James Redpath, The Roving Editor: or, Talks with Slaves in the Southern States.

No other effort to elicit information from the leader was made, and none who promised him help were discovered through him.

The death-day came. A mighty crowd gathered to witness the sad event to which, in that place, it was to be devoted; and the military, with gleaming swords and bright bayonets, stood under the gallows, to guard against escape or difficulty. Six “felons” were upon the gallows — it could hold no more — and Isaac was put on the list. “Be men,” said he, when one of the number showed some timidity, “and die like men. I'll give you an example: then, obey my brother.” That brother stood next him. Isaac gazed intently upon the crowd — some thought he was looking for his wife and children — and then spoke his farewell to his young masters. A few words passed between him and his brother, when, saying audibly, “I'll die a freeman,” he sprung up as high as he could, and fell heavily as the knotted rope checked his fall. Instantly his frame was convulsed, and, in its muscular action, his feet reached the plank on which he had stood, looking as if he sought to regain it. His brother, turning his face to his comrades, deliberately put his hand upon his side, and, leaning forward, held the body clear with his elbow, as he said: “Let us die like him.”

The authorities perceived that the terrors of the law would be lost, and none of “the good” they anticipated be secured among the blacks, especially, who filled up the outer circle of the dense crowd, if this lofty heroism were witnessed. They proceeded