“They sewed him up in a saddle blanket. This was his shroud; too like a soldier’s. Herold, meantime, had been tied to a tree, but was now released for the march. Colonel Conger pushed on immediately for Washington; the cortège was to follow. Booth’s only arms were his carbine, knife, and two revolvers. They found about him bills for exchange, Canada money, and a diary. A venerable old Negro living in the vicinity had the misfortune to possess a horse. This horse was a relic of former generations, and showed by his protruding ribs the general leanness of the land. To this old Negro’s horse was harnessed a very shaky and absurd wagon, which rattled like approaching dissolution. It had no tailboard, and its shafts were sharp as famine; and into this mimicry of a vehicle the murderer was to be sent to the Potomac River, while the man he had murdered was moving in state across the continent. The corpse was tied with ropes around the legs and made fast to the wagon sides. Herold’s legs were tied to stirrups, and he was placed in the centre of four murderous-looking cavalrymen.... When the wagon started, Booth’s wound, till now scarcely dribbling, began to run anew. It fell through the crack of the wagon, dripping upon the axle, and spotting the road with the terrible wafers. It stained the planks, and soaked the blankets; and the old Negro, at a stoppage, dabbled his hands in it by mistake; he drew back instantly, with a shudder and stifled expletive, ‘Gor-r-r, dat’ll never come off in de world; it’s murderer’s blood.’ He wrung his hands and looked imploringly at the officers, and shuddered again: ‘Gor-r-r, I wouldn’t have dat on me fur t’ousand, t’ousand dollars.’ “Toward noon, the cortège reached Port Royal and proceeded to Bell Plain, where the old Negro was niggardly dismissed with two paper dollars. The corpse was cast upon the deck of a steamer, and the journey to Washington began. “All the way associated with the carcass went Herold, shuddering in so grim companionship, and in the awakened fears of his own approaching ordeal, beyond which loomed already the gossamer fabric of a scaffold. He tried to talk for his own exoneration, saying he had ridden, as was his wont, beyond the East Branch, and returning, found Booth wounded, who begged him to be his companion. Of his crime he knew nothing, so help him God, &c. But nobody listened to him. All interest of crime, courage, and retribution centred in the dead flesh at his feet. At Washington, high and low turned out to look on Booth. Only a few were permitted to see his corpse for purposes of recognition. It was fairly preserved, though on one side of the face distorted, and looking blue like death, and wildly bandit-like, as if beaten by avenging winds.