they give no quarter; but if themselves defeated, their cry for mercy is so intolerable in its groveling clamor, that the victor is disposed to dispatch them at once to get rid of it. With diminished vitality, and less hold on existence than the pure blood, the mongrel, while utterly reckless of life in respect to others, clings to it himself and shrinks from death with an abject terror rarely or never witnessed in the original races. The typical negro, for example, though brave enough when led by his master, shrinks in terror from the face of the lordly Caucasian when not thus supported, and a score or two of the latter in the open field would doubtless drive a thousand negroes before them like sheep to the slaughter. But a negro condemned to die, to be hanged, to be burned even, rarely manifests dread or apprehension of any kind. His imperfect innervation, his sluggish brain, and low grade of sensibility, render him incapable of anticipating that terrible physical suffering from which the elaborate and exquisitely organized Caucasian suffers under these circumstances. So, too, the Indian—“the stoic of the woods—the man without a tear,” as the poet Campbell, and others ignorant of his nature, have represented him—a creature, according to their absurd fancies, fashioned on the Roman model, with the self-poised and philosophical indifference to outward things of a Seneca, and the calm contempt of physical suffering of a Cato, but who, all this time, in his grosser organization, has none of the white man’s perceptions of physical pain, and therefore sings his death-song in total unconsciousness of that which to us is the extreme, or supposed extreme, of physical suffering. This organic insensibility of the lower races to physical pain, which renders them indifferent to the approach of death, is sometimes equalled, and perhaps surpassed, as regards the outward expression, by the dominating moral forces in the case of the higher organized Caucasian. Lamartine has said that the mistress of Louis XV., the notorious Duchess Du Barry, was the only person sent to the guillotine during the reign of terror that asked for mercy, or shrank with terror from the approach of death. Not men alone, but women, even delicately nurtured young girls, who, under ordinary circumstances, would faint on witnessing the death of a sparrow, ascended the steps of the guillotine without a tear or the quiver of a muscle. They died for an idea, and a false one at that, but they believed it true and immutable as heaven itself, and the exaltation of the mind over the body, the dominating moral forces over the laws of the physical being, enabled them to meet death without a murmur, and, as regards the outward expression, to seem as indifferent to the physical pain involved, as the Indian or the negro, whose lower organization is incapable of such suffering.