You have submitted to the insolent demands of Southern
politicians with such prompt and easy acquiescence, that many of your
oldest friends have mourned over your lost manhood, and sadly abandoned
you to the worship of your ugly and obscene idol. A Northern man,
descended from the best Puritan stock, surrounded from childhood by
institutions really free, breathing the atmosphere of free thought,
enjoying the luxury of free speech, you have deliberately allied
yourself to a party which has owed its long-continued political
supremacy to the practical denial of these inestimable privileges. Yet,
on the whole, Andrew, what have you gained by it? Undoubtedly, the seed
thus sown in dishonor soon ripened into an abundant harvest of fat
offices and rapid promotions. But winter--the winter of your
discontent--has followed this harvest. Circumstances quite beyond your
control have utterly demolished the political combination which was once
your peculiar pride. You have lived to see the Dagon before which you
and your friends have for so many years cheerfully prostrated yourselves
fall to the ground, and lie a helpless, hopeless ruin on the very
threshold of the temple where it lately stood defiant and dominant.
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