South or my native State less, but the
Union more. I was very young when I lost my mother; but that, and some
other of her teachings, I have never forgotten."

"There is, I believe, a strong love for the old Union throughout the whole
South," remarked Mr. Travilla; "there would be no rebellion among the
masses there, but for the deceptions practised upon them by their leaders
and politicians; and it is they who have been whirling the States out of
the Union, scarce allowing the people a voice in the matter."

"I don't wonder at the indignation of the North over the insult to the
flag," said Elsie; "nor the furor for it that is sweeping over the land."

"I'd like to be there to help fling it to the breeze," cried Horace
excitedly; "and to see how gay the streets must be with it flying
everywhere. Yes, and I'd like to help fight. Papa, am I not old enough?
mayn't I go?"

"No, foolish boy, you are much too young, not yet fourteen. And suppose
you were old enough, would you wish to fight your uncles? kill one of
them, perhaps? Uncle Walter, for instance?"

"Oh papa, no, no, no! I wouldn't for the world hurt one hair of dear Uncle
Wal's head; no, not if he were the hottest kind of secessionist."

"Kill Uncle Wal! why Horace, how could you ever think of such a thing?"
exclaimed Rosebud. "And mamma and sister Elsie, why are you both crying
so?"

All the afternoon the elders of the family remained together, talking over
the news--they could scarce think or speak of anything else: very grave
and sad all of them, the ladies now and then dropping a tear or two while
each paper was carefully scanned again and again, lest some item on the
all-absorbing subject might have been overlooked, and every letter that
had any bearing upon it read and re-read till its contents had been fully
digested.

May's gave a graphic account of the excitement in Philadelphia; the
recruiting and drilling of troops, the making of flags, the constant,
universal singing of patriotic songs, etc., then closed with the story of
the sorrowful parting with the dear brothers who might never return from
the battle-field.

It had been a bright, warm day, but at evening the sea breeze came in cool
and fresh; thin clouds were scudding across the sky, hiding the stars and
giving but a faint and fitful view of the young moon that hung, a bright
crescent, amid their murky folds.

Mr. Dinsmore was pacing slowly to and fro upon an open colonnade
overlooking t