ch
followed them through all the days, and months, and years of their
service.

On to Detroit, Toledo, Pittsburg, Harrisburg, Baltimore, quickly
whirled. Flowers, music, words of cheer, everywhere. "God bless you,
boys," was the common form of salutation. "Three cheers for the old
flag," and "Three cheers for 'Abe Lincoln,'" were sentiments offered
amidst the wildest enthusiasm, to which the twelve hundred Michigan
throats responded with an energy that bespoke their sincerity. Baltimore
was reached in the night, and when marching through the streets, from
one station to the other, the strains of "John Brown's body lies
mouldering in the ground," awoke the echoes in the city that had mobbed
a Massachusetts regiment, and through which Abraham Lincoln on the way
to his inauguration had to pass in disguise to escape assassination.
"We'll hang Jeff. Davis on a sour apple tree," was a refrain in which
all joined, and there was a heartiness about it that none can understand
who did not pass through those troublous times.

But Baltimore was as peaceful as Pittsburg, and no mob gathered to
contest the right of Michigan men to invade southern soil. It was quiet.
There was no demonstration of any kind. The passage of troops had become
a familiar story to the citizens of the Monumental city.

It was the thunder of Burnside's guns at Fredericksburg that welcomed us
to the army of the east. The same sun that saw us bivouac beneath the
dome of the Capitol, shone down upon the Army of the Potomac, lying once
again beaten and dispirited, on the plains of Falmouth. Burnside had run
his course, and "Fighting 'Joe' Hooker" was in command.

CHAPTER VIII

THE ARRIVAL IN WASHINGTON

There was little about Washington in 1862 to indicate that a great war
was raging. The reference in the previous chapter to the "thunder of
Burnside's guns" was figurative only. No guns were heard. It was Sunday
morning. Church bells pealed out the call for divine worship and streams
of well-dressed people were wending their way to the sanctuaries. The
presence of uniformed troops in such a scene appeared incongruous, and
was the only thing that spoke of war, if we except the white tents and
hospital buildings that abounded on every side.

Rest was welcomed after the long jaunt by rail, and the day was given up
to it, except for the necessary work of drawing and issuing rations. It
was historic ground, made doubly so by the events then transpiring.