You have greeted me by the dear name of brother. When I came, you entitled me to the right to bid you farewell in a brother's way. And between brethren, a warm grasp of hand, a tender tear in the eye, and the word "_remember_," tells more than all the skill of oratory could do. And remember, oh remember, brethren! that the grasp of my hand is my whole people's grasp, the tear which glistens in my eyes is their tear. They are suffering as no other people--for the world, the oppressed world. They are the emblem of struggling liberty, claiming a brother's love and a brother's aid from America, who is, happily, the emblem of prosperous liberty! Let this word "_brother_," with all the dear ties comprized in that word, be the impression I leave upon your hearts. Let this word, "_brethren, remember!_" be my farewell. * * * * * XLI.--THE HISTORY AND HEART OF MASSACHUSETTS. [_Worcester,[*] Massachusetts_.] [Footnote *: "Heart of the Commonwealth," is the American title of the town of Worcester.] Gentlemen,--Just as the Holy Scriptures are the revelation of religious truth, teaching men how to attain eternal bliss, so history is the revelation of eternal wisdom, instructing nations how to be happy, and immortal on earth. Unaccountable changes may alter on a sudden the condition of individuals, but in the life of nations there is always a close concatenation of cause and effect--therefore history is the book of life, wherein the past assumes the shape of future events. The history of old Massachusetts is full of instruction to those who know how to read unwritten philosophy in written facts. Besides, to me it is of deep interest, because of the striking resemblances between your country's history and that of mine. In fact, from the very time that the "colonial system" was adopted by Great Britain, to secure the monopoly of the American trade, down to Washington's final victories;--from James Otis, pleading with words of flame the rights of America before the Supreme Court of Massachusetts, breathing into the nation that breath of life out of which American Independence was born; down to the Declaration of Independence, first moved by a son of Massachusetts;--I often believe I read of Hungary when I read of Massachusetts. But next, when the kind cheers of your generous-hearted people rouse me out of my contemplative reveries, and looking around me I see your prosperity, a nameless woe comes over my mind, because that very prosperity reminds me that I am not at home. The home of my fathers--the home of my heart--the home of my affections and of my cares, is in the most striking contrast with the prosperity I see here. And whence this striking contrast in the results, when there exists such a striking identity in the antecedents? Whence this afflicting departure from logical coherence in history?