When Richmond fell and Lee's army surrendered, when Washington was illuminated, Mrs. Surratt closed her house and wept. Her house was gloomy and cheerless. To use her own expression, it was "indicative of her feelings." On Good Friday I drove her into the country, ignorant of her purpose and intentions. We started at about half-past two o'clock in the afternoon. Before leaving, she had an interview with John Wilkes Booth in the parlor. On the way down she was very lively and cheerful, taking the reins into her own hands several times and urging on the steed. We halted once, and that was about three miles from Washington, when, observing that there were pickets along the road, she hailed an old farmer and wanted to know if they would remain there all the night. On being told that they were withdrawn about eight o'clock in the evening, she said "she was glad to know it." On the return I chanced to make some remark about Booth, stating that he appeared to be without employment, and asking her when he was going to act again. "Booth is done acting," she said, "and is going to New York very soon, never to return." Then turning round, she remarked: "Yes, and Booth is crazy on one subject, and I am going to give him a good scolding the next time I see him." What that "one subject" was Mrs. Surratt never mentioned to me. She was very anxious to be at home at nine o'clock, saying that she had made an appointment with some gentleman who was to meet her at that hour. I asked her if it was Booth. She answered neither yes nor no. When about a mile from the city, and having from the top of a hill caught a view of Washington swimming in a flood of light, raising her hands, she said: "I am afraid all this rejoicing will be turned into mourning, and all this glory into sadness." I asked her what she meant. She replied that after sunshine there was always a storm, and that the people were too proud and licentious, and that God would punish them. The gentleman whom she expected at nine o'clock, on her return, called. It was, as I afterwards ascertained, Booth's last visit to Mrs. Surratt, and the third one that day. She was alone with him for a few minutes in the parlor. I was in the dining-room at the time, and as soon as I had taken tea I repaired thither. Mrs. Surratt's former cheerfulness had left her. She was now very nervous, agitated, and restless. On my asking her what was the matter, she replied that she was very nervous and did not feel well. Then looking at me, she wanted to know which way the torch-light procession was going that we had seen on the avenue. I remarked that it was a procession of the arsenal employees, who were going to serenade the President. She said that she would like to know, as she was very much interested in it.