USA > Maine > First Maine bugle, 1890 (history of 1st Maine Cavalry) > Part 25
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SIXTEENTH ANNUAL REUNION.
Do you remember, comrades, how we used to do, While tramping and fighting, dressed in the nation's blue? How was it with us when the hard tack run so low, And we had still many a weary mile to go?
How was it when we slept on two fence rails at night, And dreaming were of home and that all things were right, We heard a voice which said. "The rebs are in our front, Fall in, boys, lively, and we'll go upon their hunt." Al! comrades, those were days that sorely tried our souls ; No wonder that they often made us feel quite old, Footcore and weary, hungry, aching, tired and wet- Those, comrades, were the days we never shall forget.
Do you remember comrades when the war Was o'er, and we had to tramp, tramp no more, How our hearts thrilled at that word, glorious, "peace," And we knew that the civil war had ceased? "Tis finished," then we heard the statesmen say ; "The northern soldier, brave, has won the day ; For this our nation in her sorest need
Has been protected by her patriot's deeds ;"
But what, comrades, I ask. has all this cost?
How many gallant, precious lives were lost? How many comrades brave, who signed the roll Who never heard the story of victory told, For in the thickest of the stubborn fight They gave their lives for God and for the right? And yet methinks if we could part the veil We should not hear from them one plaintive wail, But rather see a land of sweet perfume Coming from flowers which always are in bloom ; A land wherein the tree of life is growing, And soft and gentle breezes ever blowing ; A land where music sweet is heard afar Echoing through the pearly gates ajar. To that beautiful land our comrades were led By the kind hand of Him who, it is said, Calmed the angry waters and stilled the storm On sacred Galilee's tempestuous morn.
Oh, beautiful, beautiful land, A place where all is fair and bright A place that's full of God's pure light, Oh, beautiful, beautiful land.
Letters of regret were read from ex-Mayor E. B. Nealley, and Gen. Richardson, of Gardiner.
Gen. Charles Hamlin was next introduced as the chairman
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on the part of the State of Maine, of the Gettysburg Monument Association, and made a telling speech. He said that the First Maine Cavalry was peculiarly the representative regiment of the State, having been raised from every part of the State and con- taining citizens from every walk in life. It early made a record and had never lowered it. The State of Maine takes great pride in that noble record. Its record was a matter of history that no words of his could add to or detract from. Gen. Hamlin spoke of the work of the regiment at Gettysburg, and hoped that it might have proper recognition, and very soon, by a suit- able memorial to mark the spot. He urged the comrades to keep alive the great loyalty for which they were noted. They fought for liberty and union, they did not fight for pensions. Gen. Hamlin was loudly applauded at the close.
Major Brown next read a letter from Gen. Charles H. Smith, of Eastport, the old commander of the regiment, who expressed his regret at being unable to be present, and sent many a kindly word to the comrades.
Gen. Jonathan P. Cilley, of Rockland, was next introduced and was most heartily received. He spoke eloquently and feel- ingly, and interspersed his remarks with humorous sayings and funny stories, two of which are here given, which, by their personal and pat hits on those present were received with laugh- ter and applause. Referring to his college mate, Gen. Hamlin, who had just spoken, he said, "Gen. Hamlin has told you how he raised a large portion of the men who went into Co. D, from Bucksport and Orland, of his bringing Gen. Spurling and Capt. Montgomery into the regiment, and how near he came himself to being a member of the regiment, and finally drifted into the Eighteenth Maine, and First Maine Heavy Artillery. " Now this remarkable flirting with the Cavalry wherein he came near being the father of Co. D, but afterwards allied him- self with both the Infantry and Heavy Artillery, reminds me of an old bachelor friend of mine, a man of most estimable character and peculiar constancy, who, disappointed in his early affections, remained a bachelor, and true to his ideal. One day he met a bright looking boy on the street whose countenance fascinated him and called to mind the lincaments of one whom he had once loved. Patting him on the head he asked his name. The boy readily gave it and my bachelor friend, speaking his
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SIXTEENTH ANNUAL REUNION.
thoughts by some involuntary action, said, 'Ah! Did you know how near I came to being your father !' 'How was that?' said the bright little fellow. 'Recalled to his senses, my bachelor friend stammered, 'I-I tried to court your mother.'"
Near the close of his remarks he paid a generous tribute to the services of Col. Allen, the president of the Association, recalling the aid and encouragement he had received from him in raising and organizing Co. B, speaking of the proximity of Allen's (who was then major) tent at Augusta to his own in the line of Co. B, recalling the reverence with which he looked up to him when he was made colonel of the regiment the last of that cold winter on the fair grounds at Augusta, and related his first detail and service away from his regiment in these words. "The winter had nearly passed, we were well drilled and in good condition for active service, lacking only experience. The orders had been received or were in the air that we were soon to move to the front. Every heart in the regiment was throbbing with patriotric expectations. Late one afternoon, an orderly came to my tent and reported that Col. Allen sent his compliments and desired to see me at his quarters. Buckling on my belt and side arms, in accordance with military etiquette, I reported with military salute and stood at attention to receive instructions or orders. The colonel, who was always deliberate in his utterance, spoke more deliberately than ever. 'Captain,' said he, 'orders have been received to send one battalion to Washington immediately; the other two will follow as soon as possible. I have known about you longer than I have any other officer in the regiment. I have a great deal of confidence in you and believe I can trust you. (Did I not feel proud?) I have engaged the best horse and sleigh at the Augusta House stables and I want you (speaking slower and slower) I want you to go to Thomaston as rapidly as you can and bring my wife to Augusta to see me.' My expectations of glory were lowered, but I knew his wife was a most beau- tiful lady, and there were also hosts of friends in Thomaston I wished to see before I left the State. Suffice it to say that by midnight the fastest horse in Augusta was in Thomaston, fifty miles away, with orders to have him carefully rubbed dry and ready for a return trip on the morrow, and I surprised
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FIRST MAINE BUGLE.
and roused my good aunt and cousins in Thomaston to a mid- night chamber reception that was as laughable as it was sur- prising. The next morning I called on Mrs. Allen, who was mightily glad to see me because I had come from her husband and was to take her to see him, but of course I appropriated all this pleasure at seeing me to myself personally. She had quite a number of things to perform for the colonel and I had half a day or so to see my friends in town. It was the after- noon before we got started for Augusta and in the meantime the weather had become cold and stormy.
" Mrs. Allen was always, as she is now, a most beautiful woman, but never did she look so beautiful and joyous as when I tucked those ample buffalo robes the colonel had provided, around her and took my seat beside her. How short seemed the time returning. I wished several times that the horse would become lame or get stuck in a snowdrift. At evening we had a nice supper at Bryant's, in Windsor, and were waited on by his comely daughters of Juno like proportions. Again I tucked the robes around her and occupied the seat at her side and the last ten miles of the journey to Augusta were before us. I had lived all winter in a canvass tent without fire, and during the short time I was in doors at Thomaston I was nearly killed by the apparent hot condition of the atmosphere in houses, but as I sat by the side of Mrs. Allen, I involuntarily shivered. She said, ' Are you cold?' I said, 'I feel shivery.' She said, 'Let me put this shawl around you.' I thanked her and she put the shawl around me and pinned it nicely. I kind of nestled up to her so as to keep out of the cold, and with the bells a ringing, the keen air blowing, the swift motion of the horse and beauty of the snow, I thought what a magnificent colonel, Allen was. What a pleasure it was to serve under a man of so much discrimination, and I resolved then and there to stand by him, to follow him to the fore front of battle, and even to death, and then-and then-to get a pension for his widow."
Major Brown next called upon Mr. J. S. Rowe, of the Bangor Whig, who read a letter written June 3d, 1862, by Governor Washburn to Colonel John Goddard, directing him to proceed to the front and look after the sick and wounded of the Maine soldiers, and to particularly inquire after the fate of Major J.
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SIXTEENTH ANNUAL REUNION.
P. Cilley and Captain Black Hawk Putnam, and if dead, as was then supposed, to secure their remains if possible, it be- ing a happy coincidence that both these gallant and brave of- ficers were present at this reunion. Major Brown supplemented the reading by some happy remarks touching the wounding of the two officers and their subsequent restoration to the service.
Lieut. E. P. Tobie, Historian of the Association was next called up, and after returning thanks for the kindness shown in electing him President for the ensuing year, he told a story about a certain military order given by Gen. Smith one even- ing, while on Gen. Sheridan's raid toward Gordonsville, and then read the following original poem :
A STORY OF HOME IN WAR TIMES.
One day the news flashed o'er the wires a battle had been fought, And many a loving heart that night was filled with anxious thought, For it might be their own brave boys perchance were in the fight, And if they were God only knew what then might be their plight. Three days passed by-a letter reached a little home in Maine ; 'Twas written in a stranger hand and filled that home with pain ; A comrade of their soldier boy the letter wrote, and told How bravely he had fought-but when the tide of battle rolled Against them, he was missing -- left a prisoner to the foe ; Ile had been wounded, that they knew-how bad they did not know ; The letter closed with words of hope that he might be all right- At all events, he nobly did his duty in the fight.
As day by day passed by with' no relief to the suspense, The strain upon the heart and nerves grew cruelly intense ; The gray-haired father said but little, and sadly shook his head Whenever any one inquired if he'd got any news from Ed, But all the time his heart and soul went out in earnest prayer : " If come this sorrow must, O give us strength the blow to bear, And faith to see'tis for the best ; O, God, protect our son -- Preserve him if it be thy will-thy will, not ours, be done."
The mother gave no outward sign of grief; her faith was strong. And hope sang ever in her heart a sweet and cheerful song ; But yet there was a tenderer tone in every word she said, And something in her face that told her thoughts were all of Ed ; She oft withdrew to her own room. and there awhile remained, And now and then when she returned her eyes with tears were stained.
The elder sister, Sarah, tried the other's hearts to cheer,
Yet oft while speaking words of hope, she brushed away a tear ; She seemed to feel her mission was to comfort all the rest ---
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FIRST MAINE BUGLE.
Well she performed this work of love and greatly was it blest ; Her faith and hope were ever strong in God and in the right,
And never once in these dark hours did she of these lose sight.
Another sister, Mary, nearer him in thought and years, Who'd been the sharer of his early manhood's hopes and fears- Ah! close the ties that bound these two-naught stronger on the earth Than love like that she had for him o'er whom she'd watched since birth ; A better, gentler, kinder heart than hers was never known- ' The sorrows of the ones she loved were added to her own ; She uttered words of cheerful hope, but ever and anon The tears that mingled with her smiles showed hope was well-nigh gone.
A brother, 'Roy, who'd just returned from two years service done In camp and field, and nobly done, who'd seen flelds lost and won, And better knew war's dangers and war's chances-he, too, tried To make himself and those he loved look on the brighter side ; He kept stout heart, firm tone and cheerful face when they were by, Nor let them e'er see him with quivering lip or moistened eye, But in his heart was all the time, this purpose, firm and strong, Oft spoken through his teeth, "If we don't hear from Ed e'er long, I swear, I'll re-enlist."
In all these anxious hours, not one Of those he loved expressed regret that he to war had gone ; They were all proud that he went forth in freedom's cause to fight, Although e'en now he might have died for country and for right. And still no word ; one day they sat in silence, and it seemed As if the strain could not be longer borne ; the faith that gleamed So brightly when he went to war was growing dim ; and hope Was fading fast ; and each one felt they could no longer cope With this uncertainty. Then Mary the sad silence broke- " Well I don't care-I'd rather be where he is," she spoke, " Than here at home, skulking around, in terror of the draft." With these brave words their hearts concurred; with one accord they laughed ---
The first laugh in that home for days ; and with that laugh returned Faith, hope and trust, and cheerfulness-all once more brightly burned In every heart; and though the sorrow yet remained, they ne'er Again lost hope ;- ere long word came which brought them glorious cheer.
Major Brown held up a bouquet saying it had been presented with a note from a friend of Lieut. George S. Kimball, who was killed in battle, " in loving memory of my friend and com- rade," and called upon John L. Crosby, Esq., who was his college class-mate to speak. Mr. Crosby made some most per- tinent remarks, paying a high tribute to the mother of the de-
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SIXTEENTH ANNUAL REUNION.
ceased comrade, and closed by reciting Bishop Burgess' beau- tiful poem on "The Old Blue Coat the Soldier Wore," as follows :
THE BLUE COAT OF THE SOLDIER.
By Rt. Rev. Bishop Burgess, Late of the Diocese of Maine Protestant Episcopal Church.
You asked me, little one, why I bowed, Though never I passed the man before? Because my heart was full and proud, When I saw the old blue coat he wore : The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore.
I know not, I, what weapon he chose, What chief he followed, what badge he wore,
Enough that in the front of foes, His country's blue great-coat he wore : The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore.
Perhaps he was born in a forest hut, Perhaps he had danced on a palace floor ; To want or wealth my eyes were shut, I only marked the coat he wore : The blue great-coat. the sky-blue coat. The old blue coat the soldier wore. &
It mattered not much if he drew his line From Shem or Ham, in the days of yore ; For surely he was a brother of mine, Who for my sake the war-coat wore : The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore.
He might have no skill to read and write, Or he might be rich in learned lore ; But I knew he could make his mark in fight, And nobler gown no scholar wore Than the blue great-coat, the sky-blue-coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore.
It may be he could plunder and prowl, And perhaps, in his mood. he scoffed and swore; But I would not guess a spot so foul On the honored coat he so bravely wore : The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore.
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FIRST MAINE BUGLE.
He had worn it long and borne it far, And perhaps on the red Virginian shore, From midnight chill till the morning star, That worn-great coat the sentry wore : The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore.
When hardy Butler reined his steed, Through the streets of proud, proud Baltimore, Perhaps behind him, at his need, Marched he who yonder blue coat wore : The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore.
Perhaps it was seen in Burnside's ranks, When Rappahannock ran dark with gore ; Perhaps on the mountain-side with Banks, In the burning sun no more he wore The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore.
Perhaps in the swamp was a bed for his form, From the seven days battling and marching sore, Or with Kearney and Pope 'mid the steely storm, As the night closed in that coat he wore : The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore.
Or when, night over, as Jackson dashed, That collar 'or cape some bullet tore, Or when far ahead Antietam flashed, He flung to the ground the coat that he wore : The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat that the soldier wore.
Or stood at Gettysburg, where the graves Rang deep to Howard's cannon roar ; Or saw with Grant the unchained waves When conquering hosts the blue coat wore : The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore.
That garb of honor tells enough, Though I its story guess no more ; The heart it covers is made of such stuff, That coat is mail which that soldier wore : The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore,
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SIXTEENTH ANNUAL - REUNION.
He may hang it up when peace shall come,
And the moth may find it behind the door,
But his children will point when they hear a drum
To the proud old coat their father wore : The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore.
And so, my child, will you and I,
For whose fair home their blood they pour,
Still bow the head, as one goes by, Who wears the coat that soldier wore : The blue great-coat, the sky-blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore.
A letter from General C. P. Mattocks was then read, expressing his regret at not being able to be present.
Judge Haskell, of the Supreme Court, was next called up. He felt it an honor to be present upon this occasion. "The names of battles about the hall are not meaningless to private citizens. They indicate the places where many brave men laid down their lives for the country. Braver men never have fought than these veterans. Why? To maintain the unity of the govenment. These meetings should stimulate the veterans to better perform their duties as good citizens ; to throw their influence in favor of purity of the ballot, an honest vote and a fair count. We should carry ourselves as becomes men whose fathers have bequeathed to them the heritage of a free government. You veterans have defended it, and I hope it will be conveyed to future generations spotless as it has been handed down to us." He also referred incidentally to the youthful appearance of the comrades, which was so generally remarked upon during their stay in Bangor.
Congressman Boutelle was loudly applauded on being called up. He wished he was a member of the First Maine Cavalry, but as he was not he was proud to have among his constituents so many of the brave men who composed it. He did not need to eulogize the First Maine Cavalry. As Daniel Webster said of Massachusetts : " There she stands. Her record is before you." That proud record of names of places in which the regiment was engaged was not only the pride of the regiment, but the pride of the State and the nation. The First Maine Cavalry taught the South that it was not in them that dwelt all the chivalry. Than the lamented Col. Douty and the gallant Boothby, no braver or more gallant men ever lived. He closed his remarks by reading the following story as told by a grim
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FIRST MAINE BUGLE.
old field piece that had been battered at Cedar Creek, of the re- pulse of the Union troops on that eventful morning, from the poem entitled " The Songs of the Guns," written by Francis M. Finch and by him read at the reunion of the Society of the Army of the Potomac, at Albany, New York, June 18th, 1879.
They sacked our camp ; they took our flag; They tore our empty tents to rags ; They turned on us our captured guns, While blood from rill to river runs ; They swept our wagon train away And crowned with victory blackest day.
But where the leader, mad and grim ?
Some one has framed in battle-hymn
The story of his angry ride,
With spurs drove deep in charger's side.
Bays for the poet who sweetly sings !
But this is the way a war gun rings !
COMING, BOYS.
Hurry, Phil Sheridan ! Ride ! Fly ! Race with the wind, Out-gallop the river, To the columns thinned And the lines in a shiver.
Ride ! for the gleam of your fortunate star
Will blaze new hope on the valley afar;
Ride ! 'Tis a rout of cannon and car
Like a drift in a storm of cordage and spar ;
Ride ! or the glory just born of the war
Will bleed with the bullet or blush with a scar. Sheridan, ride ! With blood on the spur, And blood in the air ; Ride ! Ride ! With your helmless hair.
Coming is Sheridan, Hot, wild; A speck on the hill, A shadow far flying, Incarnated will, Disaster defying. Coming ! where threatens the cataract's roar, And crossing his gallop the wild waves pour ;
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SIXTEENTH ANNUAL REUNION.
Coming ! where blows of the lightning tore
The oak behind and the pine before ; Coming ! though fiends from the fiery shore Brigade in his path the furies of yore. Sheridan comes ! With blood on spur And death in the air ; Comes ! Comes ! With rage in his hair.
Hurry, O, Sheridan ! Ride ! Fly !
Rowel the steed Till the wild hoofs rattle ;
Yonder they bleed In the storm of the battle.
Ride ! or your flags in the valley will fall,
Torn with the bayonet, riddled with ball ;
Ride ! or the ranks that have answered your call
Will famish, and die in bondage and thrall ;
Ride ! or the smoke will wind in its fall
Gun, cannon and flag, hope, glory and all. Sheridan, ride ! With blood on the spur, And flame in the air ; Ride! Ride ! With your streaming hair.
Coming is Sheridan ! Halt! Form! His steed in a foam, At the front he is riding ; The master at hand All the battle is guiding.
o
Halt ! and the fear and the terror are dead,
And they harden to heroes who hopelessly fled ;
Form ! and the front of the battle is spread
Where the blood of the moaning morning was shed;
Charge ! and the foeman have bitterly bled,
And the sun that was clouded sets splendid and red. Sheridan, Charge ! With blood on the spur, And death in the air ; Charge! Charge ! 'Tis a banner, your hair.
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FIRST MAINE BUGLE.
Glory for Sheridan ! Name ! Fame!
Bays for his brow And straps for his shoulder, Never we bow To warrior bolder.
Fame ! for the army he galloped to save
From the bar of the prison, the mould of the grave ;
Fame ! for the nation whose banners he gave
New flashes of freedom from mountain to wave ;
Fame ! for the lesson the proud worlds crave
That "the land of the free" is " the home of the brave ! " Sheridan ride ! With gold on the spur And fame in the air ; Ride ! Ride ! We laurel your hair !
Rev. Dr. A. K. P. Small, of Portland, formerly of the First Baptist Church of Bangor, was the last speaker, and his words of thrilling and burning eloquence showed that he had lost none of his old time power with which he used to sway the hearts of the mul- titude in the days of rebellion and send forth men to battle for their country filled with resolve to do or die to save the nation. His re- ferences to the war meetings that used to be held in old Norombega and in public squares of the city were deeply affecting and brought tears to the eyes of many of his hearers. His speech brought forth loud and prolonged applause and was a happy termination of a most interesting and successful reunion.
The song " Marching Through Georgia," accompanied by the Band, brought the exercises to a close.
During the evening the exercises were interspersed with choice music by the Bangor Band, stationed in the balcony.
Mrs. Douty, widow of the beloved Col. Calvin S. Douty, was present and received much attention from the veterans.
THE LADIES' AUXILIARY.
The second annual meeting of the "Ladies' Auxiliary of the First Maine Cavalry " was held in the parlor of the Windsor Hotel on the afternoon of this reunion day. In the unavoidable absence of the officers, Mrs. Olive M. Long was chosen President pro tem, and Mrs. Emma L. Bickford secretary pro tem. After the usual
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SIXTEENTH ANNNAL REUNION.
routine business, officers for the ensuing year were elected as follows :
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