and Privates-those who are living have been extolled to the skies; their history is written and is being written; but the secret history of the dead and the secret history of the wounded, has never yet been written by the historian--only by the medical department of the army. It never came before the public; it is not written in the history of the war; it is not written on the blazing page, but it is known to us who you may say were out of the reach of bullets except as they reached us in some poor fellow's limb or body. The whole people of the United States should honor the history of these men, seeing with what fortitude, with what nobility, with what true courage they came back with an arm palsied, a leg paralyzed, or one or the other or both shot away. Those were the times that tried men's courage. To be sure it was courageous to face the enemy, but when the man had suffered, when the man that had met that bullet and stood up under it with fortitude-that was the time that tried his courage and what he was made of. And that is the secret history known only to the medical department. Those of us who came home with whole limbs, vigorous, strong and healthy, can talk of deeds and what we did, but let that man who comes back with the empty sleeve or to-day is on crutches, let him tell of the days, weeks and months of suffering, on the battle-field, it may be, days before attention could be given him, and then of the weeks and months in the hospital, and now drags himself about before you every day. That is a history of the war that can never be written.

As

There occurs to me one little incident that came under my notice. In one of those sharp engagements in which we met the enemy upon an open field, a young man of this city, then a colonel in command of a brigade, put himself in advance of the columu and led them across. When about half way he received a shot which crippled him, and from which he afterwards suffered amputation of the leg. He was brought to the rear, where we medical men were trying to shelter ourselves behind trees and stumps. the poor fellow lay there on the ground and we were examining him he said, "Don't mind me, but attend to these poor fellows lying around here," and then rubbing his hands he said, "O, doctor, but you ought to have seen that Third Brigade go!" That. was the spirit of this wounded hero. No groaning, no complaining, nothing like "Oh, doctor, how my leg aches!" but rubbing his hands, his face flushed with a glow of enthusiasm, he said, "O, but you ought have seen that Third Brigade go!"

Nothing gives me more satisfaction, nothing has given me more pleasure, than to meet these poor fellows going about on their crutches or with an empty sleeve. We do not hear them murmuring. They do not tell the history of their suffering; you must wring it from them. They are not the men to stand on the house tops and proclaim their suffering. It is only through that same department, to which I had the honor to belong, that the history of these men is written. I say all honor to these men, and those of us who are blest with strength and health to battle with life, are recreant to every trust reposed in us, unless we do all we can to smooth their declining years, and to make their families comfortable. Comrades, let our veteran associations throughout the State of Maine make this our chief aim-that the wounded and disabled of our army, and their families, shall be our first, last and chief care.

The next toast was

"OUR ABSENT COMRADES."

Before this toast was responded to, letters were read from Lieut. Tobey of Providence, R. I., Dr. Stevens of Skowhegan, and Capt. W. S. Howe of Pittsfield, regretting their inability to be present.

Responded to by Major THAXTER, President elect, as follows:

Comrades-What I have to say is hardly worth hearing. I wish that all our comrades were here to-night to fill up this skeleton regiment. It would be a very joyous occasion to us and them if we could take them by the hand and see the pleasure depicted in their countenances. It would afford me great pleasure if I could take the hand of our Colonel, and see him preside here at the table to-night.

Pres. BROWN. I'd vacate in a minute.

Maj. THAXTER. There are absent ones that can never return to us I should like to see their genial faces as I have seen them of yore.

Look into the faces of those here to-night, and subtract ten years, and you will call to mind some very young men. The young men of the State brought and carried into the service that energy and that ambition which young men always display, and it was that which carried us through many a hard fought engagement victoriously. It is the same resistless energy that distinguishes the whole Anglo-Saxon race. When our regiment came out of the service it scattered from Maine to California, and I think there is scarcely a State in the Union but has as a citizen a member of the First Maine Cavalry. Many of them fill important positions under our government, not counting the postmasters here to-night, who I have no doubt have left competent subordinates in their places, or something would go wrong. I have no doubt our regiment is now doing for this country as great and as important service as it ever did on the field of battle; and I trust and hope it will continue to move forward to higher places, and that its members will help one another forward to those places where we shall not only make ourselves felt as individuals but as a regiment, until the last one has departed this life.

Letters were read from Gov. Dingley, Gen. Selden Connor, and Adjutant General Murray, of Augusta, Gen. Daniel White and Senator Hamlin of Bangor, regretting that they were unable to be present.

Here Major Brown made a prediction in regard to those of our Regiment who bore the name of "bummers," and called upon Lieut. Ford to sustain him, who related some of their conflicts during the service.

Lieut. CHARLES W. FORD said:

I am the poorest hand you can call upon to tell a story, but I suppose I cannot refuse. The story I presume I am called upon to tell is about a foraging expedition. As you know, I belonged to Company K, and they never used to forage under any circumstances, except in case of orders from headquarters or from actual necessity. This was a case of necessity.

late one stormy day we

I think before we went into winter quarters at Camp went into camp and had no rations. Our teams were behind, and I was in temporary command of the company. I sent for the sergeant, who had a hesitancy in his speech, and never would forage, but I told him he must. He said if I would give him a detail of ten men he would do what he could. I told him to make his own detail. He took them and a team, and in two hours he came back with the team and men loaded down; but instead of being elated at his success, he came in and seemed to be in great trouble.

He came to me and said, "Lieutenant, I just realize w-what I have d-d-done, and if I get c-c-caught you must protect me." He said he went out with his men, and after a while he sighted in the distance a house and two stacks of hay, and saw a squad of infantry guarding a hill. Said he, "Boys, when I motion to you, come on." He immediately rode up and said, "Sergeant, what regiment do you belong to?" "149th Pennsylvania." "Your regiment is ordered to move immediately, and you are ordered to report to your company." The infantry left, and as soon as they were out of sight this sergeant says, Come on, boys," and they drove up, loaded, and came in.

Colonel Douty was in command of the regiment at the time. In two or three days the adjutant sent over, saying our boys were to be mustered, to see if the infantry sergeant could identify the man who gave him the order to report to his company. I immediately went down and informed this man, and he said I must protect him. The inspection was made, but the sergeant could not recognize the man. Our sergeant? Well, there wasn't any sergeant-he was cook over at headquarters.

The second or third day, our regiment was ordered to take four days' rations, which used to last about a day and a half when on one of these raids. When coming out of the woods my company sighted a sinoke house or ham house. They saw it first, as they usually did these things, and a detail was made to go over. If I remember right, Major Chadbourne was sent over to see that they did not get more than they wanted. They made a rush and went in. The major sat on his horse near by. The old man who owned the smoke house came out and said "For God's sake, leave me some." A man from Company I sung out, "Hoe in, you old fellow you, and get your share!" The old man saw the point, and ran in and brought out two hams and his wife another. "There, old man," said a member of Company I, "you have got your share-keep away now!"

Pres. GEORGE M. BROWN said:

The other night, after I had gone to bed, I got to thinking about bummers, a class of persons who are healthy and long lived. None of them ever got shot that I have heard of. I saw fifty years hence, when we have all passed away but one man, that one man belonging to the class I propose to recall to your recollection. We will imagine a gathering upon a 4th of July, or some such occasion. To fire the mind of Young America, it is desirable that some one who participated in the war of the rebellion shall be present, so this sole survivor of our regiment is trotted out, a carriage by himself, and a prominent position on the platform. The quiet enjoyment of the old fraud as he finds himself the object of so much attention and honor is just immense. To him now approaches a young man, hat in hand, respect and admiration in his manner. "So you were a member of the glorious old 1st Maine Cavalry, and took a part in those bloody campaigns?" "Yes, I was there." "What position did you hold?" "Well, young man, mine was a peculiar position-without rank, yet removed from the ordinary duties of a private. Attached to every regiment in the service were a few men known as Bummers, borne on the lists as privates, whose service was secret and hazardous. Their detail was never made by published order, but the men comprising this class never failed to recognize their opportunity to aid the service and distinguish themselves. When an advance was made, their place was on the flanks and rear to watch citizens and procure supplies of necessaries not furnished by the departments. On a march through a new country was where their brilliant genius was most apparent. Far out on the flanks and to the front these brave fellows were always to be found, singly or in squads, eating and destroying as they went, with no hope of advancement. Often have I been days away from our column, with no rations but such little things as could be obtained from reluctant citizens. As I look back now and think of the amount and

variety of food consumed on such occasions, I am astonished that I survived it. Only an iron constitution and a determination to do or die enabled me to go through with it. I cannot tell you of that service without speaking of myself, but I accept the homage tendered me to-day as given to my comrades who have gone before me." And the venerable old fraud leans back, with the tobacco dribbling down over his chin, almost persuaded that he was a hero.

The next toast was

"OUR REGIMENTAL RE-UNIONS."

Responded to by Major J. D. MYRICK of Fitchburg, Mass., as follows:

Comrades:-There is a keynote to every man's nature, which, when touched by tender memories, vibrates with sweetest melody through all his inmost consciousness and being. What thoughts, what recollections can awaken the slumbering echoes in our souls, like those called up by these reunions of old comrades and tried friends? What a flood of melody should our hearts pour forth to the great All Father who has brought us thus together; of devout gratitude and thanksgiving for the mercy which has preserved us to this hour; of deep, manly love for those who shared with us the perils and privations of a hundred bloody fields; martial strains from proud remembrances of seige and fight, of fiery charge and deadly assault, of fierce attack and staggering repulse; softly breathing dirge-like strains for the brave and true who fell at our side amid the wild wreck and tumult of battle,-and under the influence of such celestial harmony, we should feel awed to solemn silence, for those hallowed memories make the spot whereon we tread, consecrated, holy ground. If there be a comrade here present, whose whole being is not thrilled by the echoes which, to-night, come floating down to us from the eternal shores, I would that some word of mine might reach and touch his inmost heart, till he felt the sweet consciousness of a diviner presence in our midst. so that, permeated, filled, with the blessed spirit of reunion,-reunion of the past and present, of dream and vision, of promise and full fruition, of the living and the gone,—we might, all of us, go hence, with the old friendships renewed, with our manhood strengthened, our good resolutions confirmed, our faith quickened and vivified, and with heart and soul cheered and reanimated for another year of toil and struggle.

How all our thoughts and fondest recollections are turning back, to night, to those days of feverish excitement, of swelling hope and anxious fear, those days of herculean effort and mortal strife, those days of proud achievement and of grand realization, those illustrious days of victory and triumph. Aronnd me press those thronging memories of the past, sweeping up with blended bugle calls and all the legends of bivouac and battle! I see the darkening thunder cloud, in early spring time, in the southern sky, growing blacker and more and more portentous-the launch of the dread thunderbolt of war, and how with one red, lurid flare, the lightning stretched its horrid wing from ocean to ocean, and the rolling thunders roused a million freemen to arms! The swift flight of a fiery meteor through the sky, scattering fire-brands and destruction, and death and untold horrors over the land. The farmer leaves his plough in the furrow, the artisan his hammer and his clanging anvil, the merchant his wares and merchandise, the student his books, the professional man his office. From field and forest and inland river, from shore and mountain side and western plain they come, breasting the awful storm and fronting the appalling shock of civil war. As, in the old heroic age, the Spartan mother gave his shield to her eldest born, and with tearless eye and steady voice sent him forth

with the stern injunction, "either with this, or upon it," so in this later, more illustrious era, the loyal mothers of the North, as they girded their sons for battle, sternly bade them to do or die,—to save the Union and our Liberties or perish with them, and with firm, stout hearts, and a smile of loving, yearning tenderness which irradiated a man's soul through many a weary night of dark disaster and defeat, sent them out to fight for God and Fatherland.

I see the multitudinous camps stretching mile on mile away, like some stately, grand metropolis, with their white canvass tents glistening in the noonday sun, the starry ensign proudly floating over all,-or glimmering weird and spectral in the pale, dim moonlight, the numberless camp-fires, gleaming like beacons, clear and still, as they twinkle in the frosty winter air, on hillside and from forest depths.

There rises up before me the silvery mist which hovers o'er Potomac's tide, the soft, blue, dreamy haze which floats like a veil over the bright, green hills of Maryland. Ah! when were ever skies so blue, or sun so golden-hearts so warm, souls so loyal and so true-when were ever hill and valley and mountain side so fair and beautiful, as in that mellow autumn season?

I see again the flame and smoke of combat covering as with a cloud, the embattled hosts who fight beneath the murky canopy of death; I hear the terrible grumble and roar of the conflict, the fiercely surging billows of war, now rolling onward with majestic power and now remorselessly hurled back, covered with the wreck and ruin of disastrous failure and discomfiture, engulfing thousands of our bravest and best, and shaking the mighty fabric of the government to its very centre.

I see the great hospitals with their thousands of bleeding victims, brought from smouldering, sanguinary fields, every spot where a man can lie covered with maimed and mangled heroism,-angels of mercy hovering over the couches of wounded and dying men, ministering to their needs and wants, and speeding the departing spirit on the wings of faith and prayer. Still rise those mingled memories of joy and sadness. To-night, and all this presence fade and vanish. Back to me comes that past, that grand and solemn past, peopling this great hall with myriad visions of by-gone days. Into these aisles and by your sides shadowy forms are gathered and seem to greet us with messages from the eternal camping-grounds. The comrade who pined and wasted and passed away on the hospital's feverish pallet, or died blessing the old flag, in the prison pens of Salisbury and Andersonville; the brother who fell exhausted by the wayside; he who was with us as we crushed and trampled under foot the solid phalanx of the enemy in the magnificent and deadly charge-and all-all are here, reunited for one blest hour of sweet communion, the living and the dead, those whose transcendent valor bore them upward through the agony of their glory, and you, whose matchless daring carried our standards in the foremost front of battle to the very gates of Richmond! Memory brings them all back to us to-night, and our souls are all aflame; the blood courses swiftly through our veins, our nerves are quickened, and our whole being roused and kindled till we live again the stirring experiences of those eventful times, and our hearts beat high with the inspiration of those hallowed recollections. We hear the pealing bugles ring out their clarion calls, as when our bronzed troopers rode in stern array, the solid earth trembling beneath their mighty tread, and groaning as with the travail of an earthquake; when with one look to heaven, one thought of home, one secret prayer in the soul's depths, one glance at the proud standards beckoning us onward, and then plunging forward through the seething fires of hell, you swept over the rebel rifle pits and breastworks, and flashing sabres, just now gleaming in the sunlight, were dimmed and red with blood, as you fell like a tornado upon the routed foe, crushing his broken ranks in one disastrous overthrow and ruin!