could do so if I could see that any great good would be accomplished by it.  But my experience here has taught me that any such sacrifice is not required of me.  I find that it is not to the advantage of the colored people to be taught at present.  They tell me that as they grow in knowledge their degradation becomes more apparent to them, and their sufferings greater.  They leave the school with the impression that for them ignorance rather than knowledge is the road to happiness.  I cannot deny the truth of their reasoning.  If they could be raised above the sense of degradation from which they suffer, it would be different.  But, apparently, this cannot be done.  It is at least impossible in the few years which can be given to their instruction in the schools now provided for their education.  The prevailing sentiment among them is against education and in favor of a thoughtless and easy life.  They do not wish to face those fires through which the awakened spirit, crushed by hopeless oppression, must necessarily pass.  Only yesterday a young man described to me, with thrilling pathos, the anguish of spirit with which he had felt the fetters tightening upon him as his knowledge increased.

“I do not feel called upon, therefore, to devote my life to teaching.  If there was hope left in the case, perhaps I might do so.  I would labor on willingly if there were light ahead.  But, with millions in slavery and others as tightly bound down by prejudice as if they were slaves, I see no encouragement.  I think it the wiser course to wait, trusting that Providence will open a way for a change to come.  And this brings me to the third aspect of this matter, and the last phase of it which I desire to consider.  It seems to me to be my duty and privilege to withdraw from the unequal contest.  The stupendous lie which crushes the mass of the colored race has not imposed itself upon me, although I have had a terrible struggle with it that nearly cost me my reason.  I am not so situated as to be compelled to live among those whose very presence would be a constant shadow, a burden to me and a reproach to my existence.  Fortunately, I am not compelled to accept the great misfortune and bow to the assumptions of a ruling race.  I can retire to the fastnesses of my native hills and forests, where petty distinctions fade away in the majestic presence of nature.  I am already beginning to anticipate the change, and instinctively asserting that independence which I feel.  Indeed, I have given offence in several instances.  I have no trouble with solid business-men like Mr. Allen.  They have the good sense and fairness to recognize the fact that a man is a man wherever you find him.  But some people of the fanciful sort, with less brains than I have, do me the honor to be angry because I do not submit to any assumptions of superiority on their part.  I might be so situated that it would be wisdom to submit, to bend to a lie, to lead the life of a martyr, as some noble men of my acquaintance do under such circumstances.  But, fortunately, I can afford to be independent, and I shall do so and take the risk of bodily violence.