ences.

Before we reached the town it was apparent that something unusual was
going on. It was a gala day. The people were out in force, and in their
Sunday attire to welcome the troopers in blue. The church bells rang
out a joyous peal, and dense masses of beaming faces filled the streets,
as the narrow column of fours threaded its way through their midst.
Lines of men stood on either side, with pails of water or apple-butter,
and passed a "sandwich" to each soldier as he passed. At intervals of a
few feet, were bevies of women and girls, who handed up bouquets and
wreaths of flowers. By the time the center of the town was reached,
every man had a bunch of flowers in his hand, or a wreath around his
neck. Some even had their horses decorated, and the one who did not get
a share was a very modest trooper, indeed. The people were overjoyed,
and received us with an enthusiasm and a hospitality born of full
hearts. They had seen enough of the gray to be anxious to welcome the
blue. Their throats grew hoarse with the cheers that they sent up in
honor of the coming of the Michigan cavalrymen. The freedom of the city
was extended. Every door stood open, or the latch-string hung invitingly
out.

Turning to the right, the command went into camp a little outside the
town, in a field where the horses were up to their knees in clover, and
it made the poor, famished animals fairly laugh. That night a squadron
was sent out about two miles to picket on each diverging road. It was my
duty with two troops ("E" and "H") to guard the "Cashtown" pike, and a
very vivid remembrance is yet retained of the "vigil long" of that July
night, during which I did not once leave the saddle, dividing the time
between the reserve post and the line of videttes. No enemy appeared,
however, and on Monday (June 29) the Michigan regiments returned to
Emmittsburg, the first cavalry division coming up to take their place in
Gettysburg. In this way it came to pass that heroic John Buford, instead
of the Fifth and Sixth Michigan, had the honor of meeting the
confederate advance on July first.

Before leaving Gettysburg it was learned that many changes had taken
place.[8] Hooker had been succeeded in command of the army by Meade, one
of the best and most favorably known of the more prominent generals. It
looked like "swapping horses when crossing a stream." Something that
touched us more closely, however, was the tidings that Stahel and
Copeland had been rel