kill so good a man in such a public place, and the belief made me
careless. I was attracted by the play, and did not see the assassin
enter the box."

"But you should have seen him. You had no business to be careless. I
shall always believe that you are guilty. Hush! I shan't hear another
word," she exclaimed, as the messenger essayed to reply. "Go now and
keep your watch," she added, with an imperious wave of her hand. With
mechanical step and white face the messenger left the room, and Mrs.
Lincoln fell back on her pillow, covered her face with her hands, and
commenced sobbing.

Robert was very tender to his mother in the days of her sorrow.

He suffered deeply, as his haggard face indicated, but he was ever manly
and collected when in the presence of his mother. Mrs. Lincoln was
extremely nervous, and she refused to have anybody about her but myself.
Many ladies called, but she received none of them. Had she been less
secluded in her grief, perhaps she would have had many warmer friends
to-day than she has. But far be it from me to harshly judge the sorrow
of any one. Could the ladies who called to condole with Mrs. Lincoln,
after the death of her husband, and who were denied admittance to her
chamber, have seen how completely prostrated she was with grief, they
would have learned to speak more kindly of her. Often at night, when Tad
would hear her sobbing, he would get up, and come to her bed in his
white sleeping-clothes: "Don't cry, Mamma; I cannot sleep if you cry!
Papa was good, and he has gone to heaven. He is happy there. He is with
God and brother Willie. Don't cry, Mamma, or I will cry too."

The closing appeal always proved the most effectual, as Mrs. Lincoln
could not bear to hear her child cry.

Tad had been petted by his father, but petting could not spoil such a
manly nature as his. He seemed to realize that he was the son of a
President--to realize it in its loftiest and noblest sense. One morning,
while being dressed, he looked up at his nurse, and said: "Pa is dead.
I can hardly believe that I shall never see him again. I must learn to
take care of myself now." He looked thoughtful a moment, then added,
"Yes, Pa is dead, and I am only Tad Lincoln now, little Tad, like other
little boys. I am not a President's son now. I won't have many presents
any more. Well, I will try and be a good boy, and will hope to go some
day to Pa and brother Willie, in heaven." He was a brave, manly child,
and knew