"Very well, then," replied the Colonel. "We are Confederate soldiers again, and will make our future assaults upon the enemy, if you please, and not upon Lee's army, that whipped the enemy at Gettysburg; yes, sir, whipped them and fell back, sir, because our base of supplies was menaced by the flooding of the Potomac, sir," fairly hissed the old man in great excitement. "My dear sir, why this excessive warmth?" cried the stranger; "I am sure we understand each other; but, my dear sir, the war is over--why make imaginary assaults upon an imaginary enemy? We are entirely in accord. We entered the army because we then believed we were right, and--" "Knew it, sir, knew it, and know it now, sir, know it now, sir," fiercely interrupted the Colonel. "Will you allow me to ask, my dear sir, do you recall those events with any degree of pleasure?" asked the stranger. "Yes, and no. When I realize that then and now, the enemy with unbounded resources was eternally casting into the vat of pernicious fermentation every act, thought and suggestion that was doubtful in interpretation, and brewing a concoction as nauseous as the black vomit of the red harlot herself, and eructating it upon us--the recollection is painful; but when I remember that every sword thrust into their vitals was the act of a patriot, I delight to recall events that crowned the old South with undying glory." "Allow me one other observation, if you please," asked the stranger in a tentative way. "Admittedly the South was right, but, my dear sir, do you think it possible that men like yourself who gallantly fought for a cause they sincerely believed to be just may not impress their individuality upon an era that promises so much for the betterment of our condition as a people?" "Barely possible, I imagine," replied the Colonel. "Are you inclined to favor a proposition that has in contemplation the election of negroes to office." "No sir; such a proposition, in my opinion, would be so abhorrent to our ideals of sovereignty that I should consider myself a traitor to the South and her people. Should I endorse such a proposition, it would be an act of self degradation." "But, my dear sir," argued the stranger, "you will pardon me if I should say that every man must look out for his own safety. Patriotism to a great extent, is a matter of sentiment, and a great man once said 'It is the last refuge of a scoundrel.' You of course will not yield to such an interpretation, nor would I ask you to do so, but, sir, we must let the dead past bury its dead. We must live in the present, and we must as skilled architects build for future generations a superstructure that shall challenge the admiration of men yet unborn."