rs, Sir, they are
as happy a set of gentlemen as one might desire to see of a summer's
day. They feel that they are in progress; they hope they shall not be
run off the track; and when they reach the end of their journey, they
desire to be thankful!

The arduous struggle is now all over. Its richest fruits are all
reaped; nullification embraces the sub-treasuries, and oppression and
usurpation will be heard of no more.

On the broad surface of the country, Sir, there is a spot called "the
Hermitage." In that residence is an occupant very well known, and not a
little remarkable both in person and character. Suppose, Sir, the
occupant of the Hermitage were now to open that door, enter the Senate,
walk forward, and look over the chamber to the seats on the other side.
Be not frightened, gentlemen; it is but fancy's sketch. Suppose he
should thus come in among us, Sir, and see into whose hands has fallen
the chief support of that administration, which was, in so great a
degree, appointed by himself, and which he fondly relied on to maintain
the principles of his own. If gentlemen were now to see his steady
military step, his erect posture, his compressed lips, his
firmly-knitted brow, and his eye full of fire, I cannot help thinking,
Sir, they would all feel somewhat queer. There would be, I imagine, not
a little awkward moving and shifting in their seats. They would expect
soon to hear the roar of the lion, even if they did not feel his paw.

Sir, the spirit of union is particularly liable to temptation and
seduction in moments of peace and prosperity. In war, this spirit is
strengthened by a sense of common danger, and by a thousand
recollections of ancient efforts and ancient glory in a common cause.
But in the calms of a long peace, and in the absence of all apparent
causes of alarm, things near gain an ascendency over things remote.
Local interests and feelings overshadow national sentiments. Our
attention, our regard, and our attachment are every moment solicited to
what touches us closest, and we feel less and less the attraction of a
distant orb. Such tendencies we are bound by true patriotism and by our
love of union to resist. This is our duty; and the moment, in my
judgment, has arrived when that duty should be performed. We hear, every
day, sentiments and arguments which would become a meeting of envoys,
employed by separate governments, more than they become the common
legislature of a united country. Consta