It was piteous to observe Governor at this time. Any one, to have seen him, must have perceived at once that he was no subject for capital punishment. But no one, except his master and Valentine, was the least interested in him. Alas! poor wretch, he was not even interested in himself! When the refusal of the Executive to pardon Valentine had been received, it was affecting to see the efforts of Governor to console what he supposed to be the disappointment of his fellow-prisoner. "Don't you mind, Walley! Dey's only doin' dis to scare we! Sho! dey's no more gwine to hang we, nor dey's gwine to heave so much money in de fire! Sho! we's too walable. I heern de gemmen all say what fine, walable men we was--'specially me! Sho! dere's muscle for you!" said Governor, drawing himself up, jerking forward both arms with a strong impetus, and then clapping his hands upon his nether limbs. "Sho! You think dey's gwine to let all dat here go to loss? Ef it were only whippin' now, dey might do it! but making all dis here muscle dead? Sho! what de use o' dead nigger? What good dat do? Sho!" And, with this strong expletive of contempt, Governor sat down. Strange and sad as was the fact, this poor, stupid creature was thoroughly persuaded that his own and Valentine's life were perfectly safe. He knew that, living, he himself was worth at least twelve or fifteen hundred dollars, for he had more than once heard himself so appraised; and that, dead, he was worth just so much less than nothing as the cost of his burial would be. And from these facts he drew the inference that he was far too valuable to be executed. And he persisted in looking upon the whole train of events, comprising his arrest, imprisonment, trial and condemnation, with all the pageantry of court-room, judges, lawyers, juries and officers, only as a solemn show, got up to frighten him and his fellow prisoner. Nothing could disabuse him of this illusion; for, if once any idea got fixed in his poor, thick head, it was just impossible to dislodge it. In vain Valentine endeavored to enlighten him as to his true position; Governor would reply, with a compassionate look: "Oh, sho! you's scared, Walley! you's scared! Tell me! I knows better! Dey's not such fools as to hang we! ca'se what would be de use, you know! Sho!" The Methodist preacher exhorted and prayed with Governor, to as little purpose. He could not be made to believe in the fact of his fast-approaching death. "Oh, sho, Walley! I doesn't say nuffin' 't all afore dem, 'cause you see 'taint right to give de back answer to de ministers; but dey's league 'long o' de oders, Walley! Dey's league 'long o' de oders. Can't scare dis chile wid no sich! Tell you, Walley, dead nigger ain't no use, but dead expense! So what de use o' hanging of him? Sho!" This interjection usually finished the argument.