At an Amherst commencement we had talked about recruiting in the Connecticut valley, and he had impressed me much.  Short in stature, square, well-set in frame, he had a strong head and face.  His colour was white and pink almost like that of a boy, and the resolute blue eyes looked out from under an abundant mat of light curling hair that confirmed the impression he made of youth.  Not many months before, he had been the target of much ridicule, being held over-anxious about a coming storm.  He had bought three thousand overcoats for the militia, and otherwise busied himself to have soldiers ready.  He was “our merry Andrew.”  But the Massachusetts Sixth had been first on the ground at Washington, with many more close behind, and the Governor had had splendid vindication.

Early in September, 1862, I went to Boston with a deputation of selectmen from four towns of the Connecticut valley.  They had an errand, and my function was, as an acquaintance of the Governor, to introduce them.  Little we knew of what had just happened in Virginia, the dreadful second Bull Run campaign, with the driving in upon Washington of the routed Pope, and the pending invasion of Maryland.  The despatches, while not concealing disappointment, told an over-flattering tale.  More troops were wanted for a speedy finishing of the war, which we fondly believed was, in spite of all, nearing its end.  Our errand was to ask that in a regiment about to be raised in two western counties the men might have the privilege of electing the officers, a pernicious practice which had been in vogue, and always done much harm.  But in those days our eyes were not open.

Entering the Governor’s room in the State House with my farmer selectmen, I found it densely thronged.  Among the civilians were many uniforms, and men of note in the field and out stood there in waiting.  Charles Sumner presently entered the room, dominating the company by his commanding presence, that day apparently in full vigour, alert, forceful, with a step before which the crowd gave way, his masterfulness fully recognised and acknowledged.  He took his seat with the air of a prince of the blood at the table, close at hand to the Chief Magistrate.

Naturally abashed, but feeling I was in for a task which must be pushed through, I made my way to the other elbow of the Governor, who, looking up from his documents, recognised me politely and asked what I wanted.  I stated our case, that a deputation from Franklin and Hampshire counties desired the privilege for the men of the new regiment about to be raised to elect their own officers, and not be commanded by men whom they did not know.