The atmosphere of shiftlessness that too generally prevailed in some localities; the gangs of tobacco-chewing loafers assembled around railway stations; the listless Negroes that seemed to overhang the whole country like a black cloud; the plantation mansions in a sad state of disrepair; the old unoccupied slave huts overgrown with weeds; the unpainted and broken-down fences; the rich soil that was crudely and wastefully cultivated with a single crop--the youthful social philosopher found himself comparing these vestigia of a half-moribund civilization with the vibrant cities of the North, the beautiful white and green villages of New England, and the fertile prairie farms of the West.

"Even the dogs," he said, "look old-fashioned." Oh, for a change in his beloved South--a change of almost any kind! "Even a heresy, if it be bright and fresh, would be a relief.

You feel as if you wished to see some kind of an effort put forth, a discussion, a fight, a runaway, anything to make the blood go faster." Wherever Page saw signs of a new spirit--and he saw many--he recorded them with an eagerness which showed his loyalty to the section of his birth.

The splitting up of great plantations into small farms he put down as one of the indications of a new day.

A growing tendency to educate, not only the white child, but the Negro, inspired a similar tribute.