Several recent letters from readers outside the South have contained clippings and firsthand reports about the progress of Our Nation's cause. I hope my correspondents don't mind, but I've come to think of them as a sort of intelligence service, even sometimes as a Fifth Column.
One expatriate, for instance, sent along a brochure for a Boston bank. Its cover shows a yuppie couple on their boat, sipping wine against a backdrop of the Boston skyline, enjoying the good life that their savings or low-interest loan has made possible. On the bow of the boat, so inconspicuous that it presumably escaped the bank's notice, is a rebel flag decal. My spy labeled the photograph: "The Confederate Navy in Boston Harbor."
Keep those cards and letters coming, folks.
A couple of less cheering reports have come in from the Ivy League—one each, as it happens, from Yale and Harvard.
At Yale, as you may know, there is a residential college named for John C. Calhoun, class of 1804. I've never visited Calhoun College, but it sounds like a sort of oasis in the poststructuralist wasteland of New Haven. In a devil-may-care display of speciesism, for instance, its oak-paneled dining hall is adorned with Old South hunting pictures.
"Above the great fireplace at the end of the room," my correspondent reports, "hangs a portrait of the Great...