spectacle of a Republic, compact, united INDISSOLUBLE IN THE BONDS OF LOVE—­loving from the Lakes to the Gulf—­the wounds of war healed in every heart as on every hill, serene and resplendent AT THE SUMMIT OF HUMAN ACHIEVEMENT AND EARTHLY GLORY, blazing out the path and making clear the way up which all the nations of the earth, must come in God’s appointed time!

    —­HENRY W. GRADY, The Race Problem.

_ ...  I WOULD CALL HIM NAPOLEON_, but Napoleon made his way to empire over broken oaths and through a sea of blood. This man never broke his word.  “No Retaliation” was his great motto and the rule of his life; AND THE LAST WORDS UTTERED TO HIS SON IN FRANCE WERE THESE:  “My boy, you will one day go back to Santo Domingo; forget that France murdered your father.”  I WOULD CALL HIM CROMWELL, but Cromwell was only a soldier, and the state he founded went down with him into his grave.  I WOULD CALL HIM WASHINGTON, but the great Virginian held slaves.  THIS MAN RISKED HIS EMPIRE rather than permit the slave-trade in the humblest village of his dominions.

YOU THINK ME A FANATIC TO-NIGHT, for you read history, not with your eyes, BUT WITH YOUR PREJUDICES. But fifty years hence, when Truth gets a hearing, the Muse of History will put PHOCION for the Greek, and BRUTUS for the Roman, HAMPDEN for England, LAFAYETTE for France, choose WASHINGTON as the bright, consummate flower of our EARLIER civilization, AND JOHN BROWN the ripe fruit of our NOONDAY, then, dipping her pen in the sunlight, will write in the clear blue, above them all, the name of THE SOLDIER, THE STATESMAN, THE MARTYR, TOUSSAINT L’OUVERTURE.

    —­Wendell Phillips, Toussaint l’Ouverture.

Drill on the following selections for change of pitch:  Beecher’s “Abraham Lincoln,” p. 76; Seward’s “Irrepressible Conflict,” p. 67; Everett’s “History of Liberty,” p. 78; Grady’s “The Race Problem,” p. 36; and Beveridge’s “Pass Prosperity Around,” p. 470.

CHAPTER V

EFFICIENCY THROUGH CHANGE OF PACE

    Hear how he clears the points o’ Faith
    Wi’ rattlin’ an’ thumpin’! 
    Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath,
    He’s stampin’ an’ he’s jumpin’.

—­ROBERT BURNS, Holy Fair.

The Latins have bequeathed to us a word that has no precise equivalent in our tongue, therefore we have accepted it, body unchanged—­it is the word tempo, and means rate of movement, as measured by the time consumed in executing that movement.

Thus far its use has been largely limited to the vocal and musical arts, but it would not be surprising to hear tempo applied to more concrete matters, for it perfectly illustrates the real meaning of the word to say that an ox-cart moves in slow tempo, an express train in a fast tempo.  Our guns that fire six hundred times a minute, shoot at a fast tempo; the old muzzle loader that required three minutes to load, shot at a slow tempo.  Every musician understands this principle:  it requires longer to sing a half note than it does an eighth note.