“Then, Madam, it is quite clear we agree upon establishing and maintaining a great mutual ignorance. Let us hope, paradoxical as it may seem, that it may be for the enlightenment of future generations!” She arose to go, smiling at his last speech. “Before we part, perhaps never to meet again, let me ask you one question,” said the Preacher still looking thoughtfully at her. “Certainly, as many as you like.” “Why is it that you good people of the North are spending your millions here now to help only the negroes, who feel least of all the sufferings of this war? The poor white people of the South are your own flesh and blood. These Scotch Covenanters are of the same Puritan stock, these German, Huguenot and English people are all your kinsmen, who stood at the stake with your fathers in the old world. They are, many of them, homeless, without clothes, sick and hungry and broken hearted. But one in ten of them ever owned a slave. They had to fight this war because your armies invaded their soil. But for their sorrows, sufferings and burdens you have no ear to hear and no heart to pity. This is a strange thing to me.” “The white people of the South can take care of themselves. If they suffer, it is God’s just punishment for their sins in owning slaves and fighting against the flag. Do I make myself clear?” she snapped. “Perfectly, I haven’t another word to say.” “My heart yearns for the poor dear black people who have suffered so many years in slavery and have been denied the rights of human beings. I am not only going to establish schools and colleges for them here, but I am conducting an experiment of thrilling interest to me which will prove that their intellectual, moral, and social capacity is equal to any white man’s.” “Is it so?” asked the Preacher. “Yes, I am collecting from every section of the South the most promising specimens of negro boys and sending them to our great Northern Universities where they will be educated among men who treat them as equals, and I expect from the boys reared in this atmosphere, men of transcendent genius, whose brilliant achievements in science, art and letters will forever silence the tongues of slander against their race. The most interesting of these students I have at Harvard now is young George Harris. His mother is Eliza Harris, the history of whose escape over the ice of the Ohio River fleeing from slavery thrilled the world. This boy is a genius, and if he lives he will shake this nation.” “It may be, Miss Walker. There are more ways than one to shake a nation. And while I ignore your work, as a citizen and public man,--privately and personally, I shall watch this experiment with profound interest.” “I know it will succeed. I believe God made us of one blood,” she said with enthusiasm.