many people, cheerful,
with perfumes, music of violins and flutes--and over all, and saturating
all, that vast, vague wonder, Victory, the Nation's victory, the triumph
of the Union, filling the air, the thought, the sense, with exhilaration
more than all perfumes." As the President entered he was greeted with
tremendous cheers, to which he responded with genial courtesy. The box
reserved for him, at the right of the stage, a little above the floor,
was draped and festooned with flags. As the party were seated, the
daughter of Senator Harris of New York occupied the corner nearest the
stage; next her was Mrs. Lincoln; and behind them sat the President and
Major Rathbone, the former being nearest the door.

In his quiet chair he sate,
Pure of malice or guile,
Stainless of fear or hate;
And there played a pleasant smile
On the rough and careworn face,--
For his heart was all the while
On means of mercy and grace.

The brave old flag drooped o'er him,--
A fold in the hard hand lay;
He looked perchance on the play,--
But the scene was a shadow before him,
For his thoughts were far away.

It was half-past ten o'clock, and the audience was absorbed in the
progress of the play, when suddenly a pistol shot, loud and sharp, rang
through the theatre. All eyes were instantly directed toward the
President's box, whence the report proceeded. A moment later, the figure
of a man, holding a smoking pistol in one hand and a dagger in the
other, appeared at the front of the President's box, and sprang to the
stage, some eight or ten feet below, shouting as he did so, "_Sic semper
tyrannis!_" He fell as he struck the stage; but quickly recovering
himself, sprang through the side-wings and escaped from the theatre by a
rear door.

At the moment of the assassination a single actor, Mr. Hawk, was on the
stage. In his account of the tragical event he says: "When I heard the
shot fired, I turned, looked up at the President's box, heard the man
exclaim, '_Sic semper tyrannis_!' saw him jump from the box, seize the
flag on the staff, and drop to the stage. He slipped when he struck the
stage, but got upon his feet in a moment, brandished a large knife,
crying, 'The South shall be free,' turned his face in the direction
where I stood, and I recognized him as John Wilkes Booth. He ran towards
me, and I, seeing the knife, thought I was the one he was after, and ran
off the stage