In July, I received a notice from the adjutant-general of Ma.s.sachusetts that my regiment had been mustered out of the service of the United States, and on the 22d, I was paid off, mustered out of service and returned home. Thus ended my four years and six days" service during the Civil War, and thus end these recollections which have a.s.sumed proportions quite surprising, considering what was contemplated at the outset.
In studying the history of the Revolutionary War, I have often wished I could read the diary of a private soldier of that time, that I might form an impression of the life of the soldier in the ranks during that war.
If, some day, a student should come along who is interested in the history of the Civil War, and who would like to know something more about it than just the main facts, which is all the histories usually give, it is hoped that these recollections will be of a.s.sistance to him in that respect.
Few soldiers, too, had so varied an experience as fell to the lot of the writer. Again, it has been a source of genuine pleasure to think over the old campaigns, with their diversity of experiences, and put what I have been able to call to mind into readable form.
JAMES MADISON STONE.
Boston, January, 1918.
My task is done, my song hath ceased, my theme Has died into an echo it is fit The spell should break, of this protracted dream.
The torch shall be extinguished which hath lit My midnight lamp and what is writ is writ.
Would it were worthier but I am not now That which I have been, and my visions flit Less palpably before me and the glow Which in my spirit dwelt is fluttering faint and low.
Childe Harold"s Pilgrimage.
Canto 185. Lord Byron.