To talk of friendſhip with thoſe in whom our reaſon forbids us to have faith, and our affections, wounded through a thouſand pores, inſtruct us to deteſt, is madneſs and folly. Every day wears out the little remains of kindred between us and them, and can there be any reaſon to hope, that as the relationſhip expires, the affection will increaſe, or that we ſhall agree better, when we have ten times more and greater concerns to quarrel over than ever?—Ye that tell us of harmony and reconciliation, can ye reſtore to us the time that is paſt? Can ye give to proſtitution its former innocence? Neither can ye reconcile Britain and America. The laſt cord now is broken, the people of England are preſenting addreſſes againſt us. There are injuries which nature cannot forgive; ſhe would ceaſe to be nature if ſhe did. As well can the lover forgive the raviſher of his miſtreſs, as the Continent forgive the murders of Britain. The Almighty hath implanted in us theſe unextinguiſhable feelings for good and wiſe purpoſes. They are the guardians of his image in our hearts. They diſtinguiſh us from the herd of common animals. The ſocial compact would diſſolve, and juſtice be extirpated the earth, or have only a caſual exiſtence, were we callous to the touches of affection. The robber and the murderer would often eſcape unpuniſhed, did not the injuries which our tempers ſuſtain provoke us into juſtice.
O ye that love mankind! Ye that dare oppoſe not only the tyranny, but the Tyrant, ſtand forth! Every ſpot of the old world is over-run with oppreſſion. Freedom hath been hunted round the globe. Aſia and Africa have long expelled her.—Europe regards her like a ſtranger, and England hath given her warning to depart. O! receive the fugitive, and prepare in time an aſylum for mankind.
Of the preſent Ability of America, with ſome miſcellaneous Reflections.
I have never met with a man, either in England or America, who hath not confeſſed his opinion, that a ſeparation between the countries would take place one time or other: And there is no inſtance in which we have ſhewn leſs judgment, than in endeavoring to deſcribe what we call the ripeneſs or fitneſs of the Continent for independence.—As all men allow the meaſure, and vary only in their opinion of the time, let us, in order to remove miſtakes, take a general ſurvey of things, and endeavor if poſſible, to find out the very time. But I need not go far, the enquiry ceaſes at once, for the time hath found us. The general concurrence, the glorious union of all things, prove the fact.—It is not in numbers but in unity that our great ſtrength lies: Yet our preſent numbers are ſufficient to repel the force of all the world. The Continent hath at this time the largeſt diſciplined army of any power under heaven; and is juſt arrived at that pitch of ſtrength, in which no ſingle Colony is able to ſupport itſelf, and the whole, when united, is able to do any thing. Our land force is more than ſufficient, and as to navy affairs, we cannot be inſenſible that Britain would never ſuffer an American man of war to be built, while the Continent remained in her hands. Wherefore, we ſhould be no forwarder an hundred years hence in that branch than we are now; but the truth is, we ſhould be leſs
