However, they have only a faint remembrance of the emigra tion in 1620 from their port to America of some Englishmen, with prayers and good wishes of an old clergyman, who recommended them to the care of Providence, while he was detained by weakness and old age from taking the journey. Nevertheless, during the two centuries since their departure, the remembrance remained in the interesting work of the Independent Magazine.

It is an agreeable duty to Burgomaster, Aldermen, and Councillors of Delfshaven, to present you the thanks of their assembly for the affection still existing at the glorious nation of the United States of North America for our country, and the remembrance of Delfshaven, which they left to walk upon the glorious way which made North America the admiration of the whole world.

However nobody of us can profit by the amicable invitation expressed in your letter, we return our sincere thanks for your honorable attention, wishing Providence will give you its best gifts over the good land of your habitation; and the remembrances which unite North America with our dear native country may conduce to augment the relations between both the lands, by mutual friendship and estimation.

With sentiments of great respect, we subscribe ourselves,

Your most obedient servant,

G. W. HILST, Burgomaster of Delfshaven.

HYMN.

BY EPES SARGENT.

(TUNE, Old Hundred.)

NOT from a dark and angry sky
The Pilgrim band are forced to fly ;
Behind them is the summer shore,
The doubt, the gloom, are all before!

No roll of drum, no gun's salute,
To public fame their parting bruit ;

But broken prayers and sobs are given,

As Faith looks up, through tears, to Heaven.

Yet larger wealth than e'er knew wreck
Is trusted to that narrow deck;

Yet in that poor and fragile bark
God sees a mighty empire's ark.

Lord! as to them, to us extend

The care that looketh to the end;
Them thou didst guide through adverse ways, -

O, save us from our prosperous days!

HYMN OF THE PILGRIMS,

DEPARTING IN THE MAYFLOWER FROM PLYMOUTH, ENGLAND, SEPT. 6, 1620.

BY ISAAC MCLELLAN.

(AIR, America.)

Twilight's celestial sheen

Fades on the glimmering scene,

Fades soft away;

England's bright cliffs of gold
Fade, as Eve's banner's fold,
O'er the blue heavens unrolled,
Darkens the day.

Grouped on the slippery deck,
Still on that fading speck

Lingers our gaze;

Manly eyes swim with tears,
Maiden hearts sink with fears,
As the shore disappears

In the blue haze.

Foreheads all gray and old,
Foreheads with locks of gold,
Cluster around;

Brows wear the gloom of care,
Hands are clasped as in prayer,
Murmured sighs in the air

Waft their sad sound.

Sailing across the deep,
Heart-sick, we can but weep,

Exiles from home!

O'er the horizon's line,

See, its last light doth shine,

Scarce seen above the brine,
Hid by the foam.

Farewell, dear native land!
Farewell, paternal strand!
England's fair shore!

Hills with great oaks o'erspread,
With their dark pines o'erhead,
Ne'er may our loving tread
Visit you more!

Flower-filled, happy dales,.
Pastures, and rural vales,

Sylvan retreats!

Ne'er in your soft expanse

May our dear children's dance

Through your green thickets glance

In summer heats.

Mossy roofs, where entwine
Ivies and eglantine

Like a fair tree,

Church, with thy modest spire
Glancing in twilight's fire,
With thy sweet singing choir,
Farewell to thee!

Churchyard so gray and old,
Tablets grass-grown and cold,
Where our dead rest,

Oft in our evening strain
We'll bedew thee again

With the heart's sacred rain,
Far in the west!

'Mid the dark, sombre woods,
'Mid the mild solitudes,

Whither we tend,

God keep us pure and free!
God will our guardian be;

Unto Him bend the knee,
Till life shall end!

REMARKS OF GEORGE WATSON.

MR. PRESIDENT: I am not a public speaker, as you well know, and being now in the second quarter of my eighty-third year, I cannot expect to become one. But I am glad to be here this day in my native town, which I left sixty-six years ago, and commenced my pilgrimage through life, on foot. I have made some brief reflections pertinent to this occasion, which I have penned, and which I will read, if I have your permission.

"Contingere portum, et funem contingere, mihi contingit.". To arrive in port, and to lay hold of the rope, concerns me.

This beautiful sentence, in which there is but one verb, contains three important contingencies of life.

It is one of the brightest gems of the Roman language. Veni, vidi, vici, the celebrated laconic letter of the all-conquering Julius Cæsar to the Roman Senate, is not to be compared with it; for this was an effusion of a mind flushed with victory, and it well became the destroyer of his race, - himself soon after destroyed for his criminal ambition. But the sentence I have quoted breathes a philanthropy for all mankind.

Mihi contingit, it concerns me,· - it concerns you, Mr.

President, it concerns all who are here to celebrate the Embarkation from Delft Haven of our heroic fathers and mothers, when they were about to cast themselves upon the stormy Atlantic.

We know, for we have read, how their pious hearts were moved in prayer to God, that he would graciously vouchsafe to them a happy arrival at their desired haven. But from that desired haven they were diverted, and by the providence of God they were brought into this goodly harbor, to plant HERE the seed of an empire!

The historic eye beholds the unfading Mayflower safe at anchor at yonder beach point; there being no friendly hand on shore to throw them a rope.

Mr. President, the contingencies of the Latin proposition concern all who embark on the voyage of life. Let us then fervently pray, that each and all of us may at last arrive in the blessed haven, and lay hold, not of the rope, but of the HOPE, of eternal life!

MEMOIR OF GEORGE WATSON, OF ROXBURY.

I was born in Plymouth, April 23d, 1771, and within gunshot of "Plymouth Rock," which was then the property of my father, the late John Watson, Esq., who was the second President of the Pilgrim Society, and he was one of the original associ ates and the last resident survivor of the "Old Colony Club," the