his seat the band at
once struck up with Dixie, that sweet, inspiring air; and when the music
died away, there were clapping of hands and other manifestations of
applause.

At 11 o'clock the last good-by was spoken, the lights were taken down,
the River Queen rounded out into the water and we were on our way back
to Washington. We arrived at the Capital at 6 o'clock on Sunday evening,
where the party separated, each going to his and her own home. This was
one of the most delightful trips of my life, and I always revert to it
with feelings of genuine pleasure.

CHAPTER XI

THE ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN

I had never heard Mr. Lincoln make a public speech, and, knowing the man
so well, was very anxious to hear him. On the morning of the Tuesday
after our return from City Point, Mrs. Lincoln came to my apartments,
and before she drove away I asked permission to come to the White House
that night and hear Mr. Lincoln speak.

"Certainly, Lizabeth; if you take any interest in political speeches,
come and listen in welcome."

"Thank you, Mrs. Lincoln. May I trespass further on your kindness by
asking permission to bring a friend with me?"

"Yes, bring your friend also. By the way, come in time to dress me
before the speaking commences."

"I will be in time. You may rely upon that. Good morning," I added, as
she swept from my room, and, passing out into the street, entered her
carriage and drove away.

About 7 o'clock that evening I entered the White House. As I went
up-stairs I glanced into Mr. Lincoln's room through the half-open door,
and seated by a desk was the President, looking over his notes and
muttering to himself. His face was thoughtful, his manner abstracted,
and I knew, as I paused a moment to watch him, that he was rehearsing
the part that he was to play in the great drama soon to commence.

Proceeding to Mrs. Lincoln's apartment, I worked with busy fingers, and
in a short time her toilette was completed.

Great crowds began to gather in front of the White House, and loud calls
were made for the President. The band stopped playing, and as he
advanced to the centre window over the door to make his address, I
looked out, and never saw such a mass of heads before. It was like a
black, gently swelling sea. The swaying motion of the crowd, in the dim
uncertain light, was like the rising and falling of billows--like the
ebb and flow of the tide upon the stranded shore of the ocean. Close t