It came early on Saturday morning, when they were ordered to draw cartridges and fall in for a march to the skating-rink, which was now used as military headquarters, and which they reached without any mishap, the streets being free from any thing that looked like a mob. As they marched into the rink a soldier called out: “Three cheers for the Bridgeport boys!” and the lusty manner in which they were given proved that their comrades were entirely satisfied with what they had done.
Their departure from Hamilton, which was ordered at eleven o’clock, was in keeping with the treatment they had received from all the officers and military during their entire stay. They were escorted to the depot by two companies, which formed in line and saluted them as they passed by. After taking leave of many new-made friends they boarded the car which had been set apart for them (it was guarded at both doors this time, although there was no necessity for it) and were whirled away toward home, their journey being enlivened by songs, speeches and cheers for everybody who had borne his part in the fight. When the whistle sounded for Bridgeport one of the students thrust his head out of a window, but almost instantly pulled it back again to exclaim:
“Great Moses! What a crowd!”
But it was one the boys were not afraid of. As soon as the train came to a stand-still they left the car, and marching in columns of fours, moved through long lines of firemen and students who had assembled to welcome them home, the firemen standing with uncovered heads and the students presenting arms. The cross-roads, as well as the roads leading from the depot to the village, were crowded with carriages, all filled to their utmost capacity with ladies and gentlemen, who waved their handkerchiefs and hats, and greeted them with every demonstration of delight.
“Halt here, captain,” said the marshal of the day, when the boys reached the head of the line.
“Where’s Professor Kellogg?” asked Mack, looking around.
“I don’t know. Halt here, and come to a left face.”
When the order was obeyed, the spokesman of a committee of reception, which had been appointed by the citizens, mounted upon a chair and took off his hat; whereupon Captain Mack brought his men to parade rest to listen to his speech. It was short but eloquent, and went straight to the hearts of those to whom it was addressed, with the exception, perhaps, of Captain Mack. He knew that somebody would be expected to respond, and while he pretended to be listening with all his ears, he was looking nervously around to find Mr. Kellogg. But that gentleman was seated in the superintendent’s carriage a little distance away, looking serenely on, and Mack was left to his own resources, which, so far as speech-making was concerned, were few indeed. When the speaker had complimented them in well-chosen words for the gallantry they had displayed in the fight, and told them how proud his fellow-citizens were to say that the company that struck the first blow in defence of law and order in Hamilton came from their little town, he got down from his chair, and everybody looked at Captain Mack.
The young officer blushed like a girl as he stepped out of the ranks with his cap in his hand. He managed to make those of the crowd who could hear him understand that he and his company were much gratified by their reception, which was something they had not dreamed of, and delighted to know that their conduct as soldiers was approved by their friends at home; and then, not knowing what else to say, he broke out with—
“I can’t make a speech, gentlemen of the committee, but my boys can holler, and I’ll prove it. Three cheers and a tiger for the gentleman who has so cordially greeted us, for the other gentlemen composing the committee, and for every man, woman and baby who has come out to welcome us home.”