Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1909-06-30
s. DAVIS, CONFEDERATE SCOUT
I Continued from Page Two.)


danger make afraid, this young
knight of the South thanked Gen.
Dodge for the interest he had shown,
and was led back to prison to await
his doom. A courtmartial was or
dered, and under it's stern mandate
sentence of death was passed in it's
most ignominious form. Davis had
expected that he would be shot as a
soldier, but the sentence was that he
should be hung as spy, and the
81 hour Of the execution was fixed be-
= tween the hours of ten in the morn
Ing and two in the evening. He re-
ceived the sentence of the military
tribunal with composure. and never
once did he give way to lamentation
or useless grief. His thoughts were
busy, though, and they flew back to
his home and mother, the invisible
chord was touched, whose music Is
sweeter than any lutte touched by
mortal hand, and from his soul came
one last pure note before the casket
which held the jewel of an immortal
life fell and was broken forever. On
the night before his execution he
wrote this farewell to his mother
from his prison cell:
Pulaski, Giles County Tenn,
November 26, 1863.
Dear Mother-Oh, how painful it
is to write to you! have got 10 die
tomorrow morning-to be hanged
by the Federals. Mother, do not
grieve for me. l must bid you good
bye forevermore. Mother, l do not
fear to die. Give my love to ALL
Your son, Samuel Davis"
This breathes the love Of his noble
heart, and is in accord with his fine,
manly nature. There is no complaint,
no bravado no fierce invective against
his icaptors, no storm Of passion
against his accusers, no craven fear
of death. In simple. unadorned
statement the awful fate which the
day will bring, in forgetfulness Of
self, in the last wish that there shall
be no useless grief, but that he shall
not be forgotten when dead, this boy
seems to have been endowed with a
spirit above mortality, and an angel
must have come from on high to
have guided him that night, and
sweet were the dreams that came to
the soldier boy.
His Final Hour.
When the morning sun of an au-
tumn day rose above the circling hills
in one Of the most enhancing por-
tions Of Tennessee, and light had
scattered the black legions of night,
the boy arose even as a sun of light
clear as its rays, beautiful as it's
myriad forms. AT 10 in the morning
the drum beats are heard vexing the
air with ominous and baleful sounds.
Men in blue uniforms are hurrying
in rank. The regiment is formed,
arms are shouldered, the bugle is
sounded, the march is begun. 1t was
not necessary-only a useless for
mality of war--to send SO many men
against one defenseless boy; but all
the soldiers who ever trod the earth
could not make him afraid, for his
heart was pure as Arthur's Of the
Round Table, his courage as high as
all the legions Of julius Caesar. A.
wagon was driven up to the Jail, and
Davis was escorted from his cell and
climbed upon it. Standing erect he
looked around and waved his hands
to two other Confederate prisoners,
who had been captured before, and
who were confined in another part
Of the Jail. This alone would be
enough to show the utter absence of
fear-the cool collection of all his.
rung down on this act in the noblest
drama the world has seen OF all life's
tragedies, we might dismiss the two
Confederates who were left in the
prison, as they do those characters
on the mimic boards when, having
played their small parts, are heard
and seen no more. But fate has
woven these two into the very tex
ture of the story Of this immortal
death. One Of them was Joshua
Brown, a fellow-scout with Davis,
who had also been captured by the
Federals, and Who has lived to add
his testimony to hose stirring events,
while the other man was Capt. Shaw,
the chief of the scouts, the very per-
son who had given the papers to
Davis, with instructions to deliver
them 10 Con Rrnmn Inro q min