Certainly if the Northern brother had anticipated that a terrible
war was impending, he would not have permitted his daughter Florence,
a beautiful young lady of seventeen, to reside during the winter in a
hot-bed of secession and disunion. The papers informed him what had been
done at the North and at the South to initiate the war; and the thought
that Florry was now in the midst of the enemies of her country was
agonizing to him.
Though he felt that his country demanded his best energies, and though
he was ready and willing to give himself and his son to her in her hour
of need, he felt that his first duty was to his own family, within
reasonable limits; and his earliest thoughts were directed to the safety
of his daughter, and then to the welfare of his brother and his family.
"War!" exclaimed Mrs. Passford, when her husband had announced so
briefly the situation which had caused such intense agitation in his
soul. "What do you mean by war, Horatio?"
"I mean all that terrible word can convey of destruction and death, and,
worse yet, of hate and revenge between brothers of the same household!"
replied the husband impressively. "Both the North and the South are
sounding the notes of preparation. Men are gathering by thousands on
both sides, soon to meet on fields which must be drenched in the gore of
brothers."
"But don't you think the trouble will be settled in some way, Horatio?"
asked the anxious wife and mother; and her thoughts, like those of her
husband, reverted to the loving daughter then in the enemy's camp.
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