fill us with disgust; if they get above their natural size, and increase the quantity whilst they keep the quality of their venom, they become objects of the greatest terror.  A spider in his natural size is only a spider, ugly and loathsome; and his flimsy net is only fit for catching flies.  But, good God! suppose a spider as large as an ox, and that he spread cables about us, all the wilds of Africa would not produce anything so dreadful:—­

    Quale portentum neque militaris
    Daunia in latis alit esculetis,
    Nec Jubae tellus generat, leonum
        Arida nutrix.

Think of them who dare menace in the way they do in their present state, what would they do, if they had power commensurate to their malice?  God forbid I ever should have a despotic master!—­but if I must, my choice is made.  I will have Louis the Sixteenth rather than Monsieur Bailly, or Brissot, or Chabot,—­rather George the Third, or George the Fourth, than.  Dr. Priestley, or Dr. Kippis,—­persons who would not load a tyrannous power by the poisoned taunts of a vulgar, low-bred insolence.  I hope we have still spirit enough to keep us from the one or the other.  The contumelies of tyranny are the worst parts of it.

But if the danger be existing in reality, and silently maturing itself to our destruction, what! is it not better to take treason unprepared than that treason should come by surprise upon us and take us unprepared?  If we must have a conflict, let us have it with all our forces fresh about us, with our government in full function and full strength, our troops uncorrupted, our revenues in the legal hands, our arsenals filled and possessed by government,—­and not wait till the conspirators met to commemorate the 14th of July shall seize on the Tower of London and the magazines it contains, murder the governor, and the mayor of London, seize upon the king’s person, drive out the House of Lords, occupy your gallery, and thence, as from an high tribunal, dictate to you.  The degree of danger is not only from the circumstances which threaten, but from the value of the objects which are threatened.  A small danger menacing an inestimable object is of more importance than the greatest perils which regard one that is indifferent to us.  The whole question of the danger depends upon facts.  The first fact is, whether those who sway in France at present confine themselves to the regulation of their internal affairs,—­or whether upon system they nourish cabals in all other countries, to extend their power by producing revolutions similar to their own. 2.  The next is, whether we have any cabals formed or forming within these kingdoms, to cooeperate with them for the destruction of our Constitution.  On the solution of these two questions, joined with our opinion of the value of the object to be affected by their machinations, the justness of our alarm and the necessity of our vigilance must depend.  Every private conspiracy, every open attack upon the laws, is dangerous.  One robbery is an alarm to all property; else I am sure we exceed measure in our punishment.  As robberies increase in number and audacity, the alarm increases.  These wretches are at war with us upon principle.  They hold this government to be an usurpation.  See the language of the Department.