declamation about the extinction of the race, Mr. Flint very pertinently
remarks: "One would think it had been discovered, that the population,
the improvements, and the social happiness of our great political
edifice, ought never to have been erected in the place of these
habitations of cruelty."--_Geography_, vol. i., p. 107.

[49] Idem.

[50] This is De Tocqueville's estimate.--_Democracy in America_, vol.
ii., chap. 10.

[51] "We may as well endeavor to make the setting sun stand still on the
summit of the Rocky Mountains, as attempt to arrest the final extermination
of the Indian race!"--_Merivale on Colonization_--_Lecture_ 19.

The principle stated in the text will apply with equal force to the
negro-race; and those who will look the facts firmly in the face, can
not avoid seeing, that the ultimate solution of the problem of American
Slavery, can be nothing but _the sword_.

II.

THE VOYAGEUR.

"Spread out earth's holiest records here,
Of days and deeds to reverence dear:
A zeal like this, what pious legends tell?"

The shapeless knight-errantry of the thirteenth and fourteenth
centuries, rich as it was in romance and adventure, is not to be
compared, in any valuable characteristic, to the noiseless self-devotion
of the men who first explored the Western country. The courage of the
knight was a part of his savage nature; his confidence was in the
strength of his own right arm; and if his ruggedness was ever softened
down by gentler thoughts, it was only when he asked forgiveness for his
crimes, or melted in sensual idolatry of female beauty.

It would be a curious and instructive inquiry, could we institute it
with success, how much of the contempt of danger manifested by the
wandering knight was referable to genuine valor, and what proportion to
the strength of a Milan coat, and the temper of a Toledo or Ferrara
blade. And it would be still more curious, although perhaps not so
instructive, to estimate the purity and fidelity of the heroines of
chivalry; to ascertain the amount of true devotion given them by their
admirers, "without hope of reward."

But without abating its interest by invidious and ungrateful inquiries,
we can see quite enough--in its turbulence, its cruelty, arrogance, and
oppression--to make us thank Heaven that "the days of chivalry are
gone." And from that chaotic scene of rapine, raid, and murder, we can
turn with pleasure to contemplate the truer, nobler