Poor fellow! his heart was divided; on the one side were home, parents,
friends, and neighbors, native State and section; on the other, pride in
the great, powerful Union he had hitherto called his country, love for the
old flag as the emblem of its greatness and symbol of Revolutionary glory;
and--perhaps more potent than all--the wishes and entreaties of a Northern
girl who had won his heart and promised him her hand.
One April morning Walter, who had overslept himself, having been up late
the night before, was roused from his slumbers by a loud hurrah coming
from the veranda below. He recognized his father's voice, Arthur's, and
that of one of the latter's particular friends, a hot secessionist
residing in the adjacent city.
There seemed a great tumult in the house, running to and fro, loud
laughter, repeated hurrahs and voices--among which his mother's and Enna's
were easily distinguished--talking in high, excited chorus.
"So Fort Sumter has fallen, and war is fairly inaugurated," he sighed to
himself, as he rose and began to dress. "It can mean nothing else."
"Glorious news, Wal!" cried Arthur, catching sight of him as he descended
the stairs; "Fort Sumter has fallen and Charleston is jubilant. Here,
listen while I read the despatch.
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