“'Jackson, Miss., June — 1861.
“'Dear Tom—You have been denounced to-day in resolutions as
a traitor to the Southern cause, and your property
confiscated. Serves you right. I am off to-morrow morning
for the Confederate Army.
Good-by.
Love to sister.
“'Your enemy in war,
“'JOS. WHITTHORNE.
“'Mary sank into a chair. For a moment all were silent. At last Tom exclaimed:
“'What is there now left for me?”
“His wife, with the stateliness of a queen, as she was, her black hair clustering about her temples and falling around her shoulders and neck, her bosom heaving, her eyes flashing fire, on her tip-toes arose to her utmost height. All gazed upon her with admiration, her husband looking at her with a wildness almost of frenzy. She clenched both hands and held them straight down by her side, and exclaimed in a tone that would have made a lion cower:
“'Would that I were a man! I would not stop until the last traitor begged for quarter!'
“Tom flew to her and embraced her, exclaiming:
“'I was only waiting for that word.'
“She murmured:
“'My heavens, can it be that there are any of my blood traitors to this country?'
“The household were by this time much affected. A long silence ensued, which was broken by David, saying: