betterment of its adherents, both in this life and in the life to come. The invasion by the Norman of England was, alone and solely, for power and territory. The immigration of the Frenchman and the Englishman into Canada and of the English in the East and the Antipodes, and the movement of the Spaniard into South America and the Islands of the Seas, were for gold, jewels, land, and dominion, and nothing more.

In none of these great movements was there a seeking alone for the higher ideals of government or life, nor was there in any case holier influence than the desire of betterment of material well-being. Entirely different were the motives of those creating the South.

The Cavalier under his plumed bonnet and curled locks carried a love of Church and King unquenchable, and placed above castle and ancestral manor undying loyalty to his ideal of his country governed by the system bequeathed to him from his fathers. Amidst the blazing rafters and the falling walls of his house he could exclaim with the old Marquis of Winchester, "That if the King had no more ground in England than Basing House, he would adventure it as he did, that Basing House was called Loyalty," or answer with Sir Henry Washington, when asked to surrender Worcester, "That he would await the commands of the King." Not until Naseby, Worcester, Marston Moor, Newbury, and Dunbar had shown that their cause was dead on the field of battle and that the principles they revered were trampled under the feet of

Cromwell and the Ironsides, did these people give back their hands and knees one inch. Only when the struggle was lost at home, the white sails of their ships brought them to the South, where, under the glory of our Southern sun and the influence of life under our institutions, loyalty to the ideal of England under King and Church was reincarnated into the higher and holier love of a country which prescribes no religion and exacts no toll from conscience.

One more persistent, more earnest, and who exerted a greater influence upon Southern life in the actual struggle for liberty than the Cavalier, was the Scotch Covenanter, the Scotch-Irishman of this day and place.

Proscribed by law, massacred on heathery mountain, starved on frozen moor, yet above massacre of wife and children, proscription of law, and through the smoke of burning home and amidst the desolation of field and country, he clung to the religious ideal of the Covenant:

"We promise and swear, by the great name of the Lord, our God, to continue in the profession and obedience of the said religion; and that we shall defend the same, and resist all their contrary errors and corruptions, according to our vocation and to the utmost of that power which God has put in our hands, all the days of our life."

A people of whom Mr. Bancroft has said: "The first voice publicly raised in America to dissolve all connection with Great Britain came not from the

Puritans of New England, nor the Dutch of New York, nor the planters of Virginia, but from the ScotchIrish Presbyterians,”—the glory of whose character reaches its culmination in the words of the Covenanter John Witherspoon before the Continental Congress :

"To hesitate at this moment is to consent to our slavery. That noble instrument upon your table . . . should be subscribed this very moment by every pen in this house. He that will not respond to its accents, and strain every nerve to carry into effect its provisions, is unworthy the name of freeman, . . . and although these gray hairs must descend into the sepulchre, I would infinitely rather that they should descend hither by the hand of the executioner than desert at this crisis the sacred cause of my country."

In this Southern land mingled with Covenanter and Cavalier and Puritan the blood of the Huguenot who for his ideal for more that two centuries in France, from the Rhine to the Mediterranean, marked the faggot and the gibbet, and could match Claverhouse with the Guise, Derry with La Rochelle, and the wild moors of Scotland and wasted fields of Antrim with the desolate mountains of Cevennes.

And I make my obeisance to the German, the Irishman, and the Puritan of the South, than whom lived no purer patriots, but I am speaking of the controlling strains in the South.

Those peoples largely composing the Southern people were dominated by high and peculiar ideals of local,

governmental, and religious right. Yet, whilst they loved their country, they were controlled and largely limited in their aspirations by the ideal for which they contended. In almost every case in their own country they would have been satisfied with the attainment of that ideal. The Scot was contending with his whole soul for religious toleration, the Cavalier for his ideal of Church and King, and the Frenchman for a condition which would free him from social, religious, and governmental tyranny of king and noble. With the controlling ideal of the Scotchman, the Cavalier, and the Englishman, there was the almost equally abiding ideal of local control. They all loved their country, but in a secondary or subconscious manner. They were developing patriotism. Each of these peoples was grasping, at different times, and in diverse ways, all of its vital elements; and, whilst contending for the high ideals which they loved, they were contending for the highest and best constituents of patriotism. In every case this ideal, whether it might be religious toleration and freedom, or equal taxation and representation, or freedom from class and governmental injustice, exalted the country and increased immeasurably the moral stature of the citizen. Yet these constituents did not culminate there in the great, vital, and absorbing ideal of patriotism.

How quickly do we note this differentiation between the people from whom we sprung whilst living in their own country, and, afterwards, when living in this

to

country. There, loyalty to a family, a king, a system of religion, was the highest ideal of life. Here, under our skies, not environed by the trappings of monarchy and traditions of caste and system, and appreciating through fierce experiences that his efforts alone were conquer and control the new land, the American colonist quickly and powerfully grasped the great proposition that he was the supreme figure and that the country and its government belonged to him, and to him alone. Here, he was dealing directly with his country, of which he knew he was the most important constituent. There, he had grown with the generations who believed the government could not be conducted without the king and the system surrounding him. As a matter of fact, in the beginning, when the king was filled with prowess and character, this was largely the truth. He was the king because he was necessary to the conditions of the time. Here, the colonist soon recognized a changed condition, that in clearing the forest, defending his home, and creating government, kingly leadership and trappings were useless and that he was the state and practically the responsible head of the government.

Thus, no king or system could be the supreme object of his affection and nothing intervened between him and love of the state, which, without help of king, noble, or class, he was creating. When surveying the vast forest, the majestic rivers, the unploughed land, and the smiling valleys, he recognized that he was the central figure of this marvellous panorama. Thus, amidst