“And by your boasting of the future instead of the past.—‘The time will come.’—An Englishman says—‘The time has come.’”
“And which is the more honourable boast, for one who is nothing himself?”
“There is this difference; we are sure of our ancestors, and we are not sure of our posterity.”
“There is another; our ancestors send us down many a rogue to dishonour us, and we are never disgraced by our posterity. Besides, sir, it is quite natural the old should boast of what they have done, and the young of what they will do. Nestor was a more prolix and disagreeable boaster than Achilles. Moreover, sir, there is no great arrogance in predicting the strength of manhood from the vigour of youth.”
“But why should not we claim in posterity at least an equal chance?”
“Why not? It is certainly not your modesty that prevents it.”
“But without speaking of Shakspeare or Milton, what apology?”
“Whoever heard of a child apologising for not being as big as a man? We have, sir, our Franklins and Washingtons for the past; our Clays, Calhouns, and Websters for the present. And now, set our fifty years against your five hundred; and our ten millions, and a rude continent, against your twenty-five millions, and your cultivated island, and what reason, sir, have we to be humbled by the comparison?”
“What could you do more grateful to a parent, than prove to her the worthiness of her children? We should rejoice that their merits were still greater.”
“We have imparted as much honour, sir, as we have received from the connection—or relationship, if you please.”