Thus, curiously enough, whichever way we turn and however we regard it, at the close of more than a century of independent existence we find ourselves, historically speaking, involved in a mesh of contradictions with our past. Under a sense of obligation, impelled by circumstances, perhaps to a degree influenced by ambition and commercial greed, we have one by one abandoned our distinctive national tenets, and accepted in their place, though in some modified forms, the old-time European tenets and policies, which we supposed the world, actuated largely by our example, was about forever to discard. Our whole record as a people is, of course, then ransacked and subjected to microscopic investigation, and every petty disregard of principle, any wrong heretofore silently, perhaps sadly, ignored, each unobserved or disregarded innovation of the past, is magnified into a precedent justifying anything and everything in the future. If we formerly on some occasion swallowed a gnat, why now, is it asked, strain at a camel? Truths once accepted as "self-evident," since become awkward of acceptance, were ever thus pettifogged out of the path, and fundamental principles have in this way prescriptively been tampered with. It is now nearly a century and a quarter ago, when Great Britain was contemplating the subjection of her American dependencies, that Edmund Burke denounced "tampering" with the "ingenuous and noble roughness of truly constitutional materials," as "the odious vice of restless and unstable minds." Historically speaking it is not unfair to ask if this is less so in the United States in 1898 than it was in Great Britain in 1775. What is now proposed, therefore, examined in connection with our principles and traditional policy as a nation, does apparently indicate a break in continuity,--historically, it will probably constitute what is known in geology as a "fault." Indeed, it is almost safe to say that history hardly records any change of base and system on the part of a great people at once so sudden, so radical, and so pregnant with consequences. To the optimist,--he who has no dislike to "Old Jewry," as the proper receptacle for worn-out garments, personal or political,--the outlook is inspiring. He insensibly recalls and repeats those fine lines of Tennyson: "To-day I saw the dragon-fly Come from the wells where he did lie. "An inner impulse rent the veil Of his old husk: from head to tail Came out clear plates of sapphire mail. "He dried his wings: like gauze they grew: Thro' crofts and pastures wet with dew A living flash of light he flew."