It was, indeed, passing strange that this man, on his way to seize or
crush the Johnson clique, as the case might be, should have been the one
to first arouse in my mind the idea that, after all, the Tories had their
good side, and were doing what to them seemed right, at tremendous cost
and sacrifice to themselves. I had been telling him what a ruffian was
Philip Cross, and what grounds I had for hating him, and despitefully
describing the other chief Tories of the district. He said in reply,
I remember:

"You seem to miss the sad phase of all this, my friend. Your young blood
feels only the partisan promptings of dislike. Some day--soon, perhaps--
you will all at once find this youthful heat gone; you will begin to walk
around men and things, so to speak, and study them from all sides. This
stage comes to every sober mind; it will come to you. Then you will
realize that this baronet up yonder is, from his own stand-point, a
chivalrous, gallant loyal gentleman, who imperils estates, power, peace,
almost life itself, rather than do what he holds to be weak or wrong. Why,
take even this enemy of yours, this Cross. He was one of the notables of
these parts--rich, popular, influential; he led a life of utmost luxury
and pleasure. All this he has exchanged for the rough work of a soldier,
with its privations, cold, fatigue, and the risk of death. Ask yourself
why he did it."

"I see what you would enforce," I said. "Your meaning is that these men,
as well as our side, think the right is theirs."

"Precisely. They have inherited certain ideas. We disagree with them; we
deem it our duty to silence them, fight them, drive them out of the
country, and, with God's help, we will do it. But let us do this with our
eyes open, and with the understanding that they are not necessarily