“There wa’n’t nothin’ more done for two or three days. I just stayed in my cell and didn’t feel much like talkin’ with anyone. Then my lawyer come over and said the motion for a new trial would be heard next day. In the mornin’ they han’cuffed me and took me back as usual. There was a lot of people in the courtroom, though not so many as before. My lawyer had a lot of books, and he talked a long while about the case, and told the judge he ought to give me a new trial on account of all the mistakes that was made before. And after he got done the judge said he’d thought of this case a great deal both by day and by night, and he’d tried to find a way not to sentence me to death, but he couldn’t do it, and the motion would be overruled. Then he said, ‘Jackson, stand up.’ Of course I got up, because he told me to. Then he looked at me awful savage and solemn and said, ‘Have you got anything to say why sentence should not be passed on you?’ and I said ‘No!’ Then he talked for a long time about how awful bad I was, and what a warnin’ I ought to be to ever’body else; and then he sentenced me to be removed to the county-jail and on Friday, the thirteenth day of this month—that’s today—to be hanged by the neck till dead, and then he said, ‘May God have mercy on your soul!’ After that he said, ‘Mr. Sheriff, remove the prisoner. Mr. Clerk, call the next case.’ And they han’-cuffed me and brought me back.
“I don’t know why the judge said, ‘May God have mercy on your soul!’ I guess it was only a kind of form that they have to go through, and I don’t think he meant it, or even thought anything about it. If he had, I don’t see how he really could ask God to have mercy on me unless he could have mercy himself. The judge didn’t have to hang me unless he wanted to.
“Well, the lawyer come in and told me he ought to appeal the case to the Supreme Court, but it would cost one hundred dollars for a record, and he didn’t know where to get the money. I told him I didn’t know either. Of course I hadn’t any and told him he might just as well let it go; that I didn’t s’pose it would do any good anyhow. But he said he’d see if he could find the money somehow and the next day he come in and said he was goin’ to give half out of his own pocket, and he’d seen another feller that didn’t want his name mentioned and that thought a man oughtn’t to be hung without a chance; he was goin’ to give the other half. Of course I felt better then, but still I thought there wa’n’t much chance, for ever’body was against me, but my lawyer told me there was a lot of mistakes and errors in the trial and I ought to win.
“Well, he worked on the record and finally got it finished, a great big kind of book that told all about the case. It was only finished a week ago, and I s’posed anyone could take his case to the Supreme Court if he had the money; but my lawyer said no, he couldn’t, or rather he said yes, anyone could take his case to the Supreme Court, but in a case like mine, where I was to be hung I’d be dead before the Supreme Court ever decided it, or even before it was tried. Then he said the only way would be if some of the judges looked at the record and made an order that I shouldn’t be hung until after they’d tried the case, but he told me it didn’t make any difference how many mistakes the judge had made, or how many errors there was, they wouldn’t make any order unless they believed I hadn’t done it. He said that if it had been a dispute about a horse or a cow, or a hundred dollars, I’d have a right to go to the Supreme Court, and if the judges found any mistakes in the trial I’d have another chance. But it wa’n’t so when I was tried for my life.
“Well, when he’d explained this I felt sure ‘twas all off, and I told him so, but he said he was goin’ to make the best fight he could and not give up till the end. He said he had a lot at stake himself, though not so much as I had. So he took the record and went to the judges of the Supreme Court and they looked it over, and said mebbe the judge that tried me did make some mistakes, and mebbe I didn’t have a fair trial, but it looked as if I was guilty and they wouldn’t make any order. So my case never got into the Supreme Court after all and the hundred dollars was wasted.
“Well, when my lawyer told me, of course I felt blue. I’d built some on this, and it begun to look pretty bad. It seemed as if things was comin’ along mighty fast, and it looked as if the bobbin was ‘most wound up. When you know you’re going to die in a week the time don’t seem long. Of course if a feller’s real sick, and gets run down and discouraged, and hasn’t got much grip on things, he may not feel so very bad about dyin’, for he’s ‘most dead anyway, but when a feller’s strong, and in good health, and he knows he’s got to die in a week, it’s a different thing.
“Then my lawyer said there was only one thing left, and that was to go to the gov’nor. He said he knew the gov’nor pretty well and he was goin’ to try. He thought mebbe he’d change the sentence to imprisonment for life. When I first come to jail I said I’d rather be hung than to be sent up for life, and I stuck to it even when the jury brought in their verdict, but when it was only a week away I begun to feel different, and I didn’t want to die, leastwise I didn’t want to get hung. So I told him all the people I knew, though I didn’t think they’d help me, for the world seemed to be against me, and the papers kept tellin’ what a good thing it was to hang me, and how the State’s Attorney and the jury and the judge had been awful brave to do it so quick. But I couldn’t see where there was any bravery in it. I didn’t have no friends. It might have been right, but I can’t see where the brave part come in.
“But every day the lawyer said he thought the gov’nor would do somethin’, and finally he got all the names he could to the petition, and I guess it wa’n’t very many, only the people that sign all the petitions because they don’t believe in hangin’; and day before yesterday, he went down to Springfield to see the gov’nor.
“Well, I waited all day yesterday. I didn’t go out of the cell for exercise because I couldn’t do anything and I didn’t want ‘em to see how nervous I was. But I tell you it’s ticklish business waitin’ all day when you’re goin’ to be hung in the mornin’ unless somethin’ happens. I kep’ askin’ the guard what time ‘twas, and when I heard anyone comin’ up this way I looked to see if it wa’n’t a despatch, and I couldn’t set down or lay down, or do anything ‘cept drink whiskey. I hain’t really been sober and clear-headed since yesterday noon, in fact, I guess if I had been, I wouldn’t kep’ you here all night like this. I didn’t hardly eat a thing, either, all day, and I asked the guard about it a good many times, and he felt kind of sorry for me but didn’t give me much encouragement. You see they’ve had a guard right here in front of the door all the time, day and night, for two weeks. That’s called the death watch, and they set here to see that I don’t kill myself, though I can’t see why that would make any great difference so long as I’ve got to die anyhow.
“Well, ‘long toward night the guard came and brought me that new suit of clothes over on the bed, and I guess I’ve got to put ‘em on pretty quick. Of course, the guard’s been as nice as he could be. He didn’t tell me what they’s for, but I knew all the same. I know they don’t hang nobody in their old clothes. I s’pose there’ll be a good many people there, judges and doctors and ministers and lawyers, and the newspapers, and the friends of the sheriff, and politicians, and all, and of course it wouldn’t look right to have me hung up there before ‘em all in my old clothes,—it would be about like wearin’ old duds to a party or to church—so I’ve got to put on them new ones. They’re pretty good, and they look as if they’re all wool, don’t you think?