The citizens of York upon the sidewalks—and they were crowded—developed a tendency to keep pace with the head of the column. It presently arrived that General William Smith, like a magnet, was carrying with him a considerable portion of the population. Before the procession opened the public square, bathed in a happy light. The band, having come to an end of “Yankee Doodle,” played “Dixie,” then slipped again into the first, then happily blended the two. Staff was laughing, regimental officers broadly smiling, the troops behind in the best of spirits. All poured into the sunny square, where were more of the inhabitants of York. “Tell ’em to halt,” ordered the ex-Governor, “and tell those tooting fellows to stop both tunes. These are nice people and I am going to give them a speech.” He gave it, sitting very firm on his fine horse, to an open-mouthed-and-eyed crowd, behind him the troops at rest, the whole throng, invaded and invaders, filling the square and the street. He spoke in his geniallest fashion, with his mellowest voice and happiest allusions. The warm, yellow, late June sunshine flooded the square, lighting the curious throng, and that worn, grey, citizen soldiery, making a splendour of the brass instruments of the band and wrapping General William Smith in a toga of airy gold. “Ladies and gentlemen (and York has such beautiful ladies),” spoke “Extra Billy,” “as you see, we are back in the Union! May we not hope that you are glad to see us? I assure you that we are glad to see you! I wish that we were dressed for visiting, but you’ll excuse us, we know! What we all need on both sides is to mingle more with each other, so that we shall learn to know and appreciate each other’s good qualities. Now—” From behind arose a murmur. The aides looked over their shoulders and beheld a pushing to the front on the part of some person or persons. Whatever it was, cavalry squad trying to pass, aides, or couriers, general officer, and staff—there was difficulty in attracting the attention of the grinning, absorbed troops sufficiently to let the party by. “Now,” continued General William Smith, “we aren’t at all the villains and cut-throats that you’ve been seeing in your dreams! Clothes don’t make the man, and we’re better than our outfit. When this little rumpus is all over and you come visiting us in the Confederacy of the South (and I hope that the beautiful ladies of York will come often and come in summer-time, for we want to have a tournament and crown them all Queens of Love and Beauty)—when this little border war is over, I say—”