"Life is a span, a fleeting hour,
How soon the vapor flies!
Man is a tender, transient flower,
That even in blooming dies,"
"That once loved form, now cold and dead,
Each mournful thought employs:
We weep our earthly comforts fled,
And withered all our joys."
Died at the "Wayside Home," Augusta, Georgia, on
the 6th of April, 1864, Thomas D. Newton, of Co.H., 8th Louisiana Regiment, in the 24th
year of his age. He had remained nearly two months in a hospital at Lynchburg, Va., and it
is supposed, having partly recovered, had obtained a furlough, and was on his way home,
when he had a relapse and died; yes, died away from home and friends, doubtless for want
of attention. No brother near to cheer and comfort him, while enduring the pain that has
laid him low; no mother to administer the cordials that are so necessary and refreshing in
the hours of affliction; no sister to smooth his pillow, and wipe the dews of death from
his noble brow, whilst that Monster was performing his mighty task; and no friend or
acquaintance to follow him to his last resting place--a cold, cold grave. But being a good
and devoted Christian, a member of the Baptist Church from his early youth, he was not
alone when;
"They laid thee in thy quiet grave,
Few mourners 'round thy tomb,
And few the pitying friends that near
Disturbed with faltering sigh or tear
The graveyard's silent gloom."
It is thus that another heroic spirit has taken its flight
to a new and untried existence, another sacrifice has been offered on the alter of our
country. Among the brave, he was the bravest; fearing nothing in defense of his country,
in whose service he lost his own life with hope that she might one day be free. From his
early youth he was deeply impressed with a love of freedom, his country, and his home.
When war was proclaimed he was traveling in Louisiana for his health, which was very bad;
although his constitution was greatly debilitated by previous sickness, yet the first
sound of the drum, calling our men to arms, aroused him, and he went with the motto,
" Conquer or die." With his immortal leader "Stonewall," he often,
cold, hungry, and fatigued, traversed the mountains and valleys of Virginia; invaded
Maryland and Pennsylvania, and participated in every battle fought by that army except the
first Manassas, Richmond, and Fredericksburg, being absent then on account of sickness.
While fighting he displayed that coolness and intrepidity which in
times of battle are the handmaids of success; and Rome or Greece cannot boast a braver or
more daring soldier. His military career has been a bright, glorious one, and reflects
high honors upon his friends and country. While the first battle of Winchester was raging,
the ball and grapeshot as thick as hail, the regiment to which he belonged was ordered to
charge a battery. He being in front, with all the intrepidity of Col. Cilley of the
Revolutionary struggle, and at imminent risk of his life, mounted a cannon. With his bowie
knife alone, he maintained his position, killing one of the enemy, and wounding another
before he received any assistance. He was once taken prisoner and gave up arms. About that
time a shower of shot flew over him, when he, ever ready to take advantage of the enemy,
fell as if he had been killed. In that position he remained perfectly motionless, until a
proper opportunity opened a way for his escape. He then rose and returned to camps as fast
as his feet could carry him, and was the only one of his company that escaped either
death, or captivity.
As a soldier he was gallant and intrepid, never swerving in the least
from the paths of duty and honor. He evinced a high regard of truth, justice, and mercy,
and an utter contempt for all that is low and degrading. In him were united those high
characteristics which make the fond, obedient son; thee tender, loving brother, the kind,
generous friend, and the brave undaunted soldier. But oh! He is gone, gone forever! Wail,
Alabama, wail! You have lost one of your firmest defenders. But you can never call him
back.
We can say to his weeping parents, brothers, sisters, and friends,
"Grieve not for your dear Thomas: Our Heavenly Father has taken him from this cold,
cruel world, for a good and wise purpose; and to his will we must submit. So farewell dear
Thomas, farewell! We will think of them and love thee, though the portals of the tomb open
wide, received thy loving form, and enveloped it in its dark bosom." But,
While the dreams of love still thrill the soul,
With mingled bliss and pain,
Or summers dying leaves can bring
Regrets o'er lifes fast fading spring
Thy memory must remain.
One That Knew And Loved Him