ead in it for some time.
Sometime after two o'clock the clergymen came in again and conversed with
him. They asked him if he had slept, if he hoped to meet Christ, and if
there was anything that troubled his conscience.

"I have not slept, but am perfectly tranquil," he replied. "I am ready to
die, but cannot comprehend why I must die. I wish from my heart that,
through my death and my blood, all disunion and discord in this land may
cease."

He bade them carry his last greetings to his fellow prisoners. "Say
farewell for me to my good Grotius," said he, "and tell him that I must
die."

The clergymen then left him, intending to return between five and six
o'clock.

He remained quiet for a little while and then ordered his valet to cut
open the front of his shirt. When this was done, he said, "John, are you
to stay by me to the last?"

"Yes," he replied, "if the judges permit it."

"Remind me to send one of the clergymen to the judges with the request,"
said his master.

The faithful John, than whom no servant or friend could be more devoted,
seized the occasion, with the thrift and stoicism of a true Hollander, to
suggest that his lord might at the same time make some testamentary
disposition in his favour.

"Tell my wife and children," said the Advocate, "that they must console
each other in mutual love and union. Say that through God's grace I am
perfectly at ease, and hope that they will be equally tranquil. Tell my
children that I trust they will be loving and friendly to their mother
during the short time she has yet to live. Say that I wish to recommend
you to them that they may help you to a good situation either with
themselves or with others. Tell them that this was my last request."

He bade him further to communicate to the family the messages sent that
night through Walaeus by the Stadholder.

The valet begged his master to repeat these instructions in presence of
the clergyman, or to request one of them to convey them himself to the
family. He promised to do so.

"As long as I live," said the grateful servant, "I shall remember your
lordship in my prayers."

"No, John," said the Advocate, "that is Popish. When I am dead, it is all
over with prayers. Pray for me while I still live. Now is the time to
pray. When one is dead, one should no longer be prayed for."

La Motte came in. Barneveld repeated his last wishes exactly as he
desired them to be communicated to his wife and children. The pre