ally the men--so full, so rich, so deep and
sonorous! If the mental development of the negro is to involve change in
his physical conformation, it is to be hoped it will not interfere with
his chest and lungs, nor with that wonderful cavern in the back of his
mouth and at the base of the nose. Some should be kept barbarians that
they may continue to be vocal instruments. No one who has heard him only
as a "minstrel" can have any conception of the exquisite mournfulness,
the agonizing pathos, which the negro voice is capable of expressing;
nor, we may fairly add, of the wild, devil-may-care jollity; but this
last is more truly represented on the stage, the invariable adjuncts of
caricature not only contributing to stimulate the comedian, but
broadening the effect of his voice on the hearer. Why is it that we
always have caricature in negro delineations--that we never have any
simple representations of the reality or any touches of unalloyed
pathos? In all Nature there is nothing more pathetic than a pitiful
negro. You may paint the negro's lips and roach his hair, and even
exaggerate the peculiarities of his feet, but I can pick you up one, out
on the suburbs or down in the alleys, who has become old and feeble and
cannot work any more, whose old master is dead and whose children have
kicked him out, who steals and struggles and starves in ignorant terror
of the poorhouse; and for yours people will raise their opera-glasses to
their eyes--for mine, their handkerchiefs.

But to return. Oh how inexpressibly mournful were their chants that
night! I remember one especially. It began with a wailing recitative--a
prolonged, mournful recitative in the minor key by female voices only,
and at its close the men joined them in a full, deep chorus, slow and
solemn, the last words of which were "Dead and gone!" The black ravine
took up the sound, and from its deep, mysterious heart came back the
solemn echo, "Dead and gone!" It was simply horrible. I never felt so
homesick in my life; and as the mournful chant rolled toward the
mountain, and then came floating back again like a corpse upon the
ebbing tide, I leaned my head upon the window-sill and cried heartily.
One by one my friends died and were buried, my children became orphans,
and, by a curious freak of circumstances, their father and I were left
to a childless old age. All possible accidents were put in requisition,
all manner of possible misfortunes called upon to contribute