I. W. D. Peters

“ TOMORROW morning, at sunrise, I am to hang for the murder of a man.
At sunrise on the ninth of June, the anniversary of my wedding day, I am to be hanged by the neck until I am dead.
I am glad this state has not yet adopted the use of electricity in executions. I prefer to spend my last moments out in the open under the sky.
The building of the gallows is finished; the workmen are gone, and it seems that the execution at sunrise is certain to take place; but every step along the corridor sends my heart into my mouth. Gladys is working for a reprieve. I am praying she will not succeed. ”

“ I am going to hang tomorrow at sunrise because I want to be hung!
I could have saved myself, but refused to do so, solely because life had lost its savor, a great wave of disgust with living possessed and still possesses me. I am writing these words now that Gladys may know the truth. She has tried to see me, ever since I was brought here, and I have refused to be seen. That is one right a condemned man has—to refuse to see visitors. ”

“ I SHALL welcome the hour of sunrise as I never welcomed any moment of my life.
Not until then will the fear of a reprieve leave me. Gladys is moving Heaven and earth to locate the Governor. God grant that she does not succeed!
It is four forty-five. I have spent much time at the window, gazing out into the darkness. What comes after death? That is the question, I suppose, that all men ask at the end of life. ”