The object of my last address to you was to engage your dispassionate consideration of the new Federal government; to caution you against precipitancy in the adoption of it; to recommend a correction of its errors, if it contained any; to hint to you the danger of an easy perversion of some of its powers; to solicit you to separate yourselves from party, and to be independent of and uninfluenced by any in your principles of politics; and that address was closed with a promise of future observations on the same subject, which should be justified by reason and truth. Here I intended to have rested the introduction; but a writer under the signature of CÆSAR, in Mr. Child’s paper of the 1st instant, who treats you with passion, insult, and threat, has anticipated those observations which would otherwise have remained in silence until a future period. It would be criminal in me to hesitate a moment to appear as your advocate in so interesting a cause, and to resist the influence of such doctrines as this Cæsar holds. I shall take no other cognizance of his remarks on the _questionable_ shape of my future, or the _equivocal_ appearance of my past reflections, than to declare, that in my past, I did not mean to be misunderstood (for Cæsar himself declares that it is obviously the language of distrust), and that in my future there will not be the semblance of doubt. But what is the language of Cæsar—he ridicules your prerogative, power, and majesty—he talks of this _proffered constitution_ as the tender mercy of a benevolent sovereign to deluded subjects, or, as his tyrant name-sake, of his proffered grace to the virtuous Cato:—he shuts the door of free deliberation and discussion, and declares that you must receive this government in manner and form as it is _proffered_—that you cannot revise or amend it, and lastly, to close the scene, he insinuates that it will be more healthy for you that the American Fabius should be induced to accept of the presidency of this new government than that, in case you do not acquiesce, he should be solicited to command an army to impose it on you. Is not your indignation roused at this absolute, imperious style? For what did you open the veins of your citizens and expend their treasure? For what did you throw off the yoke of Britain and call yourselves independent? Was it from a disposition fond of change, or to procure new masters?—if those were your motives, you have reward before you—go, retire into silent obscurity, and kiss the rod that scourges you, bury the prospects you had in store, that you and your posterity would participate in the blessings of freedom, and the employments of your country—let the rich and insolent alone be your rulers. Perhaps you are designed by providence as an emphatic evidence of the mutability of human affairs, to have the show of happiness only, that your misery may seem the sharper, and if so, you must submit. But if you