My first experience of a military campaign was on the expedition up
the Missouri. I had seen something of Indian troubles on the Plains,
in which white men were concerned, but I had never witnessed civilized
warfare where white men fought against white men. A residence of
several weeks in St. Louis had somewhat familiarized me with the
appearance of troops at the arsenal and at the various camps in the
city, but the preparations to take the field were full of novelty.

I was on the boat which carried the First Missouri Infantry, and which
General Lyon had selected for his head-quarters. The young officers
were full of enthusiasm, and eagerly anticipating their first
encounter with the Rebel battalions. Colonel Blair was less
demonstrative than the officers of his regiment, but was evidently
much elated at the prospect of doing something aggressive. General
Lyon was in the cabin, quiet, reserved, and thoughtful. With Colonel
Blair he conversed long and freely. Few others approached him. Outside
the cabin the soldiers were ardently discussing the coming campaign,
and wishing an early opportunity for winning glory in battle.

To one who travels for the first time by steamboat from St. Louis in a
northerly direction, a curious picture is presented. The water in
the Mississippi above the mouth of the Missouri is quite clear and
transparent. That from the Missouri is of a dirty yellow color,
derived from the large quantity of earthy matter which it holds in
solution. For several miles below the junction of the streams, the
two currents remain separated, the line between them being plainly
perceptible. The pilots usually endeavor to keep on the dividing line,
so that one can look from the opposite sides of a boat and imagine
himself sailing upon two rivers of different character at the same
moment.