Oh, Horace,
Horace! what ever shall we do?"
"God reigns, dearest; let that comfort you and all of us," he said, in
moved tones. "It is dreadful, dreadful! Brothers, friends, neighbors, with
hearts full of hatred and ready to imbrue their hands in each other's
blood and for what? That a few ambitious, selfish, unscrupulous men may
retain and increase their power; for this they are ready to shed the blood
of tens of thousands of their own countrymen, and bring utter ruin upon
our beautiful, sunny South."
"Oh, papa, surely not!" cried Elsie; "these papers say the war cannot last
more than three months."
"They forget that it will be American against American. If it is over in
three years, 'twill be shorter than I expect."
Elsie was weeping, scarcely less distressed than Rose.
"We will, at least, hope for better things, little wife," her husband
said, drawing her to him with caressing motion. "What do your letters
say?"
"They are full of the war; it is the all-absorbing theme with them, as
with us. Aunt Adelaide's is very sad. Her heart clings to the South, as
ours do; yet, like us, she has a strong love for the old Union.
"And she's very found of her husband, who, she says, is very strong for
the Government; and then, besides her distress at the thought that he will
enlist, her heart is torn with anguish because her brothers and his are in
the opposing armies.
Pages:
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249