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But we were not so pious that we did not need correction at times. That however, was left to our mother and she was not so very harsh. As for my father, I do not remember of seeing him raise a hand to any of his children. A word or a look was enough for him; his word was law and we respected the law. We had our little differences among ourselves and when complaining of one another we showed our anger and contempt by calling each other “Mr,” or “Miss” so-and so. It was a term of contempt for us, but an incident in connection with it robbed it of its force for a long time. Some of the neighboring children were near on one occasion when we were having our little difficulties, and they went home to tell their parents how polite the Howlett children were, for they addressed each other as “Miss Ellen,” “Mr. Tom,” “Mr. Bill,” etc.
One might not think that we were interested in politics, but we were to extent of attending the great mass meetings held in the towns close by and witnessing the parades of uniformed horsemen, symbolic floats with ladies dressed in red, white, and blue costumes, hearing the cannon booming and watching the fireworks at night. Of course we favored the parties of our fathers. I remember during the presidential campaign of 1856, that a large wagon was prepared at our house for an immense flagpole. Thirty-one yoke of oxen drew the wagon, and thirty-one men dressed in black with high hats and red silk scarfs rode in the wagon. My oldest brother drove the entire team, and the crack of his whip was like a pistol shot. Each yoke bore a flag with the name of a State, of which there were but thirty-one at that time. After the dismantling of the float I saved one of the flags and flew it for a long time afterwards from a pole of my own erecting. It was the flag of Kentucky, but I knew but little of that State then, and hardly expected that it would ever be my home.
​​​​​​​ In 1864 I was staying with my brother in Niles and saw more of the campaign. Torchlight processions of Little Saints and Wide Awakes, as the marchers of Democrats and Republicans were respectively called, made the town alive night after night, and the mass meetings of each party brought the whole population in from miles around on certain days. I did my share of cheering when I saw a company of uniformed rider [riders] from my own neighborhood in the parade, all carrying small hickory saplings resting on their stirrups, and held up like lances, and at their head a banner with the title of their company; “Howard Hickory Sprouts.” This indicated their stern Jacksonian Democracy. In 1864 I was one of the Junior riders who followed the banner that read:
​​​​​​​ “We come from the glens of the brave and the free. To tyrants and despots we don’t bow he knee.”
We marched for “Little Mac,” and got a lot of fun out of it, but the opposition was too strong at the polls and “Honest Abe” was re-elected. At Dowagiac we nearly had a riot when someone cut the halyards of the U.S. flag floating over the public square where the speaker’s stand was erected. It was found that a half-witted young man had been paid to cut down the flog by persons unknown. However, the flag was raised again and the speaking went on without further interruption.
​​​​​​​ During the Civil War I was not old enough to appreciate the condition of the country, but I can remember the intense excitement that prevailed when the news came of the firing of Fort Sumpter. That night few went to bed early at Niles, and the whole talk was of raising an army to fight the South. Seventy-five thousand men for three months were soon raised, and the second regiment to be mustered in was from Niles - the Michigan 2nd Infantry.
​​​​​​​ The Twelfth Michigan Infantry was also recruited in our section, and the barracks where the men were quartered and drilled during the winter of 1861-2 in the Fair Grounds at Niles were a great attraction for sight-seers. The glamour of the new uniforms, the glint of the shining bayonets and the flashing of the officers’ swords as they ordered and controlled the movements of the squads and companies in their different evolutions were very interesting, and sometimes were the last straw that decided a hesitating volunteer to enlist. I did not like the cold looking tents where they slept on straw in bunks placed one above the other and only a few blankets to wrap around their bodies, and it must be remembered that the winter nights were very cold there.
In the excitement of the war, political lines seem to have been broken or badly bent and curved in both directions, and shifted people from one allegiance to another. Even those who voted for the war president were not at all anxious as a body to fight for him. My father was a strong partisan and had no sympathy with the cause of abolition, and every republican was to him a Black Republican or Abolitionist. He did not want his boys to go to war, and only one of them showed any desire of enlisting. This was his own namesake, John, and he would have gone if a higher office than Corporal Sergeant had been offered to him. He did enlist later as a private officer when the rather famous Colorado 3rd Regiment was fighting the Indian tribes that threatened the frontier in 1863-4. However, he missed the praise or blame of having taken part in the battle of Sand Creek where the Regiment under Colonel Chivington, a Methodist preacher, but fearless soldier, almost exterminated the hostile Indians and put an end to the frontier war. My brother’s company had been sent to cut off the retreat of the savages, but a few got away, and those fled in all directions and escaped or evaded the detached company. As for our home regiments, the Michigan Second went to Washington and participated in the rout of Bull Run, while the Twelfth got its war baptism at Shiloh and both suffered considerably. The letters they wrote home were rather discouraging, telling more of their hardships than of their successes, and many of those who came home on furlough had hard tales to tell of privations
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