My reply seemed to please him, and he said: “Shall I say that that is your message to them?” “Certainly,” said I, and our interview thus ended very pleasantly; but as I went towards my home, I became more positively convinced than ever, that all true men holding positions of trust in the city would soon be compelled to speak out with no uncertain accent on the question that was threatening to disrupt the Union. When the pews in opposition to good government go so far as to attempt to dictate the prayers of the pulpit and to repress all petitions for the President, the pulpit must either become subject to the pews, or squarely assert and defend its independence. The second incident, constantly rankling like a thorn in my side, was the secession flag, already mentioned in a previous chapter. It fluttered over Sixth Street, about half a square from my church. Going to and fro in the discharge of my duties, I was compelled to pass beneath it. With many others, I wondered why the military authorities did not take it down by force. I did not then know, what all learned later, that just at that time they were in pursuit of larger game; that they were planning to strike at the centre of secession in our city, and so for the moment were wisely ignoring its incidental manifestations. But I had reached the limit of my patience, and could no longer mutely endure the flaunting of disloyalty. A fire was fiercely burning within my bones. I felt that it must have vent, or I should be consumed. It was nineteen days before the taking of Camp Jackson. Sunday, April 21st, dawned. It was a warm bright day. My morning audience was large and attentive, but I was far from being happy. Back of the morning message there was another flaming in my soul for expression. No one yet knew what I contemplated doing in the evening. In the afternoon I met on the street one of my good deacons and made known to him my intention. Although a pronounced Unionist, for the sake of peace in the church and congregation he tried to turn me from my purpose; but when he found that my mind was fully made up, he said, “Well, if you must preach on secession, give them a 12–inch columbiad.” He had evidently overestimated the size of my gun, but such as I had, it was my fixed purpose to fire.