The weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1878-1881, 1881-11-22
BOSTON CORBRTT.
The Story of the Killing OF Booth
. Retold.

Corbett belonged to the Sixteenth New
York cavalry, l think, and was a Sergeant.
After they had tracked Booth over the river
and through woods and fields for days, at
length he was discovered in a barn. Corbett
saw him in there at the moment the hay or
straw took fire. The commanding officer
commanded Booth to surrender. He was
standing, as Corbett saw him through the
cra' KS of the barn, on a pile of hay, leaning
on his crutch, pale with the loss of blood and
from excess of hatred and revenge, and John
Wilkes Booth never knew what fear was.
Corbett said he watched Booth like a hawk.
He was standing there on his cruich with a
carbine in his hand. and had his back toward
Boston Corbett. He was the i~mpersonation
of the assassin, and even there, when he de-
ermined to die, did not for a moment for
get his part in the tragedy he was acting.
The iiIe vas mounting up all around him,
and tho pallor on Booths face in the wild
light of the burning barn grew CHASTITY pale,
and he stood there leaning on his crutch,
with carbine in hand. The demand for his
surrender was repeated, and answered with
the same sullen silence of contempt, scorn
and defiance. just then the soldiers were
landing a few PAGES from each oCher all
around the barn, every man with his pistol
in his hand. Suddenly Corbett saw Booth
raise his carbine, as if he were going to shoot
some one outside, when, quick as lightning,
Corbett raised his pistol, fired at the presi-
denticide, and the next moment he was "
ing on the hay from a wound III * city the
same spot where he hit Lincoln. 1.-THE next
second Booth was dragged out, stretched on
the ground away from the burning barn-the
next, he was dead. Corbett told me that
Booth never spoke after he shot him, and
thai all this nonsense of his dying words was
mele clap-trap of sensational writers. The
moment that the officers saw Booth was dead
they inquired for the rash fellow who had
disobeyed orders; for it was their purpose TO
take him alive and have a grand state trial,
ard all that. after the manner of the great
historic English resicide trials in the time of
James IL. Boston Corbett had spoiled that
sport. All eyes turned to Corbelt, for the
soldiers on his side OF the barn pointed him
out as The guilty one, and he was placed I'M
der arrest. From that hour he never knew a
moments peace. The pistol with which he
killed Booth was stolen from him that night,
but the holster was left, and he had it at my
house. His share afthe prize was likewise
stolen from him the day he got it-every
cent Of it.
From the moment CoIbett killed Booth he
was a doomed mai. One disaster followed
another. He was treated with scorn by his
officers and neglect by the Government, and
his share ofthe reward he LOST. 1t never did
him any good liz was stopped on the road
by masked men, a pistol put TO his breast,
and he was rcquired.to dismount and surren-
der his hard.earned money the very day he
received it. He was stripped of his clothing
aid every dollar lie had. This was on his
way to Washington. Ihe officers there, wild
with rage at linn for depriving them of the
pomp and circumstance Of leading Booth in
captive alive, and parading him through q
long public trial, of which they should be
central figures, lelt like prosecuting him fur
Their, but better c~ounsels prevailed, and he
was released and permitted to retire from the
service branded and disgrared. From that
hour to thfs army officers speak Of Corbetl
Will contempt. He has tenn driven from
post to pillar. He breaches with a pistol in
his pocket. After lie says his prayers he lies
down at night with a loaded revolver under
his pillow. He means p~itifully at all hours
of the night. 1t almost seems to me my
house was haunted while he was there. Al
though he was a good man, a pure and de-
Vout Christian Of spotless life, | declare | was
glad when he was gone, he was so unhappy,
so uneasy, so strange. He is no lunatic. He
is no fool. He is a good man every way. But
wherever he goes h. says Nemesis pursues
him, and the troubled spirits Of revenge will
not let him rest. He is in constant fear of as
sassins.-Prioate DaLzcH in Cincinnati En-
Quirer.