your invitation does so and renders effective service from which you profit; when you know that the other person in rendering that service believes himself entitled to a certain thing and expects that thing in case of common success; when he tells you that he expects this thing so that you will understand it; when you know that the other person would not render that service if he believed that the thing expected would not be forthcoming; when knowing all this you continue to accept the service in coöperation, leaving the other person in his belief—where is the honest man in the world that would not consider your conduct as a promise morally as binding as if it had been written down and signed, sealed and delivered? And what would you call a man who sought to sneak out of such a moral obligation on the miserable plea that it had not been formally written down and signed and sealed and delivered? What you would call him I leave to your sense of honor; you would certainly regard him as a person obtaining valuables under false pretenses, unfit for the company of gentlemen.
And that is the attitude in which President McKinley has placed this great Republic. Are you Americans proud of your country? Here stands the poor Filipino before you able to say to you: “You have cheated me!” And you must cast down your proud eyes, for you cannot answer Nay. This is one of the things the President's imperialistic policy has done with us.
But the poor Filipino may say something more. He may say: “In order to carry through your cheat you are now slaughtering us.” And again we cannot answer Nay. I am aware that the President in his letter of acceptance, trying to revive a long-exploded story, tells us that the Filipinos began the fight—the lamb ferociously assailing the lion. Everybody knows that the first shot was fired by an American soldier, killing a Filipino who crossed the
