The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1897-05-16
DEATH OF WILKES BOOTH.
Concluded from Ninth Page.)

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smoke. He remained but an instant in this
position. and then, dropping his crutch,
with his carbine in one hand a pistol in the
other, dashed from the door. When within
ten feet of the opening the crack of a
pistol was heard from the rear of the barn.
Booth reeled forward, threw up one hand,
dropped his carbine and fell face downward
on some hay which was scattered on the
floor.
Lieutenant Baker rushed in, followed by
Conger, Doherty and young Garrett. Off
Ger Baker, not knowing how fatal the shot,
seized him by the arms. intending to Sc
cure him in case he had only been stunned.
On turning Booth over a pistol was found in
his left hand, which he still held with a
vise-like grip, and it required great strength
to wrench it from him. A leather belt was
around his body, with a bowie knife and
another revolver in it. Lieutenant Baker
then accused Colonel Conger of shooting
him, which the colonel denied, and said
Booth shot himself. This, the lieutenant
claimed, was impossible, as he saw him
every moment from the time the hay was
fired until he fell. Colonel Conger said:
1.-THE man who did shoot him shal go back
to Washington under arrest" Upon fur
Their inquiry it was found that Sergeant
Boston COTDeII mas uIGu lie SHOl vi
a navy revolver through a crevice in the
rear of the barn. This was a most difficult
feat to perform, for the ball struck Booth
on the side of the neck a little back of the
center, and passed entirely through, break
ing the spinal column. The fire was MAX
ing such progress that Booth was taken out
of the building and carried a short distance
and placed under a tree. He began to show
signs of life. Water was dashed in his face
and a little was poured in his mouth. His
lips began to move, and he family whis-
pered: Tell mother; tell mother" He
seemed to gain further strength, and then,
in a more distinct voice, said: Tell mother
L died for my country"
Day was breaking, and the heat from the
burning barn was so intense that the
ounde man was removed to the piazza of
the house. The young ladies brought a
narrow straw bed, and on this Booth was
laid. A cloth soaked in whisky and ice
water was placed in his mouth, which re-
vived him. He opened his eyes, seemed to
take in the situation at once, and said;
Kill me; o kill me quick Lieutenant Ba-
ker said: mo, Booth, we did not want to
kill you, and hope you will recover. You
were shot against orders" He then was
unconscious for several minutes, when he
revived again. His chest heaved, his chin
dropped; he put out his tongue and seemed
to wish to know if there was blood in his
mouth. He was assured there was none.
and then said: Tell mother 1 died for my
country. 1 did what thought best" He
showed no signs of life in his body below
the wound, with the exception of the ac-
ton of the lungs. He said: My hands,"
when one of his hands was raised so he
could see it, and it was bathed in ice-cold
water. His hand was placed by his side,
and he said: Useless, useless, which We're
the last words of the dying assassin. He
died a few minutes after Z o'clock.
Thus persisted a young man, brilliant,
handsome and accomplished, but rash, mis-
guided and, perhaps (who knows to the
contraryO, bereft of sane mind, who, had
he lived and followed the profession he had
chosen in early life, could have risen to the
very zenith of prominence; but now all was
gone-fame, life, and he was only a man
gled corpse, a mere shadow and a wreck Of
his former self. Truly did he exclaim with
his last breath, Useless, useless"
Colonel Conger ave Sergeant Corbett a
singing reprimand, and said to him why
did you shoot without orders?" The ser
geant took the position of a. soldier, saluted
the Colonel. and. with right hand pointed
upNdGO, SdlQ. GOu AlDnlSnly OTQereQ me
to shoot" At this reply the colonel mel
lowed in his manner. and said: Il guess He
did," and then dropped the subject.
THE DIARY'S STORY.
Before leaving for Washington Colonel
Conger examined Booths clothing, and took
from his person and pocket the following
articles: A knife, a pair of pistols, belt,
holster, file, pocket compass, spur, pipe.
carbine, cartridges, bills of exchange and
a diary. On the compass were some candle
drippingS, and the bills of exchange were
the Identical ones which he had secured in
Montreal, Canada, in October, 1864, which
he had never used, but which were now
here to bear evidence against their owner of
his dastardly purpose even at that time.
There were also found on him some photo
graphs, a little Catholic medal and a dia-
mond scarfpin, on the gold setting of which
was engraved the name of Dan Bryant, a
famous negro minstrel and the author of
Dixie" and which had been given TO him
by that gentleman. The inscription On the
pin read: Dan Bryant to j. w. Booth"
His diary, which was written after he had
committed his awful crime and during the
period in which he attempted to make his
escape, betrays in every line the terrible re-
morse and the fearful despair which had
taken possession Oh MS aSOnlZed SOUL. lie
attempted to justify himself, but for such
a crime there was none. The diary, how
ever, tells its own story. 1t will be noticed
how he used the words we and our
through it, thus proving almost uncon-
sciously that there were others implicated
in the crime of assassination besides HIM
self. This diary bears the heading TIE
amo" Il love thee), and continues:
''April II IL Friday Tho Tdac
Until to-day nothing was ever thought
of sacrificing TO our country'S wrongs. For
six months we had worked to capture. But.
our cause being almost lost. something
great and decisive must be done. But it's
failure was owing to others, who did not
strike for their country with a heart. l
l walked with a firm step through a thou
sand of his friends; was stopped. but
pushed on. A colonel was at his side. |
shouted sic semper!' before 1 fired. In
pickets, rode sixty miles that night, with
the bone of my leg tearing the flesh at
every jump. l can never roper it, though
hated to kill. Our country owed all our
troubles to him, and God simply made me
the instrument of his punishment.
The country is not what it was. This
forced union is not what have loved. I
care not what becomes of me. | have no
desire to outlive my country. This night
(before the decd | wrote a long article and
left it for one of the editors of the National
Intelligencer, in which / fully set forth our
reasons for our proceedings. He or the
Governor
Friday, 21.'
After being hunted like a dog through
swamps. woods, and last night being chased
by gunboats until / was forced to return
wet. cold and starving, with every mans
hand against me, i am here in despair. And