ency the
high-minded Governor of Massachusetts wrote a memorable address to the
Legislature; the Joint Committee of the Legislative Assembly, after a
careful and candid consideration of the subject, not only concurred in
the views of the Executive government, but elucidated them in a report,
the irrefutable logic and elevated statesmanship of which will for ever
endear the name of Hazewell to oppressed nations; and the Senate of
Massachusetts adopted the resolutions proposed by the Legislative
Committee. After such remarkable and unsolicited manifestations of
conviction, there cannot be the slightest doubt that all these Executive
and Legislative proceedings not only met the full approbation of the
people of Massachusetts, but were the solemn interpretation of public
opinion. A spontaneous outburst of popular sentiment tells often more
in a single word than all the skill of elaborate eloquence could; as
when, amidst the thundering cheers of a countless multitude, a man in
Worcester greeted me with the shout: "_We worship not the man, but we
worship the principle_." It was a word, like those words of flame
spoken in Faneuil Hall, out of which liberty in America was born. That
word reveals the spirit, which, applying eternal truth to present
exigencies, moves through the people's heart--that word is teeming with
the destinies of America.

Give me leave to mention, that having had an opportunity to converse
with leading men of the great parties, which are on the eve of an
animated contest for the Presidency--I availed myself of that
opportunity, to be informed of the principal issues, in case the one or
the other party carries the prize; and having got the information
thereof, I could not forbear to exclaim--"All these questions together
cannot outweigh the all-overruling importance of _foreign policy_."
It is there, in the question of foreign policy, that the heart of the
immediate future throbs. Security and danger, prosperity and stagnation,
peace and war, tranquillity and embarrassment--yes, life and death, will
be weighed in the scale of Foreign Policy. It is evident things are come
to the point where they were in ancient Rome, when old Cato never spoke
privately or publicly about whatever topic, without closing his speech
with these words: "_However, my opinion is that Carthage must be
destroyed_"--thus advertising his countrymen, that there was one
question outweighing in importance all other questions, from which