Such was the state of Baltimore when I visited that city.  I found, nevertheless, that cakes and ale still prevailed there.  I am inclined to think that cakes and ale prevail most freely in times that are perilous, and when sources of sorrow abound.  I have seen more reckless joviality in a town stricken by pestilence than I ever encountered elsewhere.  There was General Dix seated on Federal Hill with his cannon; and there, beneath his artillery, were gentlemen hotly professing themselves to be secessionists, men whose sons and brothers were in the Southern army, and women, alas! whose brothers would be in one army, and their sons in another.  That was the part of it which was most heartrending in this border land.  In New England and New York men’s minds at any rate were bent all in the same direction—­as doubtless they were also in Georgia and Alabama.  But here fathers were divided from sons, and mothers from daughters.  Terrible tales were told of threats uttered by one member of a family against another.  Old ties of friendship were broken up.  Society had so divided itself that one side could hold no terms of courtesy with the other.  “When this is over,” one gentleman said to me, “every man in Baltimore will have a quarrel to the death on his hands with some friend whom he used to love.”  The complaints made on both sides were eager and open-mouthed against the other.

Late in the autumn an election for a new legislature of the State had taken place, and the members returned were all supposed to be Unionists.  That they were prepared to support the government is certain.  But no known or presumed secessionist was allowed to vote without first taking the oath of allegiance.  The election, therefore, even if the numbers were true, cannot be looked upon as a free election.  Voters were stopped at the poll and not allowed to vote unless they would take an oath which would, on their parts, undoubtedly have been false.  It was also declared in Baltimore that men engaged to promote the Northern party were permitted to vote five or six times over, and the enormous number of votes polled on the government side gave some coloring to the statement.  At any rate, an election carried under General Dix’s guns cannot be regarded as an open election.  It was out of the question that any election taken under such circumstances should be worth anything as expressing the minds of the people.  Red and white had been declared to be the colors of the Confederates, and red and white had of course become the favorite colors of the Baltimore ladies.  Then it was given out that red and white would not be allowed in the streets.  Ladies wearing red and white were requested to return home.  Children decorated with red and white ribbons were stripped of their bits of finery—­much to their infantile disgust and dismay.  Ladies would put red and white ornaments in their windows, and the police would insist on the withdrawal of the colors.  Such