pointed out the course they would surely pursue if the irritating measures of the Government were not withdrawn.  He advocated conciliation, the withdrawal of theoretic rights, the repeal of obnoxious taxes, the removal of restrictions on American industry, the withdrawal of monopolies and of ungenerous distinctions.  He would bind the two countries together by a cord of love.  When some member remarked that it was horrible for children to rebel against their parents, Burke replied:  “It is true the Americans are our children; but when children ask for bread, shall we give them a stone?” For ten years he labored with successive administrations to procure reconciliation.  He spoke nearly every day.  He appealed to reason, to justice, to common-sense.  But every speech he made was a battle with ignorance and prejudice.  “If you must employ your strength,” said he indignantly, “employ it to uphold some honorable right.  I do not enter upon metaphysical distinctions,—­I hate the very name of them.  Nobody can be argued into slavery.  If you cannot reconcile your sovereignty with their freedom, the colonists will cast your sovereignty in your face.  It is not enough that a statesman means well; duty demands that what is right should not only be made known, but be made prevalent,—­that what is evil should not only be detected, but be defeated.  Do not dream that your registers, your bonds, your affidavits, your instructions, are the things which hold together the great texture of the mysterious whole.  These dead instruments do not make a government.  It is the spirit that pervades and vivifies an empire which infuses that obedience without which your army would be a base rabble and your navy nothing but rotten timber.”  Such is a fair specimen of his eloquence,—­earnest, practical, to the point, yet appealing to exalted sentiments, and pervaded with moral wisdom; the result of learning as well as the dictate of a generous and enlightened policy.  When reason failed, he resorted to sarcasm and mockery.  “Because,” said he, “we have a right to tax America we must do it; risk everything, forfeit everything, take into consideration nothing but our right.  O infatuated ministers!  Like a silly man, full of his prerogative over the beasts of the field, who says, there is wool on the back of a wolf, and therefore he must be sheared.  What! shear a wolf?  Yes.  But have you considered the trouble?  Oh, I have considered nothing but my right.  A wolf is an animal that has wool; all animals that have wool are to be sheared; and therefore I will shear the wolf.”

But I need not enlarge on his noble efforts to prevent a war with the colonies.  They were all in vain.  You cannot reason with infatuation,—­Quem deus vult perdere, prius dementat.  The logic of events at last showed the wisdom of Burke and the folly of the king and his ministers, and of the nation at large.  The disasters and the humiliation which attended the American war compelled the ministry to