Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1895-06-01

own opportunities of enlivening the days
of marching Or waiting, or even fighting,
Ard the humorous side of army life is
an ever recurring story at our weekly
camp fire.
Not the least among our camp comforts
were the letter carriers. To be sure, few
of them would be able to pass q civil ser
vice examination, and our delivery sys.
tenn was neither regular nor unobstructed
But our postmaster was faithful and
sympathetic, and if at times he did lit
tie smuggling, it was oftener for some
sick comrade than for himself
Letter writing became fine art and
the chronicles OF the war yet unpublished,
hidden away in bundles of old letters too
sacred for other than the eyes that req d
them at home with glistening tears, or
the diaries that could tell of movements
that would throw new light upon disasters
yet unaccounted for, would charm and
captivate the dullest mind.
1t has been truthfully said that the late
Civil War gave us a higher class of writers
and journalists than can be found in any
other recent period.
But the great struggle was over, and
those who faced the ordeal of war were
again to resume their places among the
scenes of their former lives
| To lay aside the sword to stack the guns
that they had learned to love like animate
| things, and lend their aid in re-establish-
| ing those avenues of thrift so rudely in
| terrupted by the advent of hostilities,
OF their home coming, how can / ever
speak without the saddest of feelings.
If sorrowing hearts followed them to
| the front as they marched forth, grief also
led the van when they returned. The
happy tears that met the brave returning
boy in blue at the door, were mingled
| with the sobs of grief from widowed
hearts and mothers In their childIess
| woe. The pail of mourning that from
| time to time thorough those long years
had singled out its resting place in some
dear home, and left its shadows resting
| there now seemed to settle over all the
| land in one dark cloud
| The living present lent an added pang
| to hearts bereft, and quiokened agony
just dulled by time. The shouts of vel
| come that would swell to long applause,
had always in them music of the minor
| key and hearts that swellcd with pride
for those who came, yet throbbed with
pain tor dear ones left behind.
And yet their work was nobly DONE the
| living aud the dead lad equal right to
| that applause so proudly won, and who
shall say which was the better part the
| one who dying lives forever in our
hearts, or he who living comes at last 10
find the burden of base ingratitude
Thirty years ago in the saaying line
| He was Clipped by bullet AMI banged by
shell,
| Theu flung aloft IN the crater mine
rheu slashed by sabre, but never fell.
| He was not cut dow II in the long four years
| In the maddened charge on the leaguered
town,
| 1t rema ned for a national financier
In the PENSION bureau 10 cut him down.
But my comrades Unjust quit this rom
| iniscent strain and turn my face toward
the future. Around our campilres the cir
| Gle will continue to gather with ever mar
rowing numbers, until the last comrade
| will stir the ashes of memory no longer,
aud the roll call will cease to find an
answering here A i'd to those who In
| fillal love shall softly lay the last hero of
the war to rest, l now address my closing
words
And as l turn my expectant eyes to
| youi poiiS VI Npucsah ~ s'Dhio oiiltnb
If the hands on the dial Of time had turned
back and / was looking into the faces
of thirty five years ago. seem to listen
for the tramp of other feet, along the
street, and for the notes of the bugle on
the old campground.
almost see tho boys, the gay young
boys that marched in sixty-one;' and am
wondering who these others are that only
outrank you in age. The same flag waves
above your heads, the same proud light is
in your bright eyes, that met my gaze in
those old days. But no. as / look again,
the fancy fits from me and I remember
it all They are the veterans and you are
their sons Sons OF Veterans, then sons
of heroes.
The noblest lineage that any man car
boast. To you the future opens up its
vista with such promises as never blessed
the aspiring soul before.
| Americas broad continent Is your own
birthright, and it's heraldry of freedom
your inheritance. Sweeping through the
opening gates of the twentieth century,
our eyes behold the rising dawn of such
rare possibilities as well may inspire the
patriotism of every loyal heart.
The sun that gilds the rock bound coast
of Maine and nestles lovingly betwixt its
mountain peaks, through all the days
shines down in glad surprise on freedom
widening fields.
| And to you my young comrades Is be-
queathed the lasting legacy of guarding sa
credly this broad domain. Into each Of
your opening lives tonight let there come
the spirit of such true and lofty patrio
tism as shall lift you up and beyond The
reach of narrow partisanship, and plant
in purity and strength, those principles
that cradled you securely at your birth.
The lessons of a terrible struggle have
left their impress upon your earlier lives,
and moulded the character of the age in
which you live. But no spirit Of ami
mostly or distrust should be allowed to
sit in council with those Of charity ant
loyalty, or poison that fraternity of feeling
which should reach out and obliterate al
sectional differences 49,
In travelling through portion Of Thu
South few days since my attention wa
arrested by the entrance into the car il
which l sat, Of a company Of Confederate
veterans on their way to reunion a
| Galveston.
| Clothed in the distinctive gray tina