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Mrs. M. E. Burrow:
As I feel better this morning than I did yesterday I will write you a few lines. Elizabeth you all rest easy about me for I think I will best my case—my trial is set to come up the first Tuesday in March. You have $200.00 on hand by the 15th of November to pay my Lawyers with. One of them is a better lawyer than Frank Summers is. So if you could employ Summers to help them in my case it would be an advantage to me to have counsel from my own state. Tell pa that I will answer his letter soon. Tell the children that I will see them again. Brock’s trial was put off so he could be a witness against me. Write all of the news.
J. B. Burrow to Mrs. Burrow.
But Jim, not being a convict and therefore not required to labor, soon began to chafe under the restraint of prison life, which was aggravated by a depressing attack of nostalgia, which soon developed a fever, resulting in delirium. During his ravings, which were continuous for about a week, he talked about his wife and children, his home in Alabama, the stolen money he had hidden, his boyhood adventures and his experiences in Texas, but his statements were so incoherently mingled that it was impossible to make an intelligent narration of them. On October 5, 1888, his earthly career was terminated by death, and his unhonored grave is surrounded by those of such hapless fellows as have succumbed to the rigors of prison experience, leaving their bodies with their captors, while their spirits have slipped through the bars and gone for final trial before the Last Tribunal.
JIM BURROW.
WILLIAM BROCK.