events followed in bewildering succession during the early
spring and summer of 1861. John wrote that Beauregard and all but a score
of Southern cadets had left the Point. Robert Lee's decision to resign
from the army was to the Squire far more sorrowfully important.

When Lincoln's call to arms was followed in July by the defeat of Bull
Run, James Penhallow wrote to his nephew:

"My Dear John: Your aunt is beyond measure disturbed. I have been more at
ease now that this terrible decision as to whether we are to be one or
God knows how many is to be settled by the ordeal of battle. I am amazed
that no one has dwelt upon what would have followed accepted secession.
We should have had a long frontier of custom houses, endless rows over
escaping slaves, and the outlet of the Mississippi in the possession of a
foreign country. Within ten years war would have followed; better let it
come now.

"I am offered a regiment by Governor Curtin. To accept would be fatal to
our interests in the mills. It may become an imperative duty to accept;
but this war will last long, or I much underestimate the difficulties of
overcoming a gallant people waging a defensive war in a country where
every road and creek is familiar.

"Yours, in haste,

"JAMES PENHALLOW."

John wrote later:

"MY DEAR UNCLE: Here is news for you! All of my class are ordered to
Washington. I shall be in the engineer corps. I see General McClellan is
put in command of the army. I will write again from Washington."

Ann Penhallow heard the letter, and saying merely, "It had to come!" made
the bitter forecast that it would be James Penhallow's turn next.

John wrote again as he had promised, but now to Leila:

"At last we are in this crowded city. We get our uniforms in a day or
two. I am a lieutenant of engineers. We are now in tents. On arrival we
were marched to General Scott's headquarters, and while drawn up in line
Mr. Lincoln came out. He said a few words to us. His appearance was
strange to me. A tall stooping figure, in what our village calls 'store
clothes,' but very neat; the face big, homely, with a look of sadness in
the eyes. He shook hands with each of us in turn, saying a word of
encouragement. Why he spoke specially to me, I do not know. He asked my
name. I said 'Penhallow.' 'Oh,' he said, 'a Cornish name--the great
iron-works. Do you know the Cornish rhyme? It rings right true.' I said,
'No, sir.' 'Well, it is good. Do your duty. There is a