of messages between him in New York and
Starr King in San Francisco had been stimulating and effective. When the
work was concluded it was found that California had furnished one-fourth
of the $4,800,000 expended. Governor Low headed the San Francisco
committee. The Pacific Coast, with a population of half a million,
supplied one-third of all the money spent by this forerunner of the Red
Cross. The other states of the Union, with a population of about
thirty-two million, supplied two-thirds. But California was far away and
it was not thought wise to drain the West of its loyal forces, and we
ought to have given freely of our money. In all, quite a number found
their way to the fighting front. A friend of mine went to the wharf to
see Lieutenant Sheridan, late of Oregon, embark for the East and active
service. Sheridan was grimly in earnest, and remarked: "I'll come back a
captain or I'll not come back at all." When he did come back it was with
the rank of lieutenant-general.

While San Francisco was unquestionably loyal, there were not a few
Southern sympathizers, and loyalists were prepared for trouble. I soon
discovered that a secret Union League was active and vigilant. Weekly
meetings for drill were held in the pavilion in Union Square, admission
being by password only. I promptly joined. The regimental commander was
Martin J. Burke, chief of police. My company commander was George T.
Knox, a prominent notary public. I also joined the militia, choosing the
State Guard, Captain Dawes, which drilled weekly in the armory in Market
Street opposite Dupont. Fellow members were Horace Davis and his brother
George, Charles W. Wendte (now an eastern D.D.), Samuel L. Cutter, Fred
Glimmer of the Unitarian church, Henry Michaels, and W.W. Henry, father
of the present president of Mills College. Our active service was mainly
confined to marching over the cruel cobble-stones on the Fourth of July
and other show-off occasions, while commonly we indulged in an annual
excursion and target practice in the wilds of Alameda.

Once we saw real service. When the news of the assassination of Lincoln
reached San Francisco the excitement was intense. Newspapers that had
slandered him or been lukewarm in his support suffered. The militia was
called out in fear of a riot and passed a night in the basement of
Platt's Hall. But preparedness was all that was needed. A few days later
we took part in a most imposing procession. All the military a