Thus he preserved an
untroubled demeanour until the day of his death. Always polite, and
even joyous, he met the smallest indulgence with enthusiasm. When Smith
complained that a respite of six weeks was of small account, Brodie
exclaimed, 'George, what would you and I give for six weeks longer? Six
weeks would be an age to us.'
The day of execution was the day of his supreme triumph. As some men
are artists in their lives, so the Deacon was an artist in his death.
Nothing became him so well as his manner of leaving the world. There is
never a blot upon this exquisite performance. It is superb, impeccable!
Again his dandyism supported him, and he played the part of a dying man
in a full suit of black, his hair, as always, dressed and powdered.
The day before he had been jovial and sparkling. He had chanted all his
flash songs, and cracked the jokes of a man of fashion. But he set out
for the gallows with a firm step and a rigorous demeanour. He offered
a prayer of his own composing, and 'O Lord,' he said, 'I lament that
I know so little of Thee.' The patronage and the confession are alike
characteristic. As he drew near the scaffold, the model of which he had
given to his native city a few years since, he stepped with an agile
briskness; he examined the halter, destined for his neck, with an
impartial curiosity.
His last pleasantry was uttered as he ascended the table. 'George,' he
muttered, 'you are first in hand,' and thereafter he took farewell
of his friends.
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