twilight of a summer evening, making a sharp curve in a road, about a
dozen men confronted me. They were dressed in blue, a color I was not
very partial to at that time. I had read that "he that fights and runs
away may live to fight another day." It occurred to me that he who
would run without fighting might have a still better chance, but the
click of gun locks and an order to surrender changed my mind to
"safety first" and I was a prisoner of the blue-coated cavalry.

The commanding officer who had me in charge (during my visit) was a
Kentucky Colonel. He afterward became a major-general. I looked at him
during the remainder of the war from the narrow standpoint of
prejudice and cherished revenge in my heart for his having exposed me
to the flying bullets of the Confederate pickets, a peril he was not
responsible for and of which he knew nothing until I informed him in
after years.

A few years after the war our barks met upon the same wave of life's
ocean. We became engaged in the same work of reform, I as an advocate
of temperance, he as candidate for the presidency of the United States
on the prohibition ticket. From the warmth of friendship, my prejudice
melted like mist before the morning sun and I found in General Green
Clay Smith a combination of the noblest traits in human character.

Whoever would graduate in the highest franchise of being, and realize
the royalty that comes of partnership with sovereignty, must have
respectfulness of bearing and feeling toward those from whom they
differ. We are greatly creatures of education and environment anyway,
and until we can unlock the alphabet of a life and sum up the
mingling, blending, reciprocal forces that have been playing upon that
life, we have no more right to abuse persons for honest convictions