Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1881-12-22

that he had made great deal OF money II
oil speculations, and suppose he had, for he
showed me pamphlet-a sort of prospectus
of oil property for sale-in which it was men
toned that the land adjoined the very sue
cessful property of j. Wilkes Booth. He told
my brother Harry that he was only going to
act twice that winter-once in a performance
for John McCullough's benefit, who had not
then become famous as an actor, and once for
Harry's benefit. Mccullough and Booth were
great friends, and Booth had played the Apos.
tate, I think, for Mr.. McCullough's benefit
when he told Harry he would play for his.
I believe he was going to repeat the same
play for my brothers benefit. Booth came to
Washington evidently bent upon the single
errand of capturing the President.
Finding that all his plans for the abduc'
ton had failed, and the end Of the war was
growing nearer and nearer, he, at the very
last moment, determined to take the desper-
ate chance of assassination. Booth was a
very gifted young man, and was great favor
ite in society in Washington. He was en-.
gagged, it was said, to young lady of high
position and character. I understood that
she wrote to Edwin Booth, after the assassina-
ton, telling him that she was his brothers be.
trothed, and would marry him, even at the
foot of the scafold." .......
A THRILLING RECITAL. -'...
"My God! My God 1 have no longer a
country! This is the end of constitutional
liberty in America"
These were the words spoken with startling
emphasis, on the evening of the 18th of April,
1865, by John Wilkes Booth. He was pass.
ing down Pennsylvania avenue, in Washing
ton, and near the corner of Thirteenth street,
had met John Matthews, fellow actor, and
a boyhood friend, whom he thus addressed.
HE was as pale as ghost when he uttered
those words" said Mr.. Matthews to me, day
or two since, while relating the occurrence.
There was quite number Of Confederate
prisoners passing along the avenue as he spoke,
and when he said, This is the end to consti-
tutional liberty in America he pointed feel
ingly toward them. He looked at them a
moment, after they had passed, and was
thoughtful. He then turned to me quickly
and said
"'I want you to do me favor .......
"'Anything in my power, John, replied
He thrust his hand into his pocket and
drawing out letter, said: Deliver this to
Mr.. Coyle, of the National IntelHgencer, to
night by eleven o'clock, unless see you be-
fore that. If | do l can attend to it myself
81 took the letter, saw that it was sealed,
put it into my pocket and walked on. Booth,
who was on horseback, rode rapidly down the
street, and l never saw him again until he
jumped from the box in Ford's Theatre to the
stage after shooting the President. I was
then playing at Ford's, the piece being Our
American Cousin Laura Keene was the
star. Booth almost ran against me as he
leaped across the stage on his way to the door.
There was, of course, a great commotion, and
I at once went to my dressing room and picked
up my wardrobe, pacsed under the stage, out
through the orchestra and the auditorium and
into the street with the audience. My room
was directly opposite, at Mr.. Petersou's, the
house in which Mr.. Lincoln died. walked
quickly across, locked the door of my room,
and began at once to change my clothes. In
picking up my coat the letter Booth had Civ.
en- me upon the street, that evening before the
theatre opened, fell out of my pocket upon
the floor. 1 had almost forgotten it in my
excitement. 1 quickly picked it up, tore it
open, and read it very carefully. MY God
thought /, this selfcondemnation of my
friend shall not be found in my possession,
and threw it into the fire, watched it until
it burned to cnders, and then mixed the atoms
with the coal ashes. In the excitement and
horror which followed the shooting the Arch
angel could never have explained the posses
sion of that letter. I did not then realize,
however, by what slender thread my life
hung. My impulse when burned the letter,
was that the evidence to condemn my friend
should not remain with me-
"Who else saw that letter beside yourself?"
"No other living man after it came into my
possession. 1t was sealed and directed to Mr..
John F. Coyle, one of the editors of the Ma
tional Intelhigencer"
"Do you recall its contents?"
"Almost as vividly as though I had just
committed it to memory. 1t began:
BOOTHS LAST LETTER.
WASHINGTON, D. c., April IA, 1866.
"1o my Countrymen
"For years I have devoted my time, my en-
ergies and every dollar l possessed in the
world to the furtberance of an object. l have
been baffled and disappointed. The hour has
come when l must change my plan. Many,
l know-the vulgar herd-will blame me for
what am about to do, but posterity I am
sure will justify me. Right or wrong, God
Judge me, not man. Be my motive good or
bad, of one thing am sure-the lasting con-
demnation of the North. I love peace more
than life. Have loved the Union beyond ex.
preston. For four years have waited,
hoped and prayed for the dark clouds to
break and for restoration of our former SUM-
shine. To wait longer would be crime. My
prayers have proved as idle as my hope
Gods will be done. | 60 to see and share the
bitter end. This war is at war with the Con-
stitution and the reserved rights of the States
1t is war upon Southern rights and institu
tions. The nomination of Abraham Lincoln
four years ago bespoke war; His election
forced it. have ever held the South we're
right. In foreign war I too could say
country, right or wrong" But in a struggle
such as ours (where the brother tries to pierce
the brothers heart) for Gods sake choose the
right. When a country like this spurns JUS
tice from her side she forfeits the allegiance of
every honest freeman, and should leave him
untrammeled by any fealty soever to act as
his conscience may approve
"Peope of the North, to hate tyranny, to
love liberty and justice, to strike at wrong
and oppression was the teaching of our ia.
theirs. The study Of our early history will
not let me forget it, and may it never
"'I do not want to forget the heroic patri-
otism of our fathers who rebelled against the