young officer espied me and standing up in the boat shading his eyes with
his hand seemed carefully contemplating me. I wondered if it could be
possible that he had defined my wish and would have me arrested when he
landed; perhaps it was the cigar that attracted his attention. It was
against orders to smoke on the wharf, and such a big cigar in a boy's
mouth looked very much out of place, but I wasn't going to give it up, and
puffed more vigorously than ever. Just then the "cutter" touched the
stairs that led up to the wharf with a bump, and the young officer with
his handsome uniform turned a back-summersault overboard. It tickled me to
death; I sat down and laughed to see him floundering to reach the stairs.
I clapped my hands and cried, "Good, good!" He finally reached the stairs,
clambered up onto them, but they being very slippery from the slime left
by the ebbing tide, he lost his footing, his heels went into the air, and
down again headfirst he went into the ocean. I think he went clear to the
bottom, for when he came up he was covered over with sea grass and mud. I
laughed harder than before; everybody laughed, even the sailors, they
couldn't help it, and when they fished him out he was a sight! The starch
was out of his clothes, but not his pomposity. He roundly blamed the poor
sailors. I sang out: "It wasn't their fault; what are you blaming them
for?" He looked at me and shook his fist. "Well, it wasn't!" and I
thought to myself if I were they I would push him in again. I then made up
my mind I had better run, but I was so convulsed with laughter that I
couldn't move. Hurriedly but cautiously climbing the slippery stairs, he
made his way straight for me. I was still laughing, so hearty that my eyes
were dimmed with tears! but I still puffed away at the big cigar. He
looked at me for a moment, then hitting the cigar knocked it overboard, at
the same time exclaiming, "You're too young to smoke. What you laughing
at? Why don't you salute me? Discipline! I'll teach you discipline,
confound you," at the same time boxing my ears. "You 'gorramed' little
cuss, why don't you salute me?" At the word "Gorrame" I recovered myself,
looked up and recognized my brother; he had been promoted since I saw him,
had raised a full beard and was in command of a regiment on his way to New
Orleans and had run into Fortress Monroe for orders and hoping to find me.
I was more than pleased to see him, but wouldn't salute him until he had
soundly cuffed my ears and threatened to throw me into the water.
When he was ready to depart he gave me a cigar and told me I could smoke
it after he had gone, but I didn't; just as he was getting into the
"cutter," I gave it to the Boatswain. I don't know, but I believe that
cigar was loaded.
Soon after this episode, peace was declared, and the orders came to
discharge all soldiers and send them to their respective homes, and on the
30th day of June, 1865, the boy who had worked so hard to get mustered
into the service of Uncle Sam was discharged and mustered out. Then I went
home to my dear, anxious family. I was not all covered with glory and I
did not feel that I had saved my country, but was satisfied that I had not
killed anyone; satisfied that I had furnished some little comfort and good
cheer to my comrades during their hardships, and above all that I had
learned the glorious distinction of being entitled to wear one of those
little bronze buttons made from captured cannons and symbolic of the
G. A. R.
[Illustration: Fac-simile of a descriptive list belonging to Mr. Ulmer.
The original is six times larger and was plowed up with other documents by
an old negro on the battle field in front of Petersburg, twelve years
after the war. While Mr. Ulmer was playing an engagement at the theatre in
Norfolk, the negro presented himself with the document all in pieces. Mr.
Ulmer gave him $100 as a reward, had the pieces put together on parchment
and it is now in a good state of preservation. The document is certainly a
great relic; some portions of it are almost obliterated by mildew and
exposure. The supposition is that the officer who had it in his possession
was killed and the papers buried with him.]
Having spoken so often of my brother, some one may ask and wonder what
became of him.
During the war our soldiers would often receive little useful articles,
such as stockings, shirts, etc., made by the ladies who formed themselves
into societies all over the country and furnished these things for
distribution among the soldiers at the front. The young ladies had a great
craze at that time of marking their names or initials upon whatever they
made. One day my brother received a pair of hand-knit stockings with a
little tag sewed on each of them, and written on the tags the letters
L. A. D., Islesboro, Maine. They were so acceptable at the time that he
declared that if he lived to get out of the army, he would be "gorramed"
if he didn't find the girl that built those stockings, and kiss her for
them. He began writing to Islesboro, making inquiries, and received
several letters signed "Tab." He was determined not to give it up,
however, and when mustered out, the first thing he did, was to go to
Islesboro, Maine, to find "Tab." He found her, she was a schoolma'm, and
soon after married her, and they are now living way out in Port Angeles in
the State of Washington happy as bugs in a rug, and every meal time you
can find several little "Tabs" around the table, some large enough to tell
the story of how Pa found Ma, and a great desire to try the same thing
themselves.
* * * * *
The unhappy war was over. The soldier boy returned. I arrived home at the
little farm, found a royal, loving welcome from my father and brothers,
and more than any other, my little step-sister, who never got tired of
stories of my experience. She would sit for hours, begging me to tell her
more. She was always with me wherever I would go. She was full of
admiration for me. I was a hero in her eyes; I could not dispel her fancy,
and I didn't try, for she seemed the sunshine of my life. She plodded with
me through all my ups and downs; through the snow and ice of winter,
making summer for me the year round, and she is now my little wife.
I must stop here, or I may go too far into a history of my life, which I
did not intend. I know it would be uninteresting, but will simply add that
myself and wife adopted the stage as a profession, and still follow it. I
have just completed a play entitled, "The Volunteer" which I shall soon
submit for public approval.
* * * * *
My recollections are finished--for they are but recollections of a time
that "tried men's souls." In looking back o'er the path of life there is a
melancholy pleasure, to me, at least, in contemplating the shattered
shards of many an air built castle,--inhaling the perfumes of flowers long
since faded and dead. If these reflections have served to beguile one
moment of "ennui" for an idle reader--if they have recalled one incident
of "derring doe" to a whilesome comrade, I am satisfied that my purpose is
accomplished.
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Transcriber's Notes:
Passages in italics are indicated by _underscore_.
Unpaired quotation marks have been silently matched.
The following misprints have been corrected:
"wont" corrected to "won't" (page 14)
"everbody" corrected to "everybody" (page 36)
"could'nt" corrected to "couldn't" (page 48)
"a lacrity" corrected to "alacrity" (page 56)
"the the" corrected to "the" (page 64)
"comotion" corrected to "commotion" (page 72)
"first" corrected to "fist" (page 74)
"Huriedly" corrected to "Hurriedly" (page 74)
"untill" corrected to "until" (page 74)
"n" corrected to "in" (image between pages 74 and 75)
"fe l" corrected to "feel" (advertisements)
Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies in
spelling, hyphenation, and apostrophe usage have been retained.
Spelling/printing errors were corrected only if the same word was used
correctly elsewhere in the text.