The rendezvous of the company was at Huntington, and there a banquet was given before the troops departed for war.  Proud day for him when he marched down the familiar road from South Worthington, through the autumn woods with their slowly falling leaves, their shadowy forest aisles all glorious now with the banners of autumn, past the white farmhouses with their golden lilies, the faithful little brook singing ever at his side.  Sad day for his mother as she watched him go, long looking after him, till she could see no more for tears.

From Huntington the company went into camp at Springfield.  And now came into use, those tactics and drills he had studied as a boy, and others he had been secretly studying ever since the war broke out.  His men were astonished to find how perfectly at home he was in military tactics.  It further added to their pride in him.  They fully expected him to know as little as they, but when he came to his work fully prepared, to their admiration of him as an orator, their love as a leader, was now added their confidence as an officer.

Camp life at Springfield made war no longer a glorious contemplation but an uncomfortable reality.  The ground for a bed, a spadeful of earth for a pillow, sharp mountain winds, cold autumn storms, insufficient food, hinted at the hardships to follow.  The gold and the alloy in the men’s characters began to shine out, and Company F soon realized in practical ways, the nature of the man who led them.  His new uniform overcoat went to a shivering boy, his rations were divided with those less fortunate, his blankets were given to a comrade in need.  Always it was of his men, not himself, he thought.

Before leaving camp for the seat of war, Captain Conwell was presented with a sword by his Company, bearing this inscription:—­

“Presented to Captain Russell H. Conwell by the soldiers of Company F, 46th Mass.  Vol.  Militia, known as ‘The Mountain Boys.’  Vera Amicitia est sempiterna. (True friendship is eternal.)” Colonel Shurtleff made the speech of presentation.  The passionately eloquent reply of the boy captain is yet remembered by those who heard it.  He received the beautiful, glittering weapon in silence.  Slowly he drew the gleaming steel from its golden sheath and solemnly held it upward as if dedicating it to heaven, the sunlight bathing the blade with blinding flashes of light.  His eyes were fixed upon the steel, as if in a rapt vision, he swept the centuries past, the centuries to come, and saw what it stood for in the destinies of men.  Breathless silence fell upon his waiting comrades.  Thus for a few moments he stood and then he spoke to the sword.