“Civil?” she returned in a tone of surprise. “I thought civil—was—was—I understood that it was right and good manners to be civil to people.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, smiling and patting the small hand she had laid on his knee, while gazing earnestly and enquiringly into his face; “it sometimes means to be courteous, polite, well-bred, but when applied to war it means a fight between people of the same race and country.”
“And a dreadful kind of war it is when brother fights against brother,” sighed his father, sitting near. “But I can hardly think it will come to that in this case. I think there are few besides the leaders in the South, who would be willing to imbrue their hands in the blood of their brethren.”
“And they are not oppressed, uncle?”
“No, not by any means; they have been having only too much, of their own way and domineering over the rest of the nation. Slavery has had by no means a good effect upon them; it has made them proud, haughty, heartless, selfish, and cruel.”
“No,” said her Uncle Albert, “they have been the oppressors rather than the oppressed; caring only for getting and keeping wealth and power for themselves, and treating their fellow-citizens of the North as beneath them; ‘the mud-sills of the North,’ they are calling us.”
“It is easy to call names,” remarked William; “that sort of warfare requires neither courage nor talent; and so long as they content themselves with that the North will, I think, let them alone severely; but let them secede and attempt to set up a separate government and it is at least doubtful if the loyal North will continue to let them alone.”
Ethel listened eagerly and her fears were relieved for a time. But the very next day came the news that South Carolina had seceded, and it seemed no one could tell what would follow. The daily papers were read with eager interest. The Southern leaders seemed to be crazed, and whirled their States out of the Union one after another without pausing to learn the wishes of the rest of the people; many of whom were strongly opposed to their action and certainly had as indisputable a right to remain in the Union as those leaders to go out.
Ethel hardly understood what was going on, but continued to read the papers and listen to the talk of her elders with a dazed and confused feeling that a great danger was drawing near.
But one Saturday evening, April 13, 1861, news came flashing over the wires that almost struck the hearers dumb with astonishment and dismay. This was the despatch: “Fort Sumter has fallen after a terrific bombardment of thirty-six hours.”