first of May, but in the weary, dreary months following, when, with infinite patience, unsleeping watchfulness and the tact of true genius, he kept the peace in the waters that rolled above the sunken Spanish fleet; whispered words of friendly warning in the ear of the amiable German, Von Diederichs, and—greatest of all—captured Manila without bloodshed. Let us never cease to thank the God of Battles that in the Admiral of our Asiatic fleet we have had a man as well as a fighter—a modest, earnest, fearless man, who could not only conquer an enemy but, greater still, conquer himself, control his natural resentments and bring his passions in subjection to his conscience. What might have befallen us before now without such a guardian of our interests on the scene, it is neither pleasant nor profitable to speculate.

But the conflict is not yet over—perhaps it has not yet even fairly begun. Assuming, as I suppose we may, that Aguinaldo is ready to treat for peace, there still remain the allies of that patriot—in Asia and Europe, even here in America. The Philippine chieftain has fought hard and with splendid prodigality of patriot blood—not, however, his own. But three months' experience with the "white devils" who fight without resting, and especially with "devils" like Funston and his wild westerners, who "eat bullets" and swim turgid rivers under fire—three months of such experience has caused the Filipinos to revise the estimate of white man's warfare formed upon their acquaintance with Spain.

Still remain, however, the watchful Europeans in the East, who, despite the diplomatic protestations of their respective governments, would be only too ready to take advantage of our first misstep or sign of weakness.

Remain also those peculiar patriots here at home who have found interest or duty in affording aid and comfort at long range to their country's foes. Of these American Filipinos there are several breeds. First, there is the political breed, who, under the leadership of a distinguished westerner, are gallantly fighting the administration with a view to the possibilities of 1900. Of these patriots it is to be observed that their political instincts have already taught them much. Not for the first time, they realize that they have misjudged the public temper. Treachery, in whatever guise, has never been lovely to the American eye, and I think we may assume that the Bryan Filipinos will presently discover that they are on the wrong tack. They will not figure largely in the events of the future.

A more troublesome, insistent factor is the Atkinson breed of Filipinos. This will do as a generic name for a species of patriots that has never been entirely wanting at any stage of our national progress. They were called Tories when they first appeared, to oppose the patriot revolt from Great Britain. During the War of the Rebellion they earned the name of Copperheads, from the similarity of their tactics to those of the snake in the grass which strikes without warning. These tactics the Atkinsons are renewing now, without apparent hope of reward or success, but merely from that perversity of nature, that inborn contrariness whose existence is to be explained only on the theory that "it takes all kinds of people to make a world."

Of these gentry and their kind, I have only to say that they may thank their lucky stars that they live and practice their treacherous devices in a country where the jealousy for free speech and a free press sometimes permits liberty to fall into license. The wanton Copperhead may for the present shelter himself behind the good nature of the people. I say for the present, for I do not believe that such treasonable conduct as inciting troops under arms to resist lawful authority can forever go unpunished; but in the end it will be treated as it deserves.[1]

I do not deny to any American citizen the right to entertain his own opinion as to the wisdom of any public policy, including that of the administration toward the Philippines. Nor do I deny that there may be Americans of undoubted patriotism who conscientiously oppose that policy. But there are times and occasions for all things; and there are occasions when open criticism of the Government amounts to treason. So there are times when it is the duty of every patriot to support the Government, without regard to private difference of opinion. As for the present, it is one of those occasions when the patriot should say, with Winthrop: "Our country, however bounded or described—still our country—to be cherished in all our hearts; to be defended by all our hands!"

There is an hour for debate and there is time for argument, wherein the Government may easily be shown to be in the wrong. But in the hour of battle, so long as any armed foe of the flag is above the sod, the patriot can only exclaim: "My country—may she never be in the wrong; but right or wrong, my country!"

While we may safely leave to the Government the subjugation of its enemies at home or abroad, there can be no harm in discussing here some of the arguments that have been advanced in all honesty against the policy now generally known as "imperialism," or "territorial expansion." The anti-expansionists honestly opposed the annexation of Hawaii; but Hawaii is already annexed, and as truly a part of the national domain as Massachusetts or New York. In like manner Porto Rico is ours, for better, for worse, till death or dissolution shall us part. As for Cuba, we hold it in trust for the Cubans, against the time when those enigmatical patriots shall prove their ability and worthiness to rule themselves or their country. When is that time to come? We ourselves are to be the judges. I am not a prophet nor the son of a prophet, but I hold it to be vastly significant that the majority of intelligent Cuban civilians seem to look forward, not with pleasure but with dread to that much-talked-of millennium, "Cuba for the Cubans."

The tendency of the times, in government as in commerce, is clearly centripetal, not centrifugal. There is not an island in the West Indies whose condition would not be improved by annexation to this Republic; and, after all, self-interest is the main-spring of all national policies. I would rather predict that Canada and British America, Mexico and the Central American states are destined for ultimate (and peaceful) admission to this Union, than that we are to take a single backward step along the lines so clearly laid down by the war with Spain.

But the Philippines present to the eye another and a broader question. Here is an archipelago removed from our center of population by one-half the circumference of the globe; peopled by a race—or, rather, races—wholly alien to any hitherto admitted to our citizenship, and—most important of all—plunged into the very vortex of that boiling cauldron known as the Eastern question.

What is to be our policy toward those remote islands?—to retain them or to let them go?

The objections that have thus far been raised to our retention