ed. Running through these
letters was the racking cry that had once rended our own hearts--"How
to get out!" As we read some of them our throats grew lumpy.

"God help them," said my wife over and over again.

As we read others, we felt very glad that our lives had been in some
way an inspiration to them. After talking the whole matter over we
decided that if it helped any to let people know how we ourselves
pulled out, why it was our duty to do so. For that purpose, which is
the purpose of this book, Carleton is as good a name as any.

My people were all honest, plodding, middle-class Americans. They
stuck where they were born, accepted their duties as they came, earned
a respectable living and died without having money enough left to make
a will worth while. They were all privates in the ranks. But they were
the best type of private--honest, intelligent, and loyal unto death.
They were faithful to their families and unswerving in their duty to
their country. The records of their lives aren't interesting, but they
are as open as daylight.

My father seems to have had at first a bit more ambition stirring
within him than his ancestors. He started in the lumber business for
himself in a small way but with the first call for troops sold out and
enlisted. He did not distinguish himself but he fought in more battles
than many a man who came out a captain. He didn't quit until the war
was over. Then he crawled back home subdued and sick. He refused ever
to draw a pension because he felt it was as much a man's duty to fight
for his country as for his wife. He secured a position as head clerk
and confidential man with an old established lumber firm and here he
stuck the rest of his life. He earned a decent living and in the
course of time married and occupied a comfortable home. My mother died
when I was ten and after that father sold his house and we boarded. It
was a dreary enough life for both of us. Mother was the sort of mother
who lives her whole life in caring for her men folks so that her going
left us as helpless as babies. For a long while we didn't even know
when to change our stockings. But obeying the family tradition, father
accepted his lot stoically and as final. No one in our family ever
married twice. With the death of the wife and mother the home ceased
and that was the end of it.

I remember my father with some pride. He was a tall, old-fashioned
looking man with a great deal of quiet dignity. I came t