It Was A Rich And Gorgeous Sunset

In The Middle Of The Sixteenth Century, Spain Was The Incubus Of Europe. Gloomy And Portentous, She Chilled The World With Her Baneful Shadow.

The Monk, The Inquisitor, And The Jesuit Were Lords Of Spain,- Sovereigns Of Her Sovereign, For They Had Formed The Dark And Narrow Mind Of That Tyrannical Recluse. They Had Formed The Minds Of Her People, Quenched In Blood Every Spark Of Rising Heresy, And Given Over A Noble Nation To A Bigotry Blind And Inexorable As The Doom Of Fate. Linked With Pride, Ambition, Avarice, Every Passion Of A Rich, Strong Nature, Potent For Good And Ill, It Made The Spaniard Of That Day A Scourge As Dire As Ever Fell On Man.

America Was Still A Land Of Wonder. The Ancient Spell Still Hung Unbroken Over The Wild, Vast World Of Mystery Beyond The Sea,-a Land Of Romance, Adventure, And Gold.

The Most Momentous And Far-reaching Question Ever Brought To Issue On This Continent Was: Shall France Remain Here, Or Shall She Not?

Spanish Civilization Crushed The Indian. English Civilization Scorned And Neglected Him. French Civilization Embraced And Cherished Him.