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CHAPTER II.
Speculation
While it is not within
the province of the historian to record history which
has not yet transpired, the writer cannot refrain
from a casual introspection concerning the destiny
of Monroe County.
All terrestrial things
have an end, as well as a beginning; and in the somewhat
vague theme of this chapter, one positive conclusion
may be adduced—viz., that Monroe County will
some day come to an end. Whether this end is brought
about by fire and sword; by the peaceful readjustment
of political boundaries; by the whisk of the tail
of some malicious comet; or by the inevitable "crack
of doom"—no man can say.
The past affords no basis
upon which to even form a conjecture as to the ultimate
fate awaiting the subdivisions of the United States,
or even of the Republic itself. In the present age
the spread of human intelligence has elevated the
standard of justice so high that war and invasion
can scarcely be reckoned as an agent effecting the
downfall of an enlightened state, or, more properly
speaking, of its transformation into some other political
division.
There is a probability
that at some distant day townships will enlarge their
functions until their political organization shall
be not very different from that of the boroughs or
townships of England and other densely populated regions,
but this would not affect the existence of counties.
No reason can be conceived, at present, why the boundaries
of the several States should be disturbed or obliterated,
and new divisions of the domain substituted, thus
redistricting the land into smaller or greater sub-divisions.
County seats, located
as they usually are, in or near the center of counties,
will have a period of life coexistent with that of
the counties in which they are situated. Their growth
will be measured by the resources of their respective
counties, and not by industrial advantages possessed
by them over less favored neighbors. The great cities
of the country will become fewer in number, until,
by that universal

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law of natural selection which adds
to the favored, to the extinction of the weaker, the
smaller cities of the continent will arrive at a stand-still
or tend to decay, while the greater will add to their
size, wealth, and grandeur. It is the same law which
enables the giant oak of the forest to lift its head
above a grove of thousands of saplings, when all had
apparently equal advantages of growth.
There is a system of modern
philosophy which asserts that all physical manifestations
operate in cycles. If this be true, civilization,
too, in shifting from continent to continent, may
some day complete the cycle. The stork and the bittern
then will perch upon the Arc de Triomphe, or the wild
jackal howl through the valley of the Hudson or scamper
through the deserted thoroughfares of New York. The
worn-out and rocky wastes, where now only broken columns
and fragments of chiseled friezes, facades and domes
may mark the burial-places of proud empires, may some
day be awakened by the touch of the returning rod
of empire.
The indolent Arab, sitting
cross-legged beneath the shade of a giant cactus,
will watch some sturdy race of foreigners gather up
the fragments of tiles and bricks and stones, cart
them away, and with plowshare turn them under a new
growth of soil. By fertilization and culture the land
will again produce, and a new race will rebuild cities
and make railroads, cut canals, and cultivate soil
reenriched by the most of desolation and by the sweep
of the soil-laden winds of the wilderness.
"Cleopatra's Needle,"
overthrown and submerged in the soil of Manhattan
Island, may be exhumed in some far distant age, and
carried back to the valley of the Nile from whence
it came.
A broken shaft,over which
the sands of the Potomac River have drifted for thousands
of years, may tell the future archeologist of a Washington;
or the washing away of the shore-line of Lake Michigan
may, ere its waters cease to roll, reveal a colossal
horse and rider, which to-day stands in Lincoln Park
to perpetuate the memory of Grant.
What destroying force,
then, shall accomplish this desolation? Shall it be
the tooth of time, alone, or the canker of a worn-out,
polluted, and vicious race?
In the United States civilization
may not reach its zenith for thousands of years. Then
will begin the equally slow process of decay; the
contest for supremacy will begin.

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Upon the theory of selection, the strong
will oppress and enslave the weak; those who have
accumulated wealth will pass from luxury to indolence
and vice; Government will become tainted with crime
and intrigue; the population will be so great that
the soil will not sustain it; the people will no longer
be self-supporting by legitimate industry, and the
stronger will prey upon the weaker; a feudal condition
will assert itself, and this population will dwindle
away or shift to other zones.
Then it will be that States
will be broken up or subjected to principalities of
some despotic form. Counties will lose their identity,
and thus Monroe County, with her once proud capital,
shall have run her race. Away down beneath the surface,
submerged like the relics of proud Ilium, some one
will find a corner-stone of some stately palace—presumably
the parliamentary palace of the Board of Supervisors—and,
digging beneath it, he will find a sealed receptacle
containing coins bearing the undefinable inscriptions,
"E Pluribus Unum," "United
States of America," etc. He will also find valuable
parchments, and, among them, a copy of this book.
Then some archeologist will turn up with a "Rosetta
Stone," and by its aid translate the documents,
and thus perpetuate the history of Monroe County and
the deeds of her illustrious citizens.