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after us; by attempting something which may promote their happiness, and leave some not dishonourable memorial of ourselves for their regard when we shall sleep with the fathers, we protract our own earthly being, and seem to crowd whatever is future, as well as all that is past, into the narrow compass of our earthly existence. As it is not a vain and false, but an exalted and religious imagination, which leads us to raise our thoughts from the orb, which, amidst this universe of worlds, the Creator has given us to inhabit, and to send them with something of the feeling which nature prompts, and teaches to be proper among children of the same Eternal Parent, to the contemplation of the myriads of fellow beings with which his goodness has peopled the infinite of space;-so neither is it false or vain to consider ourselves as interested and connected with our whole race through all time; allied to our ancestors; allied to our posterity; closely compacted on all sides with others; ourselves being but links in the great chain of being, which begins with the origin of our race, runs onwards through its successive generations, binding together the past, the present, and the future, and terminating at last with the consummation of all things earthly, at the throne of God.

There may be, and there often is, indeed, a regard for ancestry which nourishes only a weak pride; as there is also a care for posterity which only disguises an habitual avarice, or hides the workings of a low and groveling vanity. But there is also a moral and philosophical respect for our ancestors which elevates the character and improves the heart. Next to the sense of religious duty and moral feeling, I hardly know what should bear with stronger obligation on a liberal and enlightened mind than a consciousness of alliance with excellence which is departed; and a consciousness, too, that in its acts and conduct, and even in its sentiments and thoughts, it may be actively operating on the happiness of those who come after it. Poetry is found to have few stronger conceptions, by which it would affect or overwhelm the mind, than those in which it presents the moving and speaking image of the departed dead to the senses of the living. This belongs to poetry only because it is congenial to our nature. Poetry is in this respect but the handmaid of true philosophy and morality; it deals with us as human beings naturally reverencing those whose visible connexion with this state of existence is severed, and who may yet exercise we know not what sympathy with ourselves;and when it carries us forward, also, and shows us the long continued result of all the good we do in the prosperity of those

who follow us, till it bears us from ourselves, and absorbs us in an intense interest for what shall happen to the generations after us, it speaks only in the language of our nature, and affects us with sentiments which belong to us as human beings.

Standing in this relation to our ancestors and our posterity, we are assembled on this memorable spot to perform the duties which that relation, and the present occasion, impose upon us. We have come to this Rock to record here our homage for our Pilgrim Fathers; our sympathy in their sufferings; our gratitude for their labours; our admiration of their virtues; our veneration for their piety; and our attachment to those principles of civil and religious liberty, which they encountered the dangers of the ocean, the storms of heaven, the violence of savages, disease, exile, and famine, to enjoy and to establish.And we would leave here, also, for the generations which are rising up rapidly to fill our places, some proof that we have endeavoured to transmit the great inheritance unimpaired; that in our estimate of public principles and private virtue; in our veneration of religion and piety; in our devotion to civil and religious liberty; in our regard for whatever advances human knowledge, or improves human happiness, we are not altogether unworthy of our origin.

There is a local feeling connected with this occasion too strong to be resisted-a sort of genius of the place—which inspires and awes us. We feel that we are on the spot where the first scene of our history was laid: where the hearths and altars of New England were first placed; where Christianity and civilization and letters made their first lodgement in a vast extent of country, covered with a wilderness, and peopled by roving barbarians. We are here at the season of the year at which the event took place. The imagination irresistibly and rapidly draws around us the principal features and the leading characters in the original scene. We cast our eyes abroad on the ocean, and we see where the little bark, with the interesting group upon its deck, made its slow progress to the shore. We look around us, and behold the hills and promontories where the anxious eyes of our fathers first saw the places of habitation and of rest. We feel the cold which benumbed, and listen to the winds which pierced them. Beneath us is the Rock on which New England received the feet of the Pilgrims. We seem even to behold them, as they struggle with the elements, and, with toilsome efforts, gain the shore. We listen to the chiefs in council; we see the unexampled exhibition of female fortitude and resignation; we hear the whisperings of youthful

impatience; and we see, what a painter of our own has also represented by his pencil, chilled and shivering childhood, houseless but for a mother's arms, couchless but for a mother's breast, till our own blood almost freezes. The mild dignity of CARVER and of BRADFORD; the decisive and soldier-like air and manner of STANDISH; the devout BREWSTER; the enterprising ALLERTON; the general firmness and thoughtfulness of the whole band; their conscious joy for dangers escaped; their deep solicitude about dangers to come; their trust in Heaven; their high religious faith, full of confidence and anticipation ;all of these seem to belong to this place, and to be present upon this occasion, to fill us with reverence and admiration.

THE HONOURABLE EDWARD HANNEGAN,

SENATOR FOR THE STATE OF INDIANA.

THIS is a genuine son of the West; ardent, impulsive and undaunted; thinking, acting and daring with the most perfect freedom. His spirit is youthful and buoyant, and he is ever sanguine of success, though he feels acutely the bitterness of disappointment. The character of the Western men has been greatly misunderstood, even by the other sections of the Union; they have their faults like all the world beside, but they are the faults of youth, and are corrigible, because they proceed not from neutrality, but from exuberance of character; not from the deficiency, but from the abundance of material. If they are hasty and impetuous, they are also generous and forgiving; indifferent to money, but eager of enterprise, patient of endurance, full of courage, regardful of the feelings of others, and above all men they are respectful and considerate to the female sex. They are fluent of speech, quick in action, and ready in expedients; they are, in fact, the very men required for the position they hold, that of borderers of the Republic. They are a new power, whose interests, although inseparably blended with those of the other sections of the Union, are yet distinct and individual; the West but now begins to assert herself, to

*This trait of character is said by the sages to contain the germ of every virtue, and some assert that it is the highest attribute of civilization. But I am a woman, not a philosopher, and these things are too high for me.

exhibit her strength, and, though yet an infant, to claim her share in the "balance of power;" a political mystery, which exists no less in a confederation of republics such as the United States of America, than among the several compact monarchies of Europe. The West has found a devoted lover in her Hannegan, and many a fervent vow he made to win for her the Oregon, nor will these vows remain unanswered; so sure as rivers run into the sea, so sure as mountains hide their heads in clouds, so surely will Oregon become the inheritance of the Americans, for it is theirs by right as well as by inevitable necessity.

The robust character of the Western men, and their remoteness from that peculiar kind of civilization which belongs to sea board and manufacturing districts, have induced an idea that they are deficient in the proprieties and gentle moods of polished life. But, on the contrary, the very circumstances of their condition produce these virtues.

Show me a gentler, more affectionate nature than Edward Hannegan you cannot; and, believe me, the Western men in general resemble him. Shall I relate some anecdotes of this, my friend? When Mr. H. made his speech on the Oregon Question, he alluded, in terms of graceful approval, to Mr. Calhoun, and, after differing from the policy of that Senator, he apostrophized, in terms of generous and manly eulogy, his genius and his virtues. I was in the gallery immediately above with a large party of ladies, for the wives and friends of those members who spoke always took great interest in their success; these ladies ever regarded me as one of themselves, and I shared in their anxious hopes and fears that our many favourites should go through the ordeal with honour. We always went together to the Supreme Court, the Senate, or the House to listen to their speeches, and to cheer them by our presence; to walk home with them, to sympathize in their disappointments and their victories, and to congratulate them when the trial was over. The intercourse between the statesmen and politicians of all parties and the ladies was of the most agreeable kind, and to the latter it was a source of great instruction and improvement, for nothing elevates and corrects the female mind more than the friendship and confidence of distinguished men. On the occasion above alluded to, the party in the gallery were highly gratified, for Calhoun is precious in the sight of all; to me these words of praise were delightful for the sake of both the Senators. In the excitement of the moment I threw down my glove to the speaker; it fell at his side. The chivalrous

Hannegan instantly picked it up, pressed it to his lips, looked gratefully up to the gallery, bowed and placed it in his bosom. The fortunate glove was transmitted by the next day's post to the lady of the Senator, then in Indiana. I preserve the less happy fellow to it. When the speech was ended and the Senate adjourned, the ladies went down to the floor. I accompanied Mr. Hannegan to shake hands with Calhoun, and expressed my wish to publish that speech in England. So much for the gallantry of the Senator from Indiana to an Englishwoman. Another anecdote exhibits him in a still more amiable light. I had a careless trick of leaving my purse upon the table in my parlour. Mr. Hannegan, and almost all Americans, have a frank and ingenuous habit of imparting advice gratuitously to those with whom they are on terms of intimacy. Having often found the offending purse thus thoughtlessly left, the Senator had several times reminded me of the indiscretion in vain; I was almost incorrigible. At length, during an illness in Baltimore, he came to see me, and, on entering my parlour, found the old green purse on the table as usual, full of five dollar pieces (in gold). Upon my appearance he held it up, and, after wishing me good day, thus once again, and for the last time, admonished me. "You pray that you may not be led into temptation; do unto others as you would they should do unto you." Since then I have never transgressed against this precept, and surely I never received a more efficient moral lesson.

One of the most agreeable evenings I spent in Washington was at an ice cream party given by Mr. Hannegan in honour of a Lady's birthday: he was ever glad to make us happy.

This Senator was not born in the State he represents, but in Kentucky, in the city of Lexington; consequently in the very atmosphere of Henry Clay, and I cannot well tell how he escaped being a Whig. He is a Presbyterian, but has committed his only son to the care of Dr. Hailandière, Catholic Bishop of Vincennes, in Indiana, to be educated at the College in that city. A devoted lover of the country and of its independence, he so pined at last in Washington, that he was compelled to go home for a fortnight to refresh his spirits and recruit his health. I met him on the Ohio on his way. "Come home with me," said he to the Doctor and myself, "come home with me, and I will show you the lovely valley of the Wabash. I can endure those hot and crowded halls no longer. I must have free air and space to roam in; I like to hunt when I please, and to shoot when I please, and to fish when I please, and to read when I

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