flies
over one quarter of the globe, and spreads everywhere desolation, you
remain protected from its baneful effects by your own virtues and the
wisdom of your government. Separated from Europe by an immense ocean,
you feel not the effect of those prejudices and passions which convert
the boasted seats of civilization into scenes of horror and bloodshed.
You profit; by the folly and madness of the contending nations, and
afford, in your more congenial clime, an asylum to those blessings and
virtues which they wantonly contemn, or wickedly exclude from their
bosom! Cultivating the arts of peace under the influence of freedom, you
advance by rapid strides to opulence and distinction; and if by any
accident you should be compelled to take part in the present unhappy
contest,--if you should find it necessary to avenge insult or repel
injury,--the world will bear witness to the equity of your sentiments
and the moderation of your views; and the success of your arms will, no
doubt, be proportioned to the justice of your cause.
V
LAST DAYS
GEORGE WASHINGTON[16]
BY HAMILTON WRIGHT MABIE
On the 4th of March, 1797, Washington went to the inauguration of his
successor as President of the United States. The Federal Government was
sitting in Philadelphia at that time, and Congress held sessions in the
courthouse on the corner of Sixth and Chestnut Streets.
At the appointed hour Washington entered the hall, followed by John
Adams, who was to take the oath of office. When they were seated,
Washington arose and introduced Mr. Adams to the audience, and then
proceeded to read in a firm, clear voice his brief valedictory--not his
great "Farewell Address," for that had already been published. A lady
who sat on "the front bench," "immediately in front" of Washington,
describes the scene in these words:
There was a narrow passage from the door of entrance to the room.
General Washington stopped at the end to let Mr. Adams pass to the
chair. The latter always wore a full suit of bright drab, with
loose cuffs to his coat. General Washington's dress was a full suit
of black. His military hat had the black cockade. There stood the
"Father of his Country," acknowledged by nations the first in war,
first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen. No
marshals with gold-colored scarfs attended him; there was no
cheering, no noise; the most profound silence greeted him
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