glowed in him. No interest of humanity but found in him an advocate most eloquent. No effort for humanity but won from him his voice, and hand, and heart. While, his devotion to his native State glowed ever with a fire the more intense, for the unbounded com

next meeting, and that you are my alternate. I could have wished that this order had been reversed. In a conversation which I had, the day before the meeting, with the Chairman of the Executive Committee, I requested him to see to it, that you were requested to deliver the next Address. But as I had failed on this occasion, and for what seemed a good and sufficient reason, I suppose they felt unwilling to thrust me unceremoniously aside. It is every way desirable, for intrinsic and external reasons, that the Address before the first Annual Meeting of the Society, should be delivered by you. And it is evident that, but for the accident of my being in the way, you would have been selected for the performance of the duty. I have to request, therefore, that you will be good enough to consider yourself charged with it. In making this request, I am not governed solely by a feeling of propriety; though that would be enough. But under existing circumstances, it would be impossible for me to do justice to the Society or to myself, in the discharge of this duty. I am struggling with some form of nervous disease, which disquiets and dispirits me; and, for the cure or alleviation of which, my physician enjoins me to be in the open air as much as possible; and intermit, as far as I can, studious application. I find, too, that the case of poor Boudinot has taken such a hold on me, that I cannot shake it off. There is scarcely a night in which I do not dream of him, with dreams of so vivid and half wakeful a character, that their impression remains with me through the day. So long as he was alive, and there was any thing to be done for him, he was the object of action. Now, I find that his long illness has become the subject of thought."

I wrote to him at once-a letter which I suppose he never read—to say, that though I had counted on his discharging the duty before the Historical Society, leaving me no other responsibility than might providentially occur, I would certainly comply with his request; assuring him of my prayers that God would soon restore him to health and duty: and inviting him to visit us at Burlington. The next tidings were that he was very ill. The next, that he was dead! "What shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue! But he died in the midst of usefulness. He died in the enjoyment of universal confidence and respect. He died in the satisfaction of unwearied and unbounded love. He was one in whom the spirit "o'er-informed" the flesh. He had a great heart, and its throbbings had worn out its frame. The overworking of the mind had loosed his hold on life. He sank under the shock of the acute disease which had assailed him; and had not physical ability to rally. Though not for himself too soon, it is too soon for us. His greatness grew with every day. The masculine vigour of his mind grappled all subjects, and could master all. His generous enthusiasm kindled the young hearts, that it drew to him, with its own fires. And now, in this last

prehension of his love. How nobly he led on in the great cause of education here, who does not know? How zealously he entered into this new enterprise, who did not feel? In him, if he were living, I would find the bright example I have sought to draw; for he was, every inch," a Jerseyman. And now, to his new grave, I sadly turn, and say, "there lies the noblest Ro

service of his life-it was his very last-he had developed, with all that is bravest in a man, whatever in a woman is most lovely and engaging. "Felix opportunitate mortis."

Of his intellectual character and attainments, of the daily beauty of his social and domestic life, of his Christian walk and conversation, others have spoken, and will speak, with fuller opportunities than I could have. Few with a fuller love. "Nulli flebilior quam mihi." I never met with him, in private or in public, in steamboat or in stage, that we did not warm and glow together. He was a-glow with all the generous instincts of humanity. They were refined, in him, and sanctified, by the "live coal,” which seraphs have in hand. He combined, most rarely, a keen, broad, sound and manly practicalness, with the loftiest and most generous enthusiasm. I have often thought, that had he not been a great mathematician, he would have been a greater poet. He illustrated this in his zealous devotion to that, which, of all pursuits of men, combines the most of the practical with the best of the poetical, Gothic architecture. It was his favourite study, and most fervent theme. He was in love with it. "You will say," he said to me, in his own hearty playfulness, "that I have stolen your thunder!"

I saw him last in Princeton. His last acts to me were acts of hospitality. His last words were the words of friendship. And, what I value most of all, I was among the thoughts of his last hours. "On Tuesday night," says Professor Hodge, his distinguished fellow labourer, and faithful friend, "when we all thought him very near his end, he charged me with several messages to his absent friends; and said, 'I have been thinking of Bishop Doane, and should like to see him, and wish him to know it.' I feel that I am discharging a duty to our departed friend, in conveying to you the simple intimation, that he thought of you with kindness, in the last hours of his life."-None, from beyond the immediate circle in which my life is passed, have won for me a livelier interest and affection. No message from a death-bed, has come nearer to my heart, or dwells more warmly there.

Into the secret places of their sorrow, to whom this stroke comes nearest home, it were profane to enter. Thanks be to God for the revelation, which the ages that had wandered from IIim farthest cherished as a pleasing dream, that the bolt makes sacred what it strikes! The most endearing names to Him are those of widow and of orphan "He is a father of the fatherless, and defendeth the cause of the widows; even God, in His holy habitation."

RIVERSIDE, 27 November, 1845.

G. W. D.

man of them all." He went, for us, and for New Jer sey, all too soon. We must take up the work he did not finish. If we take it up in his spirit, if we pursue it with his energy, we shall redeem the past, we shall adorn and bless the future; and children's children, and their children's children, after them, will rise and say, WE TOO ARE JERSEYMEN!

I.

ONE WORLD; ONE WASHINGTON.

THE ORATION BEFORE THE LADY MANAGERS OF THE MOUNT VERNON ASSOCIATION.

PLUTARCH Could write his lives in parallels; an illustrious Greek, by the side of an illustrious Roman : Theseus, with Romulus; Pericles, with Fabius Maximus; Aristides, with Cato Major; Alexander, with Julius Cæsar. Where shall the future Plutarch find his parallel, whose birthday twins, with that of the Republic? Next to the Fourth day of July, scarcely below it, in the calendar of patriotism, stands the twenty-second day of February. The two, the Festivals of thirty millions of free men, already; to be, through all the ages, next to the sacred anniversaries, the holy days of human nature. Who shall deny the legend, which our eagle bears to-day: "ONE WORLD; ONE WASHINGTON!"

men.

Nations are Trustees, for the names of their great
It is a sacred, it is a solemn trust. Shall I do

*February 22d, A. D. 1859-At the request of the Lady Managers of the Association, and of the Mayor and many citizens of Burlington. The motto is from Ennius;

"Ergo, magisque, magisque, viri, nunc, gloria claret."

wrong, to say, it is their most sacred, their most solemn, trust? God lent them, to their country, for a while. He endowed them, with intellectual powers. He imbued them, with transcendent virtues. He made them, noblemen of truth. He set, upon their brow, the coronet of glory. He let them labour; let them suffer; let them be reviled perhaps, He let them die, upon the scaffold; in the dungeon; on the battle-field. Was it for one country? Was it for their own generation? Was it for a single age? No. They were monarchs of mankind. They were darlings of humanity. They were central stars, to light the world. And they are blazing on, and they will blaze on, to be the cynosure of unborn hearts; in nations, yet, undreamed of. Was Aristides just, for the Athenians alone? Or, Cincinnatus, but, the patriot of Rome? Have I no share in Socrates? Are Alfred, Wallace, Tell, not ours? Were Shakspeare, Milton, Newton, not, for us? How beautiful it is, this Catholicity of greatness! The First Consul of France, directed, that all the standards of the Republic should be hung, with crape: and issued the following order, to the Army: "Washington is dead. This great man fought against tyranny. He established the liberty of his country. His memory will, always, be dear, to the French people: as it will be, to all free men, of the two worlds." Lord Bridport, who commanded the British fleet, off Torbay, lowered his flag, half-mast; on hearing the intelligence. And the whole fleet, of sixty ships of the line, followed his example. And, but the other day, some officers of our