In considering the future of our American negroes it is important that we should make a judgment as to their moral tendencies. This is not easy to do, for the statistics of crime are not in such form as to make it clear in what regards they depart from the averages of the white population. There can, however, be no doubt that at first they were addicted to small thieving, and that this habit continued until after the civil war. Southern people, well placed for forming an opinion, believe that this evil is passing away, from the development of the property sense. As for drunkenness, the negro appears to be on the whole less tempted to it than are the whites. One rarely finds the sot type among them. Those of the lower class are liable to curious contagious excitements, which often make them behave as if they were intoxicated when they are not so. A scene I witnessed on a train out of New Orleans, a few years ago, illustrates this and other significant features of the negro character. It was a Sunday morning, and the car assigned to blacks was full of sturdy fellows, mostly of the Guinea type. Explaining to the conductor that I wished to see the people, he allowed me to take a seat in the rear of the carriage. At first my neighbors looked askance at me, but with a word they became friendly. While the train was at rest the throng was still, but as soon as it was in motion singing and shouting began. There was a lull at every station, but with each renewal of the motion the excitement rose higher, until it became very great. A white newsboy, a fellow of some eighteen or twenty years, was engaged in selling papers and candy. As he passed along the aisle one of the negroes sprang at him, knife in hand. In a flash the boy had the muzzle of his pistol almost against the assailant’s head. At this every negro in the car was afoot and shouting. Fearing the boy might be struck from behind, I moved near to him, intending to caution him not to fire too soon, for I was sure that his opponent would quickly break down. The youngster needed no advice of mine. In a steady, low voice he called, “Put up your knife--_one_!” With that the throng became suddenly still. “Put up your knife--_two_!” whereupon the ugly fellow slowly hid his knife and sank into a seat with bowed head, while the newsboy went on crying his wares, as if nothing unusual had happened.