as by the lofty spirit which scorns to prosper through abandonment of
duty.

I have been called by the subjects here discussed to speak much of the
evils of the times, and the dangers of the country; and in treating of
these a writer is almost necessarily betrayed into what may seem a tone
of despondence. His anxiety to save his country from crime or calamity,
leads him to use unconsciously a language of alarm which may excite the
apprehension of inevitable misery. But I would not infuse such fears. I
do not sympathize with the desponding tone of the day. It may be that
there are fearful woes in store for this people; but there are many
promises of good to give spring to hope and effort; and it is not wise
to open our eyes and ears to ill omens alone. It is to be lamented that
men who boast of courage in other trials, should shrink so weakly from
public difficulties and dangers, and should spend in unmanly reproaches,
or complaints, the strength which they ought to give to their country's
safety. But this ought not to surprise us in the present case: for
our lot, until of late, has been singularly prosperous, and great
prosperity enfeebles men's spirits, and prepares them to despond when it
shall have passed away. The country, we are told, is "ruined." What! the
country ruined, when the mass of the population have hardly retrenched
a luxury! We are indeed paying, and we ought to pay, the penalty of
reckless extravagance, of wild and criminal speculation, of general
abandonment to the passion for sudden and enormous gains. But how are
we ruined? Is the kind, nourishing earth about to become a cruel
step-mother? Or is the teeming soil of this magnificent country sinking
beneath our feet? Is the ocean dried up? Are our cities and villages,
our schools and churches, in ruins? Are the stout muscles which have
conquered sea and land, palsied? Are the earnings of past years
dissipated, and the skill which gathered them forgotten? I open my eyes