It is, undoubtedly, true that the apparent result of the effort to educate the Negro has been disappointing. There are a few thousand professional men, a considerable number of college or high school graduates, but, for the greater part, there is discernible little apparent breadth of view, no growth in ability, or tendency to consider great questions reasonably. There is, indeed, rather a tendency to racial solidarity in opposition to the whites on all questions whatsoever; continued failure to distinguish soundly between outward gifts and character; a general inclination to deny crime and side with criminals against the whites, no matter how flagrant the crime may be. There is, moreover, a not rare belief among the whites that the preachers and leaders contribute to increase these tendencies and teach hostility rather than try to uplift the race morally. This view is held sincerely by a considerable section of the well-informed whites of the South. All this is very disappointing, and yet the only lamp by which we can guide our way safely is the light of experience. Enlightenment and religion are the two great powers that have raised races and peoples. Since the dawn of history, Education and Christianity have raised the Western nations, among them the Anglo-Saxon race. With all the faults men show in practice, these two contain the vital principles. They are founded on those precepts, by which alone nations rise and civilization advances—knowledge, morality, and duty. Whatever disappointment, then, there may be, this much at least may be laid down: There are only two ways to solve the Negro problem in the South. One is to remove him; the other is to elevate him. The former is apparently out of the question. The only method, then, is to improve him. In suggesting the method of education that will prove of greatest service, it is easier to criticise than to reform. Hitherto, the idea has been to educate the Negro race just as the white race is educated; that is, to give him book education and “turn him loose.” There was, it is true, no field except the curious politics of the time in which the Negro could exercise his powers, based on such an education. The whites did not want this; the Negroes could not use it; but this made no difference with those who had the matter in charge. Education was understood to be ability to show book-learning. With this meagre equipment, the “educated Negro” rushed into politics, or into the pulpit, which mainly was but another name for the same thing. Sentiment, however, demanded that the Negro should be placed on an equality with the whites, and other conditions were left out of account, with disheartening results.