disturbance
at the door of the President's box. With many others I looked in that
direction, and saw a man endeavoring to persuade the reluctant usher
to admit him. At last he succeeded in gaining an entrance, after which
the door was closed and the usher resumed his place.

For a few moments all was quiet, and the play again held my attention
until, suddenly, the report of a pistol was heard, and a short time
after I saw a man in mid-air leaping from the President's box to the
stage, brandishing in his hand a drawn dagger. His spur caught in the
American flag festooned in front of the box, causing him to stumble
when he struck the stage, and he fell on his hands and knees. He
quickly regained the erect posture and hopped across the stage,
flourishing his dagger, clearing the stage before him and dragging the
foot of the leg, which was subsequently found to be broken, he
disappeared behind the scene on the opposite side of the stage. Then
followed cries that the President had been murdered, interspersed with
cries of "Kill the murderer!" "Shoot him!" etc., from different parts
of the building. The lights had been turned down, a general gloom was
over all, and the panic-stricken audience were rushing toward the
doors for exit and safety.

I instantly arose and in response to cries for help and for a surgeon,
I crossed the aisle and vaulted over the seats in a direct line to the
President's box, forcing my way through the excited crowd. The door of
the box had been securely fastened on the inside to prevent anyone
following the assassin before he had accomplished his cruel object and
made his escape. The obstruction was with difficulty removed and I was
the first to be admitted to the box.

The usher having been told that I was an army surgeon, had lifted up
his arm and had permitted me alone to enter.

I passed in, not in the slightest degree knowing what I had to
encounter. At this moment, while in self-communion, the military
command: "Halt!" came to me, and in obedience to it I stood still in
the box, having a full view of the four other occupants. Then came the
advice: "Be calm!" and with the calmest deliberation and force of will
I brought all my senses to their greatest activity and walked forward
to my duty.

Major Rathbone had bravely fought the assassin; his arm had been
severely wounded and was bleeding. He came to me holding his wounded
arm in the hand of the other, beseeching me to attend to his wound.