l such souls he
was gifted with prophetic vision, as his letter shows:

Charleston, December 13, 1859.

Joshua Coppock:

My Dear Uncle--I seat myself by the stand to write for the first
and last time to thee and thy dear family. Though far from home and
overtaken by misfortune, I have not forgotten you. Your generous
hospitality towards me, during my short stay with you last spring,
is stamped indelibly upon my heart, and also the generosity
bestowed upon my brother who now wanders, an outcast from his
native land. But thank God, he is free. I am thankful it is I who
has to suffer instead of him.

The time may come when he will remember me. And the time may come
when he may still further remember the cause in which I die. Thank
God the principles of the cause in which we were engaged will not
die with me and my brave comrades. They will spread wider and wider
and gather strength with each hour that passes. The voice of truth
will echo through our land, bringing conviction to the erring and
adding members to the glorious army who will follow its banner. The
cause of everlasting truth and justice will go on conquering and to
conquer until our broad and beautiful land shall rest beneath the
banner of freedom. I had fondly hoped to live to see the principles
of the Declaration of Independence fully realized. I had hoped to
see the dark stain of slavery blotted from our land, and the libel
of our boasted freedom erased, when we can say in truth that our
beloved country is the land of the free and the home of the brave;
but that cannot be.

I have heard my sentence passed; my doom is sealed. But two more
short days remains for me to fulfill my earthly destiny. But two
brief days between me and eternity. At the expiration of those two
days I shall stand upon the scaffold to take my last look of
earthly scenes. But that scaffold has but little dread for me, for
I honestly believe I am innocent of any crime justifying such
punishment. But by the taking of my life and the lives of my
comrades, Virginia is but hastening on that glorious day, when the
slave will rejoice in his freedom and say, "I, too, am a man, and
am groaning no more under the yoke of oppression."

But I must now close. Accept this short scrawl as a remembrance of
me. Give