the oldest friends of my life, but also that after
having looked in the eyes of so many old English audiences I see face to
face a new English one, and when I looked at them I was reminded of a
family likeness and of that kinship of blood which unites us. When I
look at you I see many faces that remind me of faces I saw on the other
side of the water, and I feel that whether I speak there or here I am
essentially speaking to one people. I am not going to talk about myself,
and I am not going to make a speech. I have spoken so often for you on
the other side of the water that I feel as though I had a certain claim,
at least, to be put on the retired list. But I could not fail to observe
a certain distrust of America that has peeped out in remarks made,
sometimes in the newspapers, sometimes to myself, as to whether a man
could live eight years out of America, without really preferring Europe.
It seems to me to imply what I should call a very unworthy distrust in
the powers of America to inspire affection. I feel to-day, in looking in
your faces, somewhat as I did when I took my first walk over the hills
after my return, and the tears came into my eyes as I was welcomed by
the familiar wayside flowers, the trees, the birds that had been my
earliest friends.

It seems to me that those who take such a view quite miscalculate the
force of the affection that a man feels for his country. It is something
deeper than a sentiment. If there were anything deeper, I should say it
was something deeper than an instinct. It is that feeling of
self-renunciation and of identification with another which Ruth
expressed when she said: "Entreat me not to leave thee nor to depart
from following after thee, for whither thou goest I will go: where thou
livest I will live, and where thou diest there will I die also." That,
it seems to me, is the instinctive feeling that a man has. At the same
time, this does not exclude the having clear eyes to see the faults of
one's country. I think that, as an old President of Harvard College said
once to a person who was remonstrating with him: "But charity, doctor,
charity." "Yes, I know; but charity has eyes and ears and won't be made
a fool of." [Laughter.]

I notice a good many changes in coming home, a few of which I may,
perhaps, be allowed to touch upon. I notice a great growth in luxury,
inevitable, I suppose, and which may have good in it--more good,
perhaps, than I can see. I notice, also, one cha