see how they will answer it before God. Are they thus to
deal with a true patriot? Let me have pen, ink, and paper, that for the
last time I may write farewell to my wife."

"I will go ask permission of the judges," said van Leenwen, "and I cannot
think that my lord's request will be refused."

While van Leeuwen was absent, the Advocate exclaimed, looking at the
other legal officer:

"Oh, Sylla, Sylla, if your father could only have seen to what uses they
would put you!"

Sylla was silent.

Permission to write the letter was soon received from de Voogt, president
of the commission. Pen, ink, and paper were brought, and the prisoner
calmly sat down to write, without the slightest trace of discomposure
upon his countenance or in any of his movements.

While he was writing, Sylla said with some authority, "Beware, my lord,
what you write, lest you put down something which may furnish cause for
not delivering the letter."

Barneveld paused in his writing, took the glasses from his eyes, and
looked Sylla in the face.

"Well, Sylla," he said very calmly, "will you in these my last moments
lay down the law to me as to what I shall write to my wife?"

He then added with a half-smile, "Well, what is expected of me?"

"We have no commission whatever to lay down the law," said van Leeuwen.
"Your worship will write whatever you like."

While he was writing, Anthony Walaeus came in, a preacher and professor
of Middelburg, a deputy to the Synod of Dordtrecht, a learned and amiable
man, sent by the States-General to minister to the prisoner on this
supreme occasion; and not unworthy to be thus selected.

The Advocate, not knowing him, asked him why he came.

"I am not here without commission," said the clergyman. "I come to
console my lord in his tribulation."

"I am a man," said Barneveld; "have come to my present age, and I know
how to console myself. I must write, and have now other things to do."

The preacher said that he would withdraw and return when his worship was
at leisure.

"Do as you like," said the Advocate, calmly going on with his writing.

When the letter was finished, it was sent to the judges for their
inspection, by whom it was at once forwarded to the family mansion in the
Voorhout, hardly a stone's throw from the prison chamber.

Thus it ran:

"Very dearly beloved wife, children, sons-in-law, and grandchildren, I
greet you altogether most affectionately. I receive at this moment the
very h