started, a dapper little fellow--he would be called a dude at this day
--stepped in. He was in a great state of excitement and used adjectives
freely to express his contempt for the Union and for those who had just
perpetrated such an outrage upon the rights of a free people. There was
only one other passenger in the car besides myself when this young man
entered. He evidently expected to find nothing but sympathy when he got
away from the "mud sills" engaged in compelling a "free people" to pull
down a flag they adored. He turned to me saying: "Things have come to
a ---- pretty pass when a free people can't choose their own flag.
Where I came from if a man dares to say a word in favor of the Union we
hang him to a limb of the first tree we come to." I replied that "after
all we were not so intolerant in St. Louis as we might be; I had not
seen a single rebel hung yet, nor heard of one; there were plenty of
them who ought to be, however." The young man subsided. He was so
crestfallen that I believe if I had ordered him to leave the car he
would have gone quietly out, saying to himself: "More Yankee
oppression."

By nightfall the late defenders of Camp Jackson were all within the
walls of the St. Louis arsenal, prisoners of war. The next day I left
St. Louis for Mattoon, Illinois, where I was to muster in the regiment
from that congressional district. This was the 21st Illinois infantry,
the regiment of which I subsequently became colonel. I mustered one
regiment afterwards, when my services for the State were about closed.

Brigadier-General John Pope was stationed at Springfield, as United
States mustering officer, all the time I was in the State service. He
was a native of Illinois and well acquainted with most of the prominent
men in the State. I was a carpet-bagger and knew but few of them.
While I was on duty at Springfield the senators, representatives in