“2nd Lieutenant Mayne Reid, of Company B, to be 1st lieutenant of Company G, vice Innes, promoted.”
Chapter Five.
He is Mourned as Dead.
It was reported that Lieutenant Mayne Reid had died of his wounds. This intelligence reached his family in Ireland, who mourned him as dead until the joyful contradiction arrived. It may be interesting as evidence of his reputation at this time to give an extract from a contemporary notice in the Newport News.
“The lamented Lieutenant Reid.
“Lieutenant Reid has been in this country some five or six years, and during that time has been mostly connected with the press, either as an associate editor or correspondent; in this last capacity, he passed the summer of 1846 in Newport, R.I., engaged in writing letters to the New York Herald, under the signature of ‘Ecolier.’ It was at this time that we became acquainted with him, and there are many others in the community who will join us in bearing testimony to his worth as a man, all of whom will be grieved at the announcement of his death. He returned to New York about the first of September, and shortly after sailed for Mexico with his regiment. He was at the battle of Monterey, and distinguished himself in that bloody affair. We published a little poem from his pen, entitled ‘Monterey,’ about three months ago, which will undoubtedly be remembered by our readers; towards the close of the poem, was this stanza:
“‘We were not many - we who pressed
Beside the brave who fell that day;
But who of us has not confessed
He’d rather share their warrior rest,
Than not have been at Monterey?’
“Alas! for human glory! The departed, probably, little thought at the time he penned the above lines that he should so soon be sharing ‘their warrior rest.’ At the storming of Chapultepec he was severely wounded, and died soon after from his wounds. He was a man of singular talents, and gave much promise as a writer. His temperament was exceedingly nervous, and his fancy brilliant. His best productions may be found in ‘Godey’s Book,’ about three or four years ago, under the signature of ‘Poor Scholar.’ It is mournful that talents like his should be so early sacrificed, and that his career should be so soon closed, far—very far—from the land of his birth and the bosom of his home, as well as the land of his adoption. But thus it is! When the day arrives for our army to return, if it ever does, it will present a sad spectacle. The ranks will be thinned, and hearts made sorrowful at their coming that hoped to rejoice in the fullest fruition of gladness. Many a gallant spirit has fallen to rise no more; and the wild note of the bugle cannot awake them to duty, or the sweeter call of friendship and home. The triumphs may be as splendid as ever crowned a human effort, but they have been purchased at the price of noble lives, and too dearly not to mingle the tear of sorrow with the shout of joy.”