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“That’s one of your red republican humbugs, Augustine! Why didn’t you ever take to the stump;- you’d make a famous stump orator! Well, I hope I shall be dead before this millennium of your greasy masses comes on.” “Greasy or not greasy, they will govern you, when their time comes,” said Augustine; “and they will be just such rulers as you make them. The French no- blesse chose to have the people ‘sans culottes,’ and they had ‘sans culotte’ gover- nors to their hearts’ content. The people of Hayti-” “O, come, Augustine! as if we hadn’t had enough of that abominable, con- temptible Hayti! The Haytians were not Anglo-Saxons; If they had been, there would have been another story. The Anglo-Saxon is the dominant race of the world, and is to be so.” “Well, there is a pretty fair infusion of Anglo-Saxon blood among our slaves, now,” said Augustine. “There are plenty among them who have only enough of the African to give a sort of tropical warmth and fervor to our calculating firm- ness and foresight. If ever the San Domingo hour comes, Anglo-Saxon blood will lead on the day. Sons of white fathers, with all our haughty feelings burning in their veins, will not always be bought and sold and traded. They will rise, and raise with them their mother’s race.” “Stuff!- nonsense!” |