The guns of Sumter, reverberating throughout the North, “stirred a fever in the blood of age” and youth alike.  Fanatics raved more wildly than ever, while those who had hitherto been lukewarm hastened to swell the cry of horror and fury which everywhere arose at this “insult to our flag.”  This feeling found vent in acts of oppression, met by prompt and determined resistance, and thus was inaugurated the fratricidal strife which was for four years to desolate the land.

Rumors of an engagement in Virginia intensified my suspense until it seemed unbearable.  One day I received a kindly warning from an old friend concerning a small Confederate flag which had been sent to me by my husband.  It was a tiny silken affair, which I kept in my prayer-book.  This harmless possession was magnified by the people of the town into an immense rebel banner, which would eventually float over my mother’s house.  I had still a few friends whose temperate counsel had hitherto protected me.  The note referred to warned me that while I retained possession of the flag I might at any time expect the presence of a mob.  I would not have destroyed my treasure for worlds, and how to conceal it became a subject of constant thought.  The discovery one day of a jar of “perpetual paste” in mother’s secretary suggested an idea which was at once carried out.  Applying this strongly adhesive mixture to one side of the flag, I pasted it upon the naked flesh just over my heart.  One morning the mail brought certain news of a Confederate victory at Big Bethel.  This so exasperated the people that on their way from the post-office an excited crowd halted under my window, crying out, “Where’s that rebel woman?” “Let’s have that flag,” “Show your colors,” etc.  Carried away by intense excitement, I threw open the blinds, and, waving the newspaper above my head, shouted, “Hurrah!  Hurrah for Big Bethel!  Hurrah for the brave rebels!” A perfect howl of rage arose from below, and greater evil might have befallen but for the timely appearance of the venerable village doctor, who now rode hastily in among the excited men, and, standing up in his buggy, cried out, “Friends, she is but a frail, defenceless woman.  Be thankful if your morning’s work be not her death.”  Slowly and sullenly the crowd dispersed, while the good doctor hastily ascended to my chamber.  I lay with fevered cheeks and burning eyes among the pillows where my mother had placed me.  The terrible excitement under which I labored forbade all blame or any allusion to my act of imprudence.  I was soothed and tenderly cared for until, under the influence of a sedative, I fell asleep.