IN the winter of 1863-4, the great majority of the men of the 32d reËnlisted for a term of three years, under an order which in such cases gave the entire reËnlisting body a furlough of thirty days. It was only after much struggling with bumbledom that everything was smoothed out and the furlough granted, so that the Regiment could return as one body.

Leaving the camp and the remainder of the men under command of Captain Fuller of Company C, the Regiment left for Massachusetts to enjoy its vacation. It was a little before noon on Sunday, the 17th of January, 1864, a bright and mild winter day, that we arrived in Boston, and our first impression upon arrival was that all the people of Boston were gathered about the Old Colony station, but there were enough of them left to line the whole route through the city, as we marched first to the State House to pay our respects to Governor Andrew, and as we moved thence to Faneuil Hall, where a bounteous collation awaited us. Notwithstanding the day the troops were saluted along the line by the cheers of the people, and the salvos of artillery.

At Faneuil Hall, after all had been satisfied with the repast, Governor Andrew arose to address them and was greeted with hearty cheers. He spoke in substance as follows:

Soldiers:—In the name and in behalf of the Commonwealth and of the people of Massachusetts, I greet your return once more to your homes and to the soil of the venerable Bay State. The cordial voices of the people who have welcomed your procession through the streets of Boston, these waving banners, these booming cannon breaking the stillness of our Sabbath day with voices echoing the sounds of battle—all, all bid you welcome—welcome home. The grateful hospitality of Boston beneath the venerable arches of Faneuil Hall welcomes you. Our hearts, speaking the eloquence of affection, admiration, and pride no words of mortal lips can utter, with beating throbs bid you welcome. Hail then, soldiers of our cause, returning for brief relaxation from the toils, the conflicts, the perils of war, hail to your homes. Here let the war-worn soldier-boy rest for a while, and rejuvenate his spirits, refresh his heart, and re-erect his frame. Here, too, I trust, shall your ranks be filled by fresh recruits of brave and patriotic hearts, imitating your zeal, vying with your courage, and following your example. I cannot, soldiers of the Union Army, by words, by eloquence of speech, in fitting measure repeat your praise. This battle flag, riddled with shot and torn with shell, is more eloquent than human voice, more speaking than language, more inspiring, more pathetic than music or song. This banner tells what you have done; it reveals what you have borne. And it shall be preserved so long as the last thread remains, so long as time shall leave a splinter of its staff—a memorial of your heroism, your patriotism and your valor.

While I greet the return of these brave and stalwart men to the homes of Massachusetts, I remember those comrades in arms whose forms you have left behind. Yielding to the shock of battle, many of those brave soldier-boys to whom, in behalf of the Commonwealth, I bade farewell some months ago, fighting for that flag, defending the rights and honor of our common country, maintaining the liberties of her people, the traditions of the fathers, and the rights of humanity—have been laid low. They sleep beneath the sod that covers the rude grave of the soldier. Oh, rest in peace, ye hero martyrs, until the resurrection summons shall call you to that other Home! No longer obedient to any earthly voice or any human leader, you have made your last report, and in the spirit have already ascended to join the Great Commander! The humblest soldiers who have given their lives away, will be remembered so long as our country shall preserve a history. Their fame will be acknowledged with grateful affection when ten thousand prouder names shall have been forgot.

“While thousand as absurd as I,
Cling to their skirts, they still shall fly,
And spring to immortality.”

I give you praise from the bottom of a grateful heart, in behalf of a grateful and patriotic people, for all that you have suffered and for all that you have attempted. And now on this holy sabbath day, let us remember with the filial thankfulness of sons, with the devoted piety of Christians, as well as the exulting confidence of patriots what the God of our fathers has done for us, from the beginning. Unto Him and not unto us be all the praise and the glory. Unto Him who sitteth upon the throne and ruleth the nations let us give everlasting ascriptions of praise, that through the trials of many a defeat, through the despondency of many a temporary repulse, our arms have been conducted to many a triumph, and our minds to still loftier heights of moral victory. You are fighting now for the cause of your country, and also—for Washington used to love to declare he drew his sword—“for the rights of human nature.” And now let all of us, living men, on this holy day and on this sacred spot where our fathers were wont to meet in the dark hours of earlier history—let all of us living men, consecrate ourselves anew, by the vows of a new obedience, to our country, to humanity, and to God.

At the hall the Regiment was dismissed, but only to meet renewed evidences of cordial hospitality. Company I was entertained the same day by the civic authorities of Charlestown, and Company K the next day at Newton. The officers breakfasted with Colonel Parker at the Parker House on Monday, and on the 16th of February, on the eve of their return, dined with him at the Revere House, on which latter occasion Governor Andrew was present and expressed, as no one could do more more heartily or more genially, his appreciation of the past service of the Regiment, and his good wishes for their future.

Besides these there were balls and dinners and entertainments to occupy all the time that the soldiers were willing to spare from their home enjoyments, until their departure February 17th, and on the Monday ensuing the Regiment was again in camp at Liberty, with its new title of “Veteran,” which the 32d was the first, from Massachusetts, to assume.