ver be
realized on this continent, will gradually return, as in South Carolina
they are now doing, to their original land, and thus eventually civilize
their own race. Were they to return in a body, they would all probably
relapse into barbarism, but if a clear stream be kept running, though
the pool through which it flow be stagnant, it will in time become pure.
And there is material in this country for a pretty continuous flow.

I do not say that the negro is incapable of progress, but his mental
horizon is very limited, and seems bounded by natural causes as
immovable (except by aid of foreign blood, which having he ceases to be
a genuine negro) as the chains of mountains which in some localities
limit the horizon in material Nature; and that as a people they will
become the peer of the white race is simply impossible, for if progress
be a law of Nature, it will be obeyed by the white man also, and he is
already centuries ahead of the black, with advantages of every possible
nature. Also, that they should now be competent to fill the offices many
of them occupy is a pure absurdity, as demonstrated all around us--at
the polls, in the jury-box, in the chair of the magistrate. A very cruel
absurdity it has sometimes proved.

But speaking of their mercurial nature: I was once spending the summer
at a village in the mountains, and not far from my chamber-window were
three or four cabins occupied by very cleanly, orderly negroes, who had
hitherto been a source of no annoyance, for I am very fond of negroes
and like to have them about me. These cabins were situated near the
mouth of a deep ravine heavily wooded and producing echoes of beautiful
distinctness. One evening negroes began to assemble in and around the
largest cabin, and there was evidently to be a meeting of some very
mournful--or at any rate solemn--character, for they came quietly, shook
hands silently, and crept into their places with a stealthy gliding
motion. It was a weird, uncanny scene. The moon rose slowly behind the
great black mountains, and cast its rays upon the tree-tops and
shimmered its light on the whitewashed cabins, and only half revealed
the dark figures that glided like spectres in and out; but nothing could
pierce the depths of that black ravine, and it was easy to believe it
the abode of spirits blest or otherwise--especially otherwise. There was
a long, oppressive silence: then they began to sing. What remarkable
voices they have, especi