Ethel waited upon her and while she did so another customer came in on the same errand. Her eyes were also wet with tears.
“Oh, isn’t it dreadful?” she sobbed. “I think I could hardly feel worse if I’d lost my own father. And to think that some folks talk of the awful deed as if they were delighted that it was done. The heartless wretches! They might know, if they had any sense, that the loyal people—who were just rejoicing that the dreadful fight was over and the country saved—can’t and won’t stand it. I don’t know whether it’s true or not, but I just heard that a fellow who was so heartless as to be openly rejoicing over the dastardly deed, was knocked down for expressing his exultation and kicked along the pavement by the exasperated crowd till he was dead, and that a soldier shot down another such rejoicer at one of the depots and nobody made any attempt to arrest him for it.”
“Oh, those are dreadful things!” exclaimed Mrs. Kay. “It is certainly wrong to kill a man for expressing his opinion; but they should have sense enough to keep such opinions and feelings to themselves while loyal people’s hearts are so sore over this dreadful, dreadful thing.”
“Well there is one comforting thought—that the dear man was certainly a Christian, ready to die, and is now done with all earth’s troubles and trials,” said Mrs. Baker, tears of mingled joy and sorrow shining in her eyes. “How sweet the rest and peace of heaven must be to him—so worn and weary as he was with the griefs and cares of the last four dreadful years. We must weep for our own great and irreparable loss, and for all he suffered before God took him home, but at the same time we may rejoice in the blessedness that is now his in that better land.”
“Yes, indeed,” responded the two lady customers, one of them adding, “I don’t know how anyone can doubt that he was a Christian man, well prepared to die; for he certainly displayed a Christian spirit toward all—even the rebels who were his deadly foes and had planned to murder him on his way to his first inauguration. It must be a blessed change for him; but oh, what is the country to do without him!”
“Oh, ma’am, our God still lives,” said Mrs. Ray. “He is our Rock and Refuge, a very present help in trouble.”
“Oh, mother, all the stores are putting black over their doors and windows,” exclaimed Mark, peering out into the street; “tying their flags with crape too. Can’t we do the same with ours?”
“Yes, yes, to be sure,” she replied. “I’ll go at once and buy some yards of black stuff and we’ll fasten it along under the windows of our second story and around the doors here.”
“Get some crape for the flag, too,” said her mother. “Here, I’ll pay for it,” taking out her purse as she spoke. “And hadn’t you better lay in a fresh supply of black, red, blue, and white ribbons for making the rosettes? I feel sure that a great many folks will be putting them on as a sign of mourning for him—the dear, murdered President!”
“Yes, mother, I’ll lay in a fresh stock, and the sooner I get off to see about it the better; for I’m pretty certain that there will be a great demand for it before the day is over,” replied Mrs. Baker—and hurried on her way.