I can swear positively it is not in my handwriting. I
can also swear I never saw it; yet it is used as evidence against me.
Is this justice? Is this right? Is this manly? I am willing if I have
transgressed the laws to suffer the penalty, but I object to this
system of trumping up a case to take away the life of a human being.
True, I ask for no mercy. I feel that, with my present emaciated
frame and somewhat shattered constitution, it is bettor that my life
should be brought to an end than that I should drag out a miserable
existence in the prison dens of Portland. Thus it is, my lords, I
accept the verdict. Of course my acceptance of it is unnecessary, but
I am satisfied with it. And now I shall close. True it is there are
many feelings that actuate me at this moment. In fact, these few
disconnected remarks can give no idea of what I desire to state to
the court. I have ties to bind me to life and society as strong as
any man in this court can have. I have a family I love as much as any
man in this court loves his family. But I can remember the blessing I
received from an aged mother's lips as I left her the last time. She,
speaking as the Spartan mother did, said--'Go, my boy, return either
with your shield or upon it.
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