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WRITINGS OF 5AM HOUSTON, 1863
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united as a people seeking freedom along the only path through which it has been found, that of victory, so will we win the respect and fear of nations. Wiser men than myself have thought that sympathy for our unequal condition and horror at the barbarism of our enemies, would bring interference in our behalf. History tells a different tale of national humanity. Anxious to see whether the onward march of Christian civilization had given birth to a new period, when national wrong and perfidy and selfish ambition and heart- less thirst for power, would give place to humanity and dis- interested brotherhood, I have walched the proe-ress of this war, waiting for the predicted time when Europe would cease to de- light at fraternal strife, and, in defiance of our fanatical foe, risk its peace by the declaration that this heroic people deserve sympathy and support. My belief has been that until we have won on new battle fields new and prouder glories, proving that destiny had made us to be free and great, the selfish policy of nations will keep them aloof from us. The moment our independ- ence is about to be wrung from our unmitigated foe, they will jostle each other in the effort to be gracious to us. Nations, like corporations, are soulless. England, to whom many have looked for aid, has nothing in common with us, save what interest dictates. Even that she has thus far sacrificed to her pride, and fanaticism. With her thousands of ruined capital- ists and hundreds of thousands of starving operatives to attest the bitter fruits of this war, she yet clings to the impious heresy, which has burdened her with debt and desolated some of her fair- est provinces. What matters it to her whether the millions are starving? Her aristocracy gloat at the recital of the terrible scenes of this war, and her statesmen console themselves with the idea that the carrying trade of the world compensates for the ruin of her manufactures! Like the fox that lost its tail in the trap, she stands waiting for the North to follow her example, and be shorn of the same useful appendage. Exeter Hall is her curse, as it has been the curse of mankind. England cannot be our friend. She must trample upon her ancient policy and ac- knowledge her error. She feels herself our rival already; and though her efforts to compete with us are abortive, yet she will lavish millions to make her colonial dependencies equal to the supply of her wants for cotton. Short-sighted as ever, she be- holds not rising here a powerful young nation, capacious, and equal to provide from its own resources for its wants, which a
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