Thirty-six years after the date of the battle of Gettysburg, the veteran
survivors of a Pennsylvania regiment were holding their first reunion in
that celebrated town. In the forenoon they dedicated their monument on
the field of "The First Day's Fight," and in the afternoon they were to
hold a business meeting in the Post Room of the local G. A. R. On that
day accommodations were quite inadequate in Gettysburg, and the Post
Room was in consequence occupied nearly every hour of the day by some
of the various organizations there assembled, so that when it came the
turn of this particular regiment to occupy the room, the Seventh
Pennsylvania Cavalry was still in session. They waited outside until the
cavalrymen were through, and then filed in. One who was there says:
"As we went in, I noticed a man going in beside me, tall, well-formed,
with a very fine head of coal-black hair, and rather the worse for
drink. I wondered who he was, for I knew nearly every man in the
regiment, but I couldn't place that man.
"Well, when we were all seated, and General Wister took the gavel in
hand to rap to order, this black-haired man arose slowly and somewhat
uncertainly, saluted and said:
"'Cap'n, before you read the minutes and proceed to business, I'd like
to ask a question. What, hic, regiment is this that's holding a reunion
here?'
"'The One Hundred and Fiftieth Pennsylvania, Bucktails,' answered the
general with a smile.
"'Then, 'tain't the Seventh Cavalry?'
"'No. It's the One Hundred and Fiftieth.'
"The Man seemed dazed, repeated the number over and over to himself and
said: 'Then I'm in the wrong box, cap'n--got left. Ever get left
yourself, cap'n? Great Scott, got in the wrong box."
"Then he sat down, chuckling to himself over his adventure and
muttering, 'Wrong box,' and 'Got left.'
"By and by he arose again, courteously saluted, and said:
"'Cap'n, 'scuze me--but what regiment did you say this was? How much was
it?"
"'The One Hundred and Fiftieth.'
"'The One Hundred and Fiftieth--'m hic, Great Scott,' looking carefully
around the room, 'a fellow'd think it was the Three Hundred and
Forty-Ninth by the bald heads a-settin' around here!' And then he left,
amidst roars of laughter."