down. They did not attain
to their ideal; we approach it nearer, but have not reached it yet. We
want, not only the independence of a state, not only the independence of
a nation, but something far more glorious--the absolute independence of
the individual. That is what we want. I want it so that I, one of the
children of Nature, can stand on an equality with the rest; that I can
say this is _my_ air, _my_ sunshine, _my_ earth, and I have a right
to live, and hope, and aspire, and labor, and enjoy the fruit of that
labor, as much as any individual or any nation on the face of the globe.

We want every American to make to-day, on this hundredth anniversary, a
declaration of individual independence. Let each man enjoy his liberty
to the utmost--enjoy all he can; but be sure it is not at the expense
of another. The French convention gave the best definition of liberty
I have ever read: "The liberty of one citizen ceases only where the
liberty of another citizen commences." I know of no better definition. I
ask you to-day to make a declaration of individual independence. And
if you are independent, be just. Allow everybody else to make his
declaration of individual independence. Allow your wife, allow your
husband, allow your children to make theirs. Let everybody be absolutely
free and independent, knowing only the sacred obligation of honesty and
affection. Let us be independent of party, independent of everybody and
everything except our own consciences and our own brains. Do not belong
to any clique. Have the clear title deeds in fee simple to yourselves,
without any mortgage on the premises to anybody in the world.

It is a grand thing to be the owner of yourself. It is a grand thing to
protect the rights of others. It is a sublime thing to be free and just.

Only a few days ago I stood in Independence Hall--in that little room
where was signed the immortal paper. A little room, like any other;
and it did not seem possible that from that room went forth ideas,
like cherubim and seraphim, spreading their wings over a continent, and
touching, as with holy fire, the hearts of men.

In a few moments I was in the park, where are gathered the
accomplishments of a century. Our fathers never dreamed of the things I
saw. There were hundreds of locomotives, with their nerves of steel and
breath of flame--every kind of machine, with whirling wheels and curious
cogs and cranks, and the myriad thoughts of men that have been wrou