ever the fate of a world.
Franklin! by what mysterious gift of divination hast thou found thy man?
Is there no child of America among all the sons of Freedom equal to the
task? Where art thou thyself? But the man Franklin found had no need of
books or his documents. This obscure Englishman had the facts in his
memory, the wrongs in his heart, the logic in his reason, and he thought
for himself. His work was half written before Franklin had furnished him
with the "necessary papers," and as a New Year's gift surprised the
learned doctor with the first pamphlet of COMMON SENSE.

The appearance of this greatest of political works which has blessed a
world, with all the attending circumstances--the obscure life of Paine,
the few wild events connected with it, the unprecedented action of
Franklin, the introduction to the world of a profound thinker and almost
perfect writer in the full ripeness of his intellect, and the beginning
of an unceasing brilliant literary life _at its meridian_, are
mysteries, save in this instance, unknown to history. COMMON SENSE is a
child of mystery. It is the best of this great author's productions. He
himself so considered it, for he directs that his tombstone shall bear
the simple inscription, THOMAS PAINE, AUTHOR OF COMMON SENSE.

That Thomas Paine should have lived an easy, idle life, without any
great effort in thought, study, or composition, for fifteen years
immediately preceding the appearance of COMMON SENSE, is what no writer,
or thinker, or student, or statesman will believe. Great works of genius
do not come in this way, much less profound political writings. Even
inspiration would desert the connection. And that the proud, ambitious,
literary adventurer, who shall dedicate his life to the good of mankind,
who shall wrest the power from priests and the scepter from kings,
should content himself to fill a poor and petty office under a king he
despised, without some nobler object in view, and at that age too when
the mind of man is the most aspiring, and drives to the greatest
activity, is what no one who knows the heart of man, and the secret
springs of action, will believe. But if it can be proven that Thomas
Paine was Junius, then will every blank be filled and every mystery
dispelled.

There is no external evidence, direct in its nature, as to the
authorship of Junius; the evidence is internal. That the secret did not
perish with Junius, no one can gainsay. But that he told it to