hand, and made any sacrifice possible. No purer patriotism ever found
lodgment in human breast. No more sacred fire was ever kindled by
human hands on any altar than the impulse which imperatively called
men from the peaceful avocations of life to repel the threatened
invasion of their homes and firesides. They were actuated by no spirit
of hatred or revenge (_then_). They sought not to despoil, to lay
waste. But, when justice was dethroned, her place usurped by the demon
of hate and prejudice, when the policy of coercion and invasion was
fully developed, with one heart and voice the South cried aloud,
"_Stand!_ The ground's your own, my braves."

Swift as a meteor, yet clear and unwavering, flashed and burned the
beacon-light first kindled in South Carolina. A million torches
lighted at this flame were borne aloft throughout the Southland.

And now the invader had been met and foiled in his first attempt to
conquer and desolate the homes of Virginia. Who can wonder that their
brave defenders were the idols of a grateful people? Their valor,
having been fully tested, had far surpassed the expectations of the
most sanguine. "Hope told a flattering tale." Alas! _too_ flattering,
for the confidence begotten by this first success inspired a contempt
for the foe quite undeserved.

Meanwhile, the summer sun still brightened the unharmed capitol. The
summer wind still bore aloft on the dome in Capitol Square the flag of
the new Confederacy, the "stars and bars." Here, after sunset and in
the moonlight, came young men and maidens, matrons and children. Old
men, too, who, baring their silvery heads to the cool breeze, gazed
upward at the bonnie flag, with a look half triumphant, half sad; for
the love of the "star-spangled banner" had grown with their growth and