st him at the
other. They were to make ready, take aim, and count deliberately 1, 2,
3, and then fire. Lilburn's will was written, and thrown down open
beside him. They cocked their guns and raised them to their faces; but
the peradventure occurring that one of the guns might miss fire, Isham
was sent for a rod, and when it was brought, Lilburn cut it off at
about the length of two feet, and was showing his brother how the
survivor might do, provided one of the guns should fail; (for they
were determined upon going together;) but forgetting, perhaps, in the
perturbation of the moment that the gun was cocked, when he touched
trigger with the rod the gun fired, and he fell, and died in a few
minutes--and was with George in the eternal world, where _the slave is
free from his master_. But poor Isham was so terrified with this
unexpected occurrence and so confounded by the awful contortions of
his brother's face, that he had not nerve enough to follow up the
play, and finish the plan as was intended, but suffered Lilburn to go
alone. The negroes came running to see what it meant that a gun should
be fired in the grave-yard. There lay their master, dead! They ran for
the neighbors. Isham still remained on the spot. The neighbors at the
first charged him with the murder of his brother. But he, though as if
he had lost more than half his mind, told the whole story; and the
course of range of the ball in the dead man's body agreeing with his
statement, Isham was not farther charged with Lilburn's death.

"The Court sat--Isham was judged to be guilty of a capital crime in
the affair of George. He was to be hanged at Salem. The day was set.
My good old father visited him in the prison--two or three times
talked and prayed with him; I visited him once myself. We fondly hoped
that he was a sincere penitent. Before the day of execution came, by
some means, I never knew what, Isham was _missing_. About two years
after, we learned that he had gone down to Natchez, and had married a
lady of some refinement and piety. I saw her letters to his sisters,
who were worthy members of the church of which I was pastor. The last
letter told of his death. He was in Jackson's army, and fell in the
famous battle of New Orleans."

"I am, sir, your friend,

"WM. DICKEY."

PERSONAL NARRATIVES-PART III.

NARRATIVE AND TESTIMONY OF REV. FRANCIS HAWLEY.

Mr. Hawley is the pastor of the Baptist Church in Colebrook,
Litchfield county, Connect