enacted in every centre of the North. The whole city was now a fairy dream, its dirt and sin, shame and crime, all wrapped in glorious light.
But above all other impressions was the contagion of the thunder shouts of hosts of men surging through the streets—the human roar with its animal and spiritual magnetism, wild, resistless, unlike any other force in the universe!
Margaret's hand again and again unconsciously tightened its hold on Phil's arm, and he felt that the whole celebration had been gotten up for his benefit.
They passed through a little park on their way to Ford's Theatre on 10th Street, and the eye of the Southern girl was quick to note the budding flowers and full-blown lilacs.
"See what an early spring!" she cried. "I know the flowers at home are gorgeous now."
"I shall hope to see you among them some day, when all the clouds have lifted," he said.
She smiled and replied with simple earnestness:
"A warm welcome will await your coming."
And Phil resolved to lose no time in testing it.
They turned into 10th Street, and in the middle of the block stood the plain three-story brick structure of Ford's Theatre, an enormous crowd surging about its five doorways and spreading out on the sidewalk and half across the driveway.
"Is that the theatre?" asked Margaret.
"Yes."
"Why, it looks like a church without a steeple."
