A long series of insults and injuries on the part of Great Britain--the
seizure and confiscation of our ships and cargoes; the impressing of our
seamen, under circumstances of the most irritating description; and the
adoption of numerous measures to the injury of our interests--had fully
prepared the public mind in the United States, with the exception of a
small minority, to enter upon this war with zeal and enthusiasm.

With occasional reverses, general success attended our arms in every
direction. On land and on sea, the American eagle led to victory. The
combatants were worthy of each other. Of the same original stock--of the
same stern, unyielding material--their contests were bloody and
destructive in the extreme. But the younger nation, inspirited by a sense
of wrongs endured, and of the justness of its cause, bore away the palm,
and plucked from the brow of its more aged competitor many a laurel yet
green from the ensanguined fields of Europe. In scores of hotly-contested
battles, the British lion, unused as it was to cower before a foe, was
compelled to "lick the dust" in defeat. At York, at Chippewa, at Fort
Erie, at Lundy's Lane, at New Orleans, on Lake Champlain, on Lake Erie,
on the broad ocean, Great Britain and the world were taught lessons of
American valor, skill, and energy, which ages will not obliterate.

This war, though prosecuted at the expense of many valuable lives, and of
a vast public debt, was, unquestionably, highly beneficial to the United
States. It convinced all doubters that our government was abundantly able
to resent aggressions, and to maintain its rights against the assaults of
any nation on earth. This reputation has been of great service in
protecting our commerce, and commanding respect for our flag, throughout
the world. But the chief benefit of the war was the development of our
internal resources, which, after all, form the great fountain of the
wealth, strength, and permanence of a nation. Deprived by the embargo, the