Few,  indeed,  were  the  villages  where  no  voice  of  oppo-
sition was  raised.  But,  later  in  the  war,  in  the  free
States  after  the  wounding  and  the  death  of  fathers,
brothers,  and  sons,  our  sensitive,  afflicted  home  people
would  not  tolerate  what  they  called  traitorous  talk.
They  went  so  far  as  to  frown  upon  any  vigorous  young
men  who  clung  to  the  home  roof,  and  found  means  to
compel  blatant  offenders  to  hush  their  utterances,  and
shake  out  to  the  breeze  some  semblance  of  the  old  flag.
This  conduct  was  imperious ;  it  was  earnest ;  it  had  its
counterpart  in  the  South;  it  meant  war.
As  we  came  whistling  into  the  large  depot  at  Bruns-
wick, where  Bowdoin  College  is  located,  professors  and
students,  forgetting  their  wonted  respectful  distance
and  distinction,  mingled  together  in  the  same  eager
crowd,  and  added  manly  vigor  to  the  voices  of  enthusi-
astic lads  who  were  crowning  the  fences  and  gravel-
cars  and  other  sightly  places.  Unexpected  tears  of  in-
terest, warm  hand-pressures,  and  "  God  speed  you,  my

123


Autobiography  of  Gen.  O.  O.  Howard

son,"  revealed  to  some  former  students,  now  soldiers,
tenderness  of  heart  not  before  dreamed  of  among  those
gray-haired  instructors.
At  Portland,  Maine's  largest  city,  we  met  a  marked
demonstration.  Food,  drink,  and  flowers  were  brought
to  the  cars  and  freely  offered,  but  we  could  not  delay,
though  the  people  asked  to  extend  a  more  formal  wel-
come.
