Mr. Webster, with his clarion voice, facing the thousands who were seated before him on the rising hillside, and the other thousands who stood at the summit, spoke these eloquent words. Let them imagine the veteran soldiers, and the whitehaired and venerable Lafayette, and they can better understand the effect which this address made on the eager and entranced listeners. They will not wonder at the tears which gathered in the eyes of the old soldiers as they bowed their heads to conceal their emotions. Surely there was no other man in America who could so admirably have improved the occasion.

CHAPTER XXVII.

ADAMS AND JEFFERSON.

JULY 4, 1826, was a memorable day. It was the fiftieth anniversary of American Independence, and for that reason, if no other, it was likely to be a day of note. But, by a singular coincidence, two eminent Americans, fathers of the republic, both of whom had filled the Presidency, yielded up their lives.

When John Adams was dying at Quincy, in Massachusetts, he spoke of his great countryman, Thomas Jefferson, who he naturally supposed was to survive him. But the same day, and that the natal day of the republic, brought the illustrious career of each to a close. Not untimely, for John Adams had passed the age of ninety, and Jefferson was but a few years younger.

Those were not the days of telegraphs nor of railroads, and the news had to be conveyed by stage-coaches, so that it was perhaps a month before the country through its large extent knew

of the double loss which it had sustained. It was certainly by a most remarkable coincidence that these two great leaders, representing the two political parties which divided the country, but one in their devotion to the common welfare, passed from earthly scenes on the same anniversary. It was no wonder that they were the subjects of public addresses and sermons throughout the United States.

Of all those addresses but one is remembered to-day. It was the oration delivered by Daniel Webster on the 2d of August, 1826. This too was an anniversary, the anniversary of the day when the Declaration of Independence had been engrossed by the Revolutionary Congress.

As the circumstances attending the delivery of this oration will be new to my young readers, I quote from Mr. Ticknor's description, as I find it in Mr. Curtis's Life of Mr. Webster. After detailing an interview, in which Mr. Webster read him in advance some portions of the oration, he proceeds:

"The next day, the 2d of August, the weather was fine, and the concourse to hear him immense. It was the first time that Faneuil Hall had been draped in mourning. The scene was very solemn, though the light of day was not excluded. Settees had been placed over the whole

area of the hall; the large platform was occupied by many of the most distinguished men in New England, and, as it was intended that everything should be conducted with as much quietness as possible, the doors were closed when the procession had entered, and every part of the hall and galleries was filled. This was a mistake in the arrangements; the crowd on the outside, thinking that some space must still be left within, became very uneasy, and finally grew so tumultuous and noisy that the solemnities were interrupted. The police in vain attempted to restore order. It seemed as if confusion would prevail. Mr. Webster perceived that there was but one thing to be done. He advanced to the front of the stage, and said in a voice easily heard above the noise of tumult without and of alarm within, 'Let those doors be opened.'

66 The power and authority of his manner were irresistible; the doors were opened, though with difficulty, from the pressure of the crowd on the outside; but after the first rush everything was quiet, and the order during the rest of the performance was perfect.

"Mr. Webster spoke in an orator's gown and wore small-clothes. He was in the perfection of his manly beauty and strength, his form filled out to its finest proportions, and his bearing, as

he stood before the vast multitude, that of absolute dignity and power. His manuscript lay on a small table near him, but I think he did not once refer to it. His manner of speaking was deliberate and commanding. When he came to the passage on eloquence, and to the words, 'It is action, noble, sublime, godlike action,' he stamped his foot repeatedly on the stage, his form seemed to dilate, and he stood, as that whole audience saw and felt, the personification of what he so perfectly described. I never saw him when his manner was so grand and appropriate.

"The two speeches attributed to Mr. Adams and his opponent attracted great attention from the first. Soon they were put into school-books, as specimens of English, and of eloquence. In time men began to believe they were genuine speeches, made by genuine men who were in the Congress of '76; and at last Mr. Webster received letters asking whether such was the fact or not. In January, 1846, he sent me from Washington a letter he had just received, dated at Auburn, begging him to solve the doubt. With it he sent me his answer, which is published in his works, saying: "The accompanying letter and copy of answer respect a question which has been often asked me. I place them