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Chaplain.-E. R. Goodrich, Bruns

wick.

Executive

Committee.-W. S. Noyes, Evander Gilpatrick, Lewis Selbing, C. O. Wadsworth, L. D. Carver, F. F. Goss, M. H. Dorsey.

Commander-elect Murphy appointed J. Edwin Nye of Auburn as Adjutant-General, and J. M. Fernald of Lewiston as Quarter-master General. The officers were installed by Chief Mustering Officer Lewis Selbing.

Voted, That the thanks of the department be extended to the retiring officers.

General Emerson thanked the comrades for the hearty support given him during the past year.

Voted, That the Adjutant-General have printed and sent out twenty-five copies of the department commander's address.

Toted, that the thanks of the department be extended to Comrade J. P. Cilley for publishing the proceedinge of the encampment.

Closed.

THE EVENING CAMP FIRE.

After partaking of the two banquets of dinner and supper, served by the wives and daughters of the Sedgwick command, and ladies of Auburn.

Colonel Emerson, of Auburn, past department commander, and master of ceremonies, called this campfire to order at half past seven o'clock. The Grand Army hall was filled with the battle-field soldiers of the Union, members of the Grand Army, and the prominent citizens of Auburn, who were present by special request, the latter including doctors, lawyers, and ministers.

The welcome was by Mayor Harris, and was a welcome that was a welcome. No one could doubt the mayor's sincerity, as he spoke of the grand work of the veterans, and of his respect and esteem for them and their organization.

The evident happy condition of the encampment was intensified by two ludicrous stories by General Wood, who started the pleasures of the evening's varied entertainment. His remarks then took a serious turn and he delivered an eloquent and touching speech on the war and its lessons. He paid a glowing tribute to the noble work and sacrifice of women in the war, illustrating the patriotism and devotion of women by a case coming under his observation. A mother's four sons had gone to the front with her consent and wishes of God-speed. Three of them had been killed in battle and the fourth had been wounded and brought home to be nursed by the mother. A neighbor called in one evening and they were talking about the taking off of the three boys and the critical condition of the fourth. "Mary," said the neighbor, "this is all your own fault. You should never have consented to let the boys go to war." "No," said the mother, "I'm not sorry I let them go. They were good boys and I loved them with a mother's love, but they died in a good cause--fighting for their country. No, I'm not sorry. To tell the truth, if I'd known thirty-five years ago that the war was coming I'd have had more boys to send out."

The unexpected ending of the

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REMINISCENCES OF THE WAR.

By Frank J. Bradbury, Tenth Maine Infantry.

I have written of marching out to Cedar Mountain and the engagement the next day, and will now give from memory a little story of our falling back from the rise of land in the wheatfield from our too far advanced position, and running guard after returning to camp two days later. Right here Corporal James H. Mansfield of Company G was shot by a Minie ball, and I think in the groin. When about falling, two comrades near him caught the wounded soldier, and by permission of Commander Lieutenant H. R. Millett bore him from the field. If I remember correctly, the soldiers who carried Mansfield from the field were Charles F. Greenleaf and Sergeant Zebedee Cushman of Company G; a shell bursting near at the time caused Cushman to stumble over a log or stump, and he was also quite badly injured and carried further to the rear. Cedar Mountain fight occurred Saturday, August 9th, 1862. The enemy pushed us a mile or two from the field and threw out a strong picket front.

Sunday following was a warm day with a fearful thunder storm in the afternoon. The enemy would receive no flag of truce on Sunday, but on Monday allowed the dead to be buried. and

our wounded succored. In marching back to Culpeper on August 11th, after the engagement on Saturday only about half the men were in the ranks, who were engaged

in the struggle. Historian Gould says that one hundred and seventyfive men were killed and wounded in the regiment, and those who were not hit in the body, showed the effects of bullet or shell in gun, cartridge or cap-box, canteen, or some part of the clothing. I am very positive now it must have been on Tuesday morning, August 12th, when I was detailed for the hospital in Culpeper Village. I think it quite late in the day on Monday before we reached Culpeper and the camp.

was

All this is preliminary to what I have to say. On getting partly settled in camp that Monday night, August 11th, I received from Comrade Zebedee Cushman who hurt in carrying Corporal Mansfield from the field, a verbal request by some soldier imploring me to find his blanket, knap-sack, and bring them to him that night at a meetinghouse hospital in Culpeper, where he was confined. After considerable of a search I obtained most of his things. Now when ready to proceed on my errand of mercy a greater obstacle stood in my path. It was now after dark and the guard had strict orders to let no one out without a pass. A sick and suffering friend or soldier with limbs aching on the hard benches in a near house of God made no difference to him; those were his orders and those orders were facts. But I was desperately interested for the comrade that night,

and I took the bundle of things and stealthily made my way to a dark, unfrequented part of the line, where the guard's eye did not lurk. My impression is that the little village of Culpeper was hardly a third of a mile from our camp. In my roundabout way to escape the guard and in the darkness, I met with falls, torn clothing, and a few scratches. But in due time I appeared at the oldfashioned church in the village and the guard at the door let me pass without a challenge. I had decided to put on a bold front and push right along, trusting to my knapsack and things to help out or give me en

trance.

The quaint church with the long rows of wooden seats with high backs and little low pulpit in front was now filled with wounded men from the battlefield, scattered about in all directions and attended to by men detailed from the ranks. I found my disabled comrade lying in a pew, stretched at full length on a hard seat, and his tears, thanks, and benedictions on the hand of an humble private richly repaid me for all my trouble and trials. In the fair Southern town, where the long sunny days are laden with the perfume of flowers, men, women, and children had been sold on the auction block to the highest bidder, by the dissolute master for the greed of gold. Inside this little church where I was standing, to say a word of cheer to my injured comrade and which is also called the house of God, the sainted minister had time and again eloquently told to all the people around of the blessed institu

tion of slavery, which was divine by edict of the Holy Bible and the crack of the slave-driver's whip, but now the day of reckoning had come; the frightened parson had fled from the pulpit and the quiet town of Culpeper. The Northern men were marching and the drums were beating, and only a little way out of town the men of the South and North had met as Greek marshaled against Greek in battle array, and the red clover and golden grain were stained with the warm life blood of the contesting legions.

In that clover field under the eastern slope of Cedar Mountain where. the Confederates were planting their death-dealing cannon; in the bright sunshine of a summer day and its foreboding stillness, Corporal Mansfield fell upon his knees in rear of our battle line, spread down his rubber blanket and called to Edward Burke, Horace Dresser, and Pompey Mason to join him in a game of cards. The boys of Company G gathered to hear Chaplain Knox say words of encouragement and that right living was the best way to life. Some played cards, and a few for money. They were not bad men. They respected the chaplain at all times and remembered his visits to them in sickness. The camp became to be irksome when long in quarters, and the boys were not used to such confinement. The good chaplain had said to the soldiers on a Sunday, that it was a sin to play at games for money and that the God-fearing, praying soldier at the front fought bravely and the enemy always feared him.

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