It strikes me that Governor Andrew reviewed us again as we were marching from the barracks to the railroad station, but I am not clear on this point. I know there was a good deal of martial music, waving of flags, cheering and speech-making by somebody. Our horses claimed our undivided attention till after we had dismounted and put them aboard the cars. On the way down to the railroad an attempt was made somewhere near the barracks to form in line, so that we could be addressed by the governor or some other dignitary. It was a dismal failure. Our steeds seemed to be inspired by “Hail to the Chief,” “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” and other patriotic tunes played by the band, and they pranced around, stood upon their hind legs and pawed the air with their fore feet, to the great terror of the recruits and the delight of all the boys in the neighborhood who had gathered to witness our departure. How the boys shouted! “Hi, Johnny, it's better'n a circus!” “Guess 'tis--they don't fall off in a circus; they just make b'lief.” “Well, these fellows stick tight for new hands.” It was fun for the boys--the spectators--but just where the laugh came in the recruits failed to discover. I was told that the governor--or somebody--gave us his blessing as we rode by the reviewing officer, but I have no personal knowledge on the subject. After we had put our horses on board we waited a few minutes before entering the cars while the other companies were boarding the train. There was a chain of sentinels around us, and Mrs. Waterman was outside the line. She caught sight of us as we stood there, and she advanced toward us. [Illustration: 0058] “Halt--you can't go through here!” commanded one of the sentinels. “I must go through.” “But my orders--” “I don't care; my boys are there, and I'm going to speak to them again.” She came through and gave us her parting blessing once more. “Boys, I'll pray God to keep you and bring you both back to your mothers--God bless you; good-by.” The mother's prayers were answered. Her son and his tentmate were spared to return at the close of the war. There was a scramble to secure seats when orders were given to board the cars. Good-bys were said. Mothers, wives and sweethearts were there, and with many it was the last farewell. The whistle blew, the bells rang, the band played, the troops remaining at Camp Meigs cheered and we cheered back. The train moved away from the station, and we were off for the front.