'm gwine to
celerbrate. I'm gwine up loike a rocket, ef I does come down loike a
stick." And Sergeant Blower said to John Copperhead of Chicago, "Down in
'old Virginny' I used to think the fourth of July a humbug, but this
prison has made me a patriot. Now I'd like to burn an all-fired sight of
powder, and if you help, and God is willing, I shall do it." In a
similar strain wrote half a score of them.

Such patriotism seemed altogether too wordy to be genuine. It told
nothing, but it darkly hinted at dark events to come. The Commandant
bethought him that the Democratic Convention would assemble on the
fourth of July; that a vast multitude of people would congregate at
Chicago on that occasion; and that, in so great a throng, it would be
easy for the clans to gather, attack the camp, and liberate the
prisoners. "Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty," and the young
Commandant was vigilant. Soon Prison-Square received a fresh instalment
of prisoners. They were genuine "Butternuts," out at the toes, out at
the knees, out at the elbows, out everywhere, in fact, and of everything
but their senses. Those they had snugly about them. They fraternized
with Corporal Snooks, Sergeant Blower, and others of their comrades, and
soon learned that a grand pyrotechnic display was arranged to come off
on Independence-day. A huge bonfire was to be built outside, and the
prisoners were to salute the old flag, but not with blank cartridges.

But who was to light the outside bonfire? That the improvised
"Butternuts" failed to discover, and the Commandant set his own wits to
working. He soon ascertained that a singular organization existed in
Chicago. It was called "The Society of the Illini," and its object, as
set forth by its printed constitution, was "the more perfect development
of the literary, scientific, moral, physical, and social welfare of the
conservative citizens of Chicago." The Commandant knew a conservative
citizen whose development was not altogether perfect, and he recommended
him to join the organization. The society needed recruits and
initiation-fees, and received the new member with open arms. Soon he was
deep in the outer secrets of the order; but he could not penetrate its
inner mysteries. Those were open to only an elect few who had already
attained to a "perfect development"--of villany. He learned enough,
however, to verify the dark hints thrown out by the prisoners. The
society numbered some thousands of membe