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were seated, at about 3 P. M. We have nothing to say about the dinner as such, except that it was what reasonable people expect on such an occasion, pleasant in its array, and seemingly plentiful, but not intended to appease ravenous hunger, delight the epicure, or make eating a very palatable enjoyment. Our position, a nice one for what we went for, was a little out of the reach of attendance, and the company were the "waiters "; therefore we magnanimously conclude, that even the lack of as many cups of cold water as a thirsty dozen craved, was a provincial and local destitution. But we soon had the feast,- the only one worth caring about. The Chair was filled by Mr. Richard Warren, President of the Pilgrim Society, who discharged his duties energetically, frankly, and in a manner that showed how thoroughly his heart was in the work, making a pleasure out of an arduous position. With brief allusions to the locality, the history of the past, and the nature of the gathering, he welcomed the company, announcing, as the material and substantial portion of his address, the design recently formed, and partly executed, of collecting funds to rear a monument to the Pilgrims on "The Rock." He stated that $6,000 had already been contributed in Plymouth alone, and read a letter from Hon. Moses Grinnell of New York, offering generous aid. Later in the afternoon, Mr. Warren announced the reception of a letter from Hon. David Sears, subscribing $500, and reserving the right to give as much more as he pleased.

Governor Clifford was the first speaker introduced. For its warmth of feeling, just sentiments, finished style, its lights and shadows, or alternations from the grave to the gay, without violent transitions or loss of dignity, indeed, for all the qualities of an eloquent and effective speech, this was a noble effort; proving that our chief magistrate must by universal consent be regarded as an accomplished orator. But the tone and doctrine of this address were the things to be commended. It was religious and reverential to the past, and sought no future of greatness or prosperity, which did not spring from the principles and was not inspired by the spirit of the Pilgrims, no progress that was not a Christian progress. The condemnation of the reckless, conquest-loving, "manifest destiny" doctrine was very fine, and almost solemn, as a timely warning.

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Hon. Edward Everett was next called out. After a felicitous preface, he traced and pictured in his own best style which is saying enough certainly the providential preparation made for the discovery and settlement of the New World, and then spoke of the results of that great event as they are and are to be. He presented with glowing eloquence a brilliant and ever-enlarging prosperity for the republic, in passages of elaborate rhetoric, such as he is a master of. We were glad he too - though declaiming so grandly of "progress "- took care to recognize distinctly the religious element and faithfulness to Christian principles. We are not of the number of those who think the passion for enlargement needs any stimulant in this land; and so we confess that we prized more Mr. Everett's closing remarks, in which he so admirably described and rebuked the irreverent sceptical credulity, the Sadducean philosophy of the times, and insisted on the union of faith in God with civil liberty. If his splendid, gorgeous vision of the future is only attended by the sanctifying safeguards he depicted, none will care how soon it is a reality; but without those safeguards, the blessing would be its indefinite postponement.

The Hon. Charles Sumner gave us another finished address, in which he held up the Pilgrims as an example of both the persecution and the triumph awaiting all reformers. He caught these words of noble cheer from Plymouth Rock:—

"New occasions teach new duties; Time makes ancient good uncouth; They must upward still and onward, who would keep abreast of Truth: Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires! We ourselves must Pilgrims be, Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea."

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The fourth of the speeches which were most marked for their substance or the sources from which they came, was the characteristic alike for its exceeding good humor and profound serious- speech of the Hon. John P. Hale. He playfully insisted on assuming the privilege of age, and, as his own career was completed, of giving a little counsel to young or ambitious politicians yet in the field. He had feared that the school wherein he had been for eight years might have unfitted him for this sober occasion, and that some of the bold tropes which had served the as

piring in the Senate might unawares slip from his tongue. But his anxiety was over; for the boldest figures that ever rang beneath the dome of the Capitol were tame in comparison with what had come from Pilgrim lips addressed to Pilgrim ears! We had heard of the genius of the country swallowing Chimborazo for supper and kissing sunset with affectionate embrace! On reflection, it might be quite appropriate, for where should Young America come to maturity first, if not in Old America's house? Passing from this humorous strain, Mr. Hale, in noble, manly tones of strong emotion, described the long struggle for religious liberty, and ably argued that the winning of the revolution for spiritual freedom by the Pilgrims had won the later revolution for civil freedom; and so he affirmed, for all good success, their faith, courage, and reverence for the Divine law were essential.

The excellent remarks by Hon. Charles W. Upham of Salem, Rev. Samuel Osgood of New York, and of other gentlemen, as well as the "sentiments" generally, we should be glad to refer to, but the room and time to do so are not at our command.

The day at Plymouth- we love to take such days, as they offer themselves, in a generous and grateful, and not a critical spirit was, almost without exception, a grand day, - a day suggestive of significant contrasts between the past and the present, wherein the memory of the fathers came, demanding the gratitude and appealing to the hearts and consciences of the children. We believe it could not have been to any serious mind a mere holiday, and trust that the remembrance of it will be more profitable than the remembrance of seasons that are only festive seasons. It was pleasant as its golden hours flew by; may it be true to many that a blessing crowned their departure, and that they witnessed the birth or the confirmation of true purposes and right principles,—that something of the Pilgrim's conscience and faith, to conserve our fairer civilization, was gained by standing on the Pilgrims' Rock!

THE PLYMOUTH FESTIVAL.

[From the New York Evening Mirror, August 2.]

IN so far as we have received account of the festival doings of the descendants of the Pilgrims, at Plymouth, they have been worthy of the occasion. More magic words could not ring out among New England's hills and valleys, or, far beyond, through the newer and broader States of the Union, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, than "the Pilgrims" and "Plymouth Rock." They are words linked to a people and spot consecrated in the hearts of millions, a people and spot hallowed for ever by heroic history, and endeared by numberless less public, but not less tender, brave, beautiful, and sublime traditions.

These words, "the Pilgrims" and "Plymouth Rock," are watchwords to all the host of proud and grateful descendants, who, scattered in widening circles from the ancestral seed, now form the nerve and sinew of a mighty nation, - a nation the freest on earth, the noblest balanced, the most intellectual, and the most vigorous. Other roots of the Republic there are, deep, strong, and noble roots; but the Pilgrim root is deepest, strongest, and noblest. Planted in a sterile spot, by the rock-side in the wilderness, with no cradle hymn but a trustful prayer to God and the winter moaning of the desolate sea, it could but grow deep and strong, if it grew to stand and flourish at all.

How it took hold in that sterile spot! Not the rigors of winter, nor the gloom of the forest, nor the fierce whoop of mortal foe, nor the sad psalm of ocean ever telling of the fatherland, — the old homes and altars and graves, could shock its endurance, bend its determination, or pluck up a single fibre of its earth-clinging strength. Transplanting itself at the greatest sacrifice and peril, it had found a new soil whereon not to faint and perish, but to grow and expand, a shelter, and seed, and fruit, for countless coming generations.

The Pilgrims have not been over-lauded. They had their foibles and faults, their short-comings and lack of true godliness. All this is confessed on the fair page of their history. But the

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evil of their lives is as nothing, when weighed against the good. All the heroism of great battles, where ambitious conquest was the goal, is less than that of the men and women who gave up all that was dear of native land and home, of place, wealth, and comfort, and dared, in the fragile Speedwell and Mayflower, cross the ocean, to plant a freer home for themselves, their children, and children's children. And their faith and endurance was like that of the martyrs, forced to a stake from whence there is no escaping, though their path was of their own seeking, and might have been abandoned at will.

To the Pilgrims belongs preeminent fame. Their courage, their piety, and their love of liberty were grand. Other colonists, or adventurers, had more glittering objects before them. Mines of gold and silver, broad, rich plantations, profitable traffic and lives of luxurious ease or flattering preferment, allured them to the New World. They girded on the sword and shipped their merchandise for a worldly conquest. The Pilgrims were of another caste. They thought less of the mildness of climate, genial soil, and shining treasures heaped in the earth's bosom. They sought asylum from the oppressor's hand. They desired a home where they might freely walk and worship. The visions that charmed De Soto and Raleigh were to the Pilgrims as "sounding brass." So they turned their prows and steered their barks to bleaker shores. The wilderness was as nothing if the spirit could be unfettered, the soul and the tongue free.

Once transplanted, and the beginning of a great end — an end far greater than they conceived-was accomplished. They had henceforth but to grow, as they did, against the buffetings of soil, climate, and savage foes; against hardships unparalleled, and with a firm trust in God, undeviating from what they believed to be right, they wrote their record in patient, heroic deeds and lives, and left it, shining all over with great virtues, a proud bequest to their children and to after-times. All over New England and the Union, wherever the simple church-spire points heavenward, and the school-house stands an ark of light by the way-side, and the "decent graves "" whiten the hill-slopes with their memorial stones, be sure the spirit of the Pilgrims has paused and passed.

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