He had
little to say--only one word of the glory of the surrounding
scenery, for he was a true son of Nature to the last. He had
placed in an official's hands a slip of paper with the following
words upon it: 'I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the
crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with
blood. I had, as I now think vainly, flattered myself that
without very much bloodshed it might be done.'
Upon the scaffold he only bade them be quick, as he was quite
ready. Ready! Yes, he had been ready many a year, and it was
no unwilling victim that swung mid-air that December morning.
They carried his body to the old log-house he occupied at North
Elba, where it was buried upon the farm. That farm has been
recently purchased for a public park; and the grave, with the
big boulder upon it, forms a conspicuous feature. Thousands
approach it with reverent feet, not so much because of the body
which lies mouldering there, but for the sake of the soul which
is marching on. They had sung in Northern streets a grim ditty
during those days of suspense before his execution, with the
refrain, addressed to the Southerner:
And Old Brown, Osawatomie Brown,
May trouble you more than ever
When you've nailed his coffin down.
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