the question of general
abolition with this war must be the work of a man too ignorant to
understand the real subject of the war, or too false to his country to
regard it.' Yet it is strange that these 'too ignorant' or 'too false'
men are the very ones that Mr. Trollope holds up to admiration, and
declares that any nation might be proud to claim their genius.
Longfellow and Lowell, Emerson and Motley, to whom we could add almost
all the well-known thinkers of the country, men after his own heart in
most things, belong to this 'ignorant' or 'false' sect. Is it their one
madness? That is a strange madness which besets our _greatest_ men and
women; a marvelous anomaly surely. Yet there must be something
sympathetic in abolitionism to Mr. Trollope, for he prefers Boston, the
centre of this ignorance, to all other American cities, and finds his
friends for the most part among these false ones, by which we are to
conclude that Mr. Trollope is by nature an abolitionist, but that
circumstances have been unfavorable to his proper development. And these
circumstances we ascribe to a hasty and superficial visit to the British
West-India colonies.

It is well known that in his entertaining book on travels in the
West-Indies and Spanish Main, Mr. Trollope undertakes to prove that
emancipation has both ruined the commercial prosperity of the British
islands and degraded the free blacks to a level with the idle brute. Mr.
Trollope is still firm in this opinion, notwithstanding the statistics
of the Blue Book, which prove that these colonies never were in so
flourishing a condition as at present. We, in America, have also had the
same fact demonstrated by figures, in that very plainly written book
called the _Ordeal of Free Labor_. Mr. Trollope, no doubt, saw some very
lazy negroes, wallowing in dirt, and living only for the day, but later
developments have proved that his investigations could have been simply
those of a dilettante. It is highly probable that the planters who have
been shorn of their riches by the edict of Emancipation, should paint
the present condition of the blacks in any thing but rose-colors, and
we, of course, believe that Mr. Trollope _believes_ what he has written.
He is none the less mistaken, if we are to pin our faith to the Blue
Book, which we are told never lies. And yet, believing that emancipation
has made a greater brute than ever of the negro, Mr. Trollope rejoices
in the course which has been pursue