the North seem trying to persuade us, for the control, by the interests of free labor or of slave-labor, of certain remaining national territories into which probably slavery never could be made to enter?—­or rather is there not some deep innate principle,—­some strong motive of aggrandizement or preservation,—­some real Enceladus,—­the cause of this furious volcano of destructive agitation?  If, indeed, the struggle be for the possession of a sterile waste in the heart of the continent,—­useless either as a slave-breeding or a slave-working country,—­clearly, whatever the politician might say to the contrary, the patriot and the merchant would soon apply to the struggle the principle, that sometimes the game is not worth the candle.  If, however, there be an underlying principle, the case is different, and the cost of the struggle admits of no limit save the value of the motive principle.  He who now pretends to discuss this question should approach it neither as a Whig, a Democrat, nor a Republican, but should look at it by the light of political philosophy and economy, forgetful of the shibboleth of party or appeals to passion.  So far as may be, in this spirit it is proposed to discuss it here.

“By its fruits ye shall know it.”  Look, then, for a moment, at the fruits of the Cotton dynasty, as hitherto developed in the working of its policy and its natural tendency,—­observe its vital essence and logical necessities,—­seek for the result of its workings, when brought in contact with the vital spirits and life-currents of our original policy as a people,—­and then decide whether this contest in which we are engaged is indeed an irrepressible and inextinguishable contest, or whether all this while we have not been fighting with shadows.  King Cotton has now reigned for thirty years, be the same less or more.  To feel sure that we know what its policy has wrought in that time, we must first seek for the conditions under which it originally began its work.

Ever since Adam and Eve were forced, on their expulsion from Paradise, to try the first experiment at self-government, their descendants have been pursuing a course of homoeopathic treatment.  It was the eating of the fruit of the tree of knowledge which caused all their woes; and in an increased consumption of the fruit of that tree they have persistently looked for alleviation of them.  Experience seems to prove the wisdom of the treatment.  The greater the consumption of the fruit, the greater the happiness of man.  Knowledge has at last become the basis of all things,—­of power, of social standing, of material prosperity, and, finally, in America, of government itself.  Until within a century past, political philosophy in the creation of government began at the wrong end.  It built from the pinnacle downward.  The stability of the government depended on the apex,—­the one or the few,—­and not on the base,—­the foundation of the many.  At length, in this country, fresh from the hand of Nature, the astonished world