swarms of the North,--completed only what was already begun at home. Romans
betrayed Rome. The legions were bought and sold; but the people offered the
tribute-money.

We stand the latest, and, if we fail, probably the last experiment of
self-government by the people. We have begun it under circumstances of the
most auspicious nature. We are in the vigor of youth. Our growth has never
been checked by the oppressions of tyranny. Our constitutions have never
been enfeebled by the vices or luxuries of the Old World. Such as we are,
we have been from the beginning,--simple, hardy, intelligent, accustomed to
self-government, and to self-respect. The Atlantic rolls between us and any
formidable foe. Within our own territory, stretching through many degrees
of latitude and longitude, we have the choice of many products, and many
means of independence. The government is mild. The press is free. Religion
is free. Knowledge reaches, or may reach every home. What fairer prospect
of success could be presented? What means more adequate to accomplish the
sublime end? What more is necessary than for the people to preserve what
they have themselves created? Already has the age caught the spirit of our
institutions. It has already ascended the Andes, and snuffed the breezes of
both oceans. It has infused itself into the life-blood of Europe, and
warmed the sunny plains of France and the lowlands of Holland. It has
touched the philosophy of Germany and the North; and, moving onward to the
South, has opened to Greece the lessons of her better days. Can it be that
America, under such circumstances, can betray herself? Can it be that she
is to be added to the catalogue of republics, the inscription upon whose
ruins is: THEY WERE, BUT THEY ARE NOT? Forbid it, my countrymen! Forbid it,
Heaven!
J. Story.