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 A southerner ought to be ashamed to mention that subject. Let's see, there are about twelve million black people in this country—that is, people with Negro blood in them. I think statistics will bear me out in the statement that more than four million of that number are of mixed blood. Now who mixed that blood? It was not the black man. You left your women behind with him when you went to battle in the Civil War. You found your women safe when you returned, even though you were fighting to keep him slave and serf. No, I tell you it is a white problem. I tell you, America—and particularly that part of America south of Mason and Dixon's line, ought to be ashamed of itself. It ought to be in so contrite a mood at the wrongs perpetrated on a harmless race that they should be working tooth and nail to right that wrong, rather than steeping themselves further in wrong.

"Think, gentlemen. Here was a race brought over by force, sold into bondage by force, subjected to all manners of brutalities, by force, its blood mixed because you were the masters, and instead of seeing your wrongs you gloat in your mastery and prate of civilization. Race inferiority and race superiority! What a mockery! Oh, what's the use? I'm going to bed."

Every man on the veranda was on his feet as Dr. Tansey and Bennet who had remained quiet all this time arose. The anger in each man was growing.

"You say harsh things about a country in which you are a guest, Stranger."

"Harsh but true, gentlemen," Dr. Tansey waved his