the greater part of the energy of the masses
will be needed to develop its material opportunities. Any force that
brings the rank and file of the people to a greater love of industry
is therefore especially valuable. This result industrial education
is surely bringing about. It stimulates production and increases
trade,--trade between the races,--and in this new and engrossing
relation both forget the past. The white man respects the vote of the
colored man who does $10,000 worth of business, and the more business
the colored man has, the more careful he is how he votes.

Immediately after the war, there was a large class of Southern people
who feared that the opening of the free schools to the freedmen and the
poor whites--the education of the head alone--would result merely in
increasing the class who sought to escape labor, and that the South
would soon be overrun by the idle and vicious. But as the results of
industrial combined with academic training begin to show themselves in
hundreds of communities that have been lifted up through the medium of
the Tuskegee system, these former prejudices against education are being
removed. Many of those who a few years ago opposed general education are
now among its warmest advocates.

This industrial training, emphasizing as it does the idea of economic
production, is gradually bringing the South to the point where it is
feeding itself. Before the war, and long after it, the South made what
little profit was received from the cotton crop, and sent its earnings
out of the South to purchase food supplies,--meat, bread, canned
vegetables, and the like; but the improved methods of agriculture are
fast changing this habit. With the newer methods of labor, which teach
promptness and system, and emphasize the worth of the beautiful,--the
moral value of the well-painted house, and the fence with every paling
and nail in its place,--we are bringing to bear upon the South an
influence that is making it a new country in industry, education, and
religion.

THE STORY OF UNCLE TOM'S CABIN by Charles Dudley Warner

On the 29th of June, 1852, Henry Clay died. In that month the two great
political parties, in their national conventions, had accepted as a
finality all the compromise measures of 1850, and the last hours of the
Kentucky statesman were brightened by the thought that his efforts had
secured the perpetuity of the Union.

But on the 20th of March, 1852, there had been a