counted by millions and assembled in Congress, rather than the tyrannical, irresponsible sovereignty of a handful of squatters. * * * * * Fellow-citizens, in taking leave of this question, I bear my testimony again to the abilities of Mr. Thayer, and to his active labors in times past. For the good that he has done I honor him; let it all be enrolled for his benefit. But not on this account can I accept him now as a representative of our cause. It is an ancient story, consecrated by the undying verse of Homer, that a ship, with all its canvas spread, was suddenly changed into a rock at the very mouth of a frequented harbor; and thus the instrument of commerce became an impediment to commerce:-- “Fixèd forever, a memorial stone, Which still may seem to sail, and _seem_ alone.”[37] A similar wonder is now repeated before our eyes, making the former instrument of Freedom an impediment to Freedom. Deplore this accident we must; but the remedy is happily within our power. EVENING BEFORE THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION. SPEECH AT FANEUIL HALL, BOSTON, NOVEMBER 5, 1860. This meeting was called to order by Carlos Pierce, Esq., who announced the officers of the evening, among whom was Mr. Sumner as President. On taking the chair, he made a speech, which is preserved here as showing the anticipations of triumph at the election, and also the declared magnitude of the result. This testimony shows how seriously the election was regarded. It foreshadows change, if not revolution,--“not only a new President, but a new government.” FELLOW-CITIZENS,--Five years have now passed since it was my privilege last to set foot in Faneuil Hall. During this long, unwilling exile, whether at home or abroad, my “heart untravelled” has fondly turned to this historic place, and often have I seemed to hear those utterances for Human Rights which echo along its walls. The distant in place was confounded with the distant in time, and the accents of our own Burlingame seemed to mingle with the words of Adams, Hancock, and Warren, in the past. Let me express my gratitude that I am permitted once more to enjoy these generous utterances, no longer in dream or vision only, but in reality. Could these venerable arches speak, what stories could they not tell,--sometimes of victory and sometimes of defeat, sometimes of gladness and sometimes of mourning, sometimes of hope and sometimes of fear! The history of American Freedom, with all its anxieties, struggles, and triumphs, commencing before National Independence, and continued down to the very contest now about to close,--all this might be written from the voices of this Hall. But, thank God! the days of defeat, of mourning, of fear, have passed, and these walls will record only those notes of victory already beginning to sound in our ears.