Blessed are the Merciful Read Online Free Page A

again.

    That afternoon Laura and Evelyn were sitting on the porch. Laura was mending one of her little sister’s rag dolls when Evelyn said, “Look, Laura! It’s Uncle Sidney!”
    They watched him guide the horse and buggy up the long, curved drive.
    “Uh-oh,” Laura said. “I think maybe President Lincoln has died, Evelyn. Uncle Sidney looks very sad.”
    “Shall I get Mama?”
    “I’m sure he’ll want to talk to her.”
    Laura went to the edge of the porch to meet her uncle as he reined the buggy to a halt and said, “Hello, Laura. Is the rest of the family home?”
    “Yes, sir. Evelyn’s gone after Mama. You look sad. Did … did Mr. Lincoln die?”
    “Yes, honey. He did.”
    Just then, Elizabeth came outside, holding Evelyn by the hand. Behind her were Adam and Cleora.
    “I have a close friend at the
Globe,”
Sidney said. “He said he’d let me know if … if the president died. Mr. Lincoln died at 7:22 this morning.”
    “No!” Adam cried. “No!”
    He sank to the porch and broke into sobs, burying his face in his hands.

O N T HURSDAY , A PRIL 27, A DAM B URKE was sitting in class at the Beacon Hill school, gazing out the window while Mr. Meyer explained a math problem at the blackboard. Meyer’s voice seemed a mile away to Adam, who stared at the puffy white clouds floating against a cobalt blue sky.
    Billy Babcock risked a glance at his friend and saw Adam pull out his gold pocket watch and compare it with the big clock on the wall above the blackboard. They were synchronized perfectly. It was 10:11 A.M .
    Adam felt Billy’s eyes on him as he slipped the watch back into his pocket. He grinned at his friend and Billy turned his attention back to Mr. Meyer.
    Adam again gazed out the window, the teacher’s voice distantly touching his ears. Suddenly the distant drone caught Adam’s attention.
    “… this problem, Adam.”
    The boy looked at his teacher blankly. “Uh … what was that, sir?”
    “I asked if you could solve this problem.”
    “Well, sir, I—”
    “You haven’t been paying attention, have you?”
    Adam cleared his throat and his face took on a deep shade of red.
    When he did not reply, Meyer said with an edge in his voice, “Adam, your mind has been elsewhere since a week ago last Monday, the day after President Lincoln died. Isn’t that correct?”
    “Yes … yes, sir.”
    Walter Meyer’s face lost its scowl. “All of us are mourning the lossof our beloved president, Adam, but life must go on. Everyone in this room is aware that you had the privilege of shaking Mr. Lincoln’s hand. A privilege none of us ever had. But he’s gone now, and you must get your mind back on your school work.”
    Adam nodded. “Yes, sir.”
    The classroom door opened, and the students turned to see Harold Griffin, the school principal, enter and walk to the front of the room. “Mr. Meyer, I have an announcement.”
    “Of course, sir.” Meyer looked at his students. “Class, please give Mr. Griffin your full attention.”
    “Boys and girls,” Griffin said, “I just received word that yesterday morning, John Wilkes Booth was found by federal troops in Port Royal, Virginia. They cornered him in a barn. Booth was given the command to come out and surrender, but he refused. The soldiers, in turn, set the barn on fire. When Booth came limping out, he was carrying a carbine rifle and looked as if he was going to use it. One of the troopers fired, and Booth went down. Before he died, he found the strength to boast about killing the president, saying that what he did was for the good of the country.”
    Adam turned to Billy and whispered, “Good for that trooper! Booth got just what he deserved!”
    One Sunday evening a few weeks later, Elizabeth Burke and her children were sitting on the front porch, waiting for Sidney’s buggy. Darlene had invited them to dinner.
    While they waited, Elizabeth and the children talked about Papa. For the past three weeks the newspapers had told