a vehement protest, "in might as a flame of fire," that swept everything before it and hurled back the Chinaman into the ocean and barred our ports unyieldingly against him. The case against Chinese immigration was not one-hundredth so strong as against the social equality of the Negro; in fact, there was much to be said against our restrictive legislation, and much was said both ably and eloquently. But the strongest arguments could not make themselves heard; the race instinct, that instinct preservative of all instincts, was infinitely stronger, and easily triumphed. Let us not forget, either, the recent incidents at Northwestern University and elsewhere, which show clearly that the "prejudice," if you please so to call it, against the Negro is hardly less strong, when aroused, even now in Chicago than in New Orleans. 

 But some one may say, if all this be true, if the race instinct of the Anglo-Saxon is really so mighty and imperious, then there is no danger that it will not assert itself, if need be; and why all this pother about it? We answer, there is really no danger while the instinct is aroused, and therefore, but only therefore, the South is safe. What we deprecate is the systematic warfare that is waged in some quarters against this instinct as a mere unenlightened "prejudice" whereof we should be ashamed—the attempt to battle it down or else to drug it to sleep in the name of morality or religion or higher humanity. When our Northern brothers, by precept and by example, throw the whole weight of their immense authority in favour of a practice that would be ruinous to the South, are they walking according to love? 

 We do not deny that there may be cases that move our sympathy; that appeal strongly to our sense of fair play, of right between man and man. In and of itself, it may sound strange and unjust and even foolish to deny to Booker Washington a seat at the table of a white man, even should he be distinctly Mr. Washington's inferior. But the matter must not be decided in and of itself—no man either lives for himself or dies for himself. It must be judged in its larger bearings, by its universal interests, where it lays hold upon the ages, under the aspect of eternity. We refuse to let the case rest in the low and narrow category of Duty to the Individual; we range it where it belongs, in the higher and broader category of Obligation to the Race. 

 And this conducts us to a final remark. Even at the risk of a sus Minervam we venture to correct a great journal, The Outlook, in one of its statements. It assures its readers that the recent criticism does not represent the real 

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