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as they were, and what they would have been without their great struggle, we could wish them to have been different, even in this respect. Twenty years of friendship succeeding ten of rivalry appear to me a more amiable, and certainly a more instructive, spectacle even than a life of unbroken concert. As a friend to both their respected memories, I would not willingly spare the attestation which they took pleasure in rendering to each other's characters. We are taught, in the valedictory lessons of Washington, that "the spirit of party is the worst enemy of a popular government." Shall we not rejoice that we are taught, in the lives of Adams and Jefferson, that the most embittered contentions which as yet have divided us furnish no ground for lasting disunion?

The declining period of their lives presents their characters in the most delightful aspect, and furnishes the happiest illustration of the perfection of our political system. We behold a new spectacle of moral sublimity; the peaceful old age of the retired chiefs of the Republic; an evening of learned, useful, and honored leisure, following upon a youth and manhood of hazard and service, and a whole life of alternate trial and success. We behold them, indeed, active and untiring even to the last. At the advanced age of eighty-five years, our venerable fellow citien and neighbor was still competent to take a part in the convention for revising the State constitution, to whose original formation, forty years before, he so essentially contributed; and Mr. Jefferson, at the same protracted age, was able to project, and carry on to their completion, the extensive establishments of the University of Virginia.

But it is the great and closing scene, which appears to crown their long and exalted career with a consummation almost miraculous. Having done so much and so happily for themselves, so much and so beneficially for their country, at that last moment, when man can no more do anything for his country or for himself, it pleased a kind Providence to do that for both of them, which, to the end of time, will cause them to be deemed not more happy in the renown of their lives than in the opportunity of their death.

I could give neither force nor interest to the account of these sublime and touching scenes by anything beyond

the simple recital of the facts already familiar to the public. Their deaths were nearly simultaneous. For several weeks the strength of Mr. Jefferson had been gradually failing, though the vigor of his mind remained unimpaired. As he drew nearer to the last, and no expectation remained that his term could be much prolonged, he expressed no other wish than that he might live to breathe the air of the fiftieth anniversary of independence. This he was graciously permitted to do. But it was evident, on the morning of the fourth, that Providence intended that this day, consecrated by his deed, should be solemnized by his death. On some momentary revival of his wasting strength, the friends around would have soothed him with the hope of continuing; but he answered their encouragements only by saying, he did not fear to die. Once, as he drew nearer to his close, he lifted up his head, and murmured with a smile, "It is the fourth of July"; while his repeated exclamation on the last great day was, "Nunc dimittis, Domine"-"Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace." He departed in peace, a little before one o'clock of this memorable day; unconscious that his compatriot, who fifty years before had shared its efforts and perils, was now the partner of its glory.

Mr. Adams' mind had also wandered back, over the long line of great things with which his life was filled, and found rest on the thought of independence. When the discharges of artillery proclaimed the triumphant anniversary, he pronounced it "a great and a good day.' The thrilling word of independence, which, fifty years before, in the ardor of his manly strength, he had sounded out to the nations from the hall of the Revolutionary Congress, was now among the last that dwelt on his lips; and when, towards the hour of noon, he felt his noble heart growing cold within him, the last emotion which warmed. it was, that "Jefferson still survives!" But he survives not; he is gone. They are gone together!

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Friends, fellow citizens, free, prosperous, happy Americans! The men who did so much to make you so are no The men who gave nothing to pleasure in youth, nothing to repose in age, but all to that country, whose beloved name filled their hearts, as it does ours, with joy, can now do no more for us; nor we for them. But their

memory remains, we will cherish it; their bright example remains, we will strive to imitate it; the fruit of their wise counsels and noble acts remains, we will gratefully enjoy it.

They have gone to the companions of their cares, of their dangers, and their toils. It is well with them. The treasures of America are now in heaven. How long the list of our good, and wise, and brave, assembled there! How few remain with us! There is our Washington; and those who followed him in their country's confidence are now met together with him, and all that illustrious company.

The faithful marble may preserve their image; the engraven brass may proclaim their worth; but the humblest sod of Independent America, with nothing but the dewdrops of the morning to gild it, is a prouder mausoleum than kings or conquerors can boast. The country is their monument. Its independence is their epitaph. But not to their country is their praise limited. The whole earth is the monument of illustrious men. Wherever an agonizing people shall perish, in a generous convulsion, for want of a valiant arm and a fearless heart, they will cry, in the last accents of despair, O for a Washington, an Adams, a Jefferson! Wherever a regenerated nation, starting up in its might, shall burst the links of steel that enchain it, the praise of our venerated fathers shall be remembered. in their triumphal song!

The contemporary and successive generations of men will disappear, and in the long lapse of ages, the races of America, like those of Greece and Rome, may pass away. The fabric of American freedom, like all things human, however firm and fair, may crumble into dust. But the cause in which these our fathers shone is immortal. They did that to which no age, on people of civilized men, can be indifferent. Their eulogy will be uttered in other languages, when those we speak, like us who speak them, shall be all forgotten. And when the great account of humanity shall be closed, in the bright list of those who have best adorned and served it, shall be found the names of our Adams and our Jefferson!

VEGETABLE AND MINERAL GOLD

[Address of Edward Everett, delivered at a public festival of the United States Agricultural Society, in Boston, October 4, 1855, in reply to a complimentary toast.]

MR. PRESIDENT, AND LADIES AND GENTLEMEN :-My worthy friend, Mr. Winthrop, who has just taken his seat, was good enough to remark that he was waiting with impatience for me to speak. Far different was my feeling while he was speaking.

I listened not only with patience, but with satisfaction and delight, as I am sure you all did. If he spoke of the embarrassment under which he rose to address such an assembly, an embarrassment which all, however accustomed to public speaking, could not but feel, how much greater must be my embarrassment! He had to contend only with the difficulties natural to the occasion, and with having to follow the eloquent gentleman from Philadelphia. [Mr. McMichael.] I have to contend with all that difficulty, and also with the difficulty of following not only that gentleman, who delighted us all so much, but my eloquent friend who has just taken his seat.

And when two such gentlemen have passed over the ground, the one with his wide-sweeping reaper, and the other with his keen trenchant scythe, there is nothing left but a gleaning to their successor. With respect to the kind manner, sir, in which you have been so good as to introduce my name to this company, it is plain that I can have nothing to respond, but to imitate the example of the worthy clergyman upon the Connecticut River, who, when some inquisitive friend, from a distant part of the country, asked him, somewhat indiscreetly, whether there was much true piety among his flock, said, "Nothing in that way to boast of."

Mr. President, if this were a geological, instead of an agricultural society, and if it were your province not to dig the surface, but to bore into the depths of the earth, it would not be surprising if, in some of your excavations, you should strike upon such a fossil as myself. But when

I look around upon your exhibition-the straining course the crowded, bustling ring-the motion, the life, the fire-the immense crowds of ardent youth and emulous manhood, assembled from almost every part of the country, actors or spectators of the scene, I feel that it is hardly the place for quiet, old-fashioned folks, accustomed to quiet, old-fashioned ways. I feel somewhat like the Doge of Genoa, whom the imperious mandate of Louis XIV had compelled to come to Versailles, and who, after surveying and admiring its marvels, exclaimed, that he wondered at everything he saw, and most of all at finding himself there.

Since, however, sir, with that delicate consideration toward your "elder brethren." which I so lately had occasion to acknowledge at Dorchester, you are willing to trust yourself by the side of such a specimen of palæontology as myself, I have much pleasure in assuring you that I have witnessed with the highest satisfaction the proof afforded by this grand exhibition, that the agriculture of our country, with all the interests connected with it, is in a state of active improvement. In all things, sir, though I approve a judicious conservatism, it is not merely for myself, but as the basis of a safe progress. I own there are some old things, both in nature, and art, and society, that I like for themselves. I all but worship the grand old hills, the old rivers that roll between them, and the fine old trees bending with the weight of centuries. I reverence an old homestead, an old burying-ground, the good men of olden times. I love old friends, good old books, and I don't absolutely dislike a drop of good old wine for the stomach's sake, provided it is taken from an original package. But these tastes and sentiments are all consistent with, nay, in my judgment, they are favorable to, a genial growth, progression, and improvement, such as is rapidly taking place in the agriculture of the country. In a word, I have always been, and am now, for both stability and progress; learning, from a rather antiquated, but not yet wholly discredited, authority, to prove all things, and to hold fast to that which is good." I know, sir, that the modern rule is, "try all things, and hold fast to nothing." I believe I shall adhere to the old reading a little longer.

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