out our principles and plans of action. Solemnity, in urging on our fellow-citizens the duty and the privilege of their devout co-operation. Solemnity, in the sacred and heartfelt commendation of ourselves, our common country, our common cause, the cause of all mankind, to our protecting-if need be, to our avenging, God. Surely, it is a time for earnestness, a time for seriousness, a time for deep solemnity.

Another thought has filled and weighed upon my soul. In you, Gentlemen of the Cincinnati, I recog nize the living link that binds the present with the past. You represent the men of the first age of the Republic. You personify to us the immortal band of seventeen hundred and seventy-six. We reverence in you the patriots, the statesmen, the heroes, the martyrs, of the War of Independence. You are our Hancock, and our Franklin, and our Washington. I seem to stand in the deep, dreadful presence of those great, heroic men. I seem to feel the majesty of their serene and awful port, as they rise up before high heaven, and make that glorious vow, that "these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES." I seem to hear the beating of their manly hearts, as they go forth from that august apartment, the minute-men of freedom, the advance-guard of mankind. Matchless, immortal men! We bless your memory. We boast us in your glorious name! Faithful, untiring, unseduced, unterrified, we follow, where you led. Be with us, in the wisdom of your counsels! Be with us, in the trumpet tones of

your soul-stirring eloquence! Be with us, in the light of your exalted and benign example! The God who gave you to us, be with us, as He was with you, to guide us, and to bless us! To keep us in His holy fear! To fill us with His perfect peace! To make the light, that is in us, from Him, shine out, forevermore, the cynosure of nations, the lode-star of the world!

XI.

THE GOODLY HERITAGE OF JERSEYMEN.

* THE FIRST ANNUAL ADDRESS BEFORE THE NEW JERSEY HISTORICAL SOCIETY.

I NEVER shall forget, with what a strange and startled joy, I stopped, and stood, and gazed, upon a few black letters, on a plain deal board, at the corner of a street, in the old English town of Lincoln. I had been musing, beneath the Roman archway, called the Newport Gate,t of the ever-changing stream of life, which had not ceased to roll through it for twice ten centuries; and, busied with my thoughts, had wandered off alone. When, as I climbed the steep ascent, on which the town is built, lifting my eyes up from the

* January 15th, A. D. 1846. Dedicated to the President of the Society, "the Hon. Joseph C. Hornblower, Chief Justice of New Jersey, sustaining the institutions of his native State, upon the Bench, while he adorns them in the daily walks of life."

"The ancient Archway, called the Newport Gate, at Lincoln," Britton says, "is a specimen of Roman execution, and consists of very large stones, placed together arch-wise, and without mortar." "The whole is rudely constructed, but of such substantial materials, that it seems to defy all the operations of time and weather."-Architectural Antiquities, v. 158. The width of the archway is fifteen feet nine inches; its height, twelve feet four inches: diminished very much, no doubt, by the filling up of the street. Lincoln is probably from the name of the ancient Roman Station, Lindum Colonia.

Too steep to be ascended by carriages; which make use of a circular road, round the face of the hill, without the city.

ground, near the Danes' Gate, they were arrested by the words, "NEW JERSEY." It scarcely is a figure to say, that, in an instant, "my heart was in my mouth." Romans, Danes, English, all were gone. I doubted of my very sense of sight. It seemed some mirage of the mind. Country, and friends, and home, were all before me. My 66 "eyes

"Were with" my "heart, and that was far away." †

I stood, a Jerseyman, and in New Jersey.

I do not speak of this as if it were at all peculiar. I know that it is not. The Swiss guards, in a foreign land, who dared all dangers, and bore all privations, were melted to desertion, if they heard the simple native song with which the cows were brought from pasture.

"The intrepid Swiss, who guards a foreign shore,
Condemned to climb his mountain-cliffs no more,
If chance he hears that song, so sweetly wild,
Which on those cliffs his infant hours beguiled,

Melts at the long-lost scenes that round him rise,
And sinks, a martyr to repentant sighs." §

* I inquired, in vain, why the street, or court, should be called New Jersey. No one knew.

Childe Harold, iv. 141.

Rans des vaches; that is, rows of cows. One can see them winding along, among the rocks of their wild pasture ground.

Rogers, Pleasures of Memory, first part. In his notes, he has the following. "The celebrated Rans des vaches-'cet air si cheri des Suisses qu'il fut defendu, sous peine de mort, de la jouer dans leur troupes, parce qu'il faisoit foudre en ·larmes, déserter ou mourir ceux qui l'entendoient, tant il excitoit en eux l'ardent desir de revoir leur pays.'-ROUSSEAU. The maladie du pays is as old as the human heart. Juvenal's little cup-bearer,

'Suspirat longo non visam tempore matrem,
Et casulam, et notos tristis desiderat hædos;'

and the Argive, in the heat of battle,

'dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos.'"

No: it is not peculiar. I cite it as a fact in nature. It is a part of our humanity. A touch of that which makes the world all kin; so that the man who felt it not, would scarce be owned of human kind. And I cite it now, because it indicates, as no elaborate dissertation could, the ground on which I stand to-day, and the feelings with which I stand on it; the feelings and the ground, which, if our coming here is not to be in vain, you must share with me, as JERSEYMEN, and IN NEW JERSEY. Let me not, for one moment, be misunderstood. I yield to no man in the Catholic comprehension, which takes in the world. I teach no truth more earnestly, than that which filled and fired the fervent soul of Paul; that, in the plan of God, for human good, there should be no Jew, no Greek, no Scythian, no Barbarian, but all one in Jesus Christ.* But I remember David's longing for the water of that ancient well, by the towngate, where he had bathed his boyhood's brow.† I remember how Paul yearned for his brethren, his “kinsmen according to the flesh;" and, if need were, would even be accursed for them. And I remember-and I speak it with profoundest reverence-how that blessed ONE, who " gave Himself a ransom for all," when He was come near Jerusalem, beholding it, "wept over it." § To love our neighbour as ourself, is not to sink the brother or the child. Jesus had one disciple, "whom He loved." The house will soon be chilled, in which the hearth-fires are gone out. There were no Nile, to

Everywhere. Especially, Galatians iii. 28, and Colossians iii. 11.

St. Luke xix. 41.