l into a slumber, for I was weary. I soon began to
dream. There seemed to be a deathlike stillness about me. Then I heard
subdued sobs, as if a number of people were weeping.

"'I thought I left my bed and wandered down-stairs. There the silence
was broken by the same pitiful sobbing, but the mourners were invisible.
I went from room to room; no living person was in sight, but the same
mournful sounds of distress met me as I passed along. It was light in
all the rooms; every object was familiar to me; but where were all the
people who were grieving as if their hearts would break? I was puzzled
and alarmed. What could be the meaning of all this?

"'Determined to find the cause of a state of things so mysterious and so
shocking, I kept on until I arrived at the East Room, which I entered.
There I met with a sickening surprise. Before me was a catafalque,
on which rested a corpse wrapped in funeral vestments. Around it were
stationed soldiers who were acting as guards; and there was a throng of
people, some gazing mournfully upon the corpse, whose face was covered,
others weeping pitifully.

"'"Who is dead in the White House?" I demanded of one of the soldiers.

"'"The President," was his answer; "he was killed by an assassin."

"'Then came a loud burst of grief from the crowd, which awoke me from my
dream. I slept no more that night; and although it was only a dream, I
have been strangely annoyed by it ever since.'

"'That is horrid!' said Mrs. Lincoln. 'I wish you had not told it. I am
glad I don't believe in dreams, or I should be in terror from this time
forth.'

"'Well,' responded Mr. Lincoln, thoughtfully, 'it is only a dream, Mary.
Let us say no more about it, and try to forget it.'

"This dream was so horrible, so real, and so in keeping with other
dreams and threatening presentiments of his, that Mr. Lincoln was
profoundly disturbed by it. During its recital he was grave, gloomy,
and at times visibly pale, but perfectly calm. He spoke slowly, with
measured accents and deep feeling.

"In conversations with me, he referred to it afterwards, closing one
with this quotation from 'Hamlet': 'To sleep; perchance to dream! ay,
there's the rub!' with a strong accent upon the last three words.

"Once the President alluded to this terrible dream with some show of
playful humor. 'Hill,' said he, 'your apprehension of harm to me from
some hidden enemy is downright foolishness. For a long time you have
been trying to