* * * * *
I constantly hear Americans speak of the charm which our old mother
country has for them, of the delight with which they wander through the
streets of ancient towns, or climb the battlements of mediaeval
strongholds, the names of which are indissolubly associated with the
great epochs of that noble literature which is our common inheritance;
or with the blood-stained steps of that secular progress, by which the
descendants of the savage Britons and of the wild pirates of the North
Sea have become converted into warriors of order and champions of
peaceful freedom, exhausting what still remains of the old Berserk
spirit in subduing nature, and turning the wilderness into a garden. But
anticipation has no less charm than retrospect, and to an Englishman
landing upon your shores for the first time, travelling for hundreds of
miles through strings of great and well-ordered cities, seeing your
enormous actual, and almost infinite potential, wealth in all
commodities, and in the energy and ability which turn wealth to account,
there is something sublime in the vista of the future. Do not suppose
that I am pandering to what is commonly understood by national pride. I
cannot say that I am in the slightest degree impressed by your bigness,
or your material resources, as such.
Pages:
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127