James Copeland
Augusta, Mississippi, Oct.
29, 1857
Mrs. Rebecca Copeland:
My dear mother - it is with painful feelings indeed that I attempt
writing to you on the present occasion. I take this opportunity knowing
at the same time, that it is the last one of the kind which I shall ever
be permitted to enjoy while here on earth. It is long and much that I
have suffered while in prison since my first confinement in Mobile
County, and yet it seems that nothing will pay the debt but my life. I
have had my trial and was convicted upon a charge of murder, and I have
received the awful sentence of death. The sheriff told me today, that
tomorrow at 2 o'clock I will be hanged, according to the order of the
court. Oh, my dear mother, what an awful sound is this to reach your
ear. Oh, would it be otherwise; but you are aware that I justly merit
the sentence. You are knowing to my being a bad man; and dear mother,
had you given me the proper advice when young, I would not perhaps be
doing well. It is often I had meditated on this subject since my
confinement in prison, and often have I recollected my good old father's
advice when I was young, and repented a thousand times over, with sorrow
and regret, that I have failed to receive it as good, benevolent
service, if such a course I had taken, I have no doubt but what I would
be doing well at this time, but it is too late now to talk of things
past and gone. The time has come when I shall have to take my departure
from this world, and it pains my heart, to know that I have to leave you
and my brothers and sister; and much am I mortified to think how
distantly you have treated me while here in prison. Not the first time
have you been to see me; but I can freely excuse you for all this, and I
do hope you will prepare to meet Jesus in Heaven.
Dear mother, long has the time been that life was not any satisfaction
to me. I am now in the dungeon with the cold icy bands clasped around me
and cold as clay. Much have I suffered, but after 2 o'clock tomorrow, my
troubles will all be over or worse than they are at present. This I am
not able to tell. I have been preparing to meet my God, praying
diligently for mercy and for the pardon of my sins, but I do not know
whether my prayers have been heard or not. The scriptures said, "that
the spirit of the Lord shall not always strive with man." And again
says: "He that calls upon the Lord in the last hours shall be saved." If
so, I feel some spark of hope, but I tell you this hope is hanging upon
a slender thread.
Dear mother, it makes the tears trickle down my cold cheeks to have to
pen this statement to you. Dear mother, I have to close this letter. My
heart is overflowed already, so when you receive this you can keep it as
memorial and remember that poor Jim is no more on earth; that he had bid
you a long farewell.
Dear mother, it appears as though my heart will break at the very
thought of this. Oh, could I but see you once more before my death, it
would give my aching heart some relief; but we have to part without this
pleasure.
Now my good old mother, I bid you a long farewell, forever and forever.
James Copeland
|