he muttered, "I've got to get rid of this,
somehow."

  Outside, the world dripped in grey twilight. The familiar
bricked path was a miniature canal. The wall was draped with
sinister shadows. Lincoln splashed unheeding through the
pools, hands clasped behind him, chin resting on his breast.
He did not speak until they had passed the turnstile. Then a
group of snarling, quarreling, drunken men lurched across
their path. Crook quickly stepped between the roisterers and
the President.

  Lincoln watched the young guard with sardonic amusement.
What could Crook do if these bummers really meant harml
They reeled away, however, concerned only with their own
ribaldry.

  "Crook," said Lincoln, "there are men in the world who
want to take my life." He paused and all the mystic conviction
of the past months forced him to add, "And I have no doubt
they will do it."

  The guard's voice was a little panic-stricken as he
exclaimed, "I hope you're mistaken, Mr. Presidentl"

  The helplessness of Crook's tone roused Lincoln to a
moment of contrition. "I have perfect confidence in those who
are around me; in every one of you men. I know no one
could do it and escape alive. But if it is to be done, it is
impossible to prevent it."

  Faithful Stanton was at his desk, his beard a curious green
under the glass shade of his reading lamp. He looked up as
the President dragged his heavy feet over the threshold.

"Are you ill, Mr. Lincoln?" he exclaimed.

660 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 "No, Mr. Stanton7 I came over to hear of any further
word from Sherman." He dropped down on the old sofa and,
propping his elbow on the curved head-rest, covered his eyes
with his hand.

 Stanton stared at him, sympathy and anxiety in his dark
eyes. "Nothing special, sir." Then he walked slowly over and
sat down beside the President. He had seen him in these
moods during great battles. But this was unaccountable. He
put his hand on Lincoln's knee. "What has gone wrong since
we parted this afternoon, Mr. Lincoln? I never saw you in
such fine spirits as you were then."

 The President made an enormous effort. "So I was,
Stanton. I thought I'd said good-by to this forever, at dawn."

 "At dawn?" asked the Secretary, softly. "What happened at
dawn, my dear old friend? Comel Don't shut me out in the
coldl Aren't we comraces-of-war? Had you discovered some
panacea, as you thought, for the blue devils?"

 Lincoln's mind returned to that early hour of this long,
long day. However ephemeral its beauty might prove to
be nay, because it was ephemeral was it not incumbent
on him to share its perfection with some one who would
understand? Curiously enough he felt that Stanton, queer,
passionate Stanton, could understand and would bury his
confidence deep where no human being could ever
man-handle it.

 He began the account with infinite difficulty; not because
he found it hard to find words but because of that
melancholy which clogged the machinery of speech. And yet
it was like a miracle as he struggled on, each sentence
came easierl Gradually he sat erect and gradually, Stanton's
hand on his knee, the green lamp shade, the fluttering
window shade, receded from his consciousness and he was
looking out on a vista that compassed the whole of
existence. Even the words he was uttering to Stanton were
as words uttered by an automaton while he looked on from
another sphere. He looking on at Abraham Lincoln, whose
poor old bodily machine was so ill-adapted to keeping
contact with his larger self.

 It was only gradually that he realized that a long silence
had fallen while Stanton was continuing to pat his knee.
Only gradually that he realized that sadness had given way
to perfect content or if not content, at least to a serene
resignation. He was ready to take up the trivial round again.

"Do you understand me, dear Stanton?" he asked, at last.

 "I think I do," replied the Secretary, gently. "You are
happier now, are you not?"

 Lincoln heaved an enormous sigh. "I'm better than that.
I'm at peace with myself."

 "Then nothing else matters much," declared Stanton. He
rose and took a turn up and down the room.

 Lincoln rose with him and stretched himself as if just
roused from sleep. He walked over to the desk and glanced
at some telegrams the Secretary

FATE 66

handed him and they exchanged a few jocose words about
the President's leniency to Jacob Thompson.

 "What a relief it will be," exclaimed Lincoln, "when all this
sort of spying on one another ceases!"

 "It will be, indeedl I thank God for your sake, as much as
for any other reason in the world, sir. You've suffered too
much. But it's all ended now."

 "And for your sake, too, Stanton. You've done a great jobl
A great task. No one knows how great as well as I do."

 They smiled at each other. Lincoln dropped his arm over
the Secretary's shoulder.

 "I I have a great affection for you, Lincolnt" mumbled
Stanton, turning to throw an arm about the President's waist.

They held each other for an instant in a mighty embrace.

 When Lincoln came out into the upper room to join
Crook, he saw the guard look up at him with an anxiety
which immediately gave way to a relieved smile.

 "All right, my boy," he said cheerfully. "I must hurry back."
He talked to the guard all the way home about the play, his
reason for going and his great love for the "heater. "I'm
making up for all I didn't see in my young days," was his
final word. When they reached the White House steps he
said, "You go off duty now, don't your"

"If John Parker is here, sir. He's late to-night," replied
Crook.

"He's here, waiting," said Tom Pendel, the door-keeper.

 "Then you go home to your wife and baby." Lincoln smiled
again. He stood for a moment, wishing that he had not to go
in and face more visitors. Then he turned to say, "Good-by,
Crookl"

"Good night, Mr. President, not good-by," replied the young
man.

"You have two callers in the red room, sir," said Pendel.

The President passed into the beautiful hallway.

 Speaker Colfax proved to be one of the callers. With him
was Mr. George Ashmun of Massachusetts who had been in
Congress when Lincoln had been a member. It was Ashmun
who had been chairman of the convention which had
nominated Lincoln in 1860. He had shown his friendship to
the President in many ways for many years.

 "Come upstairs!" cried Lincoln. "There's no chance for
privacy herel" He led the way up to the sitting room.

 Ashmun was anxious for news of peace terms and to learn
if possible what was to be done about trading permits. "I
hear Richmond is wide open again," he said, before Lincoln
could answer him, "and speaking of Richmond, wasn't it
rather imprudent of you to expose yourself there? We were
much concerned for your safety."

 Lincoln smiled. "I suppose I'd have been alarmed if any
other person had been President and had gone there but I
didn't find any danger whatever." He turned to Colfax.
"Sumner has the gavel of the Confederate Congress. He
intended to give it to Stanton but I insisted he must give it
to you and you tell him from me to hand it over."

662 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

  "I have the gavel used in the Republican Convention of
1860," said Ashmun. "I cherish it, I assure you. But, Mr.
Lincoln, I don't want to intrude on you as I hear you're
engaged this evening. I have a client who has preferred a
cotton claim and I want to have a commission appointed to
examine the case."

  "I've done with commissions," declared Lincoln,
vehemently. "I believe they're contrivances to cheat the
government of every pound of cotton they can lay hands on."

  "I hope you mean no personal imputation, Mr. Lincoln."
Ashmun flushed painfully.

  "You didn't understand me, Ashmun," exclaimed the
President. "I didn't mean what you inferred. I take it back."
Then as Ashmun did not speak, he added, contritely, "I
apologize to you, Ashmun."

"It is quite unnecessary, sir," returned the lawyer, recovering
himself.

  "That matter of trading permits is a most vexatious one,"
Lincoln went on. "I have in my office now a letter from the
Attorney-General about it. Wait a moment and I'll get it for
you."

  He went through the private passageway and began to
search through the papers on his desk. He was interrupted
by Senator Henderson of Missouri who wanted to obtain an
order for the release of a Confederate prisoner.

  "I went to Secretary Stanton as you told me to, sir," he
informed the President "but he became violently abusive and
would do nothing."

  Lincoln took up his pen and wrote an order for release. "I
think that will have precedence over Stanton," he remarked.

Henderson thanked him and left.

  Lincoln pulled on his overcoat, then turned to his desk,
keeping his mind firmly on the moment's occupation: a
half-conscious defense against the insistent reluctance to go
to the play. He read through the commission reappointing
Alvin Saunders as Governor of the Territory of Nebraska,
made a memorandum on it and signed it. Then he picked up
the AttorneyGeneral's letter and his tall hat. But he did not
return to the sitting room by way of the private door. He
crossed the hall into Bob's room, where John Hay and the
young Captain were smoking.

"Don't you want to go to the theater with us, Bob?" asked
his father.

  "If you don't mind, father, I'll say no," replied Bob, turning
a sunburned face and tired eyes toward the President. He
looked to-night like the little fellow whom Mary used to
spank for stealing pie. Queer how childhood persists in the
face of a good man, thought Lincoln. "I'd rather stay here
and get to bed, early," said Bob. "I'm still tired."

"Do whatever you wish, my boy," he said. "Good-by."

  He looked at his watch. It was nearly eight. Mary would
be along any minute now. He joined the visitors in the
sitting room, handing Speed's letter to Ashmun.

  "Don't let us detain you, Mr. Lincoln." Colfax glanced at
the President's coat and hat.

FATE 663

  "Oh, I'm in no hurryl" replied the President. "In fact, I
wouldn't care if we didn't go at all to-night."

  James came in with Senator Stewart's card. Lincoln picked
up a pen and wrote his excuses on it. "I am engaged to go to
the theater with Mrs. Lincoln. It's the kind of an engagement
I never break. Come with your friend to-morrow at ten and
I shall be glad to see you. A. Lincoln."

  As James went out, Lincoln said to Colfax, "You'll
accompany Mrs. Lincoln and me to the "heater, won't you?"

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Lincoln, but I'm starting for California in
the moming, you know," was the Speaker's reply.

  Mary came in, looking very handsome in her evening wraps.
"I'm always breaking up delightful conferences, gentlemen,"
she said as the men rose. "I dislike to do it, but Mr. Lincoln
and I are due to go, rather halfheartedly, I'll admit, to see
'Our American Cousin."'

  "No apologies are necessary, Mrs. Lincoln," declared
Ashmun, "although I'll admit I'm disappointed in not having
a longer interview with the President."

  "Oh, that's easily fixedl" exclaimed Lincoln. "I'll fix for you
to come an hour before we open shop." And again he wrote
on a card, "Allow Mr. Ashmun and friend to come in at 9
A.M. to-morrow. A. Lincoln."

  Mary put her hand quietly within Mr. Ashmun's arm. "Help
me to get my husband started," she said. "Poor man, I hate to
drag him out."

  The President and Colfax followed the others to the
staircase. There they were halted by two importunate
gentlemen who wanted a pass to Richmond.

"You no longer need a pass, my friends," protested Lincoln.

"We've been turned back twice," replied one of the men.

  Lincoln bade them wait and returned deliberately to the
sitting room and once more wrote a card. "No pass is
necessary now to authorize any one to go to and return from
Petersburg and Richmond. People go and return just as they
did before the war. A. Lincoln."

  He was feeling a little languid but quite calm as he again
started down the stairs. When they reached the portico, he
shook hands with Colfax and told him not to forget the
message he had given him for the miners. Then he saw
Stewart and his friend near by and he went over to greet
them, repeating that he would be glad to see them in the
morning.

  Mary, sitting in the carriage with John Parker opposite her,
watched his dilatory movements with a meager patience won
by years of experience. Finally, he put his foot on the carriage
step and she heaved a sigh of relief. But it looked as if her
relief might be premature for he wavered as Isaac Arnold
appeared under the porch lights. She put a firm hand on his
and he smiled at her as he called to Arnold, "Excuse me now,
I'm going to the "heater. Come and see me in the morning."

  So at last he seated himself. "I'll telegraph you, Colfax, at
San Francisco," he called. The carriage rolled away. "There,"
he said, "I've comported myself as if I hadn't a care in the
world."

"We're going to be a half hour late," sighed Mary.

               CHAPTER XXIX
    Tree LAST FULL "EASURE OF DEVOTIOn

   [MILE the President was talking to Mr. Ashmun, John
Wilkes V V Booth was carrying on a low-voiced
conversation with John

 ~ ~ Surratt, who left before David Herold appeared with
George Atzerodt.

 It was a small bedroom, lighted by an unshaded kerosene
lamp on the mantel. The cot-bed was covered with a soiled
white spread. Payne sat on this. He was the only member of
the fraternity who gave no sign of nerves. His grey eyes were
clear and from under his heavy black brows they did not
stray from Booth's face. His curiously large nostrils quivered
from time to time but this was as habitual with Payne as
with a rabbit. His big soft hands hung motionless between
his knees.

 Atzerodt, down at heel as usual, his short grey coat ragged
and stained, his collarless shirt flecked by tobacco juice, his
greasy hair hanging on his collar, was the beau-ideal of the
assassin. He sat on the edge of a straight, cane-seated chair,
chewing violently and swallowing the spit with an audible
movement of his enormous Adam's apple. His bleated blue
eyes shifted from one to another of his friends, and he
constantly scratched his left palm with the dirty, broken nails
of his right hand.

 David Herold had aged curiously in the few months of his
contact with Booth. It was not only that he looked dissipated
but that there were deep lines from his lips to his nostrils
and his weak chin trembled like an old man's. David was too
much excited to sit still. He roamed about the room.

 Booth's black eyes were brilliant. His olive cheeks burned.
His clothing, a dark morning suit, was of elegant cut and
immaculate. He gave his orders clearly although he had
drunk double his usual ration since noon.

 "You, Dave," he said, "are to do two jobs. First guide
Lewis Payne to Seward's house. See him well inside and that
his horse is ready at the hitching post, then go to the
Kirkwood House, and act as support to Atzerodt when at
ten minutes past ten he goes into Johnson's room."

"How do you know Andy'll be there?" demanded Port
Tobacco.

 "He's in his room, right now," declared Herold, "and I
heard him tell a man he could be reached there all the
evening."

 "That ain't no reason I can reach him," muttered Atzerodt,
scratching his palm viciously.

 Booth gave him an anxious glance out of his beautiful
black eyes but continued to speak, calmly. "After Atzerodt
has settled with Andy, Dave, you see him mounted and on
his way, then you ride like the devil after me, out over the
Navy Yard Bridge to Surrattsville. If I'm not there yet,

"THE LAST FULL MEASURE OF DEVOTION" 66

collect the things Mrs. Surratt has left with Lloyd and wait
in the road in front of the tavern for me."

 "Yes, little petl" sneered Atzerodt. "All the glory and cash
and none of the bloody work."

 "What's the matter with you, old mane" pleaded Booth,
keeping a tight grip on his temper.

 "You let Dave and me change jobs and there won't be
nothing the matter with me."

 "Dave's not strong enough. It takes a man's muscles to do
this, George, and no ordinary man, either. You and Lewis
are each in your way perfect gladiators. Poor Dave's just a
plucked chicken. Come, take a drink and cheer upl"

 But for perhaps the only time in his life, Atzerodt refused
to drink. "I just as soon kidnap but I don't want to kill not
Andy Johnson anyhow And stabbing's no way for a white
man."

 "I suppose if you'd been in the army you'd have refused to
use a bayonet on the damned Yankees," cried Herold.

 "You shut your baby mouthI" snarled Atzerodt. "Using a
bayonet in an open battle ain't sneaking into a man's room
and sticking a knife in him in the dark."

 "Use the pistol I left you then," urged Booth. "Look here,
George, you aren't going to ruin everything for me, are you?
Andy Johnson is old Abe's man. Not much use in getting rid
of the tyrant if we leave his successor to continue the
tyranny."

"What do I care about tyrants7" shouted Port Tobacco.

"Sh-shI" said Payne.

 Booth did not raise his voice but it was none the less
violent as he whispered, "You dirty, damned cowardl I've a
notion to force you to do this at the point of my own gun.
By God, you do it or I'll see that you hang, anyhow. When
I've reached safety in Greensborough, I'll send back the
evidence that'll put the rope around your neck. I'll hang you,
if you fail me, dirty AtzerodtI"

 Port Tobacco's jaw dropped, disclosing his
mahogany-colored tongue. "You wouldn't do thatl" he
whimpered. "Goal where's your heart, Mr. Booth? What
have I ever done to you except wait on you and take care of
you?"

 "Nothing that you've done weighs a snap of my finger with
me unless you destroy Andy Johnson," hissed Booth. "Come
now, we'll go to the stable and see that your horse is in good
condition. Lewis, give me your hand, brave friend. I'll see
you in Greensborough. And you, faithful David" patting his
shoulder "will meet me at Surrattsville. At ten, Lewis and
Herold, leave here and go direct to Seward. At ten minutes
after ten, George, you enter Johnson's room. And at ten or
a little after, when I know the stage will be practically empty,
I'll finish Abe."

 He led Atzerodt down the stairs and to the Avenue,
talking at first soothingly. But when they had reached the
stable and had found Atz

666 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

erodt's horse saddled and waiting, he took Port Tobacco
back into the street and said in a voice of implacable
ugliness, "You do the job, or you hang, damn your" then he
strode off toward Ford's Theater.

  Atzerodt started back to eat another supper at an oyster
bar. He still was undetermined what course to pursue. Mike
O'Laughlin, apparently very drunk, met him on the Avenue.
George grasped him by the arm and whispered in his ear,
"How about Grant7"

  With alcoholic gravity, Mike whispered in Atzerodt's hairy
ear. "To hell with Grantl He eschcaped me, the dirty sojer
manl" and he walked on with his friends.

  "Well, I reckon I'm going to wash my hands of it, too,"
thought Port Tobacco. And he began looking for a hiding
place after first throwing away his bowie knife.

  Booth on leaving Atzerodt went to the stable back of
Ford's and saddled the little mare. He led her then up to
the stage door and said to a stage hand, "Tell Spangler to
come out here and hold my horse."

  The man disappeared to return in a moment with
Spangler. "I can't hold her, Mr. Booth," explained Spangler,
"I've got to shift the next scene. Here, 'Peanuts"' calling to
the door-keeper "you hold Mr. Booth's horse. You don't
have to leave your door to do it."

  So "Peanuts" sat down on his bench just outside the door
and took the mare's reins. Wilkes went into the rear of the
"heater, crossed under the stage through a passage and so
out on Tenth Street and to the front of the "heater.

  The front door-keeper was standing in the doorway,
looking into the house, with one arm barring the entry way.
Wilkes quietly took two fingers of the hand on the door
frame and shook them. "You don't want a ticket from me,
do your"

  The door-keeper smiled in a friendly way. "I guess I don't,
Mr. Booth," and lowered his arm.

  Wilkes went into the theater and thoroughly surveyed the
house. He watched the motionless figure of the President,
glanced at the stage to note the progress of the play and
went quietly up the stairs to the dresscircle and along the
passage toward the state boxes. John Parker's chair was
empty. A moment later he had located the guard sitting in
a front seat of the first gallery. He sighed with relief and
returned to the lobby. The door-keeper was talking with
some out-or-town friends and he pointed the famous
tragedian out to them, even summoning courage, as Booth
remained in the lobby, to introduce the strangers to him.
Wilkes laughed and talked genially until they returned to
their seats for the next act. Then he asked the door-keeper
for a chew of tobacco, which was gladly given.

  He was thinking not only of his own immediate task but
of Atzerodt and of Payne.

  Payne, while Booth was negotiating the chew of plug, was
arguing with the colored servant who answered his ring at
Seward's door. Payne insisted that the package in his hand
was medicine sent by Dr. Verdi which he was

"THE LAST FULL MEASURE OF DEVOTION" 66

to deliver in person with instructions how it was to be taken.
The servant was Srm in his stand that Mr. Seward could not
be seen. But Payne was very insistent and overbearing and
the colored man, intimidated, gave way At the stair top
Frederick Seward, the Assistant Treasurer, met Lewis and
sternly forbade him to enter the sick-room. Lewis started to
go back down the stairs but suddenly turned and knocked
Frederick down with his pistols fracturing his skull. Sergeant
Robinson, Secretary Seward's nurse, opened the door and
Payne cut him in the face with his knife, knocking him off
his balance and rushed past him to the Secretary's bed. He
tried to shoot the helpless man but the blow given Frederick
Seward had bent the hammer. He then stabbed Seward three
times in the face and neck. But the steel frame which held
the Secretary's broken jaw deflected the blows and saved his
life.

 Sergeant Robinson recovered himself and, rushing to the
bed, grappled with Payne. Seward rolled off the bed to the
floor on the opposite side There was a desperate wrestling
match between Robinson and Payne, Payne stabbing with
one hand and using the pistol as a club with the other

 Augustus Seward, the younger son, wakened at last, leaped
into the room and together he and Robinson dragged Payne
into the hall. Here Lewis freed himself and howling, "I'm
madl I'm madl" rushed down the stairs, wounding a
messenger from the State Department whom he passed

 The colored man had run out into the street, screaming
"Murder!" Dave Herold, immediately deserting his post, set
spurs to his horse for Surrattsville. Payne mounted the
remaining beast and started like the madman he called
himself, whither he was not sure.

It was nearly ten minutes past ten.

 In the street before Ford's the President's carriage was
waiting. Wilkes Booth, sauntering up and down, went into
the saloon next door and took a last drink of whiskey. As he
came back to the lobby he heard Surratt say that it was ten
minutes past ten. Booth went resolutely up the stairs to the
President's box.

 Lincoln in his rocking chair felt a sudden chill and rose to
put on his overcoat.

 "Are you catching cold?" whispered Mary under cover of
a prolonged laugh from the audience. "It's really very warm
in the "heater."

 "I don't see how you women stand it with your bare
shoulders," whispered Lincoln in return. "Still I don't blame
you. Your neck and shoulders are lovelier than little Miss
Todd's ever were, my darling wife."

 She looked up at him with quick understanding. "You
aren't going to let me grow old if you can help it, are you,
my dear! Are you enjoying the plays"

He nodded and Mary turned her attention again to the
stage.

 Lincoln was not sorry after all that he had come. The play
was extraordinarily funny and still it made no great demands
on his tired brain. He was able to enjoy its foolishness and
at the same time to ponder serenely on all that had been
working in his inner mind during the past weeks.

668 THE LAST FULL MEASURE

 After all, Mary had spoken truly when she had said that
his death would not wreck the Union. If democracy was
right, if it belonged in evolution, its persistence in the life of
governments was not dependent on any one man. If, as he
believed, democracy was one of the qualities essential for
the growth of humanity's consciousness of its oneness with
its creator, then Abraham Lincoln was only one of an
infinite number of tools for shaping man toward that great
end.

 This tired, rattling old piece of machinery, this Abraham
Lincoln well, what next for him? Had he wrought well
enough to go further in what Walt Whitman called the
exquisite scheme? Had he?

 He caught his breath as again that ineffable call reached
his soul; deep speaking to deep. That greater self, beyond
the far outposts, was reaching out again to this lonely
portion of itself; so lost; so lonely; but now so conscious of
its ultimate immortal destiny!

 He was conscious of a sudden blow on the back of his
head but he did not move.

"'For thou didst call mel"'he murmured.

 And surely, beyond the sudden strange uproar from the
audience he heard that superlatively convincing answer:

"All is welll"