th
possibly very few exceptions, had never seen anything like that before.
Anyhow, my mother was evidently content and glad to see me there, under
the shadow of the flag, and going forth to fight for the old Union,
instead of then being sneaking around at home, like some great hulking
boys in our neighborhood who were of Copperhead sympathies and
parentage.

Arrangements had been made to quarter the regiment that night in
different public buildings in the town, and the companies were soon
marched to their respective places. Co. D had been assigned to the
Baptist church, and there my parents and I met, and had our final
interview. They were nine miles from home, in the old farm wagon, the
roads (in the main) were through dense woods, and across ridges and
hollows, the short winter day was drawing to a close and night
approaching, so our farewell talk was necessarily brief. Our parting
was simple and unaffected, without any display of emotion by anybody.
But mother's eyes looked unusually bright, and she didn't linger after
she had said, "Good-bye Leander." As for my father,--he was an old
North Carolinian, born and reared among the Cherokee Indians at the
base of the Great Smoky Mountains, and with him, and all other men of
his type, any yielding to "womanish" feelings was looked on as almost
disgraceful. His farewell words were few, and concise, and spoken in
his ordinary tone and manner, he then turned on his heel, and was gone.

Mother left with me a baked chicken, the same being a big, fat hen full
of stuffing, rich in sage and onions; also some mince pie, old time
doughnuts, and cucumber pickles. I shared it all with Bill Banfield (my
chum), and we had plenty for supper and breakfast the next day, with
the drum-sticks and some other outlying portions of the chicken for
dinner.

Early the next morning we pulled out for Alton, on the Mississippi
River. But we did not have to march much that day. The country people
around and near Jerseyville turned out in force with their farm wagons,
and insisted on hauling us to Alton, and their invitations were
accepted with pleasure. A few miles north of Alton we passed what was
in those days (and may be yet) a popular and celebrated school for
girls, called the "Monticello Female Seminary." The girls had heard of
our coming, and were all out by the side of the road, a hundred or
more, with red, white and blue ribbons in their hair and otherwise on
their persons. They waved wh