you are.  Down here in the South we’re up against facts, and we’re meeting ’em like facts.  We don’t believe the nigger is or ever will be the equal of the white man, and we ain’t going to treat him as an equal; I’ll be damned if we will.  Have a drink.”  Everybody except the professor partook of the generous Texan’s flask, and the argument closed in a general laugh and good feeling.

I went back into the main part of the car with the conversation on my mind.  Here I had before me the bald, raw, naked aspects of the race question in the South; and, in consideration of the step I was just taking, it was far from encouraging.  The sentiments of the Texan—­and he expressed the sentiments of the South—­fell upon me like a chill.  I was sick at heart.  Yet I must confess that underneath it all I felt a certain sort of admiration for the man who could not be swayed from what he held as his principles.  Contrasted with him, the young Ohio professor was indeed a pitiable character.  And all along, in spite of myself, I have been compelled to accord the same kind of admiration to the Southern white man for the manner in which he defends not only his virtues, but his vices.  He knows that, judged by a high standard, he is narrow and prejudiced, that he is guilty of unfairness, oppression, and cruelty, but this he defends as stoutly as he would his better qualities.  This same spirit obtains in a great degree among the blacks; they, too, defend their faults and failings.  This they generally do whenever white people are concerned.  And yet among themselves they are their own most merciless critics.  I have never heard the race so terribly arraigned as I have by colored speakers to strictly colored audiences.  It is the spirit of the South to defend everything belonging to it.  The North is too cosmopolitan and tolerant for such a spirit.  If you should say to an Easterner that Paris is a gayer city than New York, he would be likely to agree with you, or at least to let you have your own way; but to suggest to a South Carolinian that Boston is a nicer city to live in than Charleston would be to stir his greatest depths of argument and eloquence.

But to-day, as I think over that smoking-car argument, I can see it in a different light.  The Texan’s position does not render things so hopeless, for it indicates that the main difficulty of the race question does not lie so much in the actual condition of the blacks as it does in the mental attitude of the whites; and a mental attitude, especially one not based on truth, can be changed more easily than actual conditions.  That is to say, the burden of the question is not that the whites are struggling to save ten million despondent and moribund people from sinking into a hopeless slough of ignorance, poverty, and barbarity in their very midst, but that they are unwilling to open certain doors of opportunity and to accord certain treatment to ten million aspiring, education-and-property-acquiring