All through the day the accessions from the country were coming in. Sometimes a squad of infantry, sometimes a troop of horse, and once a small park of artillery. It was nothing extraordinary to see a “solitary horseman” riding in from the country, with shot-gun, powder-horn and flask. Some came with provender lashed to the saddle, prepared to picket off for the night. Boys accompanied their fathers, accoutred apparently with the sword and holster-pistols that had done service a century ago. There appeared strange contrasts between the stern, solemn bearing of the father, and the buoyant, excited, enthusiastic expressions of the boy’s face, eloquent with devotion and patriotism; for mistaken and wrong, they were not the less actuated by the most unselfish spirit of loyalty. They hardly knew, any of them, for what they had so suddenly came to Baltimore. They had a vague idea, only, that Maryland had been invaded, and that it was the solemn duty of her sons to protect their soil from the encroachments of a hostile force. In the streets of the lower part of the city, were gathered immense crowds among whom discussions and the high pitch of excitement which discussion engenders, grew clamorous. The mob—for Baltimore street was one vast mob—was surging to and fro, uncertain in what direction to move, and apparently without any special purpose. Many had small secession cards pinned on their coat collars, and not a few were armed with guns, pistols and knives, of which they made the most display. Thus the day ended and the night came on. During the darkness the whole city seemed lying in wait for the foe. Every moment the mob expected the descent of some Federal regiment upon them, and the thirst for strife had grown so fierce that terrible bloodshed must have followed if the troops from Philadelphia or Harrisburg had attempted to pass through Baltimore then. On Sunday, April 21, the city was in a state of unparalleled excitement. Private citizens openly carried arms in the streets. Along the line of the railroad almost every house was supplied with muskets or revolvers and missiles, in some instances even with small cannon. Volunteers were enlisting rapidly, and the streets became more and more crowded. Abundance of arms had sprung to light, as if by magic, in rebellious hands. Troops were continually arriving and placing themselves in readiness for action. A great crowd was constantly surging around the telegraph office, waiting anxiously for news. The earnest inquiry was as to the whereabouts of the New York troops—the most frequent topic, the probable results of an attempt on the part of the Seventh regiment to force a passage through Baltimore. All agreed that the force could never go through—all agreed that it would make the attempt if ordered to do so, and no one seemed to entertain a doubt that it would leave a winrow of dead bodies from the ranks of those who assailed it in the streets through which it might attempt to pass.