“It was a wonder that bombshell did not kill him! But he was made a general, you say, after that. He lived to be made a general?”
“He did; but he died of the wounds he received afterwards, in Spain. You may have heard the following lines, written to his memory, but they will bear repeating, for they are very beautiful.
‘Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corse to the rampart we hurried!
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O’er the grave where our hero we buried.
‘We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moonbeam’s misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.