I well remember an incident of the early days of volunteering at Indianapolis, when the first companies in response to the first call of President Lincoln came hurrying to the capital. Among the first to arrive was one from Lafayette, under the command of Capt. Chris. Miller. They came in tumultuously and enthusiastic for the fight. These companies were organized into regiments, which one by one were sent into West Virginia or other fields of service. It happened that the regiment to which my friend Miller was assigned was the last to leave the State. I met him one day on the street, and a more mad and despondent soldier I never saw. He was not absolutely choice in the use of his language--all soldiers were not. I think the First Brigade was an exception. [Laughter.] He was swearing like a pirate over the disgrace that had befallen him and his associates, growing out of the fact that he was absolutely certain that the war would be over before they got into the field, and left in camp a stranded regiment, having no part in putting down the rebellion. Well, his day came presently, and he was ordered to West Virginia, and among the first of those who, under the fire of the enemy at Rich Mountain, received a bullet through his body was Capt. Chris. Miller. When these regiments of ours were enlisted we were not apprehensive that the war would be over before we had an adequate share of it. We were pretty certain we would all have enough before we were through. The clouds were dark in those days of '62. McClellan was shut up in the Peninsula; Buell was coming back from Alabama; Kirby Smith was entering through Cumberland Gap, and everything seemed to be discouraging. I think I may claim for these men of Illinois, and these men of Indiana and of Ohio--if some of them are here to meet with us to-day--that when they enlisted there was no other motive than pure, downright patriotism, and there was no misunderstanding of the serious import of the work on which they entered. [Applause.]