The following is a copy of the writing (which was in pencil) found in the diary taken from the body of J. Wilkes Booth. OFFICIAL COPY: J. Holt Judge Advocate General Te Amo April 13-14--Friday the Ides. 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 was almost lost. Something decisive and great must be done. But its failure was owing to others who did not strike for their country with a heart. I struck boldly and not as the papers say. I walked with a firm step through a thousand of his friends, was stopped, but pushed in. A colonel was at his side. I shouted “_sic semper_” before I fired. In jumping broke my leg. I passed all his pickets. Rode sixty miles that night with the bone of my leg tearing the flesh at every jump. I can never repent it though we hated to kill. Our country owed all her troubles to him and God simply made me the instrument of His punishment. The country is not April 15, 1865. what it was. This forced union is not what I have loved. I care not what becomes of me. I have no desire to out-live my country. This night (before he died) I wrote a long article and left it for one of the editors of the _Intelligencer_ in which I fully set forth our reasons for our proceedings. He or the Gov’s Friday 21 After being hunted like a dog through swamps, woods, and last night being chased by gunboats till I was forced to return wet, cold, and starving with every man’s hand against me, I am here in despair. And why? For doing what Brutus was honored for, what made Tell a hero, and yet I, striking down a greater tyrant than they ever knew, am looked upon as a common cut-throat. My action was purer than either of theirs. One hoped to be great. The other had not only his country’s but his own wrongs to avenge. I hoped for no gain. I knew no private wrong. I struck for my country and that alone. A country that groaned beneath this tyranny and prayed for this end, and yet behold the cold hand they extend to me. God cannot pardon me if I have done wrong. Yet I cannot see my wrong, except in serving a degenerate people. The little, the very little I left behind to clear my name the Gov’t will not allow to be printed. So ends All. For my country I have given all that makes life sweet and holy, brought misery upon my family and am sure that there is no pardon in the Heavens for me since man condemns me so. I have only heard of what has been (except what I did myself) and it fills me with horror. God try and forgive me and bless my mother. To-night I will once more try the river with intent to cross. Though I have a greater desire and almost a mind to return to Washington and in a measure clear my name--which I feel I can do.