On the following day, February 17th, the news of the surrender came. More than fourteen thousand prisoners, with forty pieces of artillery, thousands of small arms and large quantities of commissary stores had been taken, and the Union troops occupied the fort. In spontaneous celebration of these glad tidings from all the encampments around our city came the roar of cannon; brass bands played “The Star-Spangled Banner” and “Yankee Doodle;” the Union Merchants Exchange laid aside all business and sang patriotic songs; large companies of Unionists, drawn together by some irresistible impulse, in the stores, in the market, on the streets, congratulated each other, laughed, clapped their hands and stamped their feet in glee. It was an hour of triumph; and the _Missouri Democrat_ issued in hot haste an extra, heading its column with “_Te Deum_.” It thus caught and expressed the sentiment then dominant in all loyal hearts, that of thanksgiving and praise to God, who presides over and directs the affairs of nations and in wisdom withholds or grants victories to armies. But our secession neighbors were mute. What gave us joy, gave them pain. At such times we always felt it to be sad that we were so divided. Both of us could not be right. That which separated us was being decided by the dread arbitrament of battle, and the thought began to penetrate the minds of the more considerate of the disloyal that after all the Federal government might be able to _subdue_ the rebellion; a notion which, at the beginning of the war, they rejected with ineffable contempt. The following Saturday was Washington’s birthday. All the Unionists of the city were in fit mood for its celebration. The victories both in the southwest and south filled them with unbounded satisfaction. One of the morning papers accurately reflected their state of mind by declaring that “the last vestige of military insurrection had been swept away.” So, at all events, it seemed just then. The curtain of the future for the moment graciously hid from view the perils that still awaited us. So on that 22d of February our political horizon was bright. Clouds were soon to arise; but on that glad day we saw none of them. Our patriotism was at white heat. Nothing could repress it; it flamed out. Early in the day it found devout expression. At nine o’clock in the morning, the Unionists flocked into the First Presbyterian Church, and filled it to overflowing. The ablest Protestant pastors of the city were there. We sang patriotic hymns. We read the Scriptures together. We prayed for wisdom and strength that we might do our delicate and difficult duties wisely and courageously. A brother read to us significant portions of Washington’s farewell address. We then stimulated each other by earnest speeches to strive on for the maintenance of the Union. So at the beginning of our festivities we were made strong by entering into fellowship with God.