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 forb