People heard it with sinking of hearts. Was the Union to be destroyed? Was it, could it be possible, that those who should have loved and honored the dear old flag—the beautiful, starry emblem of our liberties—had so insulted it? It was a bitter thought, and men wept as at the loss of a dear and honored friend.
The Sunday that followed was a sad one; but by Monday morning a reaction had come; at whatever cost the nation should live was the verdict of the people; the President had written with his own hand a proclamation, and the telegraph was flashing it east and west to every city and town:
“I, Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States, in virtue of the power in me vested by the Constitution and the laws, have thought fit to call forth, and do call forth, the militia of the several States of the Union to the aggregate number of seventy-five thousand, in order to suppress this combination against the laws, and to cause the laws to be duly executed.”
At the call patriotism awoke and showed itself in a furor of love to the Union and the flag as the emblem of its power and glory, and rapid voluntary enlistments for its defence followed, soon furnishing more troops than the President had called for.
The young men in the Eldon families were as full of patriotic excitement as any others, George and Albert being among the first volunteers in their State, their fathers giving a ready consent, mothers and sisters also, though many and bitter tears were shed over the parting, by Ethel as well as the nearer relatives, for she had grown to love them both, especially her cousin George.
Then the mothers and older girls joined the aid societies and busied themselves with work for the soldiers—making shirts, knitting stockings, scraping lint—and Ethel, full of interest for the cause and of pity for those who must do the fighting for the Union, spent as much time as could be spared from lessons and waiting upon her aunt and cousins, in sharing in those labors; doing so gladly and without any urging or solicitation; she only wished herself old enough to be a nurse, since, being neither boy nor man, she could not enlist as a soldier.
The younger children, too, were anxious to help and took such part in the work as their tender years permitted. It was hoped the war would not last very long; almost everybody thought it would be over in a few months; yet no one could be certain that his or her dear ones might not be killed or sorely wounded in the meantime, or that the struggle might not be prolonged far beyond the time for which enlistments were made at the start.
Mrs. Weston and Mrs. Keith had not forgotten the Eldon children or ceased to feel an interest in them, and occasionally Ethel had a letter from one or the other, which she answered with great painstaking, telling frankly such news of herself, brother, and sisters as she thought they would care to hear.
A letter from Mrs. Weston came for her about the time that her cousins left with the other Philadelphia troops in response to the President’s call, and from it she learned that Mr. Keith, too, had enlisted; also some of his brothers living in Indiana.
“And now,” continued Mrs. Weston, “we women who cannot do the fighting, are banding together to do all in our power to add to the comfort of our soldiers engaged in the struggle to save our dear country from being rent in pieces. We expect to be very busy, but not too busy to be glad to see you and your brother and sisters if you are allowed to pay us a visit this summer. Mrs. Rupert Keith will probably be with us for a time, perhaps all summer, but that need not interfere with a visit from you little folks.”