The honorable gentleman has made one endeavor more to diversify the form of this disgusting argument.  He has thrown out a speech composed almost entirely of challenges.  Challenges are serious things; and as he is a man of prudence as well as resolution, I dare say he has very well weighed those challenges before he delivered them.  I had long the happiness to sit at the same side of the House, and to agree with the honorable gentleman on all the American questions.  My sentiments, I am sure, are well known to him; and I thought I had been perfectly acquainted with his.  Though I find myself mistaken, he will still permit me to use the privilege of an old friendship; he will permit me to apply myself to the House under the sanction of his authority, and, on the various grounds he has measured out, to submit to you the poor opinions which I have formed upon a matter of importance enough to demand the fullest consideration I could bestow upon it.

He has stated to the House two grounds of deliberation:  one narrow and simple, and merely confined to the question on your paper; the other more large and more complicated,—­comprehending the whole series of the Parliamentary proceedings with regard to America, their causes, and their consequences.  With regard to the latter ground, he states it as useless, and thinks it may be even dangerous, to enter into so extensive a field of inquiry.  Yet, to my surprise, he had hardly laid down this restrictive proposition, to which his authority would have given so much weight, when directly, and with the same authority, he condemns it, and declares it absolutely necessary to enter into the most ample historical detail.  His zeal has thrown him a little out of his usual accuracy.  In this perplexity, what shall we do, Sir, who are willing to submit to the law he gives us?  He has reprobated in one part of his speech the rule he had laid down for debate in the other, and, after narrowing the ground for all those who are to speak after him, he takes an excursion, himself, as unbounded as the subject and the extent of his great abilities.

Sir, when I cannot obey all his laws, I will do the best I can.  I will endeavor to obey such of them as have the sanction of his example, and to stick to that rule which, though not consistent with the other, is the most rational.  He was certainly in the right, when he took the matter largely.  I cannot prevail on myself to agree with him in his censure of his own conduct.  It is not, he will give me leave to say, either useless or dangerous.  He asserts, that retrospect is not wise; and the proper, the only proper subject of inquiry, is “not how we got into this difficulty, but how we are to get out of it.”  In other words, we are, according to him, to consult our invention, and to reject our experience.  The mode of deliberation he recommends is diametrically opposite to every rule of reason and every principle of good sense established amongst mankind.  For that sense and that reason I have always understood absolutely to prescribe, whenever we are involved in difficulties from the measures we have pursued, that we should take a strict review of those measures, in order to correct our errors, if they should be corrigible,—­or at least to avoid a dull uniformity in mischief, and the unpitied calamity of being repeatedly caught in the same snare.