Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1907-02-27
The Last COmrade
[Original.1


plates for eighteen persons. No seat
was occupied except that of the old
man himself, and as the clock on the
mantel licked away the minutes no one
else appeared. Indeed, the one occu-
pant of the room could not have ex-
pected any one else, for his own dinner
was on his plate. At each place was
bottle of wine, but the only bottle un-
corked was that before the one diner.
At the close of the Mexican war
eighteen officers who had taken part in
it and who lived not far from one an
other decided to celebrate the peace
with dinner 1t was a jubilee. Dur
ing the evening proposition was made
and decided upon that once year the
feast was to be repeated, and as each
man dropped out his plate and bottle
were to be set the same as If he were
present.
All We're either young or eompar-
atively young, and it was some years
before single place was vacant. Then
a chill passed over every man as he
entered the room and saw the empty
chair, the plate, the uncorked bottle,
of their late comrade. All had looked
upon battlefields, but none had expe-
rienced this same peculiar sensation in
viewing the dead and dying.
Several years passed. The seventeen
men were beginning to become some
what accustomed to the one vacant
chair when the clock of their lives
stSuck 2. They missed one Of the
youngest, merriest of their number.
Then it became apparent that the
spontaneous merriment of their first
dinner would wane under the increas
ing vacant chairs and exertion must be
made to keep the dinners from grow
ing painful. A resolution was passed
that each man must contribute some
thing-a song, a story, a joke. what
ever he pleased-to enliven the occa-
sion.
Slowly the diners watched the In
creasing vacancies till the number gone
equaled the number remaining. When
the nine living men met and drank to
the nine who were dead, it was with
an effort. Some one proposed that they
should sit together at living half of
the table leaving the other half for the
dead, but the proposal was voted down,
and the living and the dead remained
side by side.
Their clock struck 10, II. H. and two
thirds of the original number had pass
ed away. Six men whose boards were
crfa caf un1 1raI1lr IN fxuolvn
who had gone. To them the dead re-
manned at the age they departed, some
on the threshold of manhood, others
at successive ages.
1t was years before there was an
other vacancy; then two empty plates
dropped into line like figured disks re-
rcf11iilRfsg tt,ne -resofutfoifs or an engine
shaft. Another dropped in three years.
another in two.
BY this time all who were destined
to reach the ordinary limit threescore
years and ten, had dropped out. OF those
who were to become octogenarians
or centenarians but two remained. For
eleven yes two old men sat down
together once year and drank to six
teen comrades whose bottles were un-
corked. 1t was not now question of
which should be blessed with the
longest life, but which would be SOON
est relieved from painful duty. AS
they glanced over the uncorked bottles
it seemed that their dead comrades
were drawn up in line to receive them
when they should appear upon the
eternal parade. With trembling hands
they raised thin glasses to their lips
and drank-drank as much as there
was hope of assimilating with their
wornout systems-then set their glass
es down and without a word left a
room which from a banquet hall had
become a sepulcher.
And now the last man, eighty-nine
years old, sits alone. A myriad of
wrinkles radiate from a scar on his
forehead, the remains of wound re-
ceived at Churubusco. A few snow
white hairs are scattered over his
head. His eye is flare of intelligence
about to go out. His dinner is untast-
ed, except little toast water, of which
he has taken a few sips. He sits at
one end of the table and looks down
the long line of bottles on either side,
every bottle representing dead COM
rade. He raises his glass and speaks,
not with his lips-lips are not needed
to address the dead-but in spirit.
Comrades, l, about to die, greet
you. 1t has pleased our great COM
mander to place me in charge of the
rear guard. have seen you all safely
over the river, and now, my work be-
ing finished, l am permitted to cross
myself. The din of battle sounds far
from me-a confused murmur of shout
ing, Of musketry, of cannon. 1 have
no desire to return to mingle with it.
1 only wish to join you in your long
rest. Comrades, l greet YOU"
He touched the rim of his glass to