Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1916-07-07
LAST DINNER OF
THE OLD GUARD
How the Annual Feast of
Comrades Came to an End.

Aou UccA pAoSCO q SA1onAAS uAAACA Civ
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 u
bottle of wine, but the only bottle IN
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 a dinner. It was a jubilee. Dur
ing the evening a proposition was made
and decided upon that once a year the
feast was to be repeated.
All were either young or compar-
atively young. and 1t was some years
before a single place was vacant. Then
q chill passed over every man as he
entered the room and saw the empty
chair, the plate, the uncorked bottle,
of their late comrade
Several years passed. The seventeen
men were beginning to become some
what accustomed to the one vacant
chair when the clock Of their lives
struck 2. They missed one of The
youngest, merriest Of their number.
Then it became apparent that the
spontaneous mer1iment Of their first
dinner would wane under tho 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, story, joke, what
ever he pleased-to entven the occa.
sion.
Slowly the diners watched the in
creasing vacancies TIL 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, IL, II, and two
thirds Of the original number had pass
ed away. Six men whose boards were
gray sat together and drank to twelve
who had gone. To them the dead re-
NAMED at the age they departed, some
on the threshold of manhood, others
at successive ages.
It was years before there was an
other vacancy: then two empty plates
dropped into line like figured disks re-
cording the revolutions Of 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 octogenar-
ians or centenarians but two remained.
For eleven years two old men sat down
together once year and drank to six
teen comrades whose bottles were un-
corked. 1t was not now a 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
1t 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 sepulcher.
And now the last man, eighty nine
years old, sits alone. A myriad Of
wrinkles radiate from scar on his
forehead. the remains Of wound re-
ceived at ChArubusco. A few snow
white hairs are scattered over his head.
His eve is fare Of intelligence about
to go out. His dinner is untasted, except
a 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 comrade. He raises
bis 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 Commander to
place me In charge of the rear guard
I have seen you all safely over the riv-
err. and now. my work being finished, I
am permitted to cross myself. The din
of battle sounds far from me-a con.
fused murmur of shouting, of musket-
~, Of cannon. I have no desire to re-
turn to mingle with 1t. I only wish to
Join you in your long rest. Comrades,
greet you"
He touched the rim Of his glass to his
thin lips and set 1t down. Then he rest
ed his chin on his breast and closed his
eyes.
The door opened, ana a group Of chill.
dren burst into the room, followed by
their parents.
Grandpa, wake up! We have come
to cheer you for the loss Of your friends.
They are gone, but we are coming on.
We knew it would be sad for you to
dine alone, and We are going to take
you away and warm you with our
young hearts beating against yours.
To-