The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1898-07-30
CAMPFIRE SKETCHES.
GOOD SHORT STORIES FOR
THE VETERANS.
The Defeat of the spanish Armada by
Act of Divine Providence a Rebel
Prison Fragment - Admiral Dewoy's
First Defeat.


Rebel Prison Fragment,
A friend in Des Moines, Iowa, sends the
Blade the following poem, of which he
gives the following account: ut has
peen the rounds in Southern papers twice
since the incidents occurred. The facts
which brought 1t out are these: Col.
hawkins raised regiment in and around
AeWlspurg, Tenn, near where l was
raised and went into the rebel army. He
ana goodly number of his regiment were
taken prisoners and carried North, One
OF the boys tried to keep up a correspond
ence with his lady-love in the South, and
Whhe in prison was taken sick and in
formed that he could not live. He longed
10 i've Tor the letter due him from this
Lauy, but the letter came one day too late
tine day after he had died. Col. Hawkins
mad instructions to answer all letters
When ne read the lady's letter, breaking
her engagement with this soldier boy, he
wrote this in answer"
your letter, lady, came too late,
For e IN had claimed its own;
=. -Idden change-from prison-bars
Ento the great white throne!
AND yet think he would have stayed
To live for his disdain,
Could he have read the careless words
which you have sent in vain.
80 full OF patience did he wait,
Through many a weary hour,
That DER his simple soldier-faith
Not even death had pow'r;
And you-did others whisper low
Their homage in your ear.
AS though amongst their shallow throng
His spirit had a peer?
would that you were by me now,
To draw the sheet aside
And see how pure the look he wore
The moment when he died
Inc sorrow that you gave to him
Had left its weary trace,
AS 'twere the shadow of the Cross
Upon his pallid face.
''Her love-" he said, could change for
The winters cold to spring."
All, trust no Tickle maiden's love,
Thou art bitter thing!
For when these valleys, bright in May,
Once more with blossoms wave,
The northern violets shall blow
Above his humble grave.
Your dole of scanty words had been
But one more panS to bear,
For him who kissed unto the last
Your tress of golden hair:
did not put it where he said,
For, when the angels come,
woud not have them find the sign
"a AaSSlAOOu III the lOLnDs
I've read your letter, and 1 know
The wtles that you had wrought
To win that noble heart of his,
And gained it-cruel thought!
What lavish wealth men sometimes give
For what is worthless all;
What manly bosoms beat for truth
In folly's falsest thrall!
You shall not pitt him, for now
His sorrow has an end;
Yet would that you could stand with me
Beside my fallen friend;
And I forgive you for his sake,
And he-if it be given
May cen be pleading grace for you
Before the court of heaven.
Tonight the cold winds whistle by
AS 1 my vigil keep
Within the prison dead-house, where
Few mourners come to weep.
A rude plank coffin holds his form;
Yet death exalts his face,
And 1 would rather see him thus
Than clasped in your embrace.
Tonight your home may shine with lights
And ring with merry song,
And you be smiling, as your soul
Had done no deadly wrong;
Your hand so fair that none would think
II peLueu LIlSSe WoEus OF PAM
Your skin so white-would God, your
heart!
Were half as free from stain.
I'd rather be my comrade dead
Than you in life supreme;
For yours the sinners waking dread,
And his the martyrs dream,
Whom serve we in this life, we serve
In that which is to come;
He chose his way; you, yours; let God
Pronounce the fitting doom.