tie of manhood—­not only by the communicative spirit of liberty—­not only by the commercial intercourse, but by the sacred ties of blood.  The people of the United States is Europe transplanted to America.  And it is not Hungary’s woes alone—­it is the cause of all Europe which I am come to plead.  Where was ever a son, who in his own happy days could indifferently look at the sufferings of his mother, whose heart’s blood is running in his very veins?  And Europe is the mother of the United States.

I hope to God, that the people of this glorious land is and will ever be, fervently attached to this their free, great and happy home.  I hope to God that whatever tongue they speak, they are and will ever be American, and nothing but American.  And so they must be, if they will be free—­if they desire for their adopted home greatness and perpetuity.  Should once the citizens of the United States cease to be Americans, and become again English, Irish, German, Spanish, Italian, Danish, Swedish, French—­America would soon cease to be what it is now—­freedom elevated to the proud position of a power on earth.

But while I hope that all the people of the United States will never become anything but Americans; and that even its youngest adopted sons, though fresh with sweet home recollections, will know here no South, no North, no East and no West—­nothing but the whole country, the common nationality of freedom—­in a word, America; still I also know that blood is blood—­that the heart of the son must beat at the contemplation of his mother’s sufferings.  These were the motives of my confident hope.  And here in this place I have the happy right to say, God the Almighty is with me; my hopes are about to be realized.  Sir, it is a gratifying view to see how the generous sympathy of individuals for the cause which I respectfully plead is rising into Public Opinion.  But nowhere had I the happy lot to see this more clearly expressed than in this great commonwealth of Pennsylvania, the mighty “keystone State” of the Union.  The people of Harrisburg spoke first:  no city before had so distinctly articulated the public sympathy into acknowledged principles.  It has framed the sympathy of generous instinct into a political shape.  I will for ever remember it with fervent gratitude.  Then came the Metropolis—­a hope and a consolation by its very name to the oppressed—­the sanctuary of American Independence, where the very bells speak prophecy—­which is now sheltering more inhabitants than all Pennsylvania did, when, seventy-five years ago, the prophetic bell of Independence Hall announced to the world that free America was born; which now, with the voice of thunder, will, I hope, tell the world that the doubtful life of that child has unfolded itself into a mighty power on earth.  Yes, after Harrisburg, the metropolis spoke, a flourishing example of freedom’s self-developing energy; and after the metropolis, now so mighty a centre of nations, and it ally of international law—­next