nd called it religion--to that
Americanism which reaches forth its arms to smite wrong with reason and
truth, secure in the power of both. I appeal from the patriarchs of New
England to the poets of New England; from Endicott to Lowell; from
Winthrop to Longfellow; from Norton to Holmes; and I appeal in the name
and by the rights of that common citizenship--of that common
origin--back both of the Puritan and the Cavalier--to which all of us
owe our being. Let the dead past, consecrated by the blood of its
martyrs, not by its savage hatreds--darkened alike by kingcraft and
priestcraft--let the dead past bury its dead. Let the present and the
future ring with the song of the singers. Blessed be the lessons they
teach, the laws they make. Blessed be the eye to see, the light to
reveal. Blessed be Tolerance, sitting ever on the right hand of God to
guide the way with loving word, as blessed be all that brings us nearer
the goal of true religion, true Republicanism and true patriotism,
distrust of watchwords and labels, shams and heroes, belief in our
country and ourselves. It was not Cotton Mather, but John Greenleaf
Whittier, who cried:

"Dear God and Father of us all,
Forgive our faith in cruel lies,
Forgive the blindness that denies.

"Cast down our idols--overturn
Our bloody altars--make us see
Thyself in Thy humanity!"

[Applause and cheers.]

HEMAN LINCOLN WAYLAND

THE FORCE OF IDEAS

[Speech of Rev. Dr. Heman L. Wayland at the fourth annual dinner of
the New England Society of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, December 22,
1884. Dr. Wayland, as President of the Society, occupied the chair,
and delivered the following address in welcoming the guests.]

FELLOW NEW ENGLANDERS--Or, in view of our habitual modesty and
self-depreciation, I ought, perhaps, rather to say, Fellow Pharisees
[laughter]--I congratulate you that we are able to show our guests a
little real New England weather--weather that recalls the sleigh-rides,
and crossing the bridges, and the singing-school. You are reminded of
the observation of the British tar, who, after a long cruise in the
Mediterranean, as he came into the eternal fog which surrounds the
"tight little island," exclaimed, "This is weather as is weather; none
of your blasted blue sky for me!" [Laughter.]

Let me also apologize to our guests for the extreme plainness and
frugality of the entertainment. They will kindly make allowance, when