And now, while thousands gather as at a family altar, yonder by the sea-shore, to pay glad tribute to the memory of the Pilgrims, the spirit of the little band through whom Plymouth is ever memorable walks mightily abroad, stirring millions of hearts through all the length and breadth of our land. Thus may it walk evermore, its holy memory a lesson and an inspiration.

[August 3, 1853.]

The Old Colony holiday is the theme of all the newspapers. The Celebration of the Embarkation of the Pilgrims from Delft Haven, which took place at Old Plymouth, on Monday, August 1st, was a triumphant affair from beginning to end. There never has been a local celebration in this country, which has called forth more enthusiasm or more eloquence. The spirit of the occasion seemed to fill every heart with reverence and gratitude and joy. Almost every house in the town was decorated with flags, evergreens, and mottoes; while welcoming arches spanned all the principal streets. The throng of people was immense; but the crowd, which seemed to be animated by one soul, was as still and orderly as a Sabbath congregation, only now and then giving vent in cheers to the irrepressible emotions inspired by some apt allusion to some thrilling reminiscence. The quotations and mottoes, published in to-day's Mirror, fully justify, by their appropriateness, the enthusiasm which they awakened, throughout the entire line of the procession.

The objects of the Celebration are fully and eloquently stated in the able address of the President of the Pilgrim Society, which will be found in another column, and were fully discussed in the speeches that followed. The admirable speech of Governor Clifford, and a description of the "Decorations," must have precedence to-day; to-morrow we hope to be able to give our readers a full and corrected report of Mr. Everett's great oration,one of the most eloquent and beautiful forensic efforts to which we have ever listened. There are passages in this magnificent speech that will be remembered and recited as long as Plymouth Rock endures, as long as the spirit of the Pilgrims throbs in the grateful hearts of their descendants. Mr. Everett gave his "notes" to the

reporters; and his speech is published as it was written; but there were several impromptu passages that burst from the speak. er's lips under the glowing inspiration of the moment, finer than any thing that appears in the printed speech. We hope to give, in a day or two, a perfect whole of this magnificent production, unmarred by the omission of a single word or punctuation-mark.

The scene at the dinner was beautiful and imposing. Nearly three thousand persons seated under a tent almost as large as Franconi's Hippodrome, a liberal proportion of whom belonged to the ornamental half of humanity, was a sight well worth seeing. Such a congregation of beautiful women afforded more inspiration than the wine that was n't there; fine, fresh, rosy-cheeked maidens and matrons, embroidering the vast area like a bed of sweet" Mayflowers," produced an effect "better imagined than described."

-

The speaking, in the main, was excellent. Mr. Warren, to whom the sons of the Pilgrims are chiefly indebted for this glorious ovation, presided with admirable tact, and brought each speaker gracefully and opportunely before the audience. The only criticisms proper to make are such as are applicable to almost all public occasions. But we lack space for further comment upon the grand Celebration to-day. Many things were said and suggested on this occasion which we shall gladly recur to hereafter.

In the mean time, we must not omit to remind the sons of New England that the material object of this Celebration was to raise funds for the purpose of erecting a monument upon the “Rock of Plymouth," and that already the response to the call has been prompt and generous. One of our merchant princes agrees to be one of fifty to raise the sum of fifty thousand dollars; and we doubt not but there are 66 a few more left of the same sort among us, who will do likewise.

THE CELEBRATION AT PLYMOUTH.

[From the New York Courier and Enquirer.]

It is not in wreaths and banners, nor in the excitement of festivities, that such great gatherings waste their force. From the speeches of such men as Everett, from the great thoughts uttered, debark the Pilgrim opinions, finding their way sometimes to the cold and barren coast of ignorance or utter worldliness, but often to good and fertile soil, bringing forth most abundantly. The great doctrines urged and examined at this festival were in relation to the duties of this republic in the future, whether it should be of universal conquest, or but from one good to another in contentment. Mr. Everett overlaid the path of ambition with all the gold of his eloquence. Governor Clifford, in indignant denunciation of the Wandering Jew system, claimed that the men of the Mayflower taught us their best lesson, moderation, repose in virtue. Mr. Everett suggested a republic which should hold within the sway of its institutions the Straits of Behring and of Magellan. Acutely did John P. Hale say that henceforth the wild imagery of Western orators would be considered tame and placid by the side of the bold pictures of the Pilgrim, and the audience looked significantly at Mr. Everett, who seemed to smile in significance of his belief that he had developed the real opinion of the mighty masses of the people. This restless foot of Progress may have come to Plymouth Rock, only that, by pressure on its iron-like strength, it might spring forward the more vigorously. The American people consult the labors of the reporter in these days, as of old they read the essayists, and the record of what the statesman thinks they study in that "four-paged folio."

Scarce ever have I witnessed a scene more impressive than the pavilion presented, when, as the orator of 1820, Daniel Webster was remembered. It was announced, and up rose that great multitude, softly, silently, solemnly, while the melancholy harmonies of a dirge seemed to speak most suitably the universal sorrow.

This was his own peculiar land. The distance to his last long home was but a brief one, and there were those in this throng who had borne his banner while he lived, and his pall when he died. Everett characterized the eulogy which Choate had so recently pronounced of him, as matching the oratory which is enshrined in the world's memories. In assemblages like these, the great, the unavoidable fact that Massachusetts has no longer such a man, is made vividly present. Had he been here, he would, like Everett and Clifford, have aroused the public heart to the strange doctrines of "a necessity laid upon us" for conquest. But most fortunate Massachusetts never loses the connecting link in her illustrious chain. When Otis died, the Adamses were found, and they found a successor in Webster, and he in Everett.

I think such gatherings as that at Plymouth answer the great question of Sir William Jones, "What constitutes a state? Certainly, here it is not the success of commerce, or the area of territory. One hour of Wall and South Streets would gorge State Street and Long Wharf. We could put Massachusetts in our " wilderness district." It is the men, cultured, thoughtful, eloquent. the history for Massachusetts.

the humanity, the educated, These tell the story, and form

Very curious is the combination of the country and the town in Plymouth. Directly in rear of the street, the hills look as rural as if they never heard the tramp of a policeman near them. These crooked streets are picturesque, and have the wandering-about cast of character, which one would think the ways of the Pilgrims must have possessed, "putting up" their houses just where it was easiest to get the brethren together, without thought of future city mappings. Leyden Street is somewhat straight, and so it ought to be, as it has a designation kindred to the land where every thing is fixed and certain. There are good points of defence or attack about, and they must have exercised in thoughts of fortress and strategy the good old soldiers of the Church. The hill, just in rear of the hotel, was the scene of a well-intentioned salute, but artillery had a flatness about it that indicated its duty as somewhat beyond its capacities, in deep water, -off soundings.·

There are ornamental dwellings, savoring of Upjohn and other

teachers of the beautiful in arch and balcony and tower, and there are quaint structures, shingled in all directions, as if that species of lumber in the time of our forefathers had been ridiculously cheap. Plymouth is like a room in which the furniture of the grandmother is yet allowed a place by the side of the last device of the warerooms of Broadway. It is pleasant to see them thus mingled.

Who could have furnished the profusion of flags that floated at every available position? It is usual for all gala days to interest the running up of a quantity of bunting, but Plymouth looked like a line of battle-ships adorned for a royal visit.

The Celebration has been completely successful. The alternating cloud and sunshine of yesterday is to-day succeeded by a regular blow, such an one as, clothed with the frosts of December, seemed to be the warning to the forest men that their day was coming to the night. The streets of the Old Town are returning to their usual quiet. The orators and hearers, the men of far-off cities, return home, but not one that was present will ever forget the spectacle of the vast tent, whose crowded aisles were vocal with an eloquence which few in the Old or New World can parallel. The Plymouth people in their pavilion made every arrangement for the Press. . .

Will there ever be lull enough in the tempest of our commercial activity in New York, to celebrate the coming of Hendrick Hudson, or shall we for ever forget the brave men that taught Plymouth's Pilgrims lessons of enterprise ?

It was a little after midnight on the confines that divide Saturday from Sunday, that your correspondent, in company with some very agreeable New-Yorkers, looked with great satisfaction on the legend which, over the south door of the Samoset hotel in the famous town of Plymouth, bore the words "Pilgrims' Home." The prestige of such words was delightful, for we were pilgrims. Of course the New York train had been just late enough on arriving at Boston to lose us the five-o'clock run to Plymouth. The Old Colony Road runs one of its trains on Sunday, but New-York