MARTHA FINLEY Ultimate Collection – 35+ Novels in One Volume (Including The Complete Elsie Dinsmore Series & Mildred Keith Collection). Finley Martha
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 the bay. He walked with bent head and folded arms, as one in painful thought.
A slight girlish figure came gliding towards him from the open doorway. "Papa, dear, dear papa," murmured a voice tremulous with emotion, "you are very sad to-night; would that your daughter could comfort you!"
He paused in his walk, took her in his arms and folded her close to his heart.
"Thank you, darling. Yes, I am sad, as we all are. Would that I could comfort you, and keep all sorrow from your life. Nay, that is not a right wish, for 'whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth.' 'As many as I love I rebuke and chasten.'"
"Yes, papa, those words make me more than willing to bear trials. But oh, how dreadful, how dreadful, to know that our countrymen are already engaged in spilling each other's blood!"
"Yes, that is harrowing enough; but that it should be also our near and dear relations! Elsie, I am thinking of my young brothers: they are not Christians; nor is my poor old father. How can they bear the trials just at hand? How unfit they are to meet death, especially in the sudden, awful form in which it is like to meet those who seek the battle-field. Daughter, you must help me pray for them, pleading the promise, 'If two of you shall agree.'"
"I will, papa; and oh, I do feel deeply for them. Poor Walter and poor, poor grandpa. I think he loves you best of all his sons, papa; but it would be very terrible to him to have the others killed or maimed."
"Yes, it would indeed. Arthur is his mother's idol, and I dare say she now almost regrets that he has now so entirely recovered from his lameness as to be fit for the army."
He drew her to a seat. "The babies are in bed, I suppose?"
"Yes, papa; I left my darlings sleeping sweetly. I am trying to train them to regular habits and early hours, as you did me."
"That is right."
"Papa, it is so sweet to be a mother! to have my little Elsie in my lap, as I had but a few moments since, and feel the clasp of her arms about my neck, or the tiny hands patting and stroking my face, the sweet baby lips showering kisses all over it, while she coos and rejoices over me; Mamma! mamma, my mamma! Elsie's dear mamma! Elsie's own sweet pretty mamma.' Ah, though our hearts ache for the dear land of our birth, we still have many many blessings left."
"We have indeed."
Mr. Travilla, Rose, and Horace now joined them, and the last-named besieged his father with questions about the war and its causes; all of which were patiently answered to the best of Mr. Dinsmore's ability, Mr. Travilla now and then being appealed to for further information, or his opinion, while the ladies listened and occasionally put in a remark or a query.
From that day the mails from America were looked for with redoubled anxiety and eagerness: though the war news was always painful, whichever side had gained a victory or suffered defeat.
At first, papers and letters had been received from both North and South, giving them the advantage of hearing the report from each side; but soon the blockade shut off nearly all intercourse with the South, a mail from thence reaching them only occasionally, by means of some Confederate or foreign craft eluding the vigilance of the besieging squadron.
Early in June there came a letter from Miss Stanhope, addressed to Elsie. Like all received from America now, it dwelt almost exclusively upon matters connected with the fearful struggle just fairly begun between the sections. The old lady's heart seemed full of love for the South, yet she was strongly for the Union, and said she should be so if any other section or State rebelled.
Lansdale was full of excitement, flags flying everywhere; they had one streaming across from the top of the house, and another from a tree in the garden.
Harry had enlisted in response to the first call of troops, and was now away, fighting in Virginia; while she, praying night and day for his safety, was, with most of the ladies of the town, busy as a bee knitting stockings and making shirts for the men in the field, and preparing lint, bandages, and little dainties for the sick and wounded.
Chapter Twenty-Second
"Calm me, my God, and keep me calm
While these hot breezes blow;
Be like the night-dew's cooling balm
Upon earth's fevered brow."
—H. BONAR.
"Fear not; I will help thee."
—ISAIAH xiii. 13.
"Dear old auntie! to think how hard at work for her country she is, while I sit idle here," sighed Elsie, closing the letter after reading it aloud to the assembled family. "Mamma, papa, Edward, is there nothing we can do?"
"We can do just what they are doing," replied Rose with energy, "I wonder I had not thought of it before; shirts, stockings, lint, bandages, we can prepare them all; and send with them such fruits and delicacies as will carry from this far-off place. What say you, gentlemen?"
"I think you can," was the simultaneous reply; Mr. Travilla adding, "and we can help with the lint, and by running the sewing-machines. I'd be glad to add to the comfort of the poor fellows on both sides."
"And money is needed by their aid societies," added Mr. Dinsmore.
"And I can send that!" Elsie exclaimed joyously
"Yes, we all can," said her father.
Several busy weeks followed, and a large box was packed and sent off.
"If that arrives safely we will send another," they said; for news had reached them that such supplies were sorely needed.
"What!