In the evening the citizens gave us a farewell banquet with an interesting program. A glee club sang patriotic songs; a student of the high school declaimed "The Charge of the Light Brigade"; a Mexican war veteran volunteered suggestions as to the best means and methods of avoiding camp diseases in active military service, and as to the best and most approved treatment of severed arteries, fractured limbs and contused heads. An old Mississippi steamboat captain with a glow of ripe cherry mantling his cheeks and nose, spoke at some length recommending whiskey and quinine if obtainable, but whiskey anyhow for river and swamp fevers, and gunpowder and whiskey for weak knees. Though strongly urged, neither Tom Wilson nor myself spoke, but Ike couldn't excuse himself satisfactorily when solicited, and though greatly against his inclination, he was fairly lifted to his feet by his new comrades, and as nearly as I can remember said substantially, as follows: "Feller citizens, the time has arrove when every galloot that cares a tinker's darn for the Union orter go to the front. I'm goin' fer one. I haint got much book larn'n but I reckon I can soon larn to cock a cannon or lug a musket 'round and in this racket, I b'leve I've got edication 'nuf to know which way to shute. I never have ranked very high in this community, and don't 'spect to get much higher than a brigadier in this war, but I'm goin' to help our fellers drive them rebels from pillar to post, and if necessary drive 'em right into the post, but what we git 'em b'gosh. This supper you women have given us was luscious, and I b'leve I shall taste it clear through the war. I want to bid all the folks and more specially you fellers who could go to the war just as well as not and won't, goodbye. If yer ever tackled in the rear while we're down there in the front, let us know and we'll come up and help you through."