"Why, aunt," replied Oriana, with spirit, "what better weapon than the
sword for the oppressed?"

"I fear there is treason lurking in that little heart of yours," said
Harold, with a pensive smile.

"I am a true Southerner, Mr. Hare; and if I were a man, I would take
down my father's rifle and march into General Beauregard's camp. We have
been too long anathematized as the vilest of God's creatures, because we
will not turn over to the world's cold charity the helpless beings that
were bequeathed into our charge by our fathers. I would protect my slave
against Northern fanaticism as firmly as I would guard my children from
the interference of a stranger, were I a mother."

"The government against which you would rebel," said Harold,
"contemplates no interference with your slaves."

"Why, Mr. Hare," rejoined Oriana, warmly, "we of the South can see the
spirit of abolitionism sitting in the executive chair, as plainly as we
see the sunshine on an unclouded summer day. As well might we change
places with our bondmen, as submit to this deliberate crusade against
our institutions. Mr. Wayne, you are a man not prone to prejudice, I
sincerely believe. Would you from your heart assert that this government
is not hostile to Southern slavery?"

"I believe you are, on both sides, too sensitive upon the unhappy
subject. You are breeding danger, and perhaps ruin, out of abstract
ideas, and civil war will have laid the country waste before either
party will have awakened to a knowledge that no actual cause of