ich plea Pike would ever make to
me, sometimes alluding to the great injustice of his being hung. But as
Mr. Holman had undertaken to fathom that, I never pressed him with any
particular inquiry on the matter.

It would seem impossible for one manifesting the spirit Pike always did
to us, to commit so horrid a crime, and probably he never would had he
been free from rum. In prison, he at all times appeared gentlemanly and
kind-hearted, helped me a number of days in repairing the library, and
seemed glad of the opportunity.

When laboring with those he afterwards murdered, he was uniformly
pleasant, ready to do anything for them they needed. They parted on the
most friendly terms, the old people earnestly urging him to continue
with them still longer.

But when Pike was under the influence of liquor, he was a very different
man, and at times a highly dangerous character. In this he was fully
responsible, for he could have let the drink alone, and did when he
chose. I saw nothing leading me to doubt his full responsibility in the
murder. But others also are responsible,--those who helped him to his
liquor and thus caused his madness. Against them, also, the blood of
those mangled forms cries loudly from the ground to a righteous God for
vengeance. The community likewise, which, by supineness and inactivity,
permitted those persons to carry on their nefarious traffic, must come
in for its share. The blame of that startling act does not all lie at
Pike's door, though he was guilty enough.

When I attempted to urge upon him the importance of a full preparation
for the dread event before him, he seemed strangely inclined to put it
off and almost callous to the magnitude of his sin. He would admit that
his career had been one of desperate wickedness, but did not appear
truly moved in spirit by its real enormity, or as having genuine
repentance over the matter, a thorough breaking up of the fallow ground
of the heart. Trusting to the idea of his non-responsibility as a
shielding circumstance, he no doubt felt almost perfect confidence, till
near the last, that a pardon, or commutation, would be granted, and
ventured on that assurance. I constantly discouraged the idea,
repeatedly urging him to put no confidence in that, but earnestly to set
about a preparation for the worst. The final decision of the executive
power, not to interfere with the decision of the court, came to me, but
in such a way that I was not at liberty to