enemies; but it makes sure friends,-friends who forgive much, who endure long, who exact little they partake of the character of disciples as friends. There lingers about the human heart a strong inclination to look upward, to revere. In this inclination lies the source of religion, of loyalty, and also of the worship and immortality which are rendered so freely to the great of old. And in truth it is a divine pleasure. Admiration seems, in some measure, to appropriate to ourselves the qualities it so honors in others. We wed, we root ourselves to, the natures we so love to contemplate, until their being becomes, as it were, a part of our own. Thus, when some great man who has engrossed our thoughts, our conjectures, our homage, dies, a gap seems suddenly left in the world; a wheel in the mechanism of our own being seems abruptly stilled; a portion of ourselves, and not our worst portion, (for how many pure, high, generous sentiments it contains!) dies with him. Yes it is this love, so rare, so exalted, so denied to all ordinary men, which is the especial privilege of greatness, whether that greatness be shown in wisdom, in enterprise, in virtue, or even, till the world learns better, in the more daring and lofty order of crime. A Socrates may claim it to-day, a Napoleon to-morrow; and even a brigand chief, illustrious in the circle in which he lives, may call it forth no less powerfully than the generous failings of a Byron, or the

Watu wa, praten am 1. of a diei memoriam sempiter

tently In matha egy ventris omnes triumphos meos.

* hata honoris, monumenta gloriæ, laudis in gha, com et collocari volo. Nihil me mutum porte ob de lecture, nihil tacitum, nihil denique ejusmodi,

Bir B. Bulwer Lyttom: "Eugene Aram.”

quod etiam minus digni assequi possint. Memoriâ vestrâ, Quirites, nostra res alentur, sermonibus crescent, literarum monumentis inveterascent et corro

borabuntur."

"And for these services, O fellow-citizens! great as they may be, I ask of you no reward of merit, no badge of distinction, no monument of my glory, except the enduring recollection of this day. It is in your hearts that I desire all my triumphs, all my decorations of dignity, the monuments of my glory, the bright badges of my renown, to be stored and treasured up. Nothing dumb and voiceless can delight me, nothing silent; nothing, in short, of such a kind and character as may ever be attained by men less meritorious. My name and deeds, fellowcitizens, shall be cherished in your memory, shall gain fresh growth in your discourses, and shall become deeply and lastingly engraven on the monuments of your literature."

Yes, while the literature of America survives and flourishes, the name and fame of Edward Everett "shall be deeply and lastingly engraven on its monuments;" and, while gratitude and admiration for all that is great and good shall animate and inspire the hearts of our children's children, so long "shall his deeds and name be cherished in their memory."

And while I have thus adopted, in regard rather to his fame and public services, the words of his re

nowned Roman prototype and exemplar, so am I led almost involuntarily to give expression to the more tender and personal feelings of sorrow awakened in all our hearts by his loss, in the words, slightly varied, of Ireland's national poet:

"It is not the tear at this moment shed,

When the cold turf has just been laid o'er him,
That can tell how beloved was the friend that is dead,
Or how deep in our hearts we deplore him.
"Tis the tear through many a long day wept,
Through a life by his loss all shaded;
'Tis the sad remembrance, fondly kept

When all lighter griefs have faded.

Yes, thus shall we mourn; and his memory's light,

While it shines through our hearts, will improve them:

For worth shall look fairer, and truth more bright,

When we think how he lived but to love them.

And as buried saints have given perfume
To shrines where they've been lying,
So our hearts shall borrow a sweetening bloom
From the odor he left there in dying."

The highest and most sterling mark of respect that we can pay to the memory of any great man, is to educe, follow, and bring prominently forward, the salutary lessons taught by his example. If there be any foundation for the belief, entertained by many wise and good men, that the spirits of the loved and lost are at times permitted to revisit and hover around the places and persons that were most dear to them in life, then can we readily imagine that no

statue of stone, or bust of bronze, or any thing else "dumb and silent," would afford such satisfaction to the spirit of Edward Everett as this carrying on and forward, by holding up his example for imitation, the great work of good to his country and his kind to which his life in the flesh was all and ever so nobly devoted. The erection of statues of marble or of metal may be a graceful and becoming compliance with a custom rendered venerable by antiquity; and, however unneeded by us or by our children, it may be well that the visitor from far-distant lands, attracted by the view of the statue, shall be led to inquire more minutely into the life-history of the man. But, in regard to all such monuments, the thought and utterance of his spirit would doubtless be, for we all know what delight he took in the Latin poets,

"Exegi monumentum ace perennius,

Regalique situ pyramidum altius :

Quod non imber edax, non aquilo impotens.

Possit diruere, aut innumerabilis

Annorum series et fuga temporum.

Non omnis moriar! multaque pars mei
Vitabit Libitinam!”

For the great talents that he possessed, more especially his wonderful powers of memory, Edward Everett was indebted, of course, altogether to the endowment of Nature; or in better, though more