her commerce winged to a wider and still wider flight; that the part she would play in human affairs would grow nobler ever, and more recognized; that in this vast growth of national greatness time would be found for the higher necessities of the soul; that her popular and her higher education would go on advancing; that her charities and all her enterprises of philanthropy would go on enlarging; that her age of lettered glory should find its auspicious dawn - and then it had been also foretold him that even so, with her growth and strength, should his fame grow and be established and cherished, there where she should garner up her heart; that by long gradations of service and labor he should rise to be, before he should taste of death, of the peerless among her great ones; that he should win the double honor, and wear the double wreath of professional and public supremacy; that he should become her wisest to counsel and her most eloquent to persuade; that he should come to be called the Defender of the Constitution and the preserver of honorable peace; that the "austere glory of suffering" to save the Union, should be his; that his death, at the summit of greatness, on the verge of a ripe and venerable age, should be distinguished, less by the flags at half-mast on ocean and lake, less by the minute-gun, less by the public procession, and the appointed eulogy, than by sudden paleness overspreading all faces, by gushing tears, by sorrow, thoughtful, boding, silent, the sense of desolateness, as if renown and grace were dead as if the hunter's path, and the sailor's in the great solitude of wilderness or sea, henceforward were more lonely and less safe than beforehad this prediction been whispered, how calmly had that perfect sobriety of mind put it all aside as a pernicious or idle dream! Yet, in the fulfilment of that prediction is told the remaining story of his life. . But it is time that this eulogy was spoken. My heart goes back into the coffin there with him, and I would pause. I went it is a day or two since alone, to see again the home chamber where he died, the which he so dearly loved, the grave in which they laid him all habited as when "His look drew audience still as night, Or summer's noontide air," III.- - 18 till the heavens be no more. Throughout that spacious and calm scene all things to the eye showed at first unchanged. The books in the library, the portraits, the table at which he wrote, the scientific culture of the land, the course of agricultural occupation, the coming in of harvests, fruit of the seed his own hand had scattered, the animals and implements of husbandry, the trees planted by him in lines, in copses, in orchards, by thousands, the seat under the noble elm on which he used to sit to feel the southwest wind at evening, or hear the breathings of the sea, or the not less audible music of the starry heavens, all seemed at first unchanged. The sun of a bright day, from which, however, something of the fervors of midsummer were wanting, fell temperately on them all, filled the air on all sides with the utterances of life, and gleamed on the long line of ocean. Some of those whom on earth he loved best, still were there. The great mind still seemed to preside; the great presence to be with you; you might expect to hear again the rich and playful tones of the voice of the old hospitality. Yet a moment more, and all the scene took on the aspect of one great monument, inscribed with his name, and sacred to his memory. And such it shall be in all the future of America! The sensation of desolateness, and loneliness, and darkness, with which you see it now, will pass away; the sharp grief of love and friendship will become soothed; men will repair thither as they are wont to commemorate the great days of history; the same glance shall take in, and the same emotions shall greet and bless the Harbor of the Pilgrims, and the Tomb of Webster. A FURTHER TRIBUTE TO WEBSTER THEY say he was ambitious! Yes, as Ames said of Hamilton, "there is no doubt that he desired glory; and that, feeling his own force, he longed to deck his brow with the wreath of immortality." But I believe he would have yielded his arm, his frame to be burned, before he would have sought to grasp the highest prize of earth by any means, by any organization, by any tactics, by any speech, which in the least degree endangered the harmony of the system. They say, too, he loved New England! He did love New Hampshire that old granite world — the crystal hills, gray and cloud-topped; the river, whose murmur lulled his cradle; the old hearthstone; the grave of father and mother. He loved Massachusetts, which adopted and honored him — that sounding sea-shore, that charmed elm-tree seat, that reclaimed farm, that choice herd, that smell of earth, that dear library, those dearer friends; but the "sphere of his duties was his true country." Dearly he loved you, for he was grateful for the open arms with which you welcomed the stranger and sent him onwards and upwards. But when the crisis came, and the winds were let loose, and that sea of March "wrought and was tempestuous," then you saw that he knew even you only as you were, American citizens; then you saw him rise to the true nature and stature of American citizenship; then you read on his brow only what he thought of the whole Republic; then you saw him fold the robes of his habitual patriotism around him, and counsel for all for all. So, then, he served you your affair, not his." "to be pleased with his service was And now what would he do, what would he be if he were here to-day? I do not presume to know. But what a loss we have in him! I have read that in some hard battle, when the tide was running against him, and his ranks were breaking, some one in the agony of a need of generalship exclaimed, "Oh for an hour of Dundee!" So say I, Oh for an hour of Webster now! Oh for one more roll of that thunder inimitable! One more peal of that clarion! One more grave and bold counsel of moderation! One more throb of American feeling! One more Farewell Address! And then might he ascend unhindered to the bosom of his Father and his God. MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO. Born at Arpinum, Italy, January 3, 106 B.C. Put to death by order of Antony, December 7, 43 B.C. One of the foremost men of the old Roman world, and with the exception of Demosthenes the most eminent of ancient orators. He is known to all scholars by his famous orations, such as those "Against Catiline," "For the Manilian Law," and "In Defense of Milo "; his philosophic essays "On Friendship" and "On Old Age"; and his numerous charming and instructive letters to intimate friends. (The following translation is taken from "Bohn's Libraries.") ON OLD AGE "O TITUS, if I shall have assisted you at all, or alleviated the anxiety which now fevers, and, fixed in your heart, distracts you, shall I have any reward?" For I may address you, Atticus, in the same lines in which he addresses Flaminius: "That man, not of great property, but rich in integrity." And yet I am very sure that not, as Flaminius, "Are you, O Titus, so racked by anxiety night and day:" for I know the regularity and even temperament of your mind; and I am well aware that you have derived not only your surname from Athens, but also refinement and wisdom: and yet I suspect that you are sometimes too deeply affected by the same causes by which I myself am; the consolation of which is of a higher kind, and requires to be put off to another occasion. But at present I have thought it good to write to you something on Old Age; for of this burden which I have in common with you of old age, either now weighing upon, or at any rate approaching us, I wish both you and myself to be relieved, although I am very sure that you indeed bear it, and will bear it, with |