John M. Carter, of the Baltimore News, who was fresh from an interview with the Governor, delivered a cheering speech, and other addresses of a prudent, common-sense tenor were made by members of the Amalgamated Association.
The feeling of friendship for the militia became contagious. It was decided that the blue-coated visitors should be received in state. All the brass bands in town took to rehearsing music of a triumphal character, to the inspiring strains of which Homestead was to be amicably turned over to its "protectors." In one band room, when the question of appropriate tunes came up, the exhilaration of the hour brought forth some odd suggestions. A young man who proposed "See the Conquering Hero Comes" was summarily suppressed, and a like fate befell an individual who thought the "Rogues' March" might fit the occasion. "Hold the Fort." "Comrades," "Johnny Get Your Gun" and "The Bogie Man" were canvassed, but a compromise was not reached until some gentleman of equal tact and discretion suggested "Ta Ra Ra, Boom De Ay," which was accepted without a dissenting voice as the correct thing to express Homestead's new-born sentiments of hope and contentment.
A reception committee, headed by Burgess McLuckie and Hugh O'Donnell, was designated to welcome the representatives of the state and it remained only for the latter to reciprocate in kind to convert the military occupation of the town into a love-feast.
The Burgess issued a proclamation warning strangers to get out of town, directing the closing of drinking-places and enjoining women and children to keep off the streets. This duty performed, Honest John McLuckie immersed himself in the study of a speech, of specially artistic construction, intended for the edification of Major General Snowden and his staff on their entrance into Homestead, and warranted to inspire those dignitaries with a profound sense of the good-will and law-abiding spirit of the people of the town and their cheerful readiness to fraternize with the troops.
Unfortunately this little chef d'oeuvre was never delivered.
Like the flower in Gray's "Elegy," it was "born to blush unseen and waste its sweetness," if not on desert air, at all events on the cold and irresponsive dead wall of military discipline.
All other themes of interest had now sunk out of sight in the face of the great event of the hour—the converging of the militia regiments upon Homestead. Even the Pinkertons, the fear of whose return with reinforcements had endured over Sunday, were forgotten, and the entire community was on the tip-toe of expectation, not knowing at what moment the glitter of swords and bayonets and the clatter of horses' hoofs would herald the advent of the advance guard.
Night fell and still no soldiers. General Snowden had taken care not to advertise the route of the troops nor the time of their arrival. It was his purpose to take the town by surprise and to occupy the positions selected in advance by an officer detailed to make a reconnoissance, before the people could be apprised of the nature and scope of his movements.
The maneuvers were carried out with the desired secrecy, the newspaper men and telegraph operators along the lines of march being kept in the dark, despite their habitual alertness.
So the Homestead folk went to bed without the opportunity of looking down the muzzles of any guns except their own and even these, together with the Winchesters taken from the Pinkertons as the lawful spoils of war, had been hidden from view, the occasion for their use having now finally departed.