nations, into a federation and
fraternity, with a comprehensive law, an efficient police, and a
purposeful economy.

In the Parliament House at Westminster, among the scenes from English
history painted on the walls, the American is most stirred when he comes
to the Departure of the Pilgrim Fathers to found New England.
England--the England descended from the England which "harried them
out"--will not let that scene go as a part of American history only, but
claims it now as one of the proudest scenes in her own history, too. So
the American will no more view Wyclif and Shakespeare and Cromwell and
Milton and Gladstone as chiefly Englishmen, but as fellow-citizens,--as
he views Victor Hugo and Kant and Tolstoi and Mazzini. The American is
to be pitied who does not feel himself native to Stratford and to
London, as to St. Louis or St. Paul,--native to Leyden and to Weimar and
Geneva. Each narrower circle only gains in richness and in sacredness
and power as it expands into the larger; each community and state and
nation, as it enters into a broader and completer organic life. This is
the divine message to the world. Let there be peace; let there be order;
and, that there may be, let us know what manner of men we are. "Peace on
earth!"--that was the first Christmas greeting; and the first Christian
argument upon the hill of Mars,--"God hath made of one blood all nations
of men."

FOOTNOTE:

[51] By permission of the author.

THE PERMANENCY OF EMPIRE[52]

WENDELL PHILLIPS

I appeal to History! Tell me, thou reverend chronicler of the grave, can
all the wealth of a universal commerce, can all the achievements of this
world's wisdom, secure to empire the permanency of its possessions?
Alas! Troy thought so once; yet the land of Priam lives only in song!
Thebes thought so once; yet her hundred gates have crumbled, and her
very tombs are but as the dust they were vainly intended to commemorate.
So thought Palmyra--where is she? So thought the countries of
Demosthenes and the Spartan; yet Leonidas is trampled by the timid
slave, and Athens insulted by the servile, mindless, and enervate
Ottoman. In his hurried march, Time has but looked at their imagined
immortality; and all its vanities, from the palace to the tomb, have,
with their ruins, erased the very impression of his footsteps. The days
of their glory are as if they had never been; and the island that was
then a speck, rude and neglected in the barren oc