Before noon a mammoth procession was formed. Many rode in carriages, a great company on horseback, four abreast, and a host marched on foot. Every vehicle, every horse, and every person was decorated with, or carried, the Stars and Stripes. There were many bands of music. Regiments of soldiers were in the procession, marching to patriotic music, discoursed not only by brass bands, but also by fife and drum. It took two and a half hours for the procession to pass any given point. And as we marched, from different directions came the boom of cannon, and the houses all along our route were decked with flags and with red, white and blue bunting intertwined, while crowds of the loyal on either side the street shouted for the Union and sang war songs. Again and again we were greeted with, “The Union forever, hurrah! boys, hurrah! Down with the traitor, up with the star; While we rally round the flag, boys, rally once again, Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.” While this procession was a hearty, spontaneous outburst of patriotism, those who planned it intended to make as profound an impression as possible on the disloyal of the city. They wished to show them that no party among us adverse to the Federal government could hereafter have any reasonable hope of withstanding this mighty tide of Unionism, which was daily rising higher and had already become resistless. In this I was in full tide of sympathy with my fellow Unionists. Accompanied by a neighboring pastor, I rode a horse over the whole route of that famous procession, with a star-spangled banner on my horse’s head, another on the lapel of my coat, and a third in my hand. Nor was I singular in this; very many others did the same. As we rode the Christian pastor at my side said: “Is not this glorious? Why, you can see the shell crack and the light stream in.” Sunday evening, April 6th, I was greatly surprised and delighted to see my old mathematical teacher, Major-General Quinby, come into church. It was a joy once more to look into his genial face and to feel the warm grasp of his hand. He seemed to me to have appeared just in the nick of time. For many days I had been very anxious to enlist in the army, and here, thought I, is my chance to talk the whole matter over with one that knows me well, and can appreciate my aspirations. When I made known to him my desire, he said at once that I could have a place on his staff, but thought that I ought not to quit my post at St. Louis. He felt quite sure that I could do the country more good by remaining there than by becoming a soldier in the field. Others urged upon me the same view of the case; and I reluctantly abandoned my purpose of enlisting, although I had had for many weeks a burning desire to be in the fight at the front.