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The altered tone of both the English and Yankee newspapers, when they speak of each others respective country, is the most remarkable incident connected with journalism in these latter days. Before this war had revealed the strength of the United States--while they were still entire — the language held by the London Times with regard to them was always slight, often sneering, and, on some occasions, absolutely insulting. On one occasion, it spoke of the ease with which Britain had throttled "the Northern gains, " Russia, and intimated that it could, at the same time, with all the ease imaginable, administer castigation to Jonathan. Even after the war had actually commenced on this side of the Atlantic, while the parties were marshaling their forces and preparing for the mighty conflict that was so shortly to ensue, the Times indulged its satirical vein, without stint, at the expense of the combatants. After the battle of Manassas it told the Yankees that they had mistaken their calling; that they never could be a great military nation, how great soever might be their aspirations after military fame; that "war was not in their line of business," and that, to excel, they must take to something else. When Messrs. Mason and Slidell were piratically seized on a British vessel upon the high seas, by a ship belonging to the United States, the tone of the Times was, beyond measure, bold, insolent and defiant. At the same time, the Yankee press was as obsequious and cringing as the British press was arrogant and domineering. Both are wonderfully altered since that time. The Yankee is now as loud and insulting as he was formerly meek and submissive. The change has not taken by surprise any person who has been accustomed to study the policy of the British. That Government has always been famous for dealing out what it calls exemplary justice upon culprits whom it believes unable to help themselves. Let not such hope to escape the lash of British vengeance. Greece, or Brazil, or any of the little States on the Continent — such as Denmark, for instance,--cannot hope to escape upon any conceivable pretext whenever it may be so unfortunate as to incur the wrath of the British lion. It is only strength that secures impunity from that magnanimous animal. Even now the New York Herald is calling upon the British Queen to revoke her proclamation of neutrality — that is, we suppose, to take part with the Yankees in their war upon this country. We do not see why this should not be done. It would be perfectly consistent with the whole conduct of Great Britain throughout the war. Should Ambassador Adams choose to demand it, a good-natured, easy soul like Russell could hardly refuse so small a favor to his amiable ally, after having already granted him so many others. He has already placed Canada at his disposal; he has but to stretch out his hand to grasp it. Why refuse anything, when so much has already been given, we ask again? We sometimes feel disposed to be a little astonished at the facility with which Great Britain has been brought to play second fiddle in this concert of the nations. Who that lived a century, or even a half century ago, would have believed it possible that such a thing could ever happen. But we suppose it is with governments as with individuals: the greatest bullies are always the first to succumb when real danger presents itself.
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