turn away and with downcast eyes and uncertain step start out into new and strange fields, faltering, struggling, but moving on, until his shambling figure is lost in the light of this better and brighter day.  And from the grave comes a voice, saying, “Follow him! put your arms about him in his need, even as he put his about me.  Be his friend as he was mine.”  And out into this new world—­strange to me as to him, dazzling, bewildering both—­I follow!  And may God forget my people—­when they forget these!

Whatever the future may hold for them, whether they plod along in the servitude from which they have never been lifted since the Cyrenian was laid hold upon by the Roman soldiers, and made to bear the cross of the fainting Christ—­whether they find homes again in Africa, and thus hasten the prophecy of the psalmist, who said, “And suddenly Ethiopia shall hold out her hands unto God”—­whether forever dislocated and separate, they remain a weak people, beset by stronger, and exist, as the Turk, who lives in the jealousy rather than in the conscience of Europe—­or whether in this miraculous Republic they break through the caste of twenty centuries and, belying universal history, reach the full stature of citizenship, and in peace maintain it—­we shall give them uttermost justice and abiding friendship.  And whatever we do, into whatever seeming estrangement we may be driven, nothing shall disturb the love we bear this Republic, or mitigate our consecration to its service.  I stand here, Mr. President, to profess no new loyalty.  When General Lee, whose heart was the temple of our hopes, and whose arm was clothed with our strength, renewed his allegiance to this Government at Appomattox, he spoke from a heart too great to be false, and he spoke for every honest man from Maryland to Texas.  From that day to this Hamilcar has nowhere in the South sworn young Hannibal to hatred and vengeance, but everywhere to loyalty and to love.  Witness the veteran standing at the base of a Confederate monument, above the graves of his comrades, his empty sleeve tossing in the April wind, adjuring the young men about him to serve as earnest and loyal citizens the Government against which their fathers fought.  This message, delivered from that sacred presence, has gone home to the hearts of my fellows!  And, sir, I declare here, if physical courage be always equal to human aspiration, that they would die, sir, if need be, to restore this Republic their fathers fought to dissolve.

Such, Mr. President, is this problem as we see it, such is the temper in which we approach it, such the progress made.  What do we ask of you?  First, patience; out of this alone can come perfect work.  Second, confidence; in this alone can you judge fairly.  Third, sympathy; in this you can help us best.  Fourth, give us your sons as hostages.  When you plant your capital in millions, send your sons that they may know how true are our hearts and may help to swell the Caucasian current until it can carry