or else transformed to stone, the gloomy sphinxes sit there by the wayside—a hard, dread, awful lesson to the nations that pass by. Let America,
"The Heir of all the ages! and the youngest born of time!"
gather up every jewel which the prodigal scattered from his hand, look down into his grave, and then confront these gloomy, awful sphinxes, and learn what lessons of guidance they have; or of warning, if it alone is to be found! Even the sphinx has a riddle which we needs must learn, or else perish.
The greater part of a nation's life is not delight; it is discipline. A famous political philosopher, who has survived two revolutionary storms in France, has just now written, "God has made the condition of all men more severe than they are willing to believe. He causes them at all times to purchase the success of their labours and the progress of their destiny at a dearer price than they had anticipated."
The merchant knows how difficult it is to acquire a great estate; the scholar, youthful and impatient, well understands that the way of science or of letters is steep and hard to climb; the farmer, knowing the stern climate of New England, her niggard soil, rises early and retires late, and is never off his guard. These men all thrive. But, alas! the people of America do not know on what severe conditions alone national welfare is to be won. Human nature is yet only a New England soil and climate for freedom to grow in.
Nations may come to an end through the decay of the family they belong to; and thus they may die out of old age,—for there is an infancy, manhood, and old age to a nation as well as to a man. Then the nation comes to a natural end, and like a shock of corn fully ripe, in its season it is gathered to its people. But I do not find that any State has thus lived out its destiny, and died a natural death.
Again, States may perish by outward violence, military conquest,—for as the lion in the wilderness eateth up the wild ass, so the strong nations devour the weak. But this
