“In short, mother, to come at once to the point, and not spend an hour in arguing, as Tom used to do when he took me up in the attic where he kept the _gads_, you know,—in short, I’ve been naturalized,—have sworn allegiance to the future Southern monarchy, and am as true a Southern blood as you would wish to see. I’ve got a Palmetto cockade on my cap,—a tiny Confederate flag on my sleeve, and what is best of all, I’ve joined the Southern army under Beauregard, and shall shortly bring the war to the threshold of the Capitol, licking the Yankees there congregated like fun. It’s about time now, mother, for you to ring for Margaret. You’ll want the camphor, and make a fuss, of course, so while you are enjoying that diversion, I’ll go and practice a little with my gun. You know I could never hit a barn without shooting twice, but I’m improving fast, and shall soon be able to pick off a Yankee at a distance of a mile! “2 _o’clock_, P.M. “Well, mother, I take it for granted you are nicely tucked up in bed, with the curtains drawn and a wet rag on your head, as the result of what I’ve told you. I’m sorry that you should feel so badly, and wish I could see you for an hour or so, as I could surely convince you we are right. We have been browbeaten and trodden upon by the North until forbearance has ceased to be a virtue, and now that they’ve thrown down the gauntlet we will meet them on their own terms. I dare say they have made you believe that we struck the first blow by firing into Sumter, but, mother, those northern papers do lie so, all except the _Herald_, and a few others, which occasionally come within a mile of the truth, but even they have been bribed recently, or something. If you want the unbiased truth of the matter subscribe for the Richmond _Examiner_, or better yet, the Charleston _Mercury_, whose editor is a New England man, and of course is capable of judging right. He knows what has brought on this war. He’ll tell you how the South Carolinians generously bore the insult of the Federal flag flying there defiantly in their faces until they could bear it no longer, and so one day we pitched in. “I say _we_, for I was there in Fort Moultrie, and saw the fight, but did not join, for the brave fellows, out of compliment to my having been born near Bunker Hill, said I needn’t, so I mounted a cotton bale and looked on, feeling, I’ll admit, some as I used to on the Fourth of July, when I saw how noble old Sumter played her part. And once, when a shell burst within ten feet of me, turning things generally topsy turvy, and blowing shirt sleeves and coat sleeves, and waistbands and boots, higher than a kite, I was positively guilty of hurrahing for the Stars and Stripes. I couldn’t help it, to save me.