Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1882-06-03
The Boys Who Necer Got Hoaue.

Ihe BOYS Wh0 NeCef GOt H0ute.
At recent campfire, given by w.
H. Sargent Post, No. 20, G. A. R., of
GAINESVILLE, Wis, Comrade Thomas T.
Croft read letter of regret from one
of the invited guests, George M. Peck,
who was unable to attend. 1t is an
amusing production. Says the
writer: II don't know what it lie,
but there is something in beans that
makes men sooiable and reckless.
Beware of beans, Tom, as you value
your future happiness. Look not
upon the bean when it is baked and
giveth its color in the pan, for at last
it swelleth like an accordian and
bitetL. like cucumber. But l would
like to be there, Thomas, and take
the old soldiers by the hands and look
into the eyes that are becoming dim,
and notice the effect of Father Times
penciling on the face of the boys who
twenty years ago were full Of vitality
and as kitteny as any man that ever
kept step to the rattling of a canteen
against a cartridge-box. Boys, do
you realize that you are growing old2
It is hard to realize it, but if another
war were to break out your little baby
that you left in mothers arms twenty
years ago, growing at the "hand me
down" blue uniform in which you are
disguised, would be the chap the gov
ernment would want. Boys, you are
rapidly becoming "old back num-
bers )" though you feel young enough
to stub round home, you are exempt
now. Do you realize that the little
baby girl that olung to you as you
said goodbye twenty years ago, with
tears in your eyes as big as a glass
paper weight, or an editors diamond
pin, is now a woman married, and
that another baby is trying to utter
the word "grandpa," when you come
in putting on your youthful airs? 1t
is pleasant now to chase the festive
bean around the home campfire and
talk of the nights when yoa slept on
the ground in pup tent, or on some
battlefield, with your wet and muddy
pantaloon legs frozen stiff as dried
Goldfish, while you dream that every
star that was looking down from above
was the eye of a dear one at home
beckoning you to "Hold the Fort,
and hurry up and get through with
the foollshness and come home. You
can laugh now as you think how you
got up in the morning after such a
nights rest, looking as though you
had been drawn through a brush
fence. You who are left have a
right to be happy, but in the midst
of your bean banquet let me ask you
to stand up with your tin cup of black
coffee, and drink to "The boys who
never got home," the brave fellows
who returned not to meet the loved
ones they parted with twenty years
ago. Let us hope that The great con-
gress above removed the disabilities"
of the boys who left vacancies in their
regiments, and that the few chickens
they took in the way of business from
the enemy will not be entered up
against them on the Big Book, but
that the provost-guard on duty at the
gates of the New Jerusalem will
"present arms" TO them and tell the
boys that they are welcome to the
best there is, and that when we all get
in our work hers, and are ready to
join our regiment in Heaven, that the
fellows that we buried years ago may
stand on the parapet as We come
struggling in, and give us the old
soldiers welcome with "three times
three" with tiger. And we shall
say to them, "all right, comrades we
should have been here before, only we
were detained by business"
I