octor took up his valise and crossed the platform to the
car ahead. It was an old car, with faded upholstery, from which the
stuffing projected here and there through torn places. Apparently the
floor had not been swept for several days. The dust lay thick upon the
window sills, and the water-cooler, from which he essayed to get a
drink, was filled with stale water which had made no recent acquaintance
with ice. There was no other passenger in the car, and Miller occupied
himself in making a rough calculation of what it would cost the Southern
railroads to haul a whole car for every colored passenger. It was
expensive, to say the least; it would be cheaper, and quite as
considerate of their feelings, to make the negroes walk.

The car was conspicuously labeled at either end with large cards,
similar to those in the other car, except that they bore the word
"Colored" in black letters upon a white background. The author of this
piece of legislation had contrived, with an ingenuity worthy of a better
cause, that not merely should the passengers be separated by the color
line, but that the reason for this division should be kept constantly in
mind. Lest a white man should forget that he was white,--not a very
likely contingency,--these cards would keep him constantly admonished of
the fact; should a colored person endeavor, for a moment, to lose sight
of his disability, these staring signs would remind him continually that
between him and the rest of mankind not of his own color, there was by
law a great gulf fixed.

Having composed himself, Miller had opened a newspaper, and was deep in
an editorial which set forth in glowing language the inestimable
advantages which would follow to certain recently acquired islands by
the introduction of American liberty, when the rear door of the car
opened to give entrance to Captain George McBane, who took a seat near
the door and lit a cigar. Miller knew him quite well by sight and by
reputation, and detested him as heartily. He represented the aggressive,
offensive element among the white people of the New South, who made it
hard for a negro to maintain his self-respect or to enjoy even the
rights conceded to colored men by Southern laws. McBane had undoubtedly
identified him to the conductor in the other car. Miller had no desire
to thrust himself upon the society of white people, which, indeed, to
one who had traveled so much and so far, was no novelty; but he very
naturally resen