YALE COLLEGE, March 20, 1861.

    MY DEAR FATHER: 

You can not imagine with what feelings of astonishment and sorrow I read your letter of the 12th ult., which was received nearly three weeks since.  The reason for my delay in replying you can easily divine.  Has it, then, come to this?  Is it possible that, in order to do my duty to my country, I must be willing to incur the displeasure of my father?  What would you have me do?  Assist in pulling down the old flag, and in breaking up the best government the world over saw?  Why, father, this is downright madness.  I can not “join hands” with you in so unholy a cause.  On the contrary, as long as that flag needs defenders, you will find me among them.  You are deceiving yourself when you say the “cowardly Yankees” will not fight.  They are a people “slow to wrath,” but they are not cowards, father; and you will find, to your sorrow, that they will resist, to the death, “any and every attempt to alienate any portion of this Union from the rest.”

Living in the South, as I have, I have long seen this war brewing, but was unwilling to confess it, even to myself; and I had hoped, that if it did come, my father would not countenance it.  Why will you do it?  You never, never can succeed.  The very first attempt you make to withdraw from your allegiance to the United States will be the signal for a war, the like of which the world has never witnessed, and the blood of thousands of men, who will be sacrificed to glut your ambition, will be upon your own heads.

    Inclosed, I respectfully return the check, with many thanks for
    your kindness.  I can not use it for the purpose you wish.

Hoping and praying that you and my brothers will consider well before you take the step that will bring you only suffering and disgrace, and will use all your influence to prevent the effusion of blood that must necessarily follow the suicidal course you would pursue, I am, as ever,

    Your affectionate son, GEO. LE DELL.

“That was the best I could do at the time,” said George, as Frank finished the letter.  “I believe I must have been crazy when I wrote it.  If I could only have known as much as I do now, I think I could have made a much better plea than that.”

“Didn’t it have any effect upon your father?” inquired the major.

“Effect!” repeated George.  “Yes, it had the effect of making him disinherit and cast me off.  Read that,” he continued, handing Frank another soiled paper, which looked as though it had been read and thumbed continually.  “I felt like one with his death-warrant when I received that.”

It ran thus: 

    CATAHOOLA PARISH, March 31, 1861.

    SIR: 

    In reply to your scandalous and insulting letter, I have but a few
    words to say.