We saw a good deal of Doctor Parsons at this time. He was a man of the greatest refinement, absolutely free from self-assertion. He had, withal, a touch of genius. One day, on looking up from his work, he saw Edwin Booth standing before him. The poet could but say, “Angels and ministers of grace defend us!” his friend answering in the same sportive strain. Walking in the neighborhood of the old Revere House one day, I saw Edwin Booth and a friend driving in a buggy. He had doubtless been visiting the grave of his wife at Mount Auburn. To my surprise and pleasure, he recognized me by a grave bow. As he had seen us all a number of times, at the house of our parents, there was really nothing surprising in this. But, as I have said, we regarded him as a species of superman. After Mrs. Booth’s death we saw less of the great actor, as she had been the gracious link that united us all. When he came to spend his summers at Newport, a score of years later, the old friendship was pleasantly renewed. Wilkes Booth I saw several times on the stage in the characters of Richard the Third, Shylock and Charles Moore in Schiller’s play of the “Robbers.” He also was handsome, taller and heavier than his brother. Edwin Booth was filling an engagement in Boston at the time of Lincoln’s assassination. We had tickets bought before the dreadful news came, for his matinée on the fatal Saturday of the President’s death. All places of amusement were of course closed at once. The blow, a stunning one to the whole country, brought to Edwin Booth the additional shock of his brother’s terrible deed. It was reported at the time that he had resolved to quit the stage forever. The actors of the day were much troubled that a member of their profession should have perpetrated such a crime. It was said, in their defense, that actors had seldom committed deeds of violence. Although Edwin Booth and Charlotte Cushman never acted in “Hippolytus,” they did appear together in “Macbeth.” He mischievously remarked to us that he longed to say to Miss Cushman: “Why don’t you kill him? You’re a great deal bigger than I am.” He did not consider himself heavy enough for the part of Macbeth. Yet his rendering of it was very impressive. All the dreadful drama of the murder, the knocking at the outer gate, the banquet scene where the ghost of Banquo appears, were thrilling to witness. Who, indeed, has rendered Shakespeare like Edwin Booth? Sir Henry Irving could not, in my opinion, be compared with him. Hamlet was thought his best part—indeed, we said he was the gentle Prince of Denmark. The gravity of his disposition, “sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,” his natural dignity and the grace of his movements, all recalled Hamlet. When my mother saw him at the funeral of his beloved wife she remembered how often she had beheld him, on the stage, follow Ophelia to the grave.