One of the most interesting results of a very prolonged process of ethnic differentiation is mentioned by John Fiske, in comparing two remote branches of the so-called "Aryan" race—the short, fat, pursy Hindoo, and the wiry, long-limbed Kentuckian. It is not incredible that these were simply original marks of race—"Scythian," in the one instance; Scandinavian in the other. It is a far cry, too, from old Benares to the Bluegrass; but it is possible that if missionaries from Kentucky could remain in Hindustan long enough there might be a gradual reversion of the Occidental variety to the ancient or original type. If Mr. Fiske's deductions be correct, as possibly they are, the Aryan brothers have wandered far apart, and perhaps it is hardly safe, in studying the genetic conditions of development in the Bluegrass, to stray beyond the broad, well-traveled highway that reaches from the Baltic Sea through Normandy and the British Isles to the shores of the Old Dominion, to the Blue Ridge Mountains, the "Hills of Breathitt," and the Bluegrass lowlands of Kentucky. The streams of population from the Scandinavian seas are still flowing, and in all likelihood the Scandinavians of the Virginian States (the old settled populations of the States of the South and West) will ultimately fuse with the Scandinavian populations of the North and establish in the heart of the continent the empire of the world. The great Scandinavian settlements of the Northwest are now almost equal in numbers to the Anglo-Norman populations that from the days of the Virgin Queen have been gathering and growing in Old Virginia and in the Virginian sisterhood of States. Coleridge once said that England's insular position had made her a mother of nations. It would seem that like conditions—an environing wilderness and an estranging sea—have helped to make Virginia a "mother of States." The lawless elements that poured into Kentucky were not segregated by social or other necessities, and, cast out by time or poverty, permanently isolated in one rude locality. This was at one time a popular theory among the savants. But there was always a tendency to lawlessness wherever the Anglo-Norman went. If any "convict" blood muddied the turbulent, brawling stream of migration, it was not from the race, but from the chance intermingling of a degenerate caste or breed, and whether you find that degenerate admixture in the rugged highlands or in the lovely champaign country at their feet, the convict blood is still there. In the highlands or the lowlands, in the mountains or the Bluegrass, generation after generation is weighted with the curse. The family, the clan, the community never loses the criminal taint. But the great, strong, daring, gifted race sweeps on untouched by the vile marks of degeneracy that would put a proud, ambitious caste to shame.

The trade of political assassination was plied with great activity in the good old Norman times, but apparently there was nothing that was beastly, or basely criminal, in the work; on the contrary, it seems to have been palliated almost invariably by the conditions of a traditional feud, and, where sentiment or authority was very exacting, the offense was sometimes justified under "the forms of law." This was not murder in any ordinary or vulgar sense. It was merely an indispensable modus vivendi in times that imperiled men's bodies as well as tried their souls; one of those protective devices conceived by the savagery of mediÆval statecraft in a transition period of Christian civilization. Even at this day it is difficult for a competent and experienced Anglo-Norman jury to detect decisive evidence of crime when looking through the subtile meshes of a technical defense. William himself had a strong disinclination to take life under the forms of law; and, possibly, had his loyal guardians yielded to a like weakness in the early days of his succession, the solid fabric of English or Anglo-Norman civilization would now be as unsubstantial as a castle in Spain. But they did not share the weakness of their ward, and promptly settled the right of succession by assassinating all troublesome pretenders to the throne. The only sin of blood upon William's soul—"the blackest act of his life"—was the execution of a judicial sentence against Waltheof upon the hill of St. Giles. The only inexplicable crime of Waltheof's life was his murder of the brothers Carl, staunch comrades who had stood by his side at York. The judicial murder was wrought by the orders of a Norman king. It was apparently premeditated, and done with the utmost deliberation and under established forms of law. The Carl brothers were the victims of an ancient feud. Their grandsire had slain the father of Waltheof, and the grandsons of the murderer were slain to avenge this ancient deed of blood. They were the victims of a transmitted hate: of a vindictive passion that had lost its heat. But the murderer perished at last, under the forms of law which he had denied to the innocent victims of a feud. He could slay with impunity on his own account, but he was not allowed to conspire even in thought against the king. He, too, suffered the penalty long years after the offense. Waltheof was the last of the Saxon earls.

Not long ago that eminent publicist, Mr. Andrew D. White, delivered an address on the subject of "High Crime in the United States." The following excerpt will be read with interest:

"Simply as a matter of fact the United States is, among all civilized nations of the world, the country in which the crime of murder is most frequently committed and least frequently punished. Deaths by violence are increasing rapidly. Our record is now larger than that of any other country in the world. The number of homicides that are punished by lynching exceeds the number punished by due process of law.

"There is too much overwrought sentimentality in favor of the criminal. The young ward toughs look up with admiration to local politicians who have spent a part of their lives in State prison. Germs of maudlin sentimentality are widespread. On every hand we hear slimy, mushy-gushy expressions of sympathy; the criminal called 'plucky,' 'nervy,' 'fighting against fearful odds for his life.'

"It may be said that society must fall back on the law of self-preservation. It should cut through and make war, in my opinion, for its life. Life imprisonment is not possible, because there is no life imprisonment.

"In the next year nine thousand people will be murdered. As I stand here to-day, I tell you that nine thousand are doomed to death with all the cruelty of the criminal heart, and with no regard for home and families, and two thirds will be due to the maudlin sentiment sometimes called mercy. I have no sympathy for the criminal. My sympathy is for those who will be murdered, for their families, and for their children."

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