“Good morning, gentlemen,” said Robert Johnson, as he approached Colonel Robinson, the commander of the post, who was standing at the door of his tent, talking with Captain Sybil.

“Good morning,” responded Colonel Robinson, “I am glad you have come. I was just about to send for you. How is your company getting on?”

“First rate, sir,” replied Robert.

“In good health?”

“Excellent. They are all in good health and spirits. Our boys are used to hardship and exposure, and the hope of getting their freedom puts new snap into them.”

“I am glad of it,” said Colonel Robinson. “They make good fighters and very useful allies. Last night we received very valuable intelligence from some fugitives who had escaped through the Rebel lines. I do not think many of the Northern people realize the service they have been to us in bringing information and helping our boys when escaping from Rebel prisons. I never knew a full-blooded negro to betray us. A month ago, when we were encamped near the Rebel lines, a colored woman managed admirably to keep us posted as to the intended movements of the enemy. She was engaged in laundry work, and by means of hanging her sheets in different ways gave us the right signals.”

“I hope,” said Captain Sybil, “that the time will come when some faithful historian will chronicle all the deeds of daring and-service these people have performed during this struggle, and give them due credit therefor.”

“Our great mistake,” said Colonel Robinson, “was our long delay in granting them their freedom, and even what we have done is only partial. The border States still retain their slaves. We ought to have made a clean sweep of the whole affair. Slavery is a serpent which we nourished in its weakness, and now it is stinging us in its strength.”

“I think so, too,” said Captain Sybil. “But in making his proclamation of freedom, perhaps Mr. Lincoln went as far as he thought public opinion would let him.”

“It is remarkable,” said Colonel Robinson, “how these Secesh hold out. It surprises me to see how poor white men, who, like the negroes, are victims of slavery, rally around the Stripes and Bars. These men, I believe, have been looked down on by the aristocratic slaveholders, and despised by the well-fed and comfortable slaves, yet they follow their leaders into the very jaws of death; face hunger, cold, disease, and danger; and all for what? What, under heaven, are they fighting for? Now, the negro, ignorant as he is, has learned to regard our flag as a banner of freedom, and to look forward to his deliverance as a consequence of the overthrow of the Rebellion.”

“I think,” said Captain Sybil “that these ignorant white men have been awfully deceived. They have had presented to their imaginations utterly false ideas of the results of Secession, and have been taught that its success would bring them advantages which they had never enjoyed in the Union.”

“And I think,” said Colonel Robinson, “that the women and ministers have largely fed and fanned the fires of this Rebellion, and have helped to create a public opinion which has swept numbers of benighted men into the conflict. Well might one of their own men say, ’This is a rich man’s war and a poor man’s fight.’ They were led into it through their ignorance, and held in it by their fears.”

“I think,” said Captain Sybil, “that if the public school had been common through the South this war would never have occurred. Now things have reached such a pass that able-bodied men must report at headquarters, or be treated as deserters. Their leaders are desperate men, of whom it has been said: ’They have robbed the cradle and the grave.’”

“They are fighting against fearful odds,” said Colonel Robinson, “and their defeat is only a question of time.”

“As soon,” said Robert, “as they fired on Fort Sumter, Uncle Daniel, a dear old father who had been praying and hoping for freedom, said to me: ‘Dey’s fired on Fort Sumter, an’ mark my words, Bob, de Norf’s boun’ ter whip.’”

“Had we freed the slaves at the outset,” said Captain Sybil, “we wouldn’t have given the Rebels so much opportunity to strengthen themselves by means of slave labor in raising their crops, throwing up their entrenchments, and building their fortifications. Slavery was a deadly cancer eating into the life of the nation; but, somehow, it had cast such a glamour over us that we have acted somewhat as if our national safety were better preserved by sparing the cancer than by cutting it out.”

“Political and racial questions have sadly complicated this matter,” said Colonel Robinson. “The North is not wholly made up of anti-slavery people. At the beginning of this war we were not permeated with justice, and so were not ripe for victory. The battle of Bull Run inaugurated the war by a failure. Instead of glory we gathered shame, and defeat in place of victory.”

“We have been slow,” said Captain Sybil, “to see our danger and to do our duty. Our delay has cost us thousands of lives and millions of dollars. Yet it may be it is all for the best. Our national wound was too deep to be lightly healed. When the President issued his Emancipation Proclamation my heart overflowed with joy, and I said: ‘This is the first bright rift in the war cloud.’”

“And did you really think that they would accept the terms of freedom and lay down their arms?” asked Robert.

“I hardly thought they would,” continued Captain Sybil. “I did not think that their leaders would permit it. I believe the rank and file of their army are largely composed of a mass of ignorance, led, manipulated, and moulded by educated and ambitious wickedness. In attempting to overthrow the Union, a despotism and reign of terror were created which encompassed them as fetters of iron, and they will not accept the conditions until they have reached the last extremity. I hardly think they are yet willing to confess that such extremity has been reached.”

“Captain,” said Robert, as they left Colonel Robinson’s tent, “I have lived all my life where I have had a chance to hear the ‘Secesh’ talk, and when they left their papers around I used to read everything I could lay my hands on. It seemed to me that the big white men not only ruled over the poor whites and made laws for them, but over the whole nation.”

“That was so,” replied Captain Sybil. “The North was strong but forbearing. It was busy in trade and commerce, and permitted them to make the Northern States hunting-grounds for their slaves. When we sent back Simms and Burns from beneath the shadow of Bunker Hill Monument and Faneuil Hall, they mistook us; looked upon us as a lot of money-grabbers, who would be willing to purchase peace at any price. I do not believe when they fired on the ‘Star of the West’ that they had the least apprehension of the fearful results which were to follow their madness and folly.”

“Well, Captain,” asked Robert, “if the free North would submit to be called on to help them catch their slaves, what could be expected of us, who all our lives had known no other condition than that of slavery? How much braver would you have been, if your first recollections had been those of seeing your mother maltreated, your father cruelly beaten, or your fellow-servants brutally murdered? I wonder why they never enslaved the Indians!”

“You are mistaken, Robert, if you think the Indians were never enslaved. I have read that the Spaniards who visited the coasts of America kidnapped thousands of Indians, whom they sent to Europe and the West Indies as slaves. Columbus himself, we are informed, captured five hundred natives, and sent them to Spain. The Indian had the lesser power of endurance, and Las Cassas suggested the enslavement of the negro, because he seemed to possess greater breadth of physical organization and stronger power of endurance. Slavery was an old world’s crime which, I have heard, the Indians never practiced among themselves. Perhaps it would have been harder to reduce them to slavery and hold them in bondage when they had a vast continent before them, where they could hide in the vastnesses of its mountains or the seclusion of its forests, than it was for white men to visit the coasts of Africa and, with their superior knowledge, obtain cargoes of slaves, bring them across the ocean, hem them in on the plantations, and surround them with a pall of dense ignorance.”

“I remember,” said Robert, “in reading a history I once came across at our house, that when the Africans first came to this country they did not all speak one language. Some had only met as mutual enemies. They were not all one color, their complexions ranging from tawny yellow to deep black.”

“Yes,” said Captain Sybil, “and in dealing with the negro we wanted his labor; in dealing with the Indian we wanted his lands. For one we had weapons of war; for the other we had real and invisible chains, the coercion of force, and the terror of the unseen world.”

“That’s exactly so, Captain! When I was a boy I used to hear the old folks tell what would happen to bad people in another world; about the devil pouring hot lead down people’s throats and stirring them up with a pitch-fork; and I used to get so scared that I would be afraid to go to bed at night. I don’t suppose the Indians ever heard of such things, or, if they had, I never heard of them being willing to give away all their lands on earth, and quietly wait for a home in heaven.”

“But, surely, Robert, you do not think religion has degraded the negro?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. But a man is in a tight fix when he takes his part, like Nat Turner or Denmark Veasy, and is made to fear that he will be hanged in this world and be burned in the next. And, since I come to think of it, we colored folks used to get mightily mixed up about our religion. Mr. Gundover had on his plantation a real smart man. He was religious, but he would steal.”

“Oh, Robert,” queried Sybil, “how could he be religious and steal?”

“He didn’t think,” retorted Robert, “it was any harm to steal from his master. I guess he thought it was right to get from his master all he could. He would have thought it wrong to steal from his fellow-servants. He thought that downright mean, but I wouldn’t have insured the lives of Gundover’s pigs and chickens, if Uncle Jack got them in a tight place. One day there was a minister stopping with Mr. Gundover. As a matter of course, in speaking of his servants, he gave Jack’s sins an airing. He would much rather confess Jack’s sins than his own. Now Gundover wanted to do two things, save his pigs and poultry, and save Jack’s soul. He told the minister that Jack was a liar and a thief, and gave the minister a chance to talk with Uncle Jack about the state of his soul. Uncle Jack listened very quietly, and when taxed with stealing his master’s wheat he was ready with an answer. ‘Now Massa Parker,’ said Jack, ‘lem’me tell yer jis’ how it war ’bout dat wheat. Wen olé Jack com’d down yere, dis place war all growed up in woods. He go ter work, clared up de groun’ an’ plowed, an’ planted, an’ riz a crap, an’ den wen it war all done, he hadn’t a dollar to buy his olé woman a gown; an’ he jis’ took a bag ob wheat.’”

“What did Mr. Parker say?” asked Sybil.

“I don’t know, though I reckon he didn’t think it was a bad steal after all, but I don’t suppose he told Jack so. When he came to the next point, about Jack’s lying, I suppose he thought he had a clear case; but Jack was equal to the occasion.”

“How did he clear up that charge?” interrogated Captain Sybil.

“Finely. I think if he had been educated he would have made a first-rate lawyer. He said, ’Marse Parker, dere’s old Joe. His wife don’t lib on dis plantation. Old Joe go ober ter see her, but he stayed too long, an’ didn’t git back in time fer his work. Massa’s oberseer kotched him an’ cut him all up. When de oberseer went inter de house, pore old Joe war all tired an’ beat up, an’ so he lay down by de fence corner and go ter sleep. Bimeby Massa oberseer com’d an’ axed, “all bin a workin’ libely?” I say “Yes, Massa."’ Then said Mr. Parker, ’You were lying, Joe had been sleeping, not working.’ ’I know’s dat, but ef I tole on Joe, Massa oberseer cut him all up again, and Massa Jesus says, “Blessed am de Peacemaker."’ I heard, continued Robert, that Mr. Parker said to Gundover, ’You seem to me like a man standing in a stream where the blood of Jesus can reach you, but you are standing between it and your slaves. How will you answer that in the Day of Judgment?’”

“What did Gundover say?” asked Captain Sybil.

“He turned pale, and said, ’For God’s sake don’t speak of the Day of Judgment in connection with slavery.’”

Just then a messenger brought a communication to Captain Sybil. He read it attentively, and, turning to Robert, said, “Here are orders for an engagement at Five Forks to-morrow. Oh, this wasting of life and scattering of treasure might have been saved had we only been wiser. But the time is passing. Look after your company, and see that everything is in readiness as soon as possible.”

Carefully Robert superintended the arrangements for the coming battle of a strife which for years had thrown its crimson shadows over the land. The Rebels fought with a valor worthy of a better cause. The disaster of Bull Run had been retrieved. Sherman had made his famous march to the sea. Fighting Joe Hooker had scaled the stronghold of the storm king and won a victory in the palace chamber of the clouds; the Union soldiers had captured Columbia, replanted the Stars and Stripes in Charleston, and changed that old sepulchre of slavery into the cradle of a new-born freedom. Farragut had been as triumphant on water as the other generals had been victorious on land, and New Orleans had been wrenched from the hands of the Confederacy. The Rebel leaders were obstinate. Misguided hordes had followed them to defeat and death. Grant was firm and determined to fight it out if it took all summer. The closing battles were fought with desperate courage and firm resistance, but at last the South was forced to succumb. On the ninth day of April, 1865, General Lee surrendered to General Grant. The lost cause went down in blood and tears, and on the brows of a ransomed people God poured the chrism of a new era, and they stood a race newly anointed with freedom.