Notwithstanding Booth's rough travels, his clothes were at this time neat and clean. He had a fine physique, was tall and dark-faced. He had shaved off his mustache since he had left Washington, but his face was rough, as he had not used a razor for several days. His leg was in splinters, and the flesh was black. He had hobbled around upon a crutch of pine which a servant of Dr. Mudd's had, I think, whittled out for him. After he died I took a horse-blanket, and, having got a needle from Miss Garrett, I sewed the body up in it. I then borrowed an old rickety wagon from a neighbor and carried him back to Belle Plaine, where the boat was still waiting for us, on the following morning. I delivered the body to a naval officer on the Montauk, near the navy-yard. It was buried in the Capitol Prison; but it was afterwards exhumed, and it now reposes, I think, at Baltimore."
"Do you think Booth would have allowed himself to be taken alive?"
"No, I do not. He had told Herold that he would fight to the death; and I am sure he meant what he said. The reward for his death of seventy-five thousand dollars was divided among his captors in the same way as a naval prize is divided. I received seven thousand five hundred dollars, and the men under me got smaller amounts. They were chiefly young men from New York State, thrifty fellows, with a good deal of German blood in them. Most of them bought lands with their money, and are now well-to-do farmers with families."
UNREST.
ALL day upon the garden bright
The sun shines strong,
But in my heart there is no light,
Nor any song.
Voices of merry life go by
Adown the street,
But I am weary of the cry,
And drift of feet.
With all dear things that ought to please
The hours are blest,
And yet my soul is ill at ease,
And cannot rest.
Strange spirit, leave me not too long,
Nor stint to give;
For if my soul have no sweet song
It cannot live.
