the name of Edward Everett. It is suspended as a glittering pleiad in the heaven of my earliest, fondest recollections. It is associated with my schoolboy studies, sports, and pastimes; it had in it a spell to arouse my youthful aspirations for the good, the beautiful, and the true; it possessed a charm which won its way, as “Music from a golden bar,” into the deepest recesses of my soul; it represented to me the great republic of letters,-genius, beauty, art, eloquence, urbanity, grace, and goodness; it fired my young imagination, as did the name of Plato that of the student of Stagira, lighting the way into the groves of the Academy: and, when I first came to meet him, I felt, as Chateaubriand in his celebrated interview with Washington, that he had warmed my soul to virtue for the remainder of my days." Is this man dead? Ah, no! he lives in millions of grateful, loving hearts. Is Edward Everett dead? He lives enshrined in the innermost chambers of the heart of his agonizing country as one of her noblest defenders, her wisest counsellors, and her most eloquent avant-couriers of learning and of liberty; he lives among the illustrious of that bright spirit-land "Je m'en suis senti échauffé le reste de ma vie! Il y a une virtu dans les regards d'un grand homme." -Voyage en Amérique par M. Le Vicomte Chateaubriand, p. 277. from which he drew the light for his resplendent life, and to which that life unwaveringly aspired. He did not die; the good can never die : "He passed through glory's morning gate, And walked in Paradise." ADDRESS. AFTER SO lengthy, thorough, and finished a sketch of Mr. Everett's literary claims to remembrance, a few words, Mr. President, are needed to evince our sense of that last expression of his rich soul with which its earthly career so beautifully closed. My words must be few, because the facts are familiar; because the time has already passed at which our sessions are wont to terminate; because it is of concentrated action, rather than practical study, that I design to speak. As we have been told Edward Everett's public career commenced with the pulpit, so with the pulpit it may be said to have ended. But not now as then, to a select audience, of a single denomination, within narrow walls, among the limitations of an unwritten yet unchanging ritual: now he preached to the whole country, through all modern organs of appeal, on the broad platform of humanity, at the altar of a universal faith. More than this: in the Brattle-street pulpit he had set forth with rare eloquence the theory of philanthropy. In Faneuil Hall, through the press, by his vast personal influence, he |