The grizzled and infirm old legislator walked slowly around the Legislative Building, its magnificent dome towering above him. In his right hand he carried an old black cane, its handle ornate silver. In his left a large yet elegant looking pipe which threw off great billowing clouds of aromatic smoke.

A young, eager, newly elected legislator came up fast behind him, seeking some bit of wisdom from the old man, a hint that would give him a leg up in his new role.

"You know what's wrong with this place?" The old man asked as the young one drew up to him.

The old man's question was rhetorical and he didn't wait for a reply, simply stopped walking, turned to look up at the dome, and continued speaking. "Every man here thinks that his job here is to pass a bill. Fix something, anything. Make a law. You've probably got a half dozen bills in the hopper now and you're hoping, hoping that you'll figure out how to get one passed."

The young man silently gave a brief nod.

"That is not why you are here." The old man said. "Thomas Jefferson wrote, in The Declaration of Independence, that the only purpose of government is to protect the individual rights of the people. That is the defining principal of our nation. That is your job. You won't do it though, you'll leave me in a moment and go back to your scramble, trying to get your bill, whatever it is passed."

The young man tried to protest that his favorite bill was needed, that the new restriction on people he proposed was for their own good.

"No one cares about liberty anymore." The old man said while sadly shaking his head, cutting his new colleague off, and ambling away.