LESSON XXXIV. THE BUNKER HILL MONUMENT. WEBSTER, 1. THE Society whose organ I am, was formed for the pur pose of rearing some honorable and durable monument to the memory of the early friends of American independence. They have thought, that for this object no time could be more propitious than the present prosperous and peaceful period; that no place could claim preference over this memorable spot; and that no day could be more auspicious to the undertaking, than the anniversary of the battle which was here fought. 2. The foundation of that monument we have now laid. With solemnities suited to the occasion, with prayers to Almighty God for his blessing, and in the midst of this cloud of witnesses, we have begun the work. We trust it will be pros ecuted, and that, springing from a broad foundation, rising high in massive solidity and unadorned grandeur, it may remain as long as Heaven permits the works of man to last, a fit emblem, both of the events in memory of which it is raised, and of the gratitude of those who have reared it. 3. We know, indeed that the record of illustrious actions is most safely deposited in the universal remembrance of mankind. We know, that if we could cause this structure to as cend, not only till it reached the skies, but till it pierced them, its broad surfaces could still contain but part of that which, in an age of knowledge, hath already been spread over the earth, and which history charges itself with making known to all future times. We know that no inscription on entablatures less broad than the earth itself, can carry information of the events we commemorate where it has not already gone; and that no structure, which shall not outlive the duration of letters and knowledge among men, can prolong the memorial. 4. But our object is, by this edifice to show our own deep sense of the value and importance of the achievements of our ancestors; and, by presenting this work of gratitude to the eye, to keep alive similar sentiments, and to foster a constant regard for the principles of the revolution. Human beings are composed, not of reason only, but of imagination also, and sentiment; and that is neither wasted nor misapplied which is appropriated to the purpose of giving right direction to sentiments, and opening proper springs of feeling in the heart. 5. Let it not be supposed that our object is to perpetuate national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military spirit. It is higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work to the spirit of national independence, and we wish that the light of peace may rest upon it forever. We rear a memorial of our conviction of that unmeasured benefit which has been conferred on our own land, and of the happy influences which have been produced, by the same events, on the general interests of mankind. 6. We come, as Americans, to mark a spot which must forever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish that whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hither, may behold that the place is not undistinguished where the first great ba tle of the revolution was fought. We wish that this structure may proclaim the magnitude and importance of that event to every class and every age. We wish that infancy may learn the purpose of its erection from maternal lips, and that weary and withered age may behold it, and be solaced by the recollections which it suggests. We wish that labor may look up here, and be proud, in the midst of its toil. 7. We wish that, in those days of disaster, which, as they come upon all nations, must be expected to come upon us also, desponding patriotism may turn its eyes hitherward, and be F Assured that the foundations of our national power still stand strong. We wish that this column, rising toward heaven among ne pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also to produce, in all minds, a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. 8. We wish, finally, that the last object on the sight of hir who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his whe revisits it, may be something which shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise, till it meet the sun in his coming; let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit. 1. 2. Caught the faint melody-no human eye Beheld the upturned aspect, or the smile That wreathed her innocent lips the while they breathed The oft repeated burden of the hymn, Praise God! praise God! A seraph by the throne, In full glory stood. With eager hand, He smote the golden harp-string, till a flood Of harmony on the celestial air Welled forth, unceasing. There with a great voice, 3. 5. 6. Lord God Almighty!" and the eternal courts Thrilled with the rapture, and the hierarchies, Angel, and rapt archangel, throbbed and burned With vehement adoration. Higher yet Rose the majestic anthem, without pause, But even then, While the ecstatic song was at its height, Even as a fountain's music, with the roll Lit Loving smiles up the beauty of each angel's face At that new utterance, smiles of joy that grew More joyous yet, as ever and anon Was heard the simple burden of the hymn, "Praise God! praise God!" And when the seraph's song Had reached its close, and o'er the golden lyre LESSON XXXVI. BURR AND BLENNERHASSET. WIRT. 1. WHO is Blennerhasset? A native of Ireland, a man of letters, who fled from the storms of his own country to find quiet in ours. Possessed himself of a beautiful island in the Ohio, he rears upon it a palace, and decorates it with every ro mantic embellishment of fancy. A shrubbery, that Shenstone might have envied, blooms around him; music, which might have charmed Calypso and her nymphs, is his; an extensive library spreads its treasures before him; a philosophical apparatus offers to him all the secrets and mysteries of nature; peace, tranquilty, and innocence, shed their mingled delights around him; and to crown the enchantment of the scene, a wife, who is said to be lovely even beyond her sex, and graced with every accomplishment that can render it irresistible, had blessed him with her love, and made him the father of her children. The evidence would convince you, sir, that this is only a faint picture of the real life. & 2. In the midst of all this peace, this innocence, and this tranquillity, this feast of the mind, this pure banquet of the heart the destroyer comes; he comes to turn this paradise into a hell. A stranger presents himself. It is Aaron Burr? Introduced to their civilities by the high rank which he had lately held in his country, he soon finds his way to their hearts by the dignity and elegance of his demeanor, the light and beauty of his conversation, and the seductive and fascinating power of his address. 3. The conquest was not a difficut one. Innocence is ever simple and credulous; conscious of no designs of itself, it suspects none in others; it wears no guards before its breast; ev ery door, and portal, and avenue of the heart is thrown open |