public sense of my friends upon a business of so much delicacy.  I wished to take your opinion along with me, that, if I should give up the contest at the very beginning, my surrender of my post may not seem the effect of inconstancy, or timidity, or anger, or disgust, or indolence, or any other temper unbecoming a man who has engaged in the public service.  If, on the contrary, I should undertake the election, and fail of success, I was full as anxious that it should be manifest to the whole world that the peace of the city had not been broken by my rashness, presumption, or fond conceit of my own merit.

I am not come, by a false and counterfeit show of deference to your judgment, to seduce it in my favor.  I ask it seriously and unaffectedly.  If you wish that I should retire, I shall not consider that advice as a censure upon my conduct, or an alteration in your sentiments, but as a rational submission to the circumstances of affairs.  If, on the contrary, you should think it proper for me to proceed on my canvass, if you will risk the trouble on your part, I will risk it on mine.  My pretensions are such as you cannot be ashamed of, whether they succeed or fail.

If you call upon me, I shall solicit the favor of the city upon manly ground.  I come before you with the plain confidence of an honest servant in the equity of a candid and discerning master.  I come to claim your approbation, not to amuse you with vain apologies, or with professions still more vain and senseless.  I have lived too long to be served by apologies, or to stand in need of them.  The part I have acted has been in open day; and to hold out to a conduct which stands in that clear and steady light for all its good and all its evil, to hold out to that conduct the paltry winking tapers of excuses and promises,—­I never will do it.  They may obscure it with their smoke, but they never can illumine sunshine by such a flame as theirs.

I am sensible that no endeavors have been left untried to injure me in your opinion.  But the use of character is to be a shield against calumny.  I could wish, undoubtedly, (if idle wishes were not the most idle of all things,) to make every part of my conduct agreeable to every one of my constituents; but in so great a city, and so greatly divided as this, it is weak to expect it.

In such a discordancy of sentiments it is better to look to the nature of things than to the humors of men.  The very attempt towards pleasing everybody discovers a temper always flashy, and often false and insincere.  Therefore, as I have proceeded straight onward in my conduct, so I will proceed in my account of those parts of it which have been most excepted to.  But I must first beg leave just to hint to you that we may suffer very great detriment by being open to every talker.  It is not to be imagined how much of service is lost from spirits full of activity and full of energy, who are pressing, who are rushing forward, to great and capital objects, when you oblige them to be continually looking back.  Whilst they are defending one service, they defraud you of an hundred.  Applaud us when we run, console us when we fall, cheer us when we recover; but let us pass on,—­for God’s sake, let us pass on!