Hunters pursuing one chieftain with hoarse cries of "rebel!" and "traitor!" For the other, bells tolling, guns booming requiem, great cities hung with black, streets lined with weeping thousands, the catafalque a victor's chariot before which children and maidens scattered flowers. Nearly a month that funeral march lasted--from Washington through Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, Albany, Cleveland, Columbus, Indianapolis, Chicago--it wound its stately way to Springfield. Wherever it passed, the public pulse beat hotter against the Southern chieftain and his people. Yet the dead and the hunted were men of one country, born in the same State. Sharp contrasts in many ways, they were yet enough alike in personal appearance to have been brothers. Both were pure men, brave, patriotic; both kindly and true. The dead had said of the living: "Let Jeff escape." Johnson's proclamation threw the entire South into a white rage and an anguish unutterable, when it charged the assassination to Mr. Davis and other representative men of the South. Swift on it came news that our President was captured, report being spread to cast ridicule upon him that, when caught, he was disguised in his wife's garments. Caricatures, claiming to be truthful portraiture, displayed him in hoops and petticoats and a big poke bonnet, of such flaming contrasts as certainly could not have been found in Mrs. Davis' wardrobe. In 1904, I saw at a _vaudeville_ entertainment in a New York department store, a stereopticon representation of the War of Secession. The climax was Mr. Davis in a pink skirt, red bonnet, yellow bodice, and parti-coloured shawl, struggling with several Federals, while other Federals were rushing to the attack, all armed to the teeth and pointing warlike weapons at this one fantastic figure of a feeble old man. The theatre was full of children. The attraction had been running some time and thousands of young Americans had doubtless accepted its travesties as history. The Northern friend with me was as indignant as myself. When Mr. Davis' capture was announced in theatres and other places of amusement in the North, people went crazy with joy, clapping their hands and cheering, while bands played "Yankee Doodle" and "Star-Spangled Banner." Many were for having him hung at once. Wendell Phillips wanted him "left to the sting of his own conscience."