Dear Cousin: 

I am about to tell you something which you will call strange news.  Father has at last given his consent to my going to war, provided you will go too.  He says that if I go, I must have you with me, to take care of me, and keep me straight.  I suppose he thinks I will never go if I am obliged to wait for you, for he says your mother will not consent to your going.  You can ask her, any way.  You know you always wanted to have a hand in putting down this rebellion.

If we go at all, I think the best plan is to enter the navy.  It is a much better branch of the service than the army—­the discipline is better; there are no long marches to endure; and, wherever you go, your house goes with you.

    Now, be sure and do your best, for now is our chance, if ever. 
    Please write immediately, for I am afraid father will change his
    mind.

    Yours, in haste, Archibald Winters.

When Mrs. Nelson had read the letter, she handed it back to her son without saying a word.

“Well, mother, what do you think of it?” inquired Frank.

“The matter rests entirely with you, my son,” answered Mrs. Nelson, dropping her sewing into her lap.  “Do just as you think best.”

“Do you say I may go?” inquired Frank, joyfully.

“Certainly.  You have my full consent to go, if you wish to.”

“Oh, mother,” exclaimed Frank, springing up and throwing his arms around her neck, “I wish I had known, long ago, that you were willing to have me go.”

“Where are you going, Frank?” inquired Julia, who had a vague suspicion of what was going on.

“I’m off to the war,” answered her brother.  “I am going into the navy with Archie.”

“Oh, Frank,” she exclaimed, bursting into tears, “you must not go.  There’s enough in the army without you.  You will certainly get shot.”

“I’ll never be shot in the back,” said Frank; “you may rely on that.  But you don’t suppose that every one who goes to war gets shot, do you?  I may be one of the lucky ones; so don’t cry any more.”

But Julia could not control her feelings.  The thought that her brother was to be exposed to the slightest danger was terrible; and Frank, seeing that it would do no good to talk to her, left the room, and went into his study, where he wrote to Archie, stating that he would start for Portland the next day.  He spent the forenoon in wandering about the house and orchard, taking a long and lingering look at each familiar object.  He locked the museum, and gave the key to Julia, who was close at his side wherever he went.  Even Brave seemed to have an idea of what was going on, for he followed his master about, and would look into his face and whine, as though he was well aware that they were about to be separated.

Immediately after dinner, the carriage which was to convey Frank and his baggage to the Julia Burton drew up before the door.  The parting time had come.  “Good-by, mother,” said Frank, as he stood at the door, ready to go.