nigh continuous. Cities vied one with another in extraordinary honors paid the dead President. Great states, "as crape-veiled women standing," tearfully received the nation's dead and tenderly passed on the sacred trust. No echo of that memorable home-coming was lost on the listening world. And even now, after the lapse of nearly fourscore years, every return of spring brings sad memories of that black night and the gray days that followed. A further account of the tragedy not found in Lincoln's biography has been furnished by a friend of Mr. William Withers, Jr.: It is a fact familiar perhaps to a very few that Withers, Jr., was the leader of the orchestra of that theater on the night of the assassination, April 14, 1865, and prevented a frightful panic, although he was at the time unconscious of the important service he had rendered the audience. The story of Mr. Withers' experience of that night and the part he took in the proceedings have never been fully told. In the most reliable histories of the war covering the assassination, such as Raymond's, Drake's and Greeley's, Mr. Withers' name is not mentioned, and it has been through his modesty and diffidence that the story is unrecorded. Every reader of the Herald, old or young, is familiar with the fact that the president was shot at about a quarter past 10 o'clock, by John Wilkes Booth, the actor, while sitting in a private box witnessing a performance of "Our American Cousin." It is also well remembered that the day had been celebrated all over the country on account of the news flashed far and near that Lee had surrendered, and thus virtually ended the war of the rebellion. The cabinet had held a meeting that day, and at the close of the session, which had been remarkably harmonious, the President invited any member of his cabinet who felt so inclined to accompany him to the theater in honor of the events of the previous twenty-four hours; but it seems that none accepted the invitation. The President, Mrs. Lincoln, their son, a pupil of Mr. Withers, Major H. R. Rathbone, Senator Harris and his daughter, Miss Harris, made up the party. They occupied an upper box. When the orchestra heard that the President was to be there, one of the musicians, an Italian named Taltavullo, suggested to Mr. Withers that the orchestra flag, which was the property of the Italian, be used to decorate the front of the box, and it was accordingly raised. Mr. H. P. Phillips also composed a song for the occasion and handed it to Mr. Withers to set music to it. Mr. Withers composed a martial air, rehearsed the music with Miss Laura Keene, the leading lady, the understanding being that the song was to be sung at the close of the second act by Miss Keene, the company joining in the chorus. The words of this song have never been printed. They are as follows, a copy from an old scrap book, written by Mr. Phillips, and now in Mr. Withers' possession, having been made for this purpose. The song is entitled HONOR TO OUR SOI DIERS. Honor to our soldiers, Who for their country toil In this our native land. CHORUS-Repeat first four lines. Honor to our soldiers, The nation's greatest pride, Honor to our soldiers, Their victories ne'er shall cease Until our foes surrender And bless our land with peace. Shall feel we dare the world! Mr. Withers had understood that this song should be sung at the close of the second act, but when the curtain was rung down he saw that the programme had been changed without consulting him. His story of what followed is this: As soon as the play had proceeded he went upon the stage, and, not seeing the stage manager, went to the prompter's desk at the wing, where Mr. J. B. Wright, the prompter, was on duty. The "governor," or gas apparatus, was in close proximity to Mr. Wright's desk. The cover of this governor was open, and Edward Spangler, assistant stage carpenter, and onc of the conspirators, was standing beside it. Mr. Withers said, "Spangler, step away a moment, I want to speak to Mr. Wright." Spangler did not move. An angry frown overspread his face, and Mr. Withers peremptorily ordered him to go to his position as scene shifter. He started away muttering something, which Mr. Withers did not hear, and to which he paid no attention at the time. He inquired of Mr. Wright why the song had not been sung, and Wright said that the programme had been changed so as to have the piece brought in at the close of the performance. "Go into the orchestra just before the finish," said Mr. Wright, "and get your instruments in tune, and we will make the song the finale," Mr. Withers said the effect would be lost by this proceeding, and, turning down the cover of the "governor," he partly sat down upon it, and suggested that the audience at the finish would begin to move and spoil the piece, winding up the matter by telling Mr. Wright that, if produced at all, the song must be sung during the play. Just then the whistle blew for change. of scene, and Spangler had to attend to the shifting. Mr. Withers then started down past the wings to a stairway leading under the stage. Just as he was in the act of stepping down the first step he heard a pistol shot. Surprised at the report, knowing that there was no shooting in the play, he stopped and looked toward the proscenium. AN ENCOUNTER WITH BOOTH. At that instant Booth dashed into the passageway with a dagger in his hand. Withers was standing directly in line with the stage door or private entrance. His first thought was that Booth was looking for the man who had fired the shot; but the next instant the madman was upon him, thrusting at him with the dagger. The point of the weapon cut two holes in the coat worn by the musician, one on the back of the neck and the other on the right shoulder, going through all the clothing and through the skin. In the struggle Mr. Withers was knocked down and badly bruised, and Booth escaped through the private door. Before Mr. Withers could get upon his feet Harry Hawke, the actor, came rushing through the passageway after Booth, and fell over the prostrate form of Mr. Withers. It was then for the first time that the musician learned what had happened. He still has the coat he wore on that memorable occasion. It is an evening dress coat of blue-black broadcloth. He exhibited it to the reporter, put it on, and described how Booth attacked him and the exact position he was in when the thrusts were made. The only words uttered by Booth were, "Get out of my way! get out of my way, or I'll kill you!" The flag which has a place in history was in the possession of Mr. Withers for a long time, but was subsequently given to its owner, who resided in Memphis, and is now, Mr. Withers believes, in Washington. The flag, it will be remembered, was torn by Booth's spur, which caught in it as he jumped from the box to the stage, and it was this accident to the assassin that caused his leg to be broken. Edward Spangler died on the 19th of February, 1874, at the residence of Dr. Mudd, of Baltimore, a co-conspirator, with whom he had suffered imprisonment. Before his death he made a confession, which has been communicated to Mr. Withers, in effect that the presence of the musician at the "governor" prevented a fearful panic. He (Spangler) was hovering around the instrument with the intention of turning off the gas in the auditorium the moment Booth landed on the stage. The cover was up to facilitate that operation, and had he not been ordered away by Mr. Withers, who turned the cover down to sit upon it, the gas would have been turned off, and nobody would have known to a certainty who assassinated the president. Booth was not recognized at the time of his leap by the audience; but Miss Keene, who stood at the wings, recognized him, and shouted to the audience, "It's John Wilkes Booth!" At that time he was struggling with Mr. Withers at the rear of the stage. The turning off of the gas at the proper time, Mr. Withers believes, would have allowed the assassin to escape unrecognized, and would have led to further tragic results. NEW STORIES OF LINCOLN. REMINISCENCES MISSED BY HIS BIOGRAPHERS GATHERED IN THE "OLD SALEM" REGION. Uncle Henry Sears, Aunt Vashti, and other "old settlers" of the Old Salem region, delight in giving their personal recollections of Abraham Lincoln, while that "rather gawkish and awkward youth was keeping store on the banks of the Sangamon," and relate some recollections that have failed to reach any of Mr. Lincoln's biographers. LINCOLN A WRESTLER. The late Jesse Baker said: "The new clerk in the Salem store drew much attention from the very first. His striking, awkward and generally peculiar appearance advertised the store round about, and drew many customers, who never quit trading there as long as young Abe Lincoln clerked in the establishment. He gave good weight; he was chock full of accommodation, and he wasn't a 'smart Aleck'. A large majority of the people, after making his acquaintance, said: 'He has a heart as big as a flour barrel and a head full of the best kind of brains.' All liked him excepting the few rowdies of Clary's Grove and the boss bully, Hickey. Hickey was attracted to the store about four days after the new clerk's arrival. Boss Hickey took his measure and forthwith bantered him for a wrestle. Lincoln pleasantly informed the intruding ruffian that he would rather be excused, as he didn't feel like dirtying his fine clothes. Hickey, however, harped away on his single-tuned lyre until young Abe consented to 'wrestle in a playful way.' Mr. Baker watched the store and viewed the conflict. The performers shook hands, clinched, and fell among a luxuriant growth of dog-fennel and smart-weeds. Hickey foamed and tried. to choke Lincoln, who repelled that charge by rubbing the under fellow's face with a bunch of smart-weeds. It made him howl; the smarting quite vanquished him; he cried 'Enough,' and Lincoln calmly arose from his game, and that was the only fight he ever fought while in the Sangamon country. Hickey quit drinking, joined the church, and solemnly confessed his many sins at the prayer meetings." LINCOLN'S DOG. Uncle Baker said that he subsequently, when Lincoln had become a surveyor, sometimes carried the chain for him, and distinctly remembered being along with him on Quiver creek in Mason county during the presidential race between Henry Clay and Andrew Jackson. Lincoln was a strong Whig, while the other surveyor was a fierce Democrat. Each owned a dog. Lincoln's dog was named Clay, while the other's title was Jackson. While camping near Simmons' mill the dogs treed a coon. The surveyors betted $5 on their respective curs. Lincoln hastily climbed the tree on a rude "Indian ladder," and crawling on the coon limb he shook it with such force that it broke, throwing the varmint and himself among the dogs. Young Abe sprained his ankle, but Clay mopped the ground with the coon and rejoiced all over with his tail, for his master had won the $5. ANN RUTLEDGE. Uncle Henry Sears and his wife, Aunt Vashti, say that they were well acquainted with storekeeper Lincoln and his lady-love, Ann Rutledge. They attended her funeral, and think that such a nice girl as Ann was deserves a handsome tombstone. "Young Lincoln took her death awful hard," they say. He strolled moodily around the neighborhood for the next three or four weeks, humming sad songs, and writing them with chalk on fences and barns. It was generally feared that the death of Ann Rutledge would drive him insane. |