There are many problems that confront us which we can only solve by the exercise of our utmost courage and wisdom.  I do not want anything I say here this evening to have in the least degree the complexion of a political talk.  I am like a friend of mine down in Virginia who told me that he never could talk politics with a man, “Because,” he says, “I am that sort of a blanked fool that thinks if a man disagrees with him in politics he has insulted him.”  Consequently, I am not discussing this matter in any political sense whatever.  But I feel quite sure, though I see many men whose opinion I respect who disagree with me, that yet this great people of ours is strong enough to carry through any obligations whatever which they may take up.  I have no fear, however it may cause trouble, or may create difference and complication, of our extending our flag in the way we have done of late.  I know that I differ with a very considerable section of the people of the South from whom I come, but I have no question whatever that we possess the strength to maintain any obligation that we assume, and I feel sure that in the coming years this great race of ours will have shown strength and resolution enough not only to preserve itself, to preserve the great heritage our fathers have given us of civil liberty here, but also to carry it to the isles of the sea, and, if necessary, to the nations beyond the sea.  Of one thing I am very sure, that had our fathers been called on to solve this problem they would have solved it, not in the light of a hundred years ago, but in that of the present.

Among the problems that confront us we have one great problem, already alluded to indirectly to-night.  You do not have it here in the North as we have it with us in the South, and yet, I think, it is a problem that vitally concerns you too.  There is no problem that can greatly affect one section of this country that does not affect the other.  As I came into your city to-night I saw your great structure across the river here, binding the two great cities together and making them one, and I remember that as I came the last time into your beautiful bay down yonder, I saw what seemed to be a mere web of gossamer, a bare hand’s breadth along the horizon.  It seemed as if I might have swept it away with my hand if I could have reached it, so airy and light it was in the distance, but when I came close to it to-night I found that it was one of the greatest structures that human intellect has ever devised.  I saw it thrilling and vibrating with every energy of our pulsating, modern life.  At a distance it looked as if the vessels nearest would strike it, full head, and carry it away.  When I reached it I saw that it was so high, so vast, that the traffic of your great stream passed easily backward and forward under it.  So it is with some of these problems.  They may appear very small to you, ladies and gentlemen, or to us, when seen at a distance—­as though merely a hand-sweep would get rid of them; but I tell you they are too vast to be moved easily.