"Do you expect the North will be able to stand against them?"
"You do not," - he said smiling.
"I know nothing about it," I said; "or at least, I know very little of what the North can do. Of course, I know some Northern soldiers will fight as well as any; but, do you think, Dr. Sandford, they can stand - the greater part of them - do you think they can meet the bravery and skill of the South and get the better?"
I asked anxiously. Dr. Sandford's brow grew grave.
"Daisy, I don't know, as you say; but I have lived among the Northern people in my life; and when a Yankee 'takes a notion,' he is as tough a customer as ever I wish to have to deal with."
"But they are not accustomed to fighting," I said.
"I am afraid they will be, before it is through."
"Then you think they are as brave as the South? Can they be?"
Dr. Sandford laughed at me a good deal. Nevertheless, I could not find out what he thought; and I knew, I thought, what he did not know so well. I knew the fiery proud spirit of my native portion of the people. While his banter fell on my ears, my eyes went off to the sunlit green fields where the troops were parading; on Southern soil; and I saw in imagination the rush and fury of vengeful onset, which might come over those very fields; I saw the unequal contest; I saw - what happened soon after. I sighed as I turned my eyes to the doctor again.
"You are more of a Southerner than I thought you," he said.
And I fancied some gratification lurked behind the words.