Mr. President, it is passion, passion--party, party, and intemperance--that is all I dread in the adjustment of the great questions which unhappily at this time divide our distracted country. Sir, at this moment we have in the legislative bodies of this Capitol and in the States, twenty-odd furnaces in full blast, emitting heat and passion, and intemperance, and diffusing them throughout the whole extent of this broad land. Two months ago all was calm in comparison to the present moment. All now is uproar, confusion, and menace to the existence of the Union, and to the happiness and safety of this people. Sir, I implore Senators, I entreat them, by all that they expect hereafter, and by all that is dear to them here below, to repress the ardor of these passions, to look to their country to its interests, to listen to the voice of reason. Mr. President, I have said--what I solemnly believe--that the dissolution of the Union and war are identical and inseparable; that they are convertible terms. Such a war, too, as that would be, following the dissolution of the Union! Sir, we may search the pages of history, and none so furious, so bloody, so implacable, so exterminating, from the wars of Greece down, including those of the Commonwealth of England, and the revolution of France--none, none of them raged with such violence, or was ever conducted with such bloodshed and enormities, as will that war which shall follow that disastrous event--if that event ever happen--the dissolution of the Union. And what would be its termination? Standing armies and navies, draining the revenues of each portion of the dissevered empire, would be created; exterminating war would follow-not a war of two or three years, but of interminable duration until some Philip or Alexander, some Cæsar or Napoleon, would rise to cut the Gordian Knot, and solve the problem of the capacity of man for self-government, and crush the liberties of both the dissevered portions of this Union. Can you, sir, lightly contemplate these consequences? Can you yield yourself to a torrent of passion, amidst dangers which I have depicted in colors far short of what would be the reality, if the event should ever happen? I implore gentlemen--I adjure them from the South or the North, by all they hold dear in this world--by all their love of liberty, by all their veneration for their ancestors--by all their regard for posterity--by all their gratitude to Him who has bestowed upon them such unnumbered blessings--by all the duties which they owe to mankind, and all the duties they owe to themselves--by all these considerations, I implore upon them to pause--solemnly to pause--at the edge of the precipice before the fearful and disastrous leap is taken into the yawning abyss below, from which none who take it will ever return in safety.