The Princeton union., 1892-06-16
BOOTH STABBED HIM.
AN INCIDENT OF THE NIGHT OF
LlNCOLN'S, MURDER.
ffhis Man Narrowly Escaped Death at the
Hands of the Assassin - Booth
Thought the Man Would
Prevent His Escape.

! Prevent His Escape.
The tall middle-aged man who
Leads the orchestra of the new Cali
lorna theater played a prominent
part in the great drama that ended in
the assassination of President Lincoln
at Ford's theater on the night of Feb
ruary IA, 1865. William Withers. for
that IS his name, was leader of the
orchestra in Ford's theater according
to the San Francisco Call. and he
himself narrowly escaped death at the
hands of the assassin.
| Mr. Withers tells the story of
Booths tragic deed: Here is the
coat l wore that night' he began,
holding up a dilapidated garment OF
the swallow-tail pattern. One of the
tails was missing. cut away by relic
hunters. There were slashes in the
shoulder made by Booths dagger
while he was trying to escape. and
thought Withers was gong to stop
him.
lat the close Iof the war" con-
tlnued the owner. of the ancient gar
ment Il was lealer of the orchestra
at Ford's and We were playing Our
American Cousin. President Lincoln
had not attended the theater for some
time prior to the fatal night When he
came IN he tried to escape observa-
ton. as was his custom. I never saw
him make an acknowledgement until
that night when in answer to thun-
ders of applause that broke forth as
soon as his presence in the building
was known. he bowed and smiled on
the people.
Il had composed song entitled
Honor to Our Soldiers, and it had
been rehearsed to be sung on the
occasion of the presidents visit.
Laura keene was to sing it between
the first and second acts; but as mat
ters turned out it has never been
sung: Here is the chorus as it was
printed on the playbill in order that
the audience might take part IN the
singing:
! Honor to our soldiers,
Our nations greatest pride
| Who meath our starry banners folds
Have fought have bled and died
| They're natures nOblest handiWOrk,
| no king so proud as they;
God bless the heroes of the land
| And cheer them on their way
"For some reason the song was not
sung at the appointed time. and |
went behind the scenes to expostulate
with the manager He told me that
the song would be sung in the last act.
l was satisfied. and was returning 10
my post. The stage manager whistle
blew for the scenes of the last act.
Then l heard a pistol-shot and, know
ing that no firearms were used in the
play, stopped in the narrow passage
from the stage to the outside to think
what 1t could mean. AS I stood pom
derlng l. heard some one jump on the
stage, and in another second Booth
rushed into the passage with his head
bent down as If to avoid detection.
His face was wild and haggard: his
hair stood on end and his eyes we're
boiling from his head In one hand
he held long knife and he came at
me in threatening manner I had
no idea Of the cri me he had commit
ted Uttering a curse. he sprang upon
me and stabbed me. Then he gave
me heavy blow in the back of the
neck and fell to the ground.
HE ran over me- and as he pulled
open an outer door I turned and saw
a horses head which Peanut John,
an employe Of the theater. was hold
| in Inv hni1
that was the last I saw of Booth. Be-
fore could get up two men, in, hot
pursuit Of the murderer passed over
me. was stunned and frightened
and lay in the passage until detec-
tive arrested me as an accOmplice.
Then they told me that Lincoln had
been murdered and took me in front
of the stage and there. looking at the
presidents box. [ saw the murdered
chief, with Mrs. Lincoln bending
over him weeping and Laura Keene
by his side holding a pitcher OF
water.
| The wound I received from Booth
was slight and ! was soon able to
convince the authorities that I had no
share in his crime.
Did l. know Booth? Of course ]
did. l knew no one better; and ]
think that when he stabbed me he did
not see my face but thought that ]
was waiting in the passage to inter-
cept him. There never was anv
trouble between us; but to this day
can feel the dagger cutting through
my clothes; l can feel Booth hot
breath in my face, and can see the
pale dead countenance of the martyred
president as it lay in the box. with
the weeping women bending over it. -