W.E.B. Du Bois: “He knew no color-line, poor dear—and the Veil, though it shadowed him, had not yet darkened half his sun.”

And yet, being a problem is a strange experience,—peculiar even for one who has never been anything else, save perhaps in babyhood and in Europe.

In song and exhortation swelled one refrain—Liberty; in his tears and curses the God he implored had Freedom in his right hand.

Away back in the days of bondage they thought to see in one divine event the end of all doubt and disappointment; few men ever worshipped Freedom with half such unquestioning faith as did the American Negro for two centuries.

So the Cotton Kingdom still lives; the world still bows beneath her sceptre.