duty of the individual not only to refrain from destroying the life held in trust, but also to fulfil the functions and to realize the highest possibilities of that life. Further, carrying the logic of the principal to its extreme limit, the individual is bound to stand fast by whatever aids him in the conservation and development of the life which he holds. Government stands by the individual life, securing to it the exercise of its functions, duties, and rights. The individual ought then to stand by the government.
From the beginning, as we have seen, government and the citizen, by God's will, have stood in the relation of protector and protected. The relationship is sacred.
Monarch of surrounding hills,
Valleys fair and dark ravine,
Hail to thee, Pawtuckaway!
Crowned with massive brow serene.
Grim and grand thy rugged form
Clothed in pine-fir's deathless green.
Deep-rent are thy chasms dark.
Flanked with granite seamed and sheer
And thy frowning crags and steeps
Straight their dizzy heights uprear.
Till the gazing eye grows dim,
Till the heart recoils with fear!
Could we read the secrets thine,
Locked within thy rocky heart,
E'en so cold, impassive, still,—
Strange the tales thou wouldst impart,
Legends rare of days and deeds
Long since lost to memory's art.
Once the eagle had his home
In thy sombre forest shades;
While the lowly rattlesnake
Lived amid thy rocky glades;
Where by day the panther slept.
And at night crept on his raids.
Or anon there burst in sight.
Like a flash, the bounding deer,
Fleeing to some favored dell,
Quaking with an inborn fear
Lest some lurking foe should rise
From amid the thickets near.
Here too lived and loved and warred
Beings of the human world;
From thy lofty ramparts bold
Many a war-note has been hurl'd;
And the scene of wild strife o'er
Here the smoke of friendship curl'd.
Now the eagle's flown away.
Nor is left the reptile's kind;
Where the prowling panther prey'd
The peaceful cattle safety find;
And the deer no more is known.
Save in the name he's left behind.[1]
Nor is heard the wild wood cry
Of the dusky forest son;
Gleams no more his campfire bright
When the day's wild sport is done;
Far away he's sought a home
In the land of the setting sun.
Ever 'mid unceasing change
In its toils thou art found!
Silent now thy thundering tone
That woke once the valleys 'round;[2]
And thy one-time battlefield
Is to-day a pleasure ground.
Thus has peace her mantle spread
O'er the shades of ages flown;
While the changes of to-day
Fast are leaving thee alone,
Growing old without trace of age,
Stately on thy rock-laid throne.
