Since that time two other presidents have been mercilessly slain by
the hand of an assassin, and although the shock to the country was
terrible, it never seemed as if the grief was as deep and universal
as when the bullet fired by John Wilkes Booth pierced the temple of
Abraham Lincoln.




AN ALLEGORICAL HOROSCOPE

* * * * *

IN TWO CHAPTERS.

* * * * *

CHAPTER I.--AN OPTIMISTIC FORECAST.

As the sun was gently receding in the western horizon on a beautiful
summer evening nearly a century ago, a solitary voyageur might have
been seen slowly ascending the sinuous stream that stretches from the
North Star State to the Gulf of Mexico. He was on a mission of peace
and good will to the red men of the distant forest. On nearing the
shore of what is now a great city the lonely voyageur was amazed
on discovering that the pale face of the white man had many years
preceded him. "What, ho!" he muttered to himself; "methinks I see a
paleface toying with a dusky maiden. I will have speech with him." On
approaching near where the two were engaged in some weird incantation