all. But it was in the mode in which they did it that their great merit as lawgivers and statesmen consisted; and now it is to the adaptation of their political system to the inevitable condition of the country, as an element and proof of the strength of the system, that I briefly invite the attention of the reader. When I speak of the political system of the United States, I refer to what was done and established between 1787 and 1791. This is the period of the formation, adoption, and amendment of the Constitution by one and the same generation of men. I regard the first ten amendments as parts of the political system established by the same men who framed and established the Constitution as it was originally proposed for the adoption of the people of every State. It is well known that those ten amendments, although not insisted on as conditions precedent by the eleven States which first ratified the Constitution, were yet proposed and acceded to as indispensable to complete the character of the system, and to secure its acceptance by the two States which still remained aloof. They were not forced upon a minority of the States by a constitutional majority under the amending power, but they were unanimously accepted by every State as indispensable parts of the political system, and as fixing its character forever. Now one of the most important constitutional subjects that can be considered is, How did that generation of men and that group of thirteen States deal with the amending power itself? Where did they leave it? Where they left it, it stands today. It has not been touched since. It has been exercised since on five different occasions; but the power itself, in all its original scope and its original limitations, remains just as it was originally established. Its scope and its limitations constitute a very important element in estimating the strength of our political system, if the object of any such system be its own preservation, and the welfare, happiness, progress, and security of the people who live under it. If we turn to the original Constitution, we find that after providing for a mode in which it could be amended, it laid this important restriction upon the amending power: that no State without its consent shall be deprived of its equal suffrage in the Senate. Its equal suffrage in the Senate meant, under another provision, that each State shall have two Senators. The amending power was vested in threefourths of the States, but the equal suffrage of the States in the Senate was forever excepted out of that power. In like manner, to every State was given in the Electoral College, by which its vote for President of the United States was to be cast, a number of electors made up of the same number as it was entitled to have of Senators added to the number of its Representatives in the Lower House of Congress. Notwithstanding the restriction which the Constitution lays upon the amending power, is that power itself capable of being so amended as to do away with this restriction, and by a vote of three-fourths of the States introduce, through the amending process, a different mode of representation in the Senate and in the Electoral Colleges? I presume that most persons would be startled by this inquiry. But it is an inquiry that goes to a deep question: Are there any fundamental rights and powers of the people of every State which are so fixed and immutable that they are beyond the reach of the will of three-fourths of the States? It is not enough, with respect even to this matter of equal suffrage in the Senate, to point to the special restriction laid upon the amending power. That power either is or it is not capable of being changed by a three-fourths vote of the States. If it is capable of being changed, the restriction may be taken away. If it is not capable of being changed, the restriction will remain. But there are other important rights that may be affected by the amending process. Can three-fourths of the States so amend the Constitution as to make the President Executive for life, and make his eldest son his successor? In other words, have the people of every State an unalterable, fixed, and vested constitutional right to have the Executive office filled and occupied for a fixed term of years, and an equally fixed, vested, and unalterable constitutional right to have the President appointed by electors to be chosen in each State as its legislature may direct? And are there any other rights of the States or their people which are not subject to the amending power of threefourths of the States? Whether the amending power is itself capable of being enlarged, is a question very important to be considered, when we are considering the strength and stability of the Constitu tion; for if it is an unlimited power, the system of the Constitution may be converted into almost anything that can command the physical force requisite to compel submission. ment? Considering who the people were who established both the Constitution and this amendment, they can be no other than the people of every State, for they alone hold any rights that are not enumerated It seems to me that in any effort to de- in the Constitution. All the rights held fine or understand the scope of the amend- by the people of the United States, as a ing power, we must look beyond the orig-nation, are those enumerated in the Coninal Constitution, and must consider the stitution. They have no others. objects and purposes of the Ninth and If we go forward to the Tenth AmendTenth amendments. Those amendments ment, we find that, ex industria, it defollowed so immediately after the adop-clares that "the powers not delegated to tion of the Constitution by eleven States, the United States by the Constitution, nor and were so peculiarly necessary to pro- prohibited by it to the States, are reserved cure for it the adoption of the remaining to the States respectively, or to the peoStates, that they must be regarded in the ple." Here again the distinction is drawn same light as if they had been inserted in between powers delegated to the United the original text. They bear directly upon States, or prohibited to the States, by the the scope of the amending power, not only Constitution, and powers reserved to the because that is one of the powers of the States or the people. It is not necessary Constitution, but because their forcible and peremptory language extends to everything which the Constitution contains. It has sometimes been suggested that these amendments were merely express declarations of what would have been implied without them, and that they were adopted to quiet jealousies. I read in them a great deal more. It seems to me that they were designed to secure what could not have been secured without them, and what it would not do to leave to implication. Certainly they were so regarded by those who insisted on them. What did these amendments say? The Ninth declared that "the enumeration in the Constitution of certain rights shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people." Certainly this was a most impressive command, uttered by the unanimous voice of the people of all the States, that no construction shall be given to any rights enumerated in the Constitution which will deny or disparage the other rights which we the people have retained to ourselves. If this is not to be regarded as an assertion that there are rights retained by the people which no exercise of the rights enumerated in the Constitution shall ever be permitted to impair, or even to disparage, then it has no meaning. But one of the rights enumerated in the Constitution is the right of three-fourths of the States to amend it. Can that right ever be so exercised as to take away any right of the people which they "retained" when they gave in their adhesion to the Constitution? And who are "the people" referred to in this amend to quibble on the word "delegated," for it I have adverted to this part of the subject because I wish to assist the dissatisfied of my countrymen to reflect on those features of our political system which re DE COURCY'S RIDE. THE Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake is a region comparatively little dis turbed by immigration or change, and therefore still full of quaint and romantic legends, one of which is embodied in this tale. You can see the old manor-house yet, crowning the terraced light green knoll which slopes on every side to the water; for the confluence of two river estuaries emptying into the great bay almost makes an island of the little peninsula. The narrow isthmus that remains is almost wholly occupied by the carriage-road which leads to the mainland, where lie the arable fields which once made up the wealth of the broad manor. But with all its isolation, the manse was far from a lonesome place in the days ally make it a very strong one. I take it no one will deny that in every just sense a system of government for country is entitled to be regarded as having strength in proportion as it secures the happiness and promotes the welfare of those who dwell under its sway. I venture also to believe that all will admit that the division of our country into separate States, resulting from geographical situation, early settlement, differences of manners and pursuits, varying opportunities for useful legislation, and a multitude of other causes, is both a fortunate and an inevitable condition of things. Whatever, in the fundamental institutions of our national system, tends to save and protect the separate political existence of the people of every State, and to enable them to live harmoniously and happily along with other greater and more powerful communities, under the exercise of national pow-long gone by. Instead of the ghosts which ers created for specific ends, is a great presumably peer out through its rows of blessing. The States can not be obliter- dismal eyes, and the very commonplace ated without a revolution. It is incon- tenants who are hidden away somewhere ceivable that Connecticut can ever be ab- in a remote wing, mirth and full-handed sorbed in New York, or Rhode Island in hospitality held carnival in its stately Massachusetts, or Delaware in Pennsyl- halls and over its velvet lawns. They vania, or Florida in Georgia, without con- were jollier times than the old house is vulsions that will shatter the whole polit-ever likely to see again. ical fabric. This Union must be a Union of States, held together by a national bond that is formed through the establishment of a central authority for certain limited purposes; and a most important part of the strength of the whole system consists in the recognition of local and personal rights, without which there can be neither peace, nor progress, nor security, public tranquillity, nor private happiness. I know not what can be more interesting and instructive to a reflecting mind than to pass from one extremity of our great land to another, noting the differences of laws, of customs, of development, of manners, that mark the people of our States, while one can see how the name of American in which we all glory, and the admirable national Constitution under which we live, make us all akin. The delights of foreign travel may open other thoughts, and afford objects of a very different interest. But what American of cultivated intellect would be willing never to compare one State with another, or be ignorant of the power and energy and stability of that Constitution which has worked the miracle of uniting so many States, and yet kept them separate? In a little clump of trees to the left of the building you come, as usual, upon the family grave-yard. Here they lie, generation after generation-infant De Courcys, whose small mounds have almost disappeared under the encroachments of vegetation and quadrupeds; antique De Courcys, represented by little hollows where the rain collects in pools; obscure De Courcys, whose fragile slabs have been shattered or slurred till you can read them no longer; distinguished De Courcys, whose talents and virtues, with the public services performed, or the number of children reared, are still legible in solid graven marble. Parallels to all these could doubtless be found elsewhere; but there is one massive tombstone which awakens most unusual emotions. It bears no mark or inscription whatever except a man's name -Albert De Courcy-and below it the admirably wrought bass-relief of a rider in full career on a steed seemingly snorting fire. Somehow the stone has gathered very little moss, and its few discolorations rather heighten than detract from the vividness of the group. The dilated nostrils, the swollen eyes, and the furious tension of every limb and feature combine to pro duce an effect which may well be styled | summer, the nice judgment spending ithaunting and breathless. There is something almost appalling in this mysterious frozen action amid the peace and hush of the country. One can not turn from it without an intense desire to learn somewhat more of the rider and his ride. He was not the only De Courcy of the manor, though both his parents had taken their places under those very eulogistic grave-stones. His brother Earnest kept 66 bachelor's hall" with him-a sort of establishment which was naturally frowned upon by the proprieties of the time, but which had its charms nevertheless. Yet the reckless enjoyment that took place within the old walls was not at all chargeable to the younger and more orderly man. His irreproachable and well-managed character was indicated by the fact that he had thus far been spared any nickname by the country-side. Thus while every negro lad for miles around knew Albert as "Master Dashing De Courcy," Earnest was Earnest still. Perhaps the popular mind found his Christian name sufficiently apt and significant. It must not be supposed that there was anything very deplorable in the proceedings of Dashing De Courcy. You need give him but a glance, as he rode out upon black Cecil, to be sure of that. There was none of the hollowness or hectic of dissipation in that strongly marked, devilmay-care face; and if there was defiance in eye, carriage, and costume, it was a defiance full of good-will and healthy merriment. He was at war with nothing under heaven except conventionalism and gloom; and his good service against the latter readily won pardon for the nonchalance with which he broke through the cobweb restraints of the former. 'Dashing, you know," with a lift of the eyebrows, became sufficient comment on even the most unheard-of freaks. What monarch rules by a more "divine right" than that "privileged character" whom all of us have at some time met? 66 One of his neighbors sometimes flattered herself that she would bring this wild colt of a man into the traces of civilized life, and extract something really useful from his roistering, wasteful energy. It pained Helen Carmichael to see the light estimate which he set upon all that was strongest and best in him. She saw the keen perceptive power flashing forth to as little purpose as the heat-lightning of self on the trivialities of a fox-hunt, the frank daring running to perverse foolhardiness, the nobility buried in nonsense. Yet this man who would be a boy had a strange fascination for her, even when she was most startled and shocked by his antics. She could no more help it than she could help feeling like Diana, or looking like the Goddess of Liberty. Helen's nature was one of those in which the reforming instinct is inborn. It hurt her to leave anything untouched that needed bettering. Indeed, only a fine sense of propriety kept this trait from becoming unduly meddlesome. The proof that it did not become so is found in her continued popularity. Yet her ambition to do good was continually seeking outlets in all directions, and finding very inadequate ones. She was not content with a young girl's ordinary ideals. She would like to be the Mother of her Country, had that been possible, and would probably have filled the rôle to perfection. As the next best thing, she would have found relief in becoming the guiding star or inspiring companion of some great soul whose work should tell upon the future. These fancies were not wild in her case. In spite of democratic theories, the landed gentry of Maryland furnished lawgivers and rulers to the province almost as inevitably as European aristocracy governed the older nations. Into the front rank of this privileged class Helen had come at birth. She was not only a "lady born," and one of the colonial "quality," but a direct descendant of those old wardens of the Scotch border whose daughters often waited as maids of honor upon their queen. could point to the words of the old ballad: "Yestreen the queen had four Marys; She To-night she'll have but three: And Mary Carmichael, and me.” Besides, the broad rich acres about her home-the appanage of her family in the New World for more than a century— were letters of credence which could not well be questioned. These advantages, with her noble order of beauty and her fine intellect, insured her association with the dominating spirits of her region, and her probable influence upon them. Without seeking farther among her admirers, there was Earnest De Courcy, already giving promise by the elegant grav | was sure to find every one smiling at the idea of wasting dignity on a one-sided quarrel with Dashing De Courcy. In the end she generally subsided by degrees into a half- amused, half-vexed good-humor. This grew into pride and pleasure as he crowned her with the wreath which he had won in the tournament by his skill of hand and eye, or when she heard others speak of those rare qualities of mind and heart by which he set such little store. ity of his mien, his measured grace of diction and gesture, his assiduity in study, and the terse strength and wisdom of his utterances, of the forensic renown which he was afterward to attain. In height he was almost equal to even his brother, and his statelier carriage made him seem taller still. If his features were not actually more regular, they at least appeared so. Regularity was his forte. He made the most of himself at all points; and there was really a great deal to make the most of. Perhaps this might have gone on for Helen was not at all blind to the com- years longer, without reaching an end, pliment involved in the suit of one whose but for the conflict of 1775. Both the ambition was almost a prophecy of suc- young men had taken the side of the colcess. She had, also, a great liking for the onies, Earnest after much logical exercise company of this thoughtful, courteous and charter-weighing, Albert at once, and gentleman. His conversation was always with intense zeal. In this case the zeal full of interest, and sometimes lightened was needed, and served him well. The by a dignified and becoming playfulness. Tories of their neighborhood-almost a She took refuge, so to speak, in his thor-majority, as in many parts of the peninoughly good manners, from the wilder sula-had gathered in numbers to arm flights of his brother's lawlessness. But and organize. Earnest was for holding indeed it was rather hard to school herself into looking upon Earnest as an acceptable lover. She found herself wondering, with one of her odd smiles, whether a slight rent in the faultless garments beside her would disclose a surface more human than marble. Once, at a party, with her hand upon his arm, a chill as of ice seemed to come through to her fingertips. These, of course, were mere baseless fancies, such as may happen to visit even a would-be Mother of her Country; but perhaps they may be thought suggestive. On the other hand, Dashing De Courcy, with all his hearty affection, contrived to be a dire stumbling-block in his own way. What could she do with a great whooping Arab who celebrated a half-way acceptance by snatching her to the pommel of his saddle before half a score of visitors, and careering around a fifty-acre field like mad? Or how could she civilize the being who answered her dignified rebuke and dismissal by a furtive kiss, and a laughing request to think better of it? Was there ever such a plight for a George Washington in furbelows? After every such rupture a reconciliation somehow came about, and generally, too, in such a way as to make her (though she knew she had been quite right) feel foolishly in the wrong. For one thing, the young man could not be induced to recognize the fact that there had been anything the miss; and before long she a joint discussion at the county town; but Dashing De Courcy, realizing that war had begun, and that it is better to eat than to be eaten, unceremoniously called his friends together, and by a sudden menace drove the king's men southward before any harm was done. They dispersed soon afterward. The next time he met his lady-love, that ardent and incorruptible patriot had no fault to find with his off-hand behavior. Perhaps she doubted whether a man like that needed very much reforming, after all. She remembered that even in that astonishing ride his touch had all the gentleness of unusual strength. She accepted him. But she did not keep him from his duty. Almost immediately afterward he began to raise a company for that renowned Maryland regiment which was the first in the Continental army to cross bayonets with the British, and which had so noble yet so tragic a history. It was almost wholly composed of young men from the better class of planters-recruits who had been trained from boyhood to the use of weapons and exercise in the open air, and whose personal daring was re-enforced by patrician pride and the long habit of command. Such men were sorely needed in the unequal struggle then opening, so it was not long before the First Regiment was called away northward. Dashing De Courcy kissed his promised bride, and rode in unwonted silence to the rendezvous. Earnest did not go to war. He had rec |