So Little Rock grew and flourished, men dwelling in peace beneath their vines and fig trees, until the year 1861 brought up the momentous question of disunion and war. Arkansas was strongly attached to the Union. In its mountainous regions there were no slaves, and three fourths of the people were white. The convention called to determine the course the State should take adjourned without action, declining to enter the confederacy that had been formed at Montgomery, Ala. But when they reassembled the war was already flagrant, and with only a single dissenting vote they cast in their lot with their brethren of the South. The result was hailed by the people of Little Rock with unlimited enthusiasm. Confidence in the success of Southern arms was universal. No grim spectre of invasion and despair haunted their dreams. But the awakening was rude. The Northern armies poured across the border in overwhelming numbers, and soon the people had to fight for their altars and their firesides. Rarely have a people sprung so universally to arms, or defended their homes with such tenacity. Out of a voting population of 61,198, fully fifty thousand were in the ranks. But they fought in vain. On Sept. 10, 1863, Little Rock was captured by the Northern forces under General Steele. They did the place no harm, save that upon one of its highest eminences they constructed a powerful fort, and to hold it in security leveled the forest to a great distance in every direction, destroying many a monarch of the wood which it will require centuries to replace. [Illustration: CUSTOM-HOUSE AND POST OFFICE.]