I remember going to the arsenal on the 9th of May, taking my
children with me in the street-cars. Within the arsenal wall were
drawn up in parallel lines four regiments of the "Home Guards," and
I saw men distributing cartridges to the boxes. I also saw General
Lyon running about with his hair in the wind, his pockets full of
papers, wild and irregular, but I knew him to be a man of vehement
purpose and of determined action. I saw of course that it meant
business, but whether for defense or offense I did not know. The
next morning I went up to the railroad-office in Bremen, as usual,
and heard at every corner of the streets that the "Dutch" were
moving on Camp Jackson. People were barricading their houses, and
men were running in that direction. I hurried through my business
as quickly as I could, and got back to my house on Locust Street by
twelve o'clock. Charles Ewing and Hunter were there, and insisted
on going out to the camp to see "the fun." I tried to dissuade
them, saying that in case of conflict the bystanders were more
likely to be killed than the men engaged, but they would go. I
felt as much interest as anybody else, but staid at home, took my
little son Willie, who was about seven years old, and walked up and
down the pavement in front of our house, listening for the sound of
musketry or cannon in the direction of Camp Jackson. While so
engaged Miss Eliza Dean, who lived opposite us, called me across
the street, told me that her brother-in-law, Dr. Scott, was a
surgeon in Frost's camp, and she was dreadfully afraid he would be
killed. I reasoned with her that General Lyon was a regular
officer; that if he had gone out, as reported, to Camp Jackson, he
would take with him such a force as would make resistance
impossible; but she would not be comforted, saying that the camp
was made up of the young men from the first and best families of
St. Louis, and that they were proud, and would fight. I explained
that young men of the best families did not like to be killed
better than ordinary people. Edging gradually up the street, I was
in Olive Street just about Twelfth, when I saw a man running from
the direction of Camp Jackson at full speed, calling, as he went,
"They've surrendered, they've surrendered!" So I turned back and
rang the bell at Mrs. Dean's. Eliza came to the door, and I
explained what I had heard; but she angrily slammed the door in my
face! Evidently she was disappointed to find