CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH.
"Liberty! Freedom! tyranny is dead! -- Run hence, proclaim, cry it about the streets." -- SHAKESPEARE'S JULIUS CAESAR.
The winter of 1861-'62 wore wearily away, the Great Republic still convulsed with all the horrors of the civil war; and the opening spring witnessed no abatement of the fearful strife.
Daring all these months nothing unusual had occurred in the family of our friends at Naples; but one lovely morning in April a sweet floweret blossomed among them; bringing joy and gladness to all hearts.
"Our little violet," Elsie said, smiling up at the happy face of her husband, as he bent over her and the babe.

"She has come to us just as her namesakes in America are lifting their pretty heads among the grass." "Thank you, darling," he answered, softly touching his lips to her cheek; "yes, we will give her my mother's name, and may she inherit her lovely disposition also." "I should be so glad, dear mother's was as lovely a character as I ever knew." "Our responsibilities are growing, love: three precious little ones now to train up for usefulness here and glory hereafter." "Yes," she said, with grave yet happy face; "and who is sufficient for these things ?" "Our sufficiency is of God!" "And He has promised wisdom to those who ask it.

What a comfort.

I should like to show this pretty one to Walter.

Where is he now, I wonder, poor fellow ?" Ah, though she knew it not, he was then lying cold in death upon the bloody field of Shiloh.
There had been news now and then from their Northern friends and relatives.