There is something in this whole proposition which accurately embodies the whole Southern policy. While the rest of the world is working to assimilate into civilization, they are laboring to get away and apart--to be different from everybody else--to remain provincial and 'peculiar.' It is the working of the same spirit which inspires the desire to substitute 'State rights' or individual will, or, in plain terms, lawlessness and barbarism for enlightenment and common rights. It is a craving for darkness instead of light, for antiquated feudal falsehood instead of republican truth; and it will meet with the destiny which awaits every struggle against the great and holy cause of humanity. _KYNG COTEN._ A 'DARK' CONCEIT. (_Being an ensample of a longe poeme._) O muse! that did me somedeal favour erst, Whereas I piped my silly oaten reede, And songs in homely guise to mine reherst, Well pleased with maiden's smilings for my meed; Sweet muse, do give my Pegasus good speede, And send to him of thy high, potent might, Whiles mortalls I all of my theme do rede, Thatte is the story of a doughty knight, Who eftsoons wageth war, Kyng COTEN is he hight. Kyng Coten cometh of a goodly race, Though black it was, as records sothly tell; But thatte is nought, which only is the face, And ne the hart, where alle goode beings dwell; For witness him the puissant Hannibal, Who was in veray sooth a Black-a-Moor; And Cleopatra, Egypt's darksome belle, And others, great on earth, a hundred score; Howbeit, ilke kyng was white, which doth amaze me sore. Kyng Coten cometh of a goodly race, As born of fathers clean as many as The sands thatte doe the mighty sea-shore grace, But black, as sayde, as dark is Erebus. His rule the Southron Federation was, Thatte was a part of great Columbia, Which was as fayre a clyme as man mote pass; And situate where Vesper holds his swaye, But habited wilome by men of salvage fray. Farre in the North he had an enimie, Who certes was the knight's true soveraine, Who likéd not his wicked slaverie, Which 'cross God's will was counter-wisely laine, Whiles he himself, it seemeth now right playne, Did seek to have a kyngdom of his kynde, Where he, as tyrant-like, mote lonly raine; So to a treacherie he fetched his mynde, Which soon was rent in four, and sent upon each wynde. His enimie thatte liveth in the North, Who, after all, was not his enimie, Ydeemed he was a gentilman of worth, Too proud to make so vile a villianie, And, therefore, did ne tent his railerie, But went his ways, as was his wont wilome; Goliah, he turned out eftsoons, ah! me, Who leaned upon his speare when David come, And laughed to scorn the sillie boy his threat'ning doom.