in government under law and liberty, who will regret our perils and sacrifices, who will not rejoice in our heroism and humanity? Always perils, and always after them safety; always darkness and clouds, but always shining through them the light and the sunshine; always cost and sacrifice, but always after them the fruition of liberty, education, and civilization.

I have no light or knowledge not common to my countrymen. I do not prophesy. The present is allabsorbing to me, but I cannot bound my vision by the blood-stained trenches around Manila, where every red drop, whether from the veins of an American soldier or a misguided Filipino, is anguish to my heart, but by the broad range of future years, when the group of islands, under the impulse of the year just past, shall have become the gems and glories of those tropical seas, a land of plenty and of increasing possibilities, a people redeemed from savage indolence and habits, devoted to the arts of peace, in touch with the commerce and trade of all nations, enjoying the blessings of freedom, of civil and religious liberty, of education, and of homes, and whose children and children's children shall for ages hence bless the American Republic because it emancipated and redeemed their father-land and set them in the pathway of the world's best civilization.

FRANKLIN MAOVEAGH

THE NATION'S HEROISM

[Delivered at the Peace Jubilee, Chicago, October 19, 1898.]

THE deeds our soldiers and sailors have done on land and sea will be for all time the pride of every American; for it is true, and the judgment of the world is so judging it, that no nation, whether it was ready-equipped or whether, like us, it caught up an equipment even as it ran to the battle, ever waged more heroic war than did the soldiers and sailors of our country. Henceforth no man will set an American soldier or an American sailor one hair's breadth below the best soldier and the best sailor of any period or any people. The Greeks at Marathon, the sound of whose glory still fills the ears of men; the Greeks at Thermopylæ, who, to all noble minds, are forever defending the immortal pass; the sailors of Themistocles at Salamis; Napoleon's Old Guard; the noble six hundred of England's illustrious Light Brigade, deserve all the tributes which history and poetry have paid them so finely and so gratefully. But it is our privilege to put beside their famous deeds the equal heroism of the Hill of San Juan.

Our people welcome peace. They are celebrating it from end to end of the country. We rejoice that our soldiers and sailors are done with battle. But we never for a moment will forget the glories they have won; we never for a moment will forget the glorious deeds they have done. We believe in peace. We believe

we are appointed to achieve and to illustrate the triumphs of peace. But we now know that war hath her triumphs no less renowned than peace. We will not glorify war. That would disparage the peaceful genius of our people. But it would disparage more calamitously the genius of our nation if we failed to do justice to the famous deeds of those who by their valor have raised perceptibly the rank of our country. And now the nation will return to the ways of peace gladly, "beating its swords into ploughshares and its spears into pruning hooks," and Cincinnatus himself, with his military ardor subdued to the peaceful quiet of a farmer's life, shall not excel us in the sincerity of his love of peace.

Ought we not to make our power beneficent, and not merely make it greater? Ought we not to aspire to leadership in behalf of the great things we believe in, and the great ideas we stand for? I believe the place of a great nation is in the great world, for a great people must lead a great life. And I believe a people will rise higher and higher in civilization and essential happiness, as it grows in its desire to raise the civilization and the happiness of the world, and that it is impossible to fitly nourish the soul of a powerful people unless you give it something to do for the general progress of mankind.

Our nation will, I believe, be foremost in illustrating the duties and the ambitions-the aspirations-of the democratic era. It is taking its place in the great world. Not for the sake of commerce only; not for the sake of great possessions; not to aggrandize only, but, I hope, to participate in determining the destinies of men. Not to quarrel, but to promote a larger and a more righteous peace. Not to precipitate alliances, but to make it certain, I trust, that any nation which battles for what we think is indispensable to human progress shall not be defeated.

It will be a splendid spectacle, when our powerful nation, growing ever more powerful, shall be standing, as I prophesy it will, firmly in the midst of the nations, not unmindful of its own vast interests, but thinking more highly still of justice, and of a civilization that shall encompass the men and women of every class and every clime, and eager to promote, not alone its own elevation, but the elevation of the world.

[Extracts from a speech delivered in Chicago, November 1, 1898.]

I.

ANTI-EXPANSION BUGBEAR

THE rigid, mechanical notion that you cannot govern a colony without making it an immediate State of the Union and giving all the inhabitants the immediate suffrage, regardless of the inhabitants' state of political development, is a mere bugbear. There has never yet been included in the idea of self-government the requirement that political rights and privileges should at all times be universally equal. Legal rights are equal, but political rights, even in the freest republic, are still governed in part by expediency. Let us not be over-impressed in this crisis by constitutional technicalities. Any country with a written constitution will always be hampered in a new departure. When our Civil War came on-and when it was going onand afterward, when the war was over-we found ourselves with grave constitutional doubts and obstacles. In the first instance we ignored them, being forced to if we meant to take the great steps of limiting and abolishing slavery and of centralizing sufficient power in the Federal Government to govern a great country,

and in the last instance we changed the Constitution to cover the new departures.

And now it must not be an answer to the demand for a colonial policy that the Constitution does not contemplate a colonial policy. Of course, the Constitution, at the time it was made, contemplated no colonial policy. We were glad enough at that time to stop being colonies ourselves. We dreamed only of the dignity of governing ourselves. But I think we all can see, notwithstanding our wholesome reverence for the fathers of the Republic, that a constitution and national policy adopted by thirteen half-consolidated, weak, rescued colonies, glad to be able to call their life their own, could not be expected to hamper the greatest nation in the world. And our Constitution has always contemplated its own amendment and enlargement. Our Constitution is a marvel, and it is a marvel in nothing so much as in the facility of its rigid lines to yield continuously to growth and expansion.

We have no colonial policy, and therefore have no colonial system; but there is no reason why we should not have both. England has nearly every democratic privilege and nearly every democratic ideal and instinct that we have; and yet she has the greatest and best colonial system ever known. It was bad enough, however, before England became truly democratic. It became perfect only as England's democracy grew. Athens, long ago, was the home of democracy at the time when she was the great mother of wide-spread colonies. It is a profound error, therefore, to think democratic governments and democratic peoples are unfit for colonial empire, for the greatest colonial successes are the successes of democracies. And it is a profound error to think a colonial government must be a tyranny. That was Spain's theory, and her fatal error. It is not England's theory. It certainly would not be ours. Unquestionably the effect of an American colonial