But let us survey it in another light.  Why did Maryland and Virginia leave so much to be “implied?” Why did they not in some way express what lay so near their hearts?  Had their vocabulary run so low that a single word could not be eked out for the occasion?  Or were those states so bashful of a sudden that they dare not speak out and tell what they wanted?  Or did they take it for granted that Congress would always act in the premises according to their wishes, and that too, without their making known their wishes?  If, as honorable senators tell us, Maryland and Virginia did verily travail with such abounding faith, why brought they forth no works?

It is as true in legislation as in religion, that the only evidence of “faith” is works, and that “faith” without works is dead, i.e. has no power.  But here, forsooth, a blind implication with nothing expressed, an “implied” faith without works, is omnipotent.  Mr. Clay is lawyer enough to know that even a senatorial hypothesis as to what must have been the understanding of Maryland and Virginia about congressional exercise of constitutional power, abrogates no grant, and that to plead it in a court of law, would be of small service except to jostle “their Honors’” gravity!  He need not be told that the constitution gives Congress “power to exercise exclusive legislation in all cases whatsoever over such District.”  Nor that the legislatures of Maryland and Virginia constructed their acts of cession with this clause before their eyes, and that both of them declared those acts made “in pursuance” of said clause.  Those states were aware that the United States in their constitution had left nothing to be “implied” as to the power of Congress over the District;—­an admonition quite sufficient one would think to put them on their guard, and induce them to eschew vague implications and resort to stipulations.  Full well did they know also that those were times when, in matters of high import, nothing was left to be “implied.”  The colonies were then panting from a twenty years’ conflict with the mother country, about bills of rights, charters, treaties, constitutions, grants, limitations, and acts of cession.  The severities of a long and terrible discipline had taught them to guard at all points legislative grants, that their exact import and limit might be self-evident—­leaving no scope for a blind “faith,” that somehow in the lottery of chances there would be no blanks, but making all sure by the use of explicit terms, and wisely chosen words, and just enough of them.  The Constitution of the United States with its amendments, those of the individual states, the national treaties, the public documents of the general and state governments at that period, show the universal conviction of legislative bodies, that when great public interest were at stake, nothing should be left to be “implied.”