the man the better for it. He is interested in you;--that is the
simple secret of all. King Carlyle calls us "eighteen millions of
bores." To be sure; is that so bad? The primitive English element was
pirate; let the primitive American _be_ bore. The fathers of the
Britain that is took men by the throat; let the fathers of the America
that is to be take them by the--button;--that is amelioration enough
for one thousand years! In truth, this intense personal interest which
characterizes the American, though often awkwardly manifested and
troublesome, is an admirable feature in his constitution, and few
traits should awaken our pride or expectation more. It is this keen
fellow-feeling that fits him for the broadest and most beneficent
public interest. This makes him a philanthropist. And his philanthropy
is peculiar. It is not merely of the neighborhood sort, such as sends a
Thanksgiving turkey to poor Robert and a hat that does not fit well to
poor Peter. For here the predilection for principles and
generalizations comes in, and leads him to translate his fellow-feeling
into social axioms. Thus it occurs that the American is that man who is
grappling most earnestly and intelligently with the problem of man's
relation to man. In every village is some knot of active minds that
brood over questions of this kind. The monarch newspaper of America is
deeply tinged with the same hue; nor could one with a contrary
complexion attain its position. This great current of human interest
floats our politics; it feeds the springs of enthusiasm, coming forth
in doctrines of non-resistance, of government by love, and the like;
and our literature contains essays upon love and friendship which, in
our judgment, are not equalled in the literature of the world.

Nor is a moral discipline wanting to second this tendency. A terrible
social anomaly has been forced upon us,--has had time to intertwine
itself with trade, with creeds, with partisan prejudice and patriotic
pride, and, having become next to unconquerable, now shows that it can
keep no terms and must kill or be killed. And through this the question
of man's duties to man, on the broadest scale, is incessantly kept in
agitation. It is like a lurid handwriting across the sky,--"Learn what
man should be and do to his fellow." And the companion sentence is
this,--"Thy justice to the strangers shall be the best security to
thine own household."

* * * * *