Daisy In The Field

This element in our little society troubled somewhat my

enjoyment of the voyage. I had some patriotic nerves, if I was

an American; and every one of them was often tingling with

disagreeable irritation. Besides, ill-breeding is of itself

always disagreeable enough; and here was ill-breeding in well-

bred people, - worst of all. And I had my own private reasons

for annoyance. A favourite theme with the company was the want

of soldiers or generals at the North, and the impossibility

that a set of mechanics and tradesmen, who knew only how to

make money and keep it, should be able in chivalrous and

gentlemanly exercises to cope with the Southern cavaliers, who

were accustomed to sword and pistol and the use of them from

their youth up. Bull Run, they said, showed what the

consequence must always be, of a conflict between soldiers

with the martial spirit and soldiers without it. It would be

much better and cheaper for the North to succumb at once. I

had Southern prejudice enough to believe there might be a good

deal of truth in this, but I could not bear to hear it or to

think it; for besides the question of country and right, the

ruin of the North would be disaster to Mr. Thorold and me. I

shunned at last all conversation with our English companions,

as far as I could, and bent my thoughts forward to the joyful

meeting which lay before me with father and mother and

brother. Brighter and brighter the prospect grew, as each day

brought it nearer; and I sat sometimes by the hour looking

over the waters and resting my heart in the hope of that

meeting.

"Almost in, Miss Randolph," said the doctor, coming to my side

one of those times.

I brought my eyes from the dancing sea, and answered "You are

glad."

"Very glad."

"What route will you take, when we get to land?"

"The shortest."

"You do not wish to see anything by the way?"

"I can see enough, after I get to them," I answered.

"You are at a happy time of life!" the doctor said after a

pause.

"Are you past it, Dr. Sandford?" I asked, replying, I think,

to something in the tones of his voice.

"I do not know. I think, yes. Cologne cathedral will never be

to me what it will be to you."

"What will it be to me?"

"I wish you would tell me, when you see it."

"Does it lie in our route?" I asked somewhat eagerly.

"It can - if you choose."

"But I should not want to stop to look at it," I said; "and I

could not see it without stopping, I suppose."

"I suppose not. Well, we will push forward as fast as

possible. To Lausanne, is it?"