These requirements made and strictly enforced by martial law greatly annoyed many, even among the loyal of the city and county, especially elderly men and women, who had spent most of their lives in unrestrained liberty of movement. To be compelled to solicit in person a permit from the provost marshal to leave or enter the city seemed to them an arrogant and galling invasion of their freedom. And while they bowed to this inexorable demand so necessary to guard the fealty of their city and State to the Union, it was a yoke to which they unwillingly submitted, and under which they chafed. I well remember meeting at that time a large, venerable man, who by a multitude of people was affectionately called Father Welsh. He was a pioneer Baptist minister. He had long lived in St. Louis County, and had preached not only in churches, schoolhouses, and private residences, but in summer in groves under the canopy of leafy boughs. He was not only generally respected, but sincerely loved by very many who had been blessed through his faithful, sympathetic ministrations. He was loyal to his country. His patriotism was unqualified and ardent, but to him martial law was abhorrent. He complained bitterly that one as old and well known as he was should be compelled to solicit a pass from a United States officer, in order that, unmolested by military sentinels, he might enter and leave the city and county where he had so long proclaimed the gospel. And he evidently represented many of unsullied patriotism, who deeply felt the infringement of their accustomed liberties. But in a border city, we were all compelled to learn by experience the difference between a state of war and a state of peace. But if martial law was so distasteful even to some of the truly loyal, what was it to the men and women among us, who were aiding and abetting those in rebellion against the Federal government? They could not take the stringent oath printed on the pass, without which it could not be granted to them. If they should undertake to get out of the city or county without a pass, in all probability they would be challenged and arrested by the military sentinels, and, unable to take any oath of allegiance, would be duly landed in durance vile. Rather than run such risks, most of them, muttering their indignant protests, sat down in their homes and sulkily waited for deliverance. But the kind of deliverance that they ardently longed for happily never came.