Mrs. Delano, who had been watching him anxiously, rose up and clasped him round the neck, with stronger emotion than he had ever seen her manifest. “Must you go, my son?” she said.

He laid his hand very gently on her head as he replied:  “Dearest Mamita, you always taught me to obey the voice of duty; and surely it is a duty to help in rescuing Liberty from the bloody jaws of this dragon Slavery.”

She lingered an instant on his breast then, raising her tearful face, she silently pressed his hand, while she looked into those kind and honest eyes, that so strongly reminded her of eyes closed long ago.  “You are right, my son,” murmured she; “and may God give you strength.”

Turning from her to hide the swelling of his own heart, Alfred saw his mother sobbing on his father’s bosom.  “Dearest mamma,” said he, “Heaven knows it is hard for me.  Do not make it harder.”

“It takes the manhood out of him to see you weep, darling,” said Mr. Blumenthal.  “Be a brave little woman, and cheerfully give your dearest and best for the country.”

She wiped her eyes, and, fervently kissing Alfred’s hand, replied, “I will.  May God bless you, my dear, my only son!”

His father clasped the other hand, and said, with forced calmness:  “You are right, Alfred.  God bless you!  And now, dear Flora, let us consecrate our young hero’s resolution by singing the Battle Song of Korner.”

She seated herself at the piano, and Mrs. Delano joined in with her weak but very sweet voice, while they sang, “Father!  I call on thee.”  But when they came to the last verse, the voices choked, and the piano became silent.  Rosen Blumen and Lila came in and found them all weeping; and when their brother pressed them in his arms and whispered to them the cause of all this sorrow, they cried as if their hearts were breaking.  Then their mother summoned all her resolution, and became a comforter.  While their father talked to them of the nobility and beauty of self-sacrifice, she kissed them and soothed them with hopeful words.  Then, turning to Mrs. Delano, she tenderly caressed her faded hair, while she said:  “Dearest Mamita, I trust God will restore to us our precious boy.  I will paint his picture as St. George slaying the dragon, and you shall hang it in your chamber, in memory of what he said to you.”

Alfred, unable to control his emotions, hid himself in the privacy of his own chamber.  He struck his hand wildly against his forehead, exclaiming, “O my country, great is the sacrifice I make for thee!” Then, kneeling by the bed where he had had so many peaceful slumbers, and dreamed so many pleasant dreams, he prayed fervently that God would give him strength according to his need.

And so he went forth from his happy home, self-consecrated to the cause of freedom.  The women now had but one absorbing interest and occupation.  All were eager for news from the army, and all were busy working for the soldiers.