Colonel Hayne was doomed to be hung. This sentence produced amazement and dismay, indignation and surprise amongst all classes of people. The finest feelings of sympathy were excited in the breasts of a large proportion of the adherents of the crown, who deemed the transaction a species of murder. A petition, headed by the king’s governor and numerously signed by persons of high standing and advocates for the mother country, was presented to Lord Rawdon in behalf of the unfortunate prisoner—but all in vain. “Fell revenge sat brooding on his dark and sullen brow, And the grim fiends of hell urged his soul on to murder.” The ladies of Charleston, the wives and daughters of both whigs and tories, next united in a petition, couched in the most moving language, praying that the life of Colonel Hayne might be spared. This met with a cold reception and a prompt refusal. As a last effort to rescue the father from the scaffold, his infant children, dressed in their mourning habiliments, were led before Rawdon, and on their knees, their cheeks bathed in tears, implored him, with all the thrilling and heart-rending eloquence of childish innocence, to spare their only surviving parent and earthly protector. “But still he stood unmoved, Hard as the adamantine rock, Dark as a sullen cloud before the sun.” So melting was this scene that veteran soldiers could not refrain from weeping, and all were astounded at the cruel severity of the unyielding and blood-thirsty Rawdon. A request was then made that Colonel Hayne might be permitted to die as a military officer, instead of being hung as a felon. This was also denied. As a devout Christian, the martyr resigned himself to his cruel fate, and prepared his mind to meet the approaching crisis. His youthful son was permitted to visit him in prison, who, when he beheld his father bound in irons, burst into tears. “Why,” said the father, “will you break my heart with unavailing sorrow? Have I not often told you that we came into this world but to prepare for a better? For that better life, dear boy, your father is prepared. Instead of weeping, rejoice with me that my troubles are so near an end. To-morrow I set out for immortality. When I am dead, bury me by the side of your mother.” No pen can fully describe that scene. When summoned to the place of execution, his firmness was worthy of the Christian, the hero, and the patriot. When upon the fatal drop, with the accursed halter around his neck, he shook hands with his friends, bade them an affectionate farewell, urged them to persevere in the glorious cause of freedom, recommended his children to the protection of three gentlemen present, and the next moment was struggling in death. The sight was too much for his son, his brain became disordered, his reason fled, and he soon died insane, lisping his father’s name to the last moment of his life.