As the hour approached for leaving for the theatre, the President was engaged in a conversation with two friends—­Speaker Colfax and Hon. George Ashmun of Massachusetts.  The business on which they had met not being concluded, the President gave Mr. Ashmun a card on which he had written these words:  “Allow Mr. Ashmun and friend to come in at 9 A.M. to-morrow—­A.  Lincoln.”  He then turned to Mr. Colfax, saying, “You are going with Mrs. Lincoln and me to the theatre, I hope.”  Mr. Colfax pleaded other engagements, when Lincoln remarked:  “Mr. Sumner has the gavel of the Confederate Congress, which he got at Richmond to hand to the Secretary of War.  But I insisted then that he must give it to you; and you tell him for me to hand it over.”  He then rose, but seemed reluctant to go, expressing a half-determination to delay a while longer.  It was undoubtedly to avoid disappointing the audience, to whom his presence had been promised, that he went to the play-house that night.  At the door he stopped and said to Speaker Colfax, who was about to leave for the Pacific coast, “Colfax, do not forget to tell the people in the mining regions, as you pass through, what I told you this morning about the development when peace comes.  I will telegraph you at San Francisco.”

It was nine o’clock when the Presidential party reached the theatre.  The place was crowded; “many ladies in rich and gay costumes, officers in their uniforms, many well-known citizens, young folks, the usual clusters of gaslights, the usual magnetism of so many people, cheerful, with perfumes, music of violins and flutes—­and over all, and saturating all, that vast, vague wonder, Victory, the Nation’s victory, the triumph of the Union, filling the air, the thought, the sense, with exhilaration more than all perfumes.”  As the President entered he was greeted with tremendous cheers, to which he responded with genial courtesy.  The box reserved for him, at the right of the stage, a little above the floor, was draped and festooned with flags.  As the party were seated, the daughter of Senator Harris of New York occupied the corner nearest the stage; next her was Mrs. Lincoln; and behind them sat the President and Major Rathbone, the former being nearest the door.

    In his quiet chair he sate,
      Pure of malice or guile,
    Stainless of fear or hate;
      And there played a pleasant smile
    On the rough and careworn face,—­
      For his heart was all the while
    On means of mercy and grace.

    The brave old flag drooped o’er him,—­
      A fold in the hard hand lay;
      He looked perchance on the play,—­
    But the scene was a shadow before him,
      For his thoughts were far away.