My old and dearest friend, and boon companion, Dr. J. C. Buckingham, of Springfield, was then entering upon his profession. He was an admirable penman. He obtained leave of the clerk of the court, to write out my certificate of admission as a member of the bar, and this he did in beautiful form, handsomely illustrated. He attached to it an enormous seal, and it was duly signed by the clerk of the court. I have kept it as a memento of him, but have never had occasion to present it to anyone. He, poor fellow, died prematurely at Springfield, when in the full employment of his duties as a physician, and with the most hopeful prospects of success in his profession. I must not forget that in my boyhood days I had a strong penchant for military parade. I remember well the respect always shown to Revolutionary veterans, who survived to the period of my boyhood. At every meeting, political or otherwise, where these soldiers appeared to share in the assemblage of citizens, they were received with profound respect. Hats came off. They were given the best seats, and every mark of honor was shown them. What boy did not feel the gushings of patriotic emotion when one of these old veterans appeared upon the stage. To a less degree, similar marks of respect were shown to the soldiers of the War of 1812; but, though this was as great and important an event in our history, it did not light the spark of patriotic fire like the Revolutionary War. Before the war for the Union broke out, military spirit died away, especially in Ohio. Military organizations had fallen into disuse and popular contempt. We had, it is true, in times far apart, what were called militia musters, but Jack Falstaff's regiment was nothing to our militia. I had the honor to be a member of the staff of Colonel Urie, of Ashland, when the venerable General Wilson was the Commander-in-Chief of the militia of that part of Ohio. He was a hero of the War of 1812, and, as I remember, a gallant and fine-looking old gentleman. The regiment--so called--without guns, uniform, or anything proper for a soldier, was with some difficulty formed into line, but a wavering line, across the public square at Mansfield and along East and West Market streets, when, by some misunderstanding of orders, the right of the regiment marched to the right, and the left to the left. With some difficulty, and a good deal of swearing, they were brought back into line and dismissed. Militia day was a day of drunkenness and fighting. No wonder that years passed without muster. Such was the military condition of the United States when the War of the Rebellion sounded the tocsin of alarm, and our generation was called upon to meet the gravest struggle in American history.