A SOUTHERN CITY: REFLECTIONS. 163
ican Negro pioneer. Many will say it will call for too
many hardships. I answer, you cannot go through
more hardships than you have gone through. Also, it
can be, said, of a truth, that nothing great can be ob-
tained without hardship and toil. Therefore, if we
want to live in a land where we can protect our
mothers, wives, sisters and daughters from the fiendish
snares that await them in this land, we must begin to
develop our "fatherland." If we want to wear the
full badge of citizenship, we must "go over and pos-
sess the land" that God has reserved for us for ages.
Then, and not until then, will the Negro be known as
a man " walking without crutches."
J. G. ROBINSON.
A SOUTHERN CITY: REFLECTIONS.
WHAT a quaint, sunny old city, lying almost asleep
under her brilliant skies, is New Orleans! She lan-
guidly rests on the bend of that mighty, yellow river,
and turns to the sun a wonderland of old churches,
narrow streets, curious shops, and red roofs covered
with green vines, making bits of mosaic against the
deep blue sky.
Such a contrast, after leaving the frozen North, where
we have dull, gray skies laden with tears; cold, damp,
penetrating east winds for gentle zephyrs, and snow
banks for cotton fields, do we find in the tropical
climate of that curious old city.
How weird and lovely is the entrance to New Or-
leans. A long ride across clear and placid Lake Pont-
chartrain into the cypress swamp, where palm and pal-
metto trees, Spanish daggers and green latanias run
riot. How fascinating is the impenetrable shadow