love of liberty strong enough to harmonize different ways of conceiving it; a reverence for the rights of humanity deep enough to reconcile different ways of defending it; and a faith in God high enough to make room at last for all modes of expressing it - these essential qualities of manhood made the best men of the Northern and the Middle and the Southern Colonies able to understand one another, and worked out through years of tribulation and triumph those inherited ideals which are the true riches and strength of America.

We have an inherited ideal of American manhood. We are not waiting for this ideal to arise; we are not expecting that it will be discovered and identified for us by any of those British authors who come over here looking for "the typical American." We do not even recognize it very clearly in Mr. Rudyard Kipling's extrordinary portrait:

"Enslaved, illogical, elate,

He greets the embarrassed gods, nor fears
To shake the iron hand of fate,

Or match with Destiny for beers.

"So, imperturbable he rules,

Unkempt, disreputable, vast,

And in the teeth of all the schools

I-I, shall save him at the last."

This verse, like much of Mr. Kipling's writing, has the charm of audacity, but it is hardly a happy description of our ancestral ideal of American manhood. We look back to that ideal as it was realized in the days of the Revolution, and we see that its typical representatives were neither enslaved nor illogical, neither unkempt nor disreputable. The men who made this country, and led it from the beginning, were men of intelligence as well as of independence, men of dignity as well as of daring, men of sobriety as well as of self-confidence. Lowell was wrong when he called Lincoln "the first American." Lincoln was a great, an unsurpassably great, American, but he was not the

first. Washington, Franklin, Jay, Adams, Jefferson these were all Americans before Lincoln.

The differences in manner, speech, and dress among our ancestors do not obscure the fundamental resemblance of their manhood. Along the Yankee line we see such names as Hancock, Ellsworth, Sherman, Putnam, Greene, and Lincoln. Along the Cavalier line we trace the records of a Washington, a Madison, a Pinckney, a Randolph, a Lee. Along the Dutch line we see such men as Schuyler, Livingston, De Witt Clinton, Van Buren. These men come of different stock, but they are not strangers, they are not aliens, they are of the same breed; and while that breed lasts we shall not need to ask any foreign critic to identify the typical American. He has arrived. He is no bully with his breeches tucked in his boots; he is no braggart with a wild, barbaric yawp. This typical American is a clear-eyed, level-headed, straightforward, educated, selfrespecting gentleman with frank manners, firm convictions, who acts on the principle that

"The rank is but the guinea's stamp,

A man's a man, for a' that."

THE CRUSADER AND THE PURITAN

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, JR.

SIX hundred years ago a knight went forth to fight for the cross in Palestine. He fought his battles, returned, died among his friends, and his effigy, cut in alabaster or cast in bronze, was set upon his tomb in the Temple or the Abbey. Already he was greater than he had been in life. While he lived, hundreds as good as he fell beneath the walls of Ascalon, or sank in the sands of the desert and were forgotten. But in his monument, the knight became the type of chivalry and the church militant. What was particular to him and individual had passed from sight and the universal alone remained. Six hundred years have gone by, and his history, perhaps his very

name, has been forgotten. His cause has ceased to move. The tumultuous tide in which he was an atom is still. And yet to-day he is greater than ever before. He is no longer a man, or even the type of a class of men, however great. He has become a symbol of the whole mysterious past-of all the dead passion of his race. His monument is the emblem of tradition, the text of national honor, the torch of all high aspiration through all time.

Two hundred and fifty years ago a few devout men founded the First Church of Cambridge. While they lived, I doubt not, hundreds as good as they fell under Fairfax at Marston Moor, or under Cromwell at Naseby, or lived and died quietly in England and were forgotten. Yet if the only monuments of those founders were mythic bronzes, such as stand upon the Common and the Delta, if they were only the lichened slates in yonder churchyard,-how much greater are they now than they were in life! Time, the purifier, has burned away what was particular to them and individual, and has left only the type of courage, constancy, devotion,—the august figure of the Puritan.

Time still burns. Perhaps the type of the Puritan must pass away, as that of the Crusader has done. . . . Whether they knew it or not, they planted the democratic spirit in the heart of man. It is to them we owe the deepest cause we have to love our country that instinct, that spark that makes the American unable to meet his fellow man otherwise than simply as a man, eye to eye, hand to hand, and foot to foot, wrestling naked on the sand.

THE SCOT IN AMERICA

WHITELAW REID

[From an address at Edinburgh, Scotland, before the Philosophical Institution on November 1, 1911. Mr. Reid was at that time the ambassador of the United States to Great Britain.

The term Ulster Scot is applied, in this address, to the Scotsman who migrated first to Ulster, in the northern part of Ireland, and

later to America. These immigrants are generally spoken of in America as Scotch-Irish.

Of the Americans mentioned in this address, Patrick Henry is doubtless the best known. John Witherspoon came to America to accept the presidency of Princeton. He was elected a member of the Continental Congress and signed the Declaration of Independence. James Madison and "Light Horse Harry" Lee were his pupils at Princeton. John Stark, of New Hampshire, commanded the "Green Mountain Boys" and defeated the British at the battle of Bennington, Vermont, in 1777.

The five colonels who jointly commanded at the battle of King's Mountain, on the border between the Carolinas, in 1780, were Sevier, Shelby, Campbell, McDowell, and Cleveland.]

No man may presume to depreciate either the Puritan or the Cavalier. But, when they are praised—as they must be forever, while heroism and great achievements are honored among the generations of men-the praise should be for what they did, rather than for what they conspicuously did not do. . . . They were the first in the field. They bore with heroism the privations and braved the perils of those who first burst into a savage world; and both privations and perils were beyond any modern conception. . . . Those pioneers, brave beyond comparison, have always received and always will receive ample justice for the inestimable work they really did. . . .

But it is now time to take into account another stream of immigration-the Ulster Scot. This term is preferred to the familiar "Scotch-Irish," constantly used in America, because it does not confuse the race with the accident of birth, and because they preferred it themselves. . .

In 1736 an Ulster Scot, Henry McCullock, settled between three and four thousand of his countrymen on a land grant of 64,000 acres in what is now the County of Duplin, North Carolina. A few years later a steady stream of Ulster Scots was pouring into Philadelphia, some going west toward Pittsburgh, and still farther, to Kentucky and Tennessee, others turning south sooner and filling the valleys of West Virginia, the

western parts of North and South Carolina, and even Georgia, with rough clearings, log-cabin school-houses, and Presbyterian churches. . . . One authority, a New England historian,1 counts that between 1730 and 1770 at least half a million souls were transferred from Ulster to the colonies, more than half the Presbyterian population of Ulster, and that at the time of the Revolution they made one-sixth of the total population of the colonies.

It was no author with Scottish blood in his veins, it was the typical New Englander, George Bancroft, who closed his account of the incoming of the Ulster Scots with these words:

"They brought to America no submissive love for England; and their experience and their religion alike bade them meet oppression with prompt resistance. We shall find the first voice publicly raised in America to dissolve all connection with Great Britain comes not from the Puritans of New England, or the Dutch of New York, or the planters of Virginia, but from Scotch-Irish Presbyterians."

In March, 1775, Patrick Henry, the Scot, uttered in St. John's Church, Richmond, the fateful and famous words: "It is too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery. The war is inevitable, and let it come! The next gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! I know not what course others may take, but, as for me, give me liberty or give me death." Two months later the Ulster Scots adopted the notable Mecklenburg resolution, declaring that the joint address of the two Houses of Parliament to the King had virtually “annulled and vacated all civil and military commissions granted by the Crown, and suspended the constitutions of the colonies"; that "the provincial congress is now invested with all the legislative and executive powers, and no other legislative or executive power does or can exist at this time in any of the Colonies."

2

1 John Fiske.

2 At Charlotte, North Carolina, May 20, 1775.