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JNCOLN ROOM 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
 MEMORIAL 
 
 the Class of 1901 
 
 founded by 
 
 HARLAN HOYT HORNER 
 
 and 
 
 HENRIETTA CALHOUN HORNER 
 
Thomas A. Jones 
 
J. Wilkes Booth 
 
 An Account of His Sojourn in Southern 
 
 Maryland after the Assassination of 
 
 Abraham Lincoln, his Passage 
 
 Across the Potomac, and 
 
 his Death in Virginia 
 
 Thomas A. Jones 
 
 The only living man who can tell the story 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 Copyright, 1893, by J. B. MATTINGLY 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS 
 
 1893 
 
PDRT TOBACCO 
 
 During the eighteenth century the village of 
 Port Tobacco was the county seat and the business 
 and social center of Charles County, in Southern 
 Maryland. Nearby were the estates of such famous 
 patriots as John Hanson, first President under the 
 Articles of Confederation, Dr. Gustavus Brown, 
 personal physician to George Washington, Daniel 
 of St. Thomas Jenifer, signer of the Constitution, 
 Thomas Stone, signer of the Declaration, and Dr. 
 James Craik, Surgeon General of the Revolutionary 
 Army. Washington was a frequent visitor, the town 
 being on the shortest route from Mt. Vernon to 
 Walkefield and Williamsburg. 
 
 During the Civil War, the residents of Port To- 
 bacco were in sympathy with the South. Toward the 
 end of the war there was a well-formulated plot, 
 headed by John Wilkes Booth, to kidnap President 
 Lincoln and spirit him across the Potomac, using 
 boats hidden by Port Tobacco residents in a r.earby 
 creek. Thomas A. Jones, the author of this book, 
 tells in his own words the gripping story of his part 
 in Booth's escape through Charles County. 
 
 In the early nineties when the little volume first 
 made its appearance, the Court House at Port To- 
 bacco was burned to the ground by incendiaries 
 during a bitter political feud. With few exceptions, 
 the town's early buildings disappeared after a new 
 Court House was erected in La Plata, several miles 
 distant. 
 
 The Society for the Restoration of Port Tobacco, 
 Inc. is a non-profit organization dedicated to the 
 reconstruction of so much of this pioneer colonial 
 village as is practicable. In the interest of Charles 
 County history, this book has been beautifully re- 
 produced by the Society sixty-two years after the 
 original, now a rare book, was published. All rev- 
 enues derived from its sale are applied to the 
 Society's building fund. 
 

 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Introductory 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 My Connection With the Confederate 
 
 Mail 23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The Abduction Plot and Assassination 39 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Booth is Placed in my Charge 65 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 I am Offered $100,000.00 to betray 
 
 Booth by Captain Williams 83 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 I Conduct Booth to the Potomac 98 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 My Arrest and Imprisonment 116 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 In writing this little book, it is my intention 
 to tell the reader of the part I performed in 
 the great war between the States, and my con- 
 nection with the flight of the criminal whose 
 deed closed the bloodiest chapter in our coun- 
 try's history. 
 
 No act ever committed has called forth such 
 universal execration as the murder of that great 
 and good man, Abraham Lincoln. 
 
 To-day I speak of the murdered President 
 as "great and good;" thirty years ago I regard- 
 ed him only as the enemy of my country. 
 But now that the waves of passion stirred up 
 
8 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 by the storm of war have all subsided and 
 passed away forever, and I can form my opin- 
 ions in the light of reason instead of the blind- 
 ness of prejudice, I believe that Lincoln's name 
 justly belongs among the first upon the death- 
 less role of fame. I can now realize how truly 
 he was beloved by the North, and what a cruel 
 shock his death, coming when and as it did, 
 must have been to the millions who held his 
 name in reverence. And with that realization 
 comes the wonder that the revenge taken for 
 his murder stopped when it did. 
 
 I was born near Port Tobacco, Maryland, 
 on October 2, 1820. Port Tobacco, the old 
 courthouse village of Charles County, is situated 
 at the head of Port Tobacco Creek, an inlet 
 of the Potomac, that makes up to near the 
 center of the county. 
 
 For forty years my life glided on as unevent- 
 fully as the lives of other farmers in Southern 
 Maryland. I was married and had a large 
 family. Born poor, by my habits of economy 
 
Abraham Lincoln 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH II 
 
 and industry I had worked my way up until I 
 was in comfortable circumstances, and a com- 
 petence was within my reach. But the war 
 came on and I, like many of my neighbors, 
 sacrificed my interest to the cause I believed 
 to be just, and in the end shared in the gen- 
 eral financial wreck of the South. 
 
 In 1861 I was living in my native county, on 
 a farm of about five hundred acres which I had 
 purchased a few years before. This farm was 
 bounded on the west by the Potomac River, 
 and on the north by Pope's Creek. My small, 
 one-story frame house was built upon a bluff 
 about eighty feet high. I could stand in my 
 back yard and look up the river until my view 
 was cut off by Maryland Point, seven or- eight 
 miles distant; while down the river I could see 
 the water almost as far as the eye could reach. 
 
 My nearest neighbor was Major Roderick G. 
 Watson. His land bounded mine on the south. 
 He had a large, two-story high frame house, 
 situated on a bluff at least one hundred feet 
 above the water's level. 
 
12 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 Pope's Creek, about sixty miles from Wash 
 ington by water, though not more than forty 
 by land, is a small stream emptying into the 
 Potomac. It is nowhere more than forty or 
 fifty feet wide; and is bordered on both sides 
 by an extensive marsh. Between this marsh 
 and the river there is a strip of land, about 
 sixty feet wide, which forms a natural causeway 
 between the two bluffs separated by the marsh. 
 The public road approached the steamboat 
 landing, then at this point, from two opposite 
 directions. The boldness of the water and 
 comparative narrowness of the river at Pope's 
 Creek, together with its accessibility, made it 
 a much used point of departure for those wish- 
 ing to cross to Virginia. Besides, nearly every 
 one in the neighborhood was known to be in 
 sympathy with the South. It was, therefore, 
 when the war had put an end to intercourse 
 at Washington and above it with Virginia, that 
 hundreds of people came to the neighborhood 
 of Pope's Creek to get put across the river. 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 13 
 
 I entered with zeal into the Confederate 
 cause. Scarcely a night passed that I did not 
 take or send some one to Virginia. I have 
 frequently crossed the river — which is not 
 more than two miles wide from Pope's Creek 
 — twice in a night, and sometimes oftener. 
 
 When it became known that a body of troops, 
 under the command of General Sickles, was 
 coming to Southern Maryland for the purpose 
 of breaking up the contraband trade that had 
 grown to such proportions as to have become 
 a serious annoyance to the United States Gov- 
 ernment, there was a rush for Virginia by 
 those on this side who had offended against the 
 Government. 
 
 It was while this rush was going on that I 
 left Pope's Creek one stormy evening about 
 seven o'clock, with a boat load of ten or twelve 
 men and women, bound for Virginia. I had 
 in the boat two stout oarsmen, one of whom 
 was a negro belonging to me named Henry 
 Woodland — a man always faithful and true to 
 
14 J- WILKES BOOTH 
 
 me. I have not to-day a stauncher friend than 
 old Henry. 
 
 Soon after leaving the creek the wind began 
 to increase, and by the time we had got about 
 one-third of the way across, it was blowing 
 such a gale that I not only saw it would be 
 impossible to proceed, but became considera- 
 bly alarmed for our safety. Fortunately my 
 passengers were ignorant of their danger and 
 kept quiet. I watched for my opportunity, 
 and just as the boat rose on a swell, gave the 
 necessary command to the oarsmen and brought 
 it safely around and put back to the Maryland 
 shore. I took the interrupted travelers up to 
 my house. On reaching there I learned that 
 another party of four or five had been there 
 during my absence looking for some one to 
 put them across, and, finding I was not at 
 home, had gone up to Major Watson's. 
 
 There were three schooners that had an- 
 chored in the cove opposite my house that 
 evening, and I determined the best thing to 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 1 5 
 
 be done under the circumstances was to cap- 
 ture one of them and use it in transferring the 
 whole party across the river. 
 
 I walked over to Cliffton (Major Watson's) 
 and explained to the party assembled there 
 what I thought of doing, and asked which of 
 the young men present would go with me and 
 assist in making the capture. Several of them 
 readily agreed to do so, and we set out for the 
 creek. When we reached there we found an- 
 other crowd, of a dozen or more, eager to get 
 to Virginia. My party being joined by several 
 volunteers, we got the rowboat out of the 
 creek and boarded one of the vessels. The 
 captain proved to be a timid man, and begged 
 us not to force him to do what would be sure 
 to get him into trouble with the Government. 
 I told him I would see the captain of one of 
 the other vessels, but if I did not succeed in 
 making satisfactory arrangements, we would 
 return and compel him to put us over. 
 
 The captain of the next vessel we boarded 
 
f6 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 was a man of altogether a different stamp. 
 I think he would have "shown fight" had we 
 not out-numbered his crew. After disputing 
 the matter with us for a while and finding that 
 we were positive, he gave in, remarking that 
 if a man had to do a thing there was no use 
 talking about it. We got the rest of our party 
 aboard and made sail for the Virginia shore. 
 
 That was an unlucky night. No sooner were 
 we well under way than the wind; that had 
 been blowing such a gale that a small boat 
 could not cross, died out, and it was sunrise 
 before we succeeded in reaching the other side. 
 Before landing we made up a purse for the 
 captain, which he received with better grace 
 than he had submitted to our coercion. 
 
 Among the many men whom I put over the 
 river in those early days of the war was one 
 Captain Emack. 
 
 Emack, while in Maryland on a recruiting 
 expedition, was captured by a detachment of 
 Union soldiers. The men who were taking 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH ig 
 
 him to Washington stopped for a while at a 
 small village in Prince George's County, called 
 T. B. Emack was left on the porch in charge 
 of one of the soldiers; while the others en- 
 tered the house. As soon as he found himself 
 with only one man to guard him he determined 
 to attempt his escape. He placed his hand, 
 apparently, in his breast-pocket, and called 
 the soldier as if he had something he wanted 
 to show him. The unsuspecting soldier care- 
 lessly approached, but no sooner was he with- 
 in striking distance than Emack drew a knife 
 he had had concealed about his person and 
 plunged it into him. The soldier fell and 
 Emack ran for his life. Late that evening, 
 foot-sore and weary, he arrived at the house 
 of a gentleman, near Bryantown, who, he knew, 
 was a warm sympathizer with the Confederacy. 
 The gentleman of the house was absent, but 
 the lady was at home, and to her Emack re- 
 lated his story, and appealed for aid. She 
 took him in and ministered to his wants, and 
 
20 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 after he had rested sent him on his journey 
 in company with, some other gentlemen who 
 had stopped on their way to Virginia. 
 
 In September, '6i, soon after the incidents 
 just related, on returning home from one of 
 my trips to Richmond, I was arrested and sent 
 a prisoner to Washington. I was at first con- 
 fined in a temporary prison which had been 
 established on the corner of Fourteenth Street 
 and Pennsylvania Avenue, but was soon re- 
 moved to the old Capitol, and kept there six 
 months. 
 
 During my imprisonment I made the ac- 
 quaintance of several prominent and very in- 
 teresting ladies and gentlemen who were fel- 
 low prisoners with me. Among them was Mrs. 
 Greenhowe, of Washington, a widow lady, 
 young and exceedingly handsome. She was 
 tall and symmetrical in figure, with fine black 
 eyes and dark hair. Her little daughter, Rosie, 
 an attractive child about twelve years of age, 
 was with her in the prison. After her release, 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 21 
 
 Mrs. Greenhowe was sent by the Confederate 
 Government to England on some diplomatic 
 mission, and on her return was drowned in the 
 surf while attempting to land on the coast of 
 North Carolina. Her daughter, who was with 
 her, was saved. 
 
 I also met with two other widow ladies, 
 agents in the Confederate service. One of them 
 was a Mrs. Backsley, of Baltimore, an enthusi- 
 astic secessionist. I had visited her once, at 
 her home in Baltimore, since the war. The 
 other was Mrs. Morris, of Alexandria, Vir- 
 ginia. 
 
 Among the gentlemen of note who were in 
 the Old Capitol with me were the Hon. Ben- 
 jamin G. Harris, of St. Mary.'s County, ex* 
 member of Congress from the 5th district of 
 Maryland, and Captain George Thomas, of 
 Alexandria, Virginia, a Confederate officer. 
 
 My old friend and neighbor, Mr. George 
 Dent, and his son, were also fellow-prisoners 
 with me. 
 
22 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 I was released from the Old Capitol in 
 March, 1862, by the general jail delivery or- 
 dered by congress at that time. 
 
 During my imprisonment, my old and es- 
 teemed friend, Major Watson, died. And soon 
 after my return home my dear wife, whose 
 health had been broken through care during 
 my absence, was also taken from me. A be- 
 reaved and saddened man, I resumed my occu- 
 pation of farming and fishing. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 MY CONNECTION WITH THE CONFEDERATE MAIL. 
 
 A short time prior to my arrest, among the 
 many who came to my house to get put across 
 the river was Major William Norris, of Balti- 
 more County, Maryland, chief of the Confed- 
 erate signal service. 
 
 He spent a night at my house> and in the 
 morning walked out with me on the bluff that 
 overlooks the river He was struck with the 
 extensive water-view from that point, and re- 
 marked to me: "What a place this would be 
 for a signal station!" 
 
 Soon after my release from prison, Ben 
 Grimes, of King George County, Virginia, 
 whose house was just opposite mine, was sent 
 to me, by Major Norris, to see if he could 
 
24 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 make arrangement's with me to assist in carry- 
 ing the Confederate mail from the United 
 States and Canada to Richmond. At first I 
 refused. I told Grimes that my duty to my 
 children would not permit me to take the risk 
 of imprisonment that such operations would 
 involve. Grimes then represented to me that 
 Major Norris had said that it was of the ut- 
 most importance to the Confederacy that it 
 should have communication with points north 
 of the Potomac, and that nowhere on the river 
 was there a better location for a signal station 
 than the bluffs near Pope's Creeek, or a more 
 suitable place for putting the mail across the 
 river than off my shore. 
 
 After thinking the matter carefully over I 
 agreed that, if I was given the entire control 
 of the ferry and all the agents in Maryland, 
 and also allowed a voice in the management 
 on the other side of the river, I would under- 
 take the work. 
 
 Grimes informed Major Norris of what I had 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 2$ 
 
 said, and the Major then held an interview 
 with me. He seemed to think that I possessed 
 the requisite qualifications for the work in 
 hand and readily agreed to the proposition I 
 had made to him through Grimes 
 
 It required great caution and unrelaxing 
 vigilance to successfully carry on the opera- 
 tions in which I was now engaged. The river 
 was filled with gunboats plying up and down, 
 day and night. An armed patrol guarded the 
 shore and the Federal Government had a spy 
 upon nearly every river farm in Southern Mary- 
 land. There was a detachment' of troops sta- 
 tioned at Pope's Creek, and another on Major 
 Watson's place — not three hundred yards from 
 my house. Captain Groff was in command of 
 these troops, and had his headquarters at Led- 
 low's Ferry, the next place below Major Wat- 
 son's. Captain Groff was succeeded in com- 
 mand of these men by Captains Boyle and Wat- 
 kins. 
 
 The signal camp on the Virginia side was 
 
26 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 established in the low, swampy grounds back 
 of Grimes'. It was under the command of 
 Lieutenant Charles Cay wood. The boats used 
 in the mail service were kept on the Virginia 
 side. 
 
 I had noticed that a little before sunset the 
 reflection of the high bluffs near Pope's Creek 
 extended out into the Potomac till it nearly 
 met the shadow cast by the Virginia woods, 
 and therefore, at that time of evening it was 
 very difficult to observe as small an object 
 floating on the river as a rowboat. The pick- 
 ets did not go on duty until after sunset. It 
 was therefore arranged that if the coast was 
 clear the boat from Grimes' should come 
 across just before sunset, deposit the packets 
 from Richmond in the fork of a dead tree ly- 
 ing on my shore, and take back the packet 
 from the North found there. Unless for some 
 especial reason, I would not be on the beach 
 when the boat arrived. 
 
 If it was not safe for the boat to cross, a 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 27 
 
 black signal was hung in a certain one of the 
 high dormer-windows of Major Watson's house. 
 The person who attended to this signal was 
 Miss Mary Watson. 
 
 Miss Watson was a remarkably pretty young 
 lady, twenty-three or twenty-four years of age. 
 She had a mass of black hair, dark eyes shaded 
 by long lashes that made them appear even 
 darker, and heavy black brows. Her carriage 
 was erect, and figure slender, which made her 
 appear a little above the average height. 
 
 She loved the Confederacy with an ardor so 
 intense that I believe, for its sake, she would 
 have made almost any sacrifice. I know that 
 I owe, in a great measure, the successful man- 
 agement of the Confederate mail to her cease- 
 less vigilance and untiring zeal. 
 
 About the close of the war she married a 
 Dr. Carvell, a blockade-runner, and went with 
 him to California. 
 
 I do not know whether or not she will ever 
 read these lines; but if she should, I would 
 
28 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 have her know that my old heart grows warm, 
 and my dim eyes dimmer when I think of her 
 in her youth and beauty tirelessly laboring by 
 my side in the cause we both fondly loved. 
 
 The pickets went off duty in the morning. 
 Sometime during the day I would go down to 
 the shore and get the packet left there the 
 evening before. Letters, etc., going north, were 
 addressed to the parties for whom they were 
 intended. All I would have to do with them 
 was to put them in a postoffice. I seldom 
 posted them at my nearest office, which was 
 Allen's Fresh, about three miles distant, for 
 fear of exciting suspicion, but would send them 
 by our trusted agents to be posted at different 
 places some distance off. 
 
 Especially important matter was never sent 
 by the mail, but was always intrusted to our 
 agents. 
 
 Stowten W. Dent, M. D., and my brother- 
 in-law, Thomas H. Harbin, were two of our 
 most active agents. 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 29 
 
 Dr. Dent, who died in 1883 at the advanced 
 age of eighty, had two sons in the Confeder- 
 ate army. His home was near Centerville, a 
 small village not far from the central part of 
 Charles County. He was a practicing physician, 
 and used to make his professional rounds on 
 horseback. In winter he invariably wore an 
 overcoat that came down below his knees, 
 provided with numerous and capacious pock- 
 ets, and high boots ; and in summer, a long 
 linen duster also well provided with pockets. 
 The number of letters and papers he could 
 conceal in his pockets and boot legs was aston- 
 ishing. Some one in the neighborhood of 
 Pope's Creek was always sick. Scarcely a day 
 passed that some member of the Watson family 
 or mine did not need Dr. Dent. He came and 
 went unquestioned and unsuspected. He 
 would take the mail as far as Port Tobacco, 
 ten miles from my home; or Bryantown, a 
 village in the eastern part of the county about 
 fifteen miles from Pope's Creek; or even as 
 
30 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 far as Charlotte Hall in St. Mary's County, 
 fully twenty miles off, and then transfer it to 
 some other agent who would convey it further 
 on toward its destination. 
 
 The doctor had a son named Warren, a mere 
 lad of about ten years of age, who, child though 
 he was, was as energetic, discreet and intel- 
 ligent as any agent in the Confederate service. 
 The most important matter was often intrusted 
 to his care, and always safely intrusted. 
 
 A Canadian by the name of Williams, an- 
 other Confederate agent, was frequently in the 
 neighborhood of Pope's Creek, waiting to see 
 some man who never came. He would take 
 the mail for Canada clear through. 
 
 Mail matter going South when it came by 
 the United States mail-route, was always ad- 
 dressed to me. I would get the Northern news- 
 papers into Richmond within twenty-four hours 
 after their publication. But a much larger 
 portion of the mail going South came to me 
 through the hands of our agents. 
 
J, WILKES BOOTH 31 
 
 Quite a prominent gentleman of Prince 
 George's County, Maryland, was very active 
 as a Confederate mail-agent. He turned his 
 attention to gardening, and, as he lived but a 
 short distance from Washington City, would 
 drive his wagon into town and get a load of 
 manure, in which he would hide the matter 
 destined for the South, and bring it safely 
 out. 
 
 Every packet, going north or south, was 
 conveyed to and from the boat in my own 
 hands. I trusted no one that it was not ab- 
 solutely necessary to trust. The result was 
 that not in a single instance was I betrayed. 
 
 Sometimes I would give some mail-matter 
 to Miss Watson to be taken care of until it 
 could be forwarded, but generally I kept it 
 myself in a small, dark closet up stairs in my 
 house. This closet had a door just large enough 
 to admit a man's head and shoulders. It was 
 necessary to stoop down to see into it and with 
 your head in the door you would have to turn 
 
32 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 over on your back to be able to see directly 
 over your head; and right there was where I 
 hid the Confederate mail. And though the 
 house was frequently searched while the mail 
 was in it, nothing was ever discovered. 
 
 The United States Government knew, of 
 course, that communication was going on be- 
 tween the South and North of the Potomac; 
 and it exhausted its ingenuity in vain in try- 
 ing to discover how it was managed. This 
 failure to discover our method gave rise to 
 some far-fetched conjectures as to how we man- 
 aged, despite the vigilance of the Federal Gov- 
 ernment, to escape detection. One idea ad- 
 vanced was that by some ingenious contrivance 
 the mail was drawn from one side of the river 
 to the other, under the water. 
 
 From the time I accepted the position of 
 chief signal agent north of the Potomac, which 
 was in the spring of '62, tilt the close of the 
 war, there was scarcely an evening that the 
 boat did not make its trip across the river; 
 and not one letter or paper was ever lost. 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 33 
 
 The only thing that miscarried the three 
 years of my service was some baggage belong- 
 ing to Mrs. William N. Norris. It should 
 never have been attempted to send this bag- 
 gage by our mail-route. It was contrary to 
 my instructions that anything not strictly mail- 
 matter, should ever be sent by our agents. 
 
 Mrs. Norris, who was living in Baltimore, 
 wanted to join her husband in Richmond. So 
 Lieutenant Carey was sent over to Pope's 
 Creek one evening in our mail boat to take 
 her across the river. The cart containing her 
 baggage was, for some reason, late in reaching 
 the landing and it was determined that instead 
 of waiting for it, which would have been risky, 
 Lieutenant Carey should take Mrs. Norris 
 across and return next evening for her baggage. 
 The next evening, just as the boat touched 
 the shore at its usual time, the vehicle bringing 
 the baggage was seen coming down the hill to 
 the landing. But, near at hand as it was, 
 Fate had decreed that Mrs. Norris' effects 
 
34 J» WILKES BOOTH 
 
 should never cross the river. A gunboat, 
 which none of us had observed through the 
 gloom of evening, ran into the cove a little 
 below our landing and sent out a small boat 
 to patrol along the shore. Just as the cart 
 bringing the baggage was nearing us, I heard 
 the dash of oars and caught a glimpse of the 
 approaching boat. "Take care of yourselves 
 boys," I cried, and ran for my horse that was 
 tied a short distance down the beach. The 
 two men who were with Carey were well ac- 
 quainted with the country around, and made 
 their escape without trouble. But Carey, who 
 had never been at Pope's Creek before, ran the 
 wrong way and got into the marsh. Our boat 
 and the baggage were captured but we saved 
 the mail. 
 
 Late that evening I was disturbed by a knock 
 at my door and on going out found it was 
 Carey who had aroused me. He had escaped 
 capture but at the expense of getting into one 
 of the muskrat-leads with which the marsh 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 35 
 
 was honeycombed. He presented a woeful ap- 
 pearance, being literally covered with black 
 marsh-mud. I was sorry for him but could do 
 nothing toward getting him across the river 
 that night, as the gunboat was still in the 
 neighborhood, and the soldiers were on the 
 alert. I was afraid even to take him in, so I 
 pointed out a piece of pines back of my barn 
 where he could pass the night, and promised 
 to help him next day when the pickets went 
 off duty. 
 
 In passing my barn on his way to the pines 
 that night, Carey picked up a turn of straw 
 and took it along with him to serve as bedding. 
 I traced him to his hiding-place, next morning, 
 by the straws he had dropped upon his way. 
 I found his appearance by no means improved 
 by his night in the woods; and the partially 
 dried mud with which he was covered looked 
 blacker than it had seemed by candle light. 
 He had taken his wet shoes and stockings ofi 
 to warm his feet, he said, in the sunshine, and 
 
36 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 I remember well to this day how cold and red 
 his feet looked. I took care of him that day 
 and at night he got back to Virginia. 
 
 In April, 1865, I went to Richmond to col- 
 lect what was due me by the Confederate Gov- 
 ernment. I had to remain a few days and so 
 happened to be there when the Southern Army 
 evacuated the city. 
 
 When the Confederacy expired, not only 
 did I lose the two thousand and three hundred 
 dollars due me for my three years' service, but 
 also three thousand dollars that, early in the 
 war, I had invested in Confederate bonds. 
 
 About the close of the war I sold my place 
 at Pope's Creek and removed with my family 
 to a farm called Huckleberry, about two mlies 
 north of my former residence. Huckleberry 
 house is situated about one hundred yards 
 back from the public road and one mile from 
 the Potomac river. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE ABDUCTION PLOT AND ASSASSINATION. 
 
 Sometime in December, 1864, I heard that 
 there was "a big scheme" afoot to abduct Pres- 
 ident Lincoln and take him a prisoner to 
 Washington. 
 
 Briefly stated, the plan was this: The Pres- 
 ident, when he went for his customary evening 
 drive toward the Navy Yard, was to be seized 
 and either chloroformed or gagged, and driven 
 quietly out of the city. If in crossing the 
 Navy Yard bridge the carriage should be 
 stopped, the captors would point to the Pres- 
 ident and drive on. The carriage was to be 
 escorted out of the city by men dressed in 
 Federal uniform. Relays of fast horses were 
 in readiness all along the route, and a boat in 
 
40 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 which to take the captive across the Potomac 
 was kept on the west side of Port Tobacco 
 Creek, about three and a half miles from the 
 town of the same name. 
 
 There was not much danger that the car- 
 riage containing the abducted President, once 
 clear of the city, would be overtaken, as it 
 would be impossible for the pursuers to obtain 
 fresh horses. The distance to be traversed to 
 reach the Potomac was only about thirty miles, 
 and with the boat and men to row it in readi- 
 ness, the river could be crossed within an 
 hour of the time it was reached. 
 
 The idea of the conspirators was that with 
 such a hostage in its power the Confederacy 
 would be able to dictate terms to the North. 
 
 Had it not been for the wretched condition 
 of the roads during the latter part of the win- 
 ter and early spring, due to the mild weather, 
 frequent rains and constant hauling over them 
 of the heavy army wagons, there is no doubt 
 but what the execution of this plan would have 
 
Mrs. Surratt's House at Washington 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 43 
 
 been attempted; and when we consider the 
 thoroughness and secrecy with which the plot- 
 ters made their arrangements, it does not seem 
 improbable that it might have been successful- 
 ly accomplished. 
 
 There were quite a number of persons in this 
 abduction conspiracy; prominent among whom 
 were the actor, John Wilkes Booth, and his 
 friend, John H. Surratt. 
 
 The house of Mrs. Surratt, — mother of John 
 H. Surratt, — in Washington City, was the fre- 
 quent rendezvous of the daring conspirators. 
 The arms and ammunition that would be need- 
 ed in carrying out the contemplated enterprise 
 were placed at Surratt's house, Surrattsville, 
 Prince George's County, Maryland, eight miles 
 south-east of Washington. 
 
 I do not think the abduction plan was ever 
 given up until Booth killed his victim instead 
 of capturing him. 
 
 It is generally believed that the assassin did 
 not determine upon the murder of the Presi- 
 
JZ_ ~ 1 ^l = ? : =^r.- : ^~=^-'== L -^*- Jf/^j-T^'*! ^ 
 
 Ford's Theatre 
 
46 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 dent until the morning of the day he com- 
 mitted the dreadful deed. Be that as it may, 
 when the evening of that fatal Good Friday ar- 
 rived, the plans for the intended quadruple 
 murder were all arranged. Payne and Atzerodt, 
 acting under Booth's instructions, were to dis- 
 patch Secretaries Seward and Stanton, while 
 Booth himself undertook to kill the President 
 and General Grant, who was expected to ac- 
 company him to Ford's theater. 
 
 After the murder was committed, Booth's 
 intention was, to make his way to the Poto- 
 mac, guided by David E. Herold, who pro- 
 fessed to be familiar with the roads through 
 Southern Maryland, and cross the river in the 
 boat that had been placed by the abduction 
 plotters at Port Tobacco Creek, months before. 
 
 I shall not attempt to give a detailed account 
 of the assassination. To do so would be but to 
 repeat what has often been told before. 
 
 The attempt upon Secretary Stanton, for some 
 reason, was not made. Payne entered Mr. 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 49 
 
 Seward's sick room and made a violent and 
 well nigh fatal attack upon him, but fortu- 
 nately did not succeed in killing him. Gen- 
 eral Grant did not go with Mr. Lincoln to 
 the theater that night and thereby escaped. 
 
 How Booth entered the box behind the Pres- 
 ident, fired the fatal shot, stabbed Major Rath- 
 bone, who attempted to interrupt him, leaped 
 from the box, and catching his spur in the 
 drapery, fell, and fractured his leg; sprang 
 upon the stage and waving his bloody knife, 
 exclaimed, "Sit semper tyrannls, " and then sped 
 away through the darkness — has become his- 
 tory, and I need not dwell over it. 
 
 The dying President was removed from the 
 theater to that house on ioth Street, which 
 since that memorable night has become an ob- 
 ject of national interest. He lingered in an 
 unconscious condition for several hours and 
 then — Secretary Stanton's voice broke silence: 
 "And now he belongs to the ages." 
 
 Booth made his escape from the rear of the 
 
50 J- WILKES BOOTH 
 
 theater immediately upon gth Street, thence to 
 Pennsylvania Avenue. When he reached the 
 avenue he rode down toward the Capitol as far 
 as nth Street, then down nth Street to the 
 Navy Yard bridge, where he was joined by 
 Herold. They crossed the bridge unchallenged 
 by the guards and took the road toward Sur- 
 rattsville. When they reached that village 
 they paused a moment to get the carbines and 
 ammunition which, as has been before stated, 
 were placed there during the arrangement of 
 the abduction plot. Having obtained these 
 articles — they were handed out to them by a 
 man named Lloyd — the fugitives continued 
 their flight. 
 
 By this time Booth's leg had become so pain- 
 ful that he abandoned the original intention 
 of taking the shorter route to the river, and 
 crossing in the boat that had been placed at 
 Port Tobacco; instead, he took the road that 
 bears farther toward the east, passed through 
 T. B., a small village about five miles from 
 
udnmr 
 
ssr^s^p^w^ 
 
 The House in which Lincoln Died 
 
J, WILKES BOOTH 55 
 
 Surrattsville, without stopping, and arrived at 
 Dr. Mudd's some time in the early morning. 
 Dr. Samuel A. Mudd lived in the northeastern 
 part of Charles County, about twenty miles 
 from Washington, and not far from the little 
 village of Bryantown. Booth knew the doctor, 
 having met him and visited at his house when 
 in the county about eighteen months before 
 the assassination. The statement he made to the 
 doctor was that his horse had fallen and hurt 
 him. Both he and Herold entered the house 
 and the doctor, assisted by his kind-hearted 
 wife, who had arisen for the purpose, proceeded 
 to examine and dress the fracture. The fugi- 
 tives remained there until the following even- 
 ing. How much they told Dr. Mudd beyond 
 the fact that they wished to cross the river to 
 Virginia, is not known. 
 
 Booth kept his bed next morning and the 
 meals that were sent up to him were returned 
 untouched. Finding he ate nothing, Mrs. Mudd 
 went up to his room and inquired if there was 
 
56 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 anything he would have. He asked if she had 
 any brandy. She told him no, but that she 
 had in the house some good whiskey and 
 offered him a glass of that, but he declined it. 
 
 While at breakfast, Herold made inquiries 
 concerning the different people in the neigh- 
 borhood and the roads to the river. »He in- 
 quired very particularly as to the location of 
 the residence of the Rev. Lemuel Wilmer, rec- 
 tor of Port Tobacco parish, a gentleman wel 
 known, far and near, as a staunch and loyal 
 Unionist. 
 
 After breakfast Herold expressed a desire 
 that he and his companion should resume their 
 journey. Dr. Mudd told him that the crippled 
 man was in no condition to travel on horseback 
 and suggested that he (Herold) should ride 
 over to a certain- neighbor's and borrow a car- 
 riage in which to take his friend on. Herold 
 acted upon this suggestion, but the gentleman 
 to whom he applied told him that as next day 
 would be Easter Sunday his family was anxious 
 

 Surratt's House at Surrattsville 
 
 =t3»^ 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 6l 
 
 to attend church, and therefore he could not 
 spare the vehicle. 
 
 While Herold was gone to look for a car- 
 riage, Doctor Mudd rode out toward Bryan- 
 town to visit some patients. On his way he 
 met his cousin, George Mudd, who told him 
 there were soldiers in Bryantown who had 
 brought the astounding news from Washington 
 that President Lincoln had been killed, and 
 that the assassin had taken the road toward 
 Southern Maryland. The doctor was much 
 disturbed by what he heard, and told his cousin 
 of the two visitors at his house. When he 
 parted with his cousin, instead of going on to 
 Bryantown he returned home. 
 
 In the meantime Herold had returned from 
 his fruitless search for a carriage and after 
 having an interview with Booth, assisted him 
 down stairs and not heeding the remonstrances 
 of Mrs. Mudd, whose feelings of hospitality 
 could ill brook that a guest unfit to travel 
 should leave her house, they mounted their 
 horses and rode away. 
 
62 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 Booth carried with him from Dr. Mudd's a 
 rude crutch which a colored man on the place 
 had hastily made for him. 
 
 The doctor doubtless felt much relieved when, 
 on reaching home, he found his dangerous vis- 
 itors had gone. 
 
 When the fugitives left Dr. Mudd's late that 
 Saturday evening they did not go through 
 Bryantown, but crossed Zachiah swamp higher 
 up They lost their way in the swamp and 
 rode back and forth, as the tracks of their 
 horses showed. It must have been while they 
 were trying to find the direct road out of the 
 swamp that they came across the negro, Os- 
 wald Swann, who guided them to Cox's. 
 
WJ K < 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BOOTH IS PLACED IN MY CHARGE. 
 
 Saturday evening, just about the time Booth 
 and Herold were setting out from Dr. Mudd's, 
 I was over at my former residence, near Pope's 
 Creek, attending to some business, when two 
 Federal soldiers rode up and asked me whose 
 boat that was down in the creek. I told them 
 it was mine. "Well," one of them replied, 
 "you had better keep an eye to it. There are 
 suspicious chaiacters somewhere in the neigh- 
 borhood who will be wanting to cross the 
 river, and if you don't look sharp you will 
 lose your boat." 
 
 "Indeed," I answered, "I will look after it. 
 
 I would not like to lose it, as it is my fishing 
 
 boat and the shad are beginning to run." 
 65 
 
66 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 The two soldiers then conversed in an un- 
 dertone with each other for a few moments 
 when the one who had first spoken turned to 
 me and said : "Have you heard the news 
 friend? " 
 
 I answered "No." 
 
 "Then I will tell you," said he. "Our Pres- 
 ident was assassinated at ten o'clock last 
 night." 
 
 "Is it possible! " I exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes," he returned, "and the men who did 
 it came this way." They then rode off and I 
 soon afterward returned home. 
 
 The next morning, which was Easter Sun- 
 day, soon after breakfast, Samuel Cox, Jr., 
 adopted son of my foster-brother, Samuel Cox, 
 came to my house, Huckleberry, and told me 
 his father wanted to see me about getting some 
 seed-corn from me. He added, in an under- 
 one, "Some strangers were at our house last 
 night." 
 
 Even had I not heard the evening before of 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 67 
 
 the assassination of Mr. Lincoln, knowing Cox 
 as I did, I would have been sure he had sent 
 for me to come to him for something of more 
 importance than to talk about the purchase 
 of seed-corn. But putting together the intelli- 
 gence I had the evening before received from 
 the two soldiers, the fact that strangers had 
 been at Cox's the previous night and that Cox 
 had now sent for me, I was convinced that he 
 wanted to see me in reference to something 
 connected, in some way, with the assassina- 
 tion. 
 
 I had my horse saddled and young Cox and 
 I rode together to Cox's home, Rich Hill, 
 about four miles to the north-east of my house. 
 Though twenty-eight years ago, I remember 
 well my ride that bright spring morning. 
 
 My companion and I spoke but little, and 
 that little upon indifferent matters. My mind 
 was too much occupied in speculating upon 
 what was to be the outcome of my approach- 
 ing interview with Cox, to allow me to entet 
 
58 J« WILKES BOOTH 
 
 into conversation unless upon the subject then 
 absorbing my attention; and my four years 
 varied experience during the war, as well as 
 my innate prudence, forbade me to talk, when 
 not absolutely necessary, upon subjects that 
 might be dangerous. Therefore, with the ex- 
 ception of a casual remark or two as to the 
 roads or the weather, wejrode on in silence. 
 
 It was a little after nine o'clock when we 
 reached Rich Hill. Cox met me at the gate 
 and we walked off a short distance to an open 
 space where there was nothing that might con- 
 ceal a listener. 
 
 I have often observed when there is a weighty 
 matter to be discussed between men, how re- 
 luctant they seem to approach it. Cox had a 
 most important disclosure to make to me; I 
 knew that he had, and yet, for some minutes, 
 we spoke of any matter rather than that which 
 had brought us together. At length he said 
 tome: "Tom, I had visitors about four o'clock 
 this morning." 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 7 1 
 
 '"Who were they, and what did they want?" 
 I asked. 
 
 "They want to get across the river," said 
 Cox, answering my last question first; and 
 then added in a whisper, "Have you heard 
 that Lincoln was killed Friday night?" 
 
 I said, "Yes, I have heard it," and then 
 told him of my interview with the two sol- 
 diers the evening before. When I had finished 
 there was silence between us for a minute, 
 which was broken by Cox. 
 
 "Tom, we must get those men who were here 
 this morning across the river." 
 
 He then went on to say that about four 
 o'clock that morning he was disturbed by a 
 knocking at the door. On opening the door 
 he found a strange man standing there, while 
 waiting at the gate was another stranger on 
 horseback accompanied by a negro man of the 
 neighborhood, named Oswald Swann. He 
 went out to the man on horseback who, upon 
 being satisfied that it was Samuel Cox he ad- 
 
72 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 dressed, took him a little apart, out of hearing 
 of the negro, and told him what he had done. 
 He showed him in India ink upon his wrist 
 the initials of J. W. B. He told Cox that he 
 knew he (Cox) was a Southern sympathizer 
 who had worked for the Confederacy and that 
 he threw himself upon his mercy. He ex- 
 plained how he had broken his leg and there- 
 by been prevented from reaching the river that 
 fateful Friday night. All this Cox told me, 
 speaking almost in a whisper, standing near 
 his gate that bright Easter morn. 
 
 After he had finished his recital he said to 
 me again, "Tom, you must get him across.' 1 
 
 Reader, it will scarcely surprise you when 
 I say I was much disturbed by Cox's disclosure. 
 
 In the cause of the Confederacy I was will- 
 ing to risk my life as I had done often. But 
 the war was over. The cause which I loved 
 and for which I had labored was lost. Noth- 
 ing now could raise from the dust the trailing 
 Stars and Bars. I knew that to assist in any 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 73 
 
 way the assassin of Mr. Lincoln would be to 
 put my life in jeopardy. I knew that the 
 whole of southern Maryland would soon be 
 — nay, was even then — swarming with soldiers 
 and detectives, like bloodhounds on the trail, 
 eager to avenge the murder of their beloved 
 President and reap their reward. I hesitated 
 for a moment as I weighed these matters. 
 I was aroused by Cox's voice: 
 "Tom, can't you put these men across?" 
 "Sam," I replied, "I will see what lean do, 
 but the odds are against me. I must see these 
 men; where are they?" 
 
 He then told me that he had sent them to a 
 place in a thick piece of pine about one mile 
 to the west of his house — his overseer, Frank- 
 lin Robey, guided them to the spot, with the 
 promise that he would send some one to them; 
 and had advised them to remain perfectly 
 quiet. He agreed with them upon a signal 
 by which they might know the man who came 
 to them was from him. This signal was a 
 
74 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 peculiar whistle which I do not remember 
 now. He also provided them with sufficient 
 food for the day, and I believe, though I am 
 not sure, with a pair of blankets. 
 
 "Take care how you approach them, Tom," 
 Cox said to me as I was leaving. "They are 
 fully armed and might shoot you through 
 mistake." 
 
 I left Cox and rode toward the spot he had 
 indicated. 
 
 It was with extreme reluctance I entered 
 upon this hazardous enterprise. But I did 
 not hesitate; my word was passed. 
 
 The place where Booth and Herold were in 
 hiding was about two hundred yards south of 
 the present village of Cox Station, which is 
 five miles from Pope's Creek, the southern ter- 
 minus of the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad. 
 An Englishman, named Collis, now occupies a 
 house built upon the exact spot where I first 
 beheld the fugitives. 
 
 As I drew near the hiding place I saw a bay 
 
■a 
 
 it 
 
 IP 
 
 f.'i ■« "V. 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 77 
 
 mare, with saddle and bridle on, grazing in 
 a small open space where a clearing had been 
 made for a tobacco bed. I at first thought 
 that she belonged to some one in the neighbor- 
 hood and had got away. I caught her and 
 tied her to a tree. I then went on a little 
 further until I thought I was near the place 
 indicated by Cox. I stopped and gave the 
 whistle. Presently a young man — he looked 
 scarcely more than a boy — came cautiously 
 out of the thicket and stood before me. He 
 carried a carbine ready cocked in his hands. 
 
 "Who are you, and what do you want?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 "I come from Cox," I replied; "he told me 
 I would find you here. I am a friend; you 
 have nothing to fear from me." 
 
 He looked searchingly at me for a moment 
 and then said, "Follow me," and led the way 
 for about thirty yards into the thick under- 
 growth to where his companion was lying. 
 "This friend comes from Captain Cox", he 
 
78 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 said; and that was my introduction to John 
 Wilkes Booth. He was lying on the ground 
 with his head supported on his hand. His 
 carbine, pistols and knife were close beside 
 him. A blanket was drawn partly over him. 
 His slouch hat and crutch were lying by him. 
 He was dressed in dark — I think black- 
 clothes; and though they were travel-stained, 
 his appearance was respectable. Booth has 
 been so often described that I will not attempt 
 a description further than to say that, though 
 he was exceedingly pale and his features bore 
 the evident traces of suffering, I have seldom, 
 if ever, seen a more strikingly handsome man. 
 He wore a mustache and his beard had been 
 trimmed about two or three days before. His 
 voice was pleasant; and though he seemed to 
 be suffering intense pain from his broken leg, 
 his manner was courteous and polite. 
 
 I said that I had entered with reluctance 
 upon the dangerous task of succoring Booth. 
 But no sooner had I seen him in his helpless 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 79 
 
 and suffering condition than I gave my whole 
 mind to the problem of how to get him across 
 the river. Murderer though I 4cnew him to be, 
 his condition so enlisted my sympathy in his 
 behalf that my horror of his deed was almost 
 forgotten in my compassion for the man, and 
 I felt it my bounden duty to do all I could to 
 aid him; and I made up my mind, be the con- 
 sequences to me what they might, from that 
 time forth my every energy should be bent to 
 the accomplishment of what then seemed to 
 be the well-nigh hopeless task of getting him 
 to Virginia. 
 
 I told him that I would do what I could to 
 help him ; but for the present he must remain 
 where he was; that it would not do to stir dur- 
 ing the hue and cry then being made in the 
 neighborhood. I promised to bring him food 
 every day, and to get him across the river, if 
 possible, just as soon as it would not be sui- 
 cidal to make the attempt. 
 
 He held out his hand and thanked me. 
 
80 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 He told me, as he had told Cox, that he had 
 killed President Lincoln. He said he knew 
 the United States Government would use every 
 means in its power to secure his capture. 
 "But," he added, with a flash of determina- 
 tion lighting up his dark eye, "John Wilkes 
 Booth will never be taken alive;" and as I 
 looked at him, I believed him. 
 
 He seemed very desirous to know what the 
 world thought of his deed, and asked me to 
 bring him some newspapers. 
 
 I mentioned to Booth that I had seen a 
 horse grazing near by, and he said it belonged 
 to him. I told him and Herold that they 
 would have to get rid of their horses or they 
 would certainly betray them ; besides, it would 
 be impossible to feed them. 
 
 Before leaving, I pointed out to Herold a 
 spring about thirty or forty yards distant, 
 where he could procure water for himself and 
 companion. I advised him to be very cautious 
 in going to the spring, as there was a footpath 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 8l 
 
 running near it that was sometimes, though 
 seldom, used. Then promising to see them 
 next day and bring food and newspapers, I 
 mounted my horse and rode home. 
 
 I may as well insert here the sequel to my 
 advice concerning Booth's and Herold's horses. 
 
 During my week's attendance on the two 
 men I never once saw Herold's horse, and 
 saw Booth's only on the one occasion already 
 referred to. I had no hand in the disposition 
 of them ; and do not remember, if I ever knew, 
 the exact day that Herold removed them. 
 
 After the fugitives crossed the river, and just 
 before I was arrested, Cox told me that he 
 stood on the hill near his house arid saw Her- 
 old taking the two horses down toward Zach- 
 iah Swamp and heard the two reports of the 
 pistol that killed them. 
 
 It has been stated that Herold buried the 
 horses after he shot them. I am sure that is a 
 mistake. To have done so, he would have re- 
 quired assistance; and, besides, newly dug 
 
82 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 earth would scarcely have escaped detection 
 during the scrutinizing search made from one 
 end of Zachiah Swamp to the other. 
 
 Cox said that sometime after the horses were 
 killed he rode down to the spot where he had 
 heard the pistol discharged and searched mi- 
 nutely in every thicket or brier-clump in the 
 neighborhood, but could not discover a trace 
 of them. 
 
 In the dense growth that covers the swamp 
 there is a large area of quicksand covered 
 with water. It is my opinion that the horses 
 were led into this quick-sand and shot there, 
 and that their own weight sunk them. 
 
 Whether my opinion is correct or not, it is 
 certain that not even a bone of them has ever 
 been discovered to this day. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 I AM OFFERED $100,000 TO BETRAY BOOTH, BY 
 CAPTAIN WILLIAMS. 
 
 As I rode homeward that Sunday morning 
 after my interview with Booth and thought 
 over all that had just transpired, I realized 
 the danger of my situation and the grave re- 
 sponsibility I had assumed. 
 
 I knew that what I was then engaged in, 
 even if known, would be regarded in those 
 heated days of bitter sectional hatred by the 
 one side, as just and right; by the other as 
 darkly criminal. I felt confident that the peo- 
 ple of the South, whatever might be their pub- 
 lic expressions on the subject, would not 
 blame me whether I succeeded or failed ; while 
 in the North I would be looked upon as the 
 
 vile aider and abettor of a wretch stained with as 
 83 
 
84 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 dark a crime as the recording angel ever wrote 
 down in the eternal book of doom. 
 
 The calm and dispassionate judging people 
 of to-day, both North and South, will regard 
 what I did — if they deign to consider at all 
 the acts of so humble an individual — as de- 
 serving neither praise nor blame, but as being 
 the natural result of the times and circum- 
 stances. 
 
 There were but two boats on this side the 
 river that I knew of, and they were both mine. 
 One was the little bateau in Pope's Creek al- 
 ready referred to; the other, a somewhat larger 
 boat, also in the creek, but higher up the 
 stream, and hidden in the marsh grass. 
 
 I felt certain that the bateau which had been 
 spoken of by the two soldiers on Saturday 
 would either be watched by them or secured. 
 And why the Government employees did not 
 take possession of that boat at once has always 
 been a mystery to me. 
 
 It need not be said that Booth's only chance 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 85 
 
 for crossing the river depended upon my being 
 able to retain possession and control of one 
 of these two boats. 
 
 When I reached home from my visit to 
 Booth that Sunday, I called Henry Wood- 
 land, who had continued to live with me after 
 his emancipation, and told him to get out some 
 gill-nets next morning and to fish them regu- 
 larly every day, and after fishing always to re- 
 turn the boat to Dent's Meadow. 
 
 Dent's Meadow was then a very retired spot 
 back of Huckleberry farm, about one and a 
 half miles north of Pope's Creek, at least a 
 mile from the public road and with no dwell- 
 ing house in sight. This meadow is a narrow 
 valley opening to the river between high and 
 steep cliffs that were then heavily timbered 
 and covered with an almost impenetrable un- 
 dergrowth of laurel. A small stream flows 
 through the meadow, widening into a little 
 creek as it approaches the river. It was from 
 this spot 1 determined to make the attempt of 
 sending Booth across to Virginia. 
 
86 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 Immediately after breakfast on Monday 
 morning, I wrapped up some bread and butter 
 and ham, filled a flask with coffee, and put it 
 all in the pockets of my overcoat. I then 
 took a basket of corn on my arm as though I 
 was going to call my hogs that ran at large 
 in the woods surrounding my house, and 
 mounting my horse, set out on my dangerous 
 visit to the daring assassin. 
 
 I rode up the public road in a northerly di- 
 rection, till 1 reached a place, about a mile 
 distant from my house, where a cart-track 
 branched off toward the northeast. I turned 
 into this path and rode leisurely on till I was 
 within a hundred yards of the hiding-place. 
 I then dismounted, led my horse into a thick- 
 et and tied him, and then went forward and 
 gave the signal. 
 
 Nothing of any especial importance hap- 
 pened at this interview. Booth seemed to be 
 suffering more with his leg than on the pre- 
 vious day, and was impatient to resume his 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 89 
 
 journey so as to reach some place where he 
 could be housed and get medical attention. I 
 told him he must wait. While we were talk- 
 ing I heard the clanking of sabers and tramp- 
 ing of horses, as a body of cavalry passed down 
 the road within two hundred yards of us. We 
 listened with suspended breath until the sound 
 died away in the distance. I then said, "You 
 see, my friend, we must wait." 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "I leave it all with you." 
 
 I left him and took my way to Cox's. 
 
 I found Cox anxious to see me and learn 
 what I had done and what I intended to do. I 
 explained to him, as I had done to Booth, my 
 plans. Briefly stated, they were simply to keep 
 myself informed as to what was going on; 
 and the first night the neighborhood was clear 
 of soldiers and detectives to get my charges 
 to the river at Dent's Meadow and let them 
 cross in the boat I kept there for that purpose. 
 
 Tuesday morning, after my visit to the pine 
 thicket, I rode up to Port Tobacco. 
 
QO J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 Tuesday was then, as it is now, the day for 
 the transaction of public business in our county. 
 I was therefore likely to meet a good many 
 people in the county-town that day, and hear 
 whatever was going on. 
 
 I found the men gathered about in little 
 groups on the square, as men in villages will 
 always be found when anything of more thai* 
 usual interest is engaging public attention. 
 Upon this occasion, of course, they were dis- 
 cussing the assassination, and the probable 
 whereabouts of the assassin. The general im- 
 pression seemed to be that Booth had not 
 crossed the river. 
 
 I mingled with the people and listened till 
 I was satisfied that nothing was positively 
 known. Every expression was merely sur- 
 mise. 
 
 It was while in Port Tobacco that day I 
 made the acquaintance of Captain Williams. 
 He was standing in the bar-room of the old 
 Brawner Hotel (now St. Charles Hotel) in the 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 93 
 
 act of drinking with several gentlemen who 
 were gathered around him, when I entered. 
 Some one introduced me to him and he po- 
 litely invited me to drink with him. Just as 
 we were about to take the drink, standing with 
 our glasses in our hands, he turned to me and 
 said, "I will give one hundred thousand dol- 
 lars to any one who will give me the informa- 
 tion that will lead to Booth's capture." 
 
 I replied, "That is a large sum of money and 
 ought to get him if money can do it." 
 
 In Mr. George Alfred Townsend's article, 
 "How Wilkes Booth Crossed the Potomac," pub- 
 lished in the Century magazine of April, 1884, 
 the author comments upon this offer made in 
 my presence and partly to me, in the following 
 terms: "When we consider that the end of the 
 war had come and all the Confederate hopes 
 were blasted and every man's slave set free, 
 we may reflect upon the fidelity of this poor 
 man whose land was not his own and with 
 inevitable poverty before him perhaps for the 
 
94 J- WILKES BOOTH 
 
 rest of his days," etc. It appears from this 
 that Mr. Townsend thinks I deserve some meed 
 of praise for not being bribed to betray what 
 I considered a sacred trust. But it seems to 
 me that, had I, for money, betrayed the man 
 whose hand I had taken, whose confidence I 
 had won, and to whom I had promised succor, 
 I would have been, of all traitors, the most 
 abject and despicable. Money won by such 
 vile means would have been accursed and the 
 pale face of the man whose life I had sold, 
 would have haunted me to my grave. True, 
 the hopes of the Confederacy were like autumn 
 leaves when the blast has swept by. True, 
 the little I had accumulated through twenty 
 years of unremitting toil was irrevocably lost. 
 But, thank God, there was something I still 
 possessed — something I still could call my own, 
 and its name was Honor. 
 
 In 1889, soon after I was dismissed from 
 the humble position I had held under the Fed- 
 eral Government in the Navy Yard at Wash- 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 95 
 
 ington, I met, for the first time since those 
 memorable and eventful days of which I have 
 been writing, Captain Williams. He was then 
 a detective in Washington City. In the in- 
 terview I then had with him (a not very ac- 
 curate account of which was published in the 
 newspapers at the time) Captain Williams 
 told me that that day in Port Tobacco he very 
 strongly suspected I knew more than I was 
 willing to tell. But there was certainly noth- 
 ing in his manner from which I could have in- 
 ferred that he was any more suspicious of me 
 than he was of any one else in southern Mary- 
 land. 
 
 But to return to my story. 
 
 Wednesday and Thursday passed unevent- 
 fully away. The neighborhood was filled with 
 cavalrymen and detectives. They visited my 
 house several times during that week (as they 
 did every house in southern Maryland) and 
 upon one occasion searched it. They also in- 
 terviewed my colored man, Henry Woodland, 
 
96 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 and threatened him with dire penalties if he 
 did not tell all he knew. Henry did not know 
 anything because I had told him nothing. • I 
 took no one into my confidence. But he could 
 not but suspect that something unusual was 
 going on. But I was not uneasy on that score, 
 as I had thorough reliance in his fidelity to 
 myself, and his discretion. 
 
 As the days rolled away, Booth's impatience 
 to cross the river became almost insufferable. 
 His leg, from neglect and exposure, had be- 
 come terribly swollen and inflamed, and the 
 pain he had to bear was excruciating. To add 
 to his further discomfiture — if that was possi- 
 ble — a cold, cloudy, damp spell of weather, 
 such as we often have in spring, set in and 
 continued throughout the week. Fortunately, 
 though, there was no rain. Trying as was the 
 situation, it had to be endured. The time to 
 move had not yet arrived. So through six 
 long, wearisome days, and five dark and restless 
 nights, Booth lay there in hiding. The only 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 97 
 
 breaks in the monotony of that week were my 
 daily visits, and the food and newspapers I 
 carried him. He never tired of the news- 
 papers. And there — surrounded by the sighing 
 pines, he read the world's just condemnation 
 of his deed and the price that was offered for 
 his life. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 I CONDUCT BOOTH TO THE POTOMAC. 
 
 On Friday evening, one week after the as- 
 sassination, I rode down to Allen's Fresh. I 
 think I had been there every day Booth had 
 been under my care, except the Tuesday I 
 went to Port Tobacco. 
 
 Allen's Fresh, about three miles east of my 
 house, was and still is, a small village situated 
 where Zachiah Swamp ends and the Wicomico 
 River begins. 
 
 I had not been long in the village when a 
 body of cavalry, guided by a man from St. 
 Mary's County named John R. Walton, rode 
 in and dismounted. Some of the soldiers en- 
 tered Colton's store, where I was sitting, and 
 
 called for something to drink. Soon afterward 
 98 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 99 
 
 Walton came in and exclaimed, "Boys, I have 
 news that they have been seen in St. Mary's,- 
 whereupon they all hastily remounted their 
 horses and galloped off across the bridge in 
 the direction of St. Mary's County. 
 
 I was confident there were no other soldiers 
 in the neighborhood. 
 
 "Now or never," I thought, "is my chance." 
 
 I waited a few minutes so as not to excite 
 suspicion by leaving immediately after the 
 soldiers, then mounted my horse and rode 
 slowly out of the village. 
 
 Reader, that evening was many, many years 
 ago. I was then (almost) a young man. 
 Heavy-handed Time has since obliterated from 
 my features every vestige of you'ch, but has 
 failed to efface one line which the next few 
 hours wrote upon my memory's tablet. 
 
 I left Allen's Fresh about the dusk of even- 
 ing. It had been cloudy and misty all day, 
 and as night came darkly on, the clouds seemed 
 to grow denser and the dampness more intense. 
 
IOO J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 A gray fog, rising from the marsh below the 
 village and floating up the swamp, wrapped 
 in shrouds the trees whose motionless forms 
 were growing dim in the gathering gloom. 
 
 It is strange that when we have passed 
 through moments of such anxiety and mental 
 strain, all things external to the one ab- 
 sorbing subject seemingly make not the slight- 
 est impression upon the mind, yet, even years 
 afterward, when thought travels back to the 
 past, we find that every incident and circum- 
 stance, no matter how trivial, connected with 
 those moments, has left its impress upon the 
 memory. 
 
 As soon as I was well out of the village I put 
 whip to my horse and rode rapidly toward the 
 spot where the man who was that night to test 
 his fate was lying. 
 
 It was dark by the time I reached the place. 
 I had never before visited the fugitives at 
 night; I therefore approached with more than 
 usual caution and gave the signal. Herold 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH IOI 
 
 answered me and led the way to Booth. I in- 
 formed them of what had just occurred at 
 Allen's Fresh. 
 
 "The coast seems to be clear," I said, "and 
 the darkness favors us. Let us make the at- 
 tempt." 
 
 I then told them the safest way to proceed 
 was for Booth to ride my horse and Herold to 
 walk beside him, while I would precede them 
 by fifty or sixty yards. When I came to a 
 convenient place, I would pause and listen, 
 and if the way seemed clear, would whistle. 
 As soon as I gave the signal, but not before, 
 they were to come forward till they reached 
 the place where I was waiting, then stop there 
 till I went forward again and gave the signal 
 for their advance, and thus : .c would proceed 
 2o the river. If they did not hear my signal 
 for their advance within a reasonable time 
 after I went forward, I told them to get as 
 noiselessly and as speedily as possible out of 
 the road, and wait till they heard from me. 
 
102 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 With difficulty Booth was raised by Herold 
 and myself and placed upon my horse. Every 
 movement, in spite of his stoicism, wrung a 
 groan of anguish from his lips. His arms 
 were then given to him, the blankets rolled 
 up and tied behind him on the horse, and we 
 began the perilous journey. 
 
 The route we had to take was down the cart 
 track I have before mentioned, to the public 
 road, a distance of about one mile and a half, 
 then down the public road for another mile to 
 the corner of my farm; and then through my 
 place to the river, about one mile further, mak- 
 ing the whole distance to be traveled about 
 three and a half miles. 
 
 The par^ of our journey which lay over the 
 public road was much the most dreaded by 
 me; for not only were we more liable to meet 
 some one on that part of the journey, but we 
 had also to pass two dwelling houses situated 
 close to the road; one occupied by a negro, 
 named Sam Thomas, where there were chil- 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 103 
 
 dren nearly always stirring round; the other was 
 the home of Mr. John Ware, where there were 
 several dogs. 
 
 The night had grown inky dark. No rain 
 was falling, but the dampness clung to every 
 thing and fell in drops upon us as we made 
 our way among the trees. 
 
 As we journeyed cautiously on my feelings 
 were wrought up to an intense degree of anx- 
 iety, not so much on my own account as for 
 the successful accomplishment of what I had 
 undertaken. When I paused to listen, the 
 croaking of a frog, the distant barking of a 
 dog, the whir of the wing of some nightbird 
 as it passed over my head, would cause my 
 heart to beat quicker, and my breath to come 
 faster. When I gave the low whistle agreeo 
 upon as the signal that the road was clear, it 
 sounded in my ears as loud as the blast of a 
 trumpet, and though the ground was soft and 
 yielding, the tramping of the slowly advanc- 
 ing horse, to my over-wrought fancy, was like 
 
104 J- WILKES BOOTH 
 
 the approaching of a troop. At length we 
 reached the public road and entered upon the 
 most dangerous part of our dangerous journey. 
 
 I walked softly down the road listening in- 
 tently, but could hear no sound that indicated 
 danger. I paused and gave the signal, and 
 waited breathlessly as Booth and Herold en- 
 tered the highway and came toward me. When 
 they reached me I led the horse a few yards 
 out of the road and told them to wait there. 
 I then went on past Sam Thomas'. There 
 was a light burning in the house that showed 
 dimly through the mist, but I heard no one 
 stirring. I was afraid to give the signal too 
 close to the house, so I went on a little further 
 than usual before I whistled. The house was 
 safely passed. 
 
 Again the horseman and his companion 
 waited and I went forward to the next most 
 dangerous place, Ware's house. I walked past 
 the gate and listened. Not a sound was heard. 
 I moved a few yards further down the road 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH IO5 
 
 and again gave the signal. As they came on 
 by the house I expected every minute to hear 
 the dogs bark, but they kept quiet. So far all 
 bad gone well. We were now nearing my place 
 and would soon be off the public road and I 
 began to breathe more freely. 
 
 At last, after what seemed an interminable 
 age, we reached my place. We stopped under 
 a pear tree near the stable, about forty or fifty 
 yards from my house. It was then between 
 nine and ten o'clock. "Wait here," I said, 
 "while I go in and get you some supper, which 
 you can eat here while I get something for my- 
 self." 
 
 "Oh," said Booth, "can't I go in and get 
 some of your hot coffee?" 
 
 It cut me to the heart when this poor creat- 
 ure, whose head had not been under a roof, 
 who had not tasted warm food, felt the glow 
 of a fire, or seen a cheerful light for nearly a 
 week, there in the dark, wet night at my 
 threshold, made this piteous request to be al- 
 
106 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 lowed to enter a human habitation. I felt a 
 great wave of pity for hirn, and a lump rose 
 in my throat as I answered," My friend, it 
 wouldn't do. Indeed it would not be safe. 
 There are servants in the house who would 
 be sure to see you and then we would all be 
 lost. Remember, this is your last chance to 
 get away." 
 
 To refuse that appeal, prompted by a feeling 
 I could so well understand, was the hardest 
 thing I have ever had to do. 
 
 I entered the house through the kitchen. 
 Henry Woodland was there. He had got in 
 late and was just eating his supper. I asked 
 him how many shad he had caught that even- 
 ing and he told me. I then said, "Did you 
 bring the boat to Dent's Meadow, and leave 
 it there, Henry?" 
 
 "Yes, master." 
 
 "We had better get out ar other net to-mor- 
 row," I replied. "The fish are running well." 
 
 Some members of my family were in the 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH I07 
 
 dining-room when I entered. My supper was 
 on the table waiting for me. I selected what 
 I thought was enough for the two men and car- 
 ried it out to them. None of the family seemed 
 to notice what I was doing. They knew better 
 than to question me about anything in those 
 days. 
 
 After supper we resumed our journey across 
 the open field toward the longed-for river. 
 Though there was now little danger of meet- 
 ing any one, I walked ahead, taking the same 
 precautions I had used during the more haz- 
 ardous part of tfur journey. Presently we came 
 to a fence that ran across the path, about 
 three hundred yards from the river. It was 
 difficult to take it down; so we left the horse 
 there and Herold and myself assisted Booth 
 to dismount and supporting him between us, 
 took our way carefully down the tortuous path 
 that led to the shore. 
 
 The path was steep and narrow and for three 
 men to walk down it abreast, one of them be- 
 
108 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 ing a cripple, to whom every step was torture, 
 was not the least difficult part of that night's 
 work. 
 
 But the Potomac, that longed-for goal, at 
 last was near. 
 
 It was nearly calm now, but the wind had 
 been blowing during the day and there was a 
 swell upon the river, and as we approached, 
 we could hear its sullen roar. It was a mourn- 
 ful sound coming through the darkness. The 
 most cheerful imagination could not have in- 
 terpreted it into a voice of welcome and hope. 
 
 What it meant to the ears of the criminal 
 trying to escape from the consequences of his 
 crime, and about to trust himself to the mer- 
 cies of the dark water — who can tell? If he 
 heeded it at all, he might have construed it 
 into an accusing voice upbraiding him for the 
 blood he spilt at that very hour, one week be- 
 fore, upon its banks. 
 
 As we approached nearer the end of my part 
 of the journey a thought suddenly occurred to 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 100, 
 
 me with a shock; what if the boat was gone? 
 I rapidly concluded if such a misfortune had 
 befallen us what I would do. I would hide 
 Booth and Herold in the almost impenetrable 
 laurel growth that clothed the cliff we were 
 then descending, and endeavor the next night 
 to get the other boat that was hidden in the 
 marsh around to Dent's Meadow. 
 
 At length we reached the shore and found 
 the boat where Henry had been directed by 
 me to leave it. It was a flat bottomed boat 
 about twelve feet long, of a dark lead color. 
 I had bought it in Baltimore the year before 
 for eighteen dollars. 
 
 We placed Booth in the stern with an oar 
 to steer; Herold took the bow-seat to row. 
 Then lighting a candle which I had brought 
 for the purpose — I had no lantern — and care- 
 fully shading it with an oilcloth coat belong- 
 ing to one of the men, I pointed out on the 
 compass Booth had with him the course to 
 steer. "Keep to that," I said, "and it will 
 
IIO J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 bring you into Machodoc Creek Mrs. Quesen- 
 berry lives near the mouth of this creek. If 
 you tell her you come from me I think she 
 will take care of you." 
 
 I then cautioned them to keep the light hid- 
 den and said "Good-bye." 
 
 As I was in the act of shoving the boat off 
 Booth exclaimed, "Wait a minute, old fellow." 
 He then offered me some money. I took 
 eighteen dollars, the price of the boat I knew 
 I would never see again. He wanted me to 
 take more, but I said no, what I had done was 
 not for money. In a voice choked with emo- 
 tion he said, "God bless you, my dear friend, 
 for all you have done for me. Good-bye, old 
 fellow." 
 
 I pushed the boat off and it glided out of 
 sight into the darkness. 
 
 I stood on the shore and listened till the 
 sound of the oars died away in the distance 
 and then climbed the hill and took my way 
 home. 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH III 
 
 Though I knew my danger was by no means 
 over, I felt that a tremendous load had been 
 lifted from my shoulders. I had successfully 
 accomplished what I had undertaken to do, 
 and my sleep that night was more quiet and 
 peaceful than it had been for some time. 
 
 On the whole I had been singularly fortunate 
 during my attendance on Booth. I paid seven 
 visits to him during the six days he was in 
 the pines, but never met a single person either 
 on my way there or returning home. 
 
 It is well known that Booth did not succeed 
 in crossing the river that night. The strong 
 flood-tide, against which I had forgotten to 
 caution him, swept the boat up the river, and 
 sometime during the night he and Herold 
 landed at a place near Naugemoy stores, still 
 in Maryland. They staid hidden somewhere 
 in the neighborhood during Saturday, and at 
 night succeeded in crossing to Virginia, and 
 reached Mrs Quesenberry's Sunday morning. 
 Here they were met by my brother-in-law 
 
112 h WILKES BOOTH 
 
 Thomas H. Harbin, and a man named Joseph 
 Badden of Prince George's County, Maryland, 
 who did all they could to assist them, showed 
 them a hiding place, carried them food from 
 Mrs. Quesenberry's, and finally put them in 
 charge of an old man of King George's County, 
 named Boyan, who took them next day, which 
 was Monday, on to Dr. Richard Stuart's. 
 
 The fugitives were not received at Dr. 
 Stuart's, but were sent to a barn or out-house 
 on the place. This treatment from Dr. Stuart 
 was so unexpected by Booth that when food 
 from the doctor's house was sent to him, he 
 wrote a letter to the doctor, inclosing three 
 dollars and saying that he would not accept 
 hospitality when extended to him in such a 
 manner without paying for it. 
 
 They left Dr. Stuart's place Monday even- 
 ing in a vehicle driven by a negro named 
 Lucas, and reached Port Conway on the Rap- 
 pahannock River, where they crossed over into 
 Carolina County the same evening. 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH II3 
 
 Captain Jett and Lieutenants Ruggles and 
 Bainbridge crossed the ferry from Port Con- 
 way to Port Royal at the same time Booth 
 crossed and went with him to the house of 
 Mr. Richard H. Garrett, where Booth spent 
 Monday night. Tuesday, hearing Federal 
 troops were in the neighborhood, he deemed 
 it safer to leave the house and pass the night 
 in a barn on the place. 
 
 About one o'clock that night a squad of 
 Federal soldiers, commanded by Lieutenant 
 Dougherty, came to Mr. Garrett's and de- 
 manded the man who had been staying there. 
 They were informed by young Garrett that the 
 men they were seeking were in a barn on the 
 place. The troops surrounded the building 
 and sent young Garrett in to Booth with a 
 demand for his surrender. Booth refused to 
 surrender and repeated what he had said often 
 before, that he would never be taken alive. 
 He offered to come out if the troops were with- 
 drawn for a short distance so as to give him 
 chance. 
 
114 J- WILKES BOOTH 
 
 Lieutenant Dougherty then ordered the barn 
 to be fired. This order brought Herold to 
 terms. He surrendered and came out. The 
 barn was then set on fire. Booth was seen in 
 the light of the conflagration and shot through 
 the head by Boston Corbett. He was taken 
 to Garrett's house and laid upon the porch, 
 where he died. His last words were: "Tell my 
 mother I died for my country, and what I 
 thought was best for it." 
 
 It was rumored at the time of Booth's death 
 that his body weighted with a stone slab had 
 been thrown overboard into the Potomac. I 
 remember seeing a picture in an illustrated 
 paper at the time, representing two men in 
 the act of throwing the body from the boat in- 
 to the water. 
 
 As a matter of fact Booth was buried in the 
 inclosure of the old penitentiary in Washing- 
 ton. About four years afterward, when the 
 prison was abolished and the walls pulled 
 down, his remains were given to his friends 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 115 
 
 and by them interred in that beautiful ceme- 
 tery, Greenmount, in Baltimore City. 
 
 The boat in which Booth crossed the Poto- 
 mac he gave to Mrs. Quesenberry and it was 
 taken to Washington at the time she was ar- 
 rested. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MY ARREST AND IMPRISONMENT. 
 
 The morning after I had taken Booth to the 
 river Cox came to my house to say that, as 
 there seemed to be no soldiers in the neighbor- 
 hood, he thought it a good chance to get the 
 fugitives across to Virginia. His surprise al- 
 most equaled his delight when I told him they 
 had gone. Had I waited until Saturday night 
 it would have been one day too late, as before 
 evening the neighborhood was again rilled 
 with soldiers and detectives 
 
 Sometime prior to the assassination of Lin- 
 coln a man named Carson, who was in Mary- 
 land on some secret business for the Confed- 
 eracy, came to me to get put over the river. 
 It was impossible at the time for me to put 
 
 116 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 117 
 
 him across, so I hid him in Ware's pines, a 
 short distance back of my house, until such 
 time as it would be safe to move. 
 
 He had to remain in hiding several days and, 
 thinking more of his own comfort than my 
 safety, he built a kind of swinging booth of 
 grape vines and boughs to lie in. When he 
 went away he left behind him at this place a 
 pair of socks and an old newspaper. 
 
 Some negro boys living on Ware's land hap- 
 pened to pass by this spot while Carson was 
 there and saw him. Of course they told what 
 they had seen. And when Detective Franklin 
 was searching for Booth, it got to his ears 
 that Mr. Jones had been hiding some one in 
 the pines. Franklin visited the spot and found 
 the things Carson had left there. He sent two 
 soldiers across to my house after me. These 
 soldiers told me to saddle my horse and come 
 with them. I inquired what they wanted and 
 was told I would be informed of that by De- 
 tective Franklin, who was waiting to see me. 
 
Il8 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 "Where do you want me to go? " I asked. 
 
 "Just behind the stable there, in the pines," 
 was the answer. 
 
 "Then," I replied, "it is unnecessary for me 
 to get my horse. It is a short distance and I 
 can walk." 
 
 They insisted for a while that I should get 
 my horse, but as I persistently refused they 
 finally gave up the point and allowed me to 
 walk. 
 
 When I reached the spot where Carson had 
 staid, Detective Franklin pointed to the 
 booth and asked me what it was. 
 
 "I don't know," I answered, "what you 
 would call it." 
 
 "Well, what does it look like?" he inquired. 
 
 "It looks like the kind of place the farmers 
 around here fix up to protect their hogs from 
 the weather," I replied — as indeed it did. 
 
 "And I suppose," retorted the irate detec- 
 tive, "the farmers' hogs wear socks, and read 
 newspapers. " 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 119 
 
 "Indeed!" said I. 
 
 "Look here/' said the detective, sternly, 
 "who built this place, and what was it built 
 for?" 
 
 I was somewhat exasperated by my interrog- 
 ator's manner and replied : 
 
 "It is none of my business who built it or 
 what it was built for. This is not my land 
 and I have nothing to do with it." 
 
 I was sorry next moment for my imprudence 
 in giving way to temper. 
 
 "Seize that man and search him," was the 
 detective's order, whereupon two of the sol- 
 diers caught hold of me and started to throw 
 me down and pull off my boots. 
 
 "I will save you the trouble," I said quietly 
 and seated myself. They searched me but 
 found nothing. I was then placed under ar- 
 rest and taken to Bryantown. 
 
 Realizing what would be my inevitable fate 
 should my connection with Booth's escape be- 
 come known, I did not feel altogether free 
 
120 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 from anxiety during my imprisonment. And 
 yet, I was not very uneasy, because from the 
 questions that were asked me I was sure noth- 
 ing was known against me. Besides, the very 
 evidence that pointed to the fact that some 
 one had been hiding in Ware's pines was 
 against the presumption that it was Booth, be- 
 cause the socks were such as were worn by 
 Federal soldiers, and the date of the news- 
 paper showed it had been published before the 
 assassination. About this time suspicion also 
 attached to Cox. The negro Oswald Swann, 
 who had guided Booth and Herold to his 
 house, gave information against him, and 
 swore, not only that the man with a broken leg 
 went to the house, but that he also entered it. 
 The latter charge was denied by Cox; and a 
 colored girl named Mary, one of his servants, 
 confronted Swann and swore that what he 
 said was false. 
 
 I do not know whether Booth did enter 
 Cox's house or not; I never thought to ask 
 

 4 *< £ 
 
Henry Woodland 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 121 
 
 Cox about it after all the trouble was over. 
 If he did not, there must have been a light 
 carried out for Cox to have been able to see 
 the initials J. W. B., which he told me he had 
 seen on Booth's wrist. But be the fact what 
 it may, there is no doubt but that Mary's pos- 
 itive and persistent declaration that Booth 
 -had not entered the house — unshaken by 
 threats or offered bribes — saved Cox's life when 
 it hung by a thread. 
 
 Cox and I were kept prisoners in the old 
 brick tavern at Bryantown; the same in which 
 Booth had stopped when in southern Mary- 
 land eighteen months before. 
 
 While there we were subjected to every 
 method that ingenuity could devise to make 
 us divulge something. Sometimes some of the 
 soldiers and detectives would get together un- 
 der my window and describe how I would be 
 hanged. I would look mournful but say 
 nothing. 
 
 Cox and I slept in a room together, lying on 
 
122 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 the floor, with our heads resting on our sad- 
 dles. The first night we passed there — no one 
 but ourselves being in the room except the 
 two guards stationed at the door— as soon as 
 we lay down Cox placed his lips close to my 
 ear and whispered: 
 
 "What shall I do, Tom?" 
 
 "Stick to what you have said and admit 
 nothing else," I answered. 
 
 The officer in charge at Bryantown was Col- 
 onel Wells and a rougher man I have never 
 had to deal with. 
 
 About the second day after I had been taken 
 to Bryantown, Cox was carried away, heavily 
 ironed, and placed in the old Carroll prison, 
 Washington. About one week afterward I was 
 taken to the same place. 
 
 When I was taken from Bryantown I had to 
 leave there my mare which I had ridden from 
 home. I was anxious that she should be sent 
 back, so when we stopped at T. B. on our way, 
 to get something to eat, and to rest, I asked 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 123 
 
 for a sheet of paper, saying I wished to write 
 to a friend, Dr. Dent, and ask him to send 
 my mare back to Huckleberry. Detective 
 Franklin, who had me in charge, expressed 
 his entire willingness that I should write to 
 anyone I pleased, and put himself to consider- 
 able trouble to get a sheet of paper — paper 
 happening to be a scarce article in T. B. 
 that day. Of course I understand that this 
 desire to accommodate me did not spring from 
 any kindly feeling toward myself, but was in- 
 tended to encourage me to write, in the hope 
 that I might attempt to convey some secret 
 intelligence to Dr. Dent, who was well known 
 to be a warm Southern sympathizer and a fear- 
 less man. 
 
 I may as well add here that this mare was 
 The same one Booth had ridden from the pines 
 to the river that memorable Friday night. 
 She was a flea-bitten gray, named Kit. Had 
 her complicity in the assassination been known, 
 what an object of interest she would have been. 
 
124 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 Detective Franklin had some whisky with 
 him, which he freely offered to me. I did not 
 seem to suspect his intention and would ap- 
 pear to drink. When he found he had failed 
 to get me drunk he began to curse me and 
 kept it up the rest of the way. 
 
 I was at first placed in solitary confinement 
 in the old Carroll prison. But through the 
 clemency of Col. Wm. P. Wood this lasted 
 but a few days. 
 
 Colonel Wood was a kind-hearted gentle- 
 man. He allowed me as many privileges and 
 as much liberty during my imprisonment as 
 was consistent with his duty. I remember 
 with heart-felt gratitude his kindness to me 
 during that period when friends who could 
 assist me were few indeed. 
 
 John T. Ford, the manager of the theater 
 in which Mr. Lincoln was killed; Junius Bru- 
 tus Booth, brother to John Wilkes, and his 
 brother-in-law, John S. Clark, the comedian; 
 and Dr. Richard Stuart, were all in prison 
 
J. WILKES BOOTH 125 
 
 with me, charged with complicity in the assas- 
 sination. I met these gentlemen daily. 
 
 Governors Henry A. Wise, of Virginia, 
 Vance, of North Carolina, and Brown, of 
 Georgia, and the Hon. Barnes Compton, of 
 Maryland, were also my fellow- prisoners. 
 
 There was a certain time of day when the 
 prisoners were allowed to walk in an inclosure 
 adjoining the prison. I found out when Cox 
 was in the habit of visiting this inclosure, and 
 as I was not kept a close prisoner, contrived 
 to meet him there. 
 
 He was not faring so well as I; but was still 
 kept in solitary confinement. I found him 
 low-spirited and despondent. Oswald Swann, 
 the witness against him, was still in Washing- 
 ton. 
 
 After some weeks, though, Cox was treated 
 with less rigor and we could meet sometimes 
 without much difficulty. 
 
 One day, after we had been there about four 
 weeks, Cox and myself were sitting together, 
 
126 J. WILKES BOOTH 
 
 when I happened to look ont of the window 
 and saw Swann, Rachel in hand, going toward 
 the Navy Yard bridge. 
 
 "You have nothing more to fear," I said to 
 Cox, "the only witness against you has been 
 dismissed and is going home." 
 
 About two weeks after this incident I was 
 released; and one week later Cox was also lib- 
 erated. 
 
 Readet, I have now told you the little 
 part I rilayed in the great tragic drama in 
 which the men of a nation were the actors, 
 and- the fair fields of the South the stage. 
 
 THE END. 
 
•