MEMORIES OF THE 



dred and twenty-eight pounds each, then got recruits and went 

 on till night; got more volunteers next day, and at twelve o'clock 

 delivered it to the sailors and had a verbal discharge from the 

 colonel. The said cable was seven inches in diameter and 

 thirty-six rods long." 



He then described to me the hurrah of a time they had as 

 they neared and went into the village, when, he said, men were 

 as thick as they could walk under the big cable, and fifers and 

 drummers were riding on it, making things ring and rattle as 

 they moved into town, to the loud cries of "Hurrah, the rope! 

 Hurrah, the rope! " 



As long as he lived he had a scar on his shoulder made by 

 this cable carrying, which was caused, as he said he believed, 

 because the man each side of him seemed to be a little shorter 

 than he was. As he became older, he became prouder of his 

 military service, and was particularly pleased with the small 

 service pension granted him, although he lived to draw it but a 

 few months. So far as he knew, he was the last surviving mem- 

 ber of his company. His early experience as minute-man along 

 the front and his subsequent connection with the old "Flood- 

 wood" militia gave him an active interest in military affairs 

 which he kept as long as he lived. 



His oldest son, Gilbert, when a very young man was captain 

 of an artillery company, which frequently met and drilled on the 

 old home farm. A big elm on the bank of the creek near the 

 Wilcox line for many years bore the marks of cannon shot re- 

 ceived in target practice. His second son, John N., was a medi- 

 cal cadet, assistant surgeon, in charge of various hospitals and 

 convalescent camps for a long time, and then surgeon and major 

 in the United States Volunteers in the great war; and his third 



