The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1847-04-15
For the V dice Of Freedom
Manuscript of a Criminal, from
Van DieTnan's Land.

My name is Aaron B. l left home
on the morning of the memorable battle OF
t, in the Canadian rebellion weutlm-
mediately to the rebel camp, and enlisted as Il
soldier for the remainder OF the war, and in
less than two days from the time Of the en-"
rollmcnt, was taken as prisoner and I'M
INJURED within the gloomy walls OF damp and
loathsome prison; there sentenced to remain
for seven days, to reflect upon my misfortune,
and to consider upon the folly that had
brought me to my present situation At the
expiration of this time was to be led forth
upon the scailold to eXpiate my crime; to
resign my career upon gibbet, and close Il
life that was unspotted by single foul action,
save the one for which | was doomed to die.
But it is needless to cast any reflections, Or
review again the catastrophe which then
befell me. | was as well off as hundreds who
had thus ruined themselves by a most foolish
indiscretion. Even in the same dark and
lonely cell that contained myself | had a
partner; one who was to participate in the
same fate. His was proud and noble soul !;
his spirit that could i'll brook the restraint
of prison walls; while the frank Ingenious
ness of his manners won the regard Of all with
whom he associated. He talked calmly Of
death and spoke Of dissolution without shud-
der. or the movement Of a muscle and must
acknowledge, that although depressed in spir-
it myself and under sentence Of death at
the time, and deprived of the intercourse Of a
single human being, with the exception Of the
one of whom | am now speaking; yet the con-
sideraton that was to die by his sdo,-eyen
though it was to have been upon gibbet was
of no small satisfaction to me. The thought
that was to die by the side7of man who
dared boldly to assert his opinions, when
frowned upon by an Overwhelming torrent Of
adversely, and the hope of immortality be-
yond the grave, was all the consolation which
I expected in the dying hour. The short
time of our allotted pilgrimage sped swiftly
away, and the seven days that were allowed
us between time and eternity seemed only
like so many dreary hours; AMI although
the moments (to our imaginations) were driy
en- forward by the grim angel OF death, yet in
them we lived an age of suspense and ankle
ty. When the morning Of the seventh day
came, and the executing officer informed us
that the hour of our execution was at hand, it
was with pleasure that we quilted this modern
Bastile for horrible as death is, the invention
of man has sometimes made life even more
horrible than death itself We left our pris-
on with the firm conviction that we were to
be ushered into the light of day for the last
time; and so it proved with my frien but
Providence had ordained a strangely different
fate for me- At our arrival upon the scat
fold,my friend was greeted by fair and love-
ly maiden, that the blossoms Of some eighteen
sunny summers had bndded and bossomcd
upon; and embracing him in flood Of tears,
and kissing his lofty forehead for the last
time, she babe him adieu forever The sher-
if then placed the rope around his neck, and
As the drop was about to fall, he exclaimed, " |
glory in my death and you will rue the day