for evil, throughout its duration, the impress of a mother's plastic hand. 5. The feelings are to be disciplined, the passions are to be restrained, true and worthy motives are to be inspired, a profound religious feeling is to be instilled, and pure morality inculcated, under all circumstances. Mothers who are faithful to this great duty, will tell their children, that neither in political nor in any other concerns of life, can man ever withdraw himself from the perpetual obligations of conscience and of duty; that in every act, whether public or private, he incurs a just responsibility, and that in no condition is he warranted in trifling with important rights and obligations. They will impress upon their children the truth that the exercise of the elective franchise is a social duty, of as solemn a nature as man can be called to perform; that a man may not innocently trifle with his vote; that every free elector is a trustee as well for others as himself, and that every man and every measure he supports, has an important bearing on the interests of others, as well as on his own. 6. It is in the inculcation of high and pure morals, such as these, that in a free Republic, woman performs her sacred duty and fulfils her destiny. The French are remarkable for their fondness for sententious phrases in which much meaning is condensed into a small space. I noticed lately, on the title page of one of the books of popular instruction in France, this motto; "Pour instruction on the heads of the people; you owe them that baptism." And certainly, if there be any duty which may be described by a reference to that great institute of religion, a duty approaching it in importance, perhaps next to it in obligation, it is this. You will kindly receive the assurances with which I tender to you, on parting, my affectionate respects and best wishes.-D. Webster. This speech was made to several thousand Ladies, at Richmond, Virginia, in the Autumn of 1840. It contains sentiments of immediate interest to Ladies, and worthy the adoption of every patriot and Christian. When Mr. Webster resumed his seat, James Barbour, Esq. Governor of Virginia, said: "I entirely accord with the views which have been so eloquentlyexpressed, by the highly distingulshed gentleman who has addressed you. Albiet unused to the melting mood,' I found, while he was expressing them, the tears involuntarily stealing down my cheeks, and I am persuaded that the heart of every Lady here present, more than responds to my own." EXTRACT FROM THE MOUNT HOPE DEDICA. TION ADDRESS. 1. Friends and Fellow-Citizens: The rural and picturesque scenery with which we are surrounded, strikingly harmonizes to the object which has called us together. We have come to consecrate a home for the dead. Among these sequestered shades, the living tenants of our bustling city will soon find a repose which has been denied them amid the activities, the changes, and conflicts of time's busy theatre; and the successors to their houses, occupations and wealth, will come here to read on monumental marble, their forgotten names, and to enjoy an hour of sombre thought, over their silent abodes. 2. Ay, the green lawns, the deep shades, the sighing breezes, and the forest warblers of this wild retreat, will soon claim the beauty, fashion, aspiring hopes, loves and friendships, bitter animosities, and all the earthly elements of our present social fabric. The very anticipation invests the whole scene with an air of awful solemnity. Mount Hope : "The shadow of departed hours Hangs dim upon thine early flowers; 3. The instincts of natural affection prompt us to a pious care of the dead. The tender attachments which spring up under the sunshine of our domestic habits and relations intertwine around our hearts, like the vine around the oak, whose stateliness has lifted it to heaven; nor will they cease from their hold, even when their object, yielding to the blasts of disease, age or accident, lies cold and pallid, in the embrace of the grave. 4. Who can look upon a corpse as upon other clay? Or who can contemplate, without the deepest emotion, the relaxed features of that "human form divine," which he once pressed to his bosom, with the glow of generous love, or with the warmth of honorable friendship? It matters not, though worms claim it for their prey, and it will soon be dissolved to common dust; still, so long as it retains the impress of those organs, through which the qualities shone, that commanded our love or esteem, how can we withhold from it the tokens of tender regard? Are not the heart's most virtuous promptings concerned, in our care of the dead? 5. And when the mortal remains are dissolved into their primeval elements, how does the place in which we left them to this mouldering process, become consecrated to our feelings and recollections? We approach it with reverence: our emotions yield to the rush of tender associations, and our eyes overflow with tears; the solemn hues of eternity tinge the whole scene, and we seem to " tread quite on the verge of heaven." If you have ever lost a friend, you know what it is to have the warmest feelings awakened towards a cold mass of clay. You have laid the hand of love on the marble brow, and imprinted the kiss of affection upon the blanched cheek; you have lingered among the graves as an enchanted spot, "While silently around it spread, You felt the presence of the dead." 6. Oh, thoughts of religion and eternity are no exotics, but plants of indigenous growth in the grave yard. We come here, not merely to look upon the cold earth, nor the blooming lawn, nor the smooth surface of the pool that mirrors the neighboring landscape, nor the more inspiring monuments, with their lettered memorials of buried generations, nor the wild flowers that skirt the grave, and grow on the margin of the still waters; but we come for the no. bler purpose of communing with a higher world; and to give scope to those tendencies within, which leads us up to immortality. It is a scene of high and awful import. 7. In selecting the places of repose for our departed friends, we contrive to give vent to the tender feelings which their loss has awakened. Beautiful groves in the neighborhood of pelucid streams, and the silvery expanse of the deep still lake, where the dove delights to utter her plaintive tones of love, and the cuckoo sings her mournful ditty; there, amid the bold elevations, gentle slopes, and profound valleys of broken surface, remote from the tumults of a contending world, affection and piety have ever been wont, to seek a place of rest, for the relics of the dead. 8. Nor are we less solicitous, in preparing the body, for the grave. What a mournful care do we bestow on those silent remains, which never return a token of pleasure, to requite our toil! Not a look, nor pressure of the hand, nor single pulsation, responds to our expression of sympathy, and yet, what heart would restrain the emotions which prompt to these affectionate offices? Though we confer no pleasure, is it not a sweet relief, to our overbur dened feelings, to perform them? 9. No sooner does the breath cease to heave the lungs, than we close the eyes, as in sleep, compose the hands to rest upon the motionless bosom, oil and comb the hair; and then, instead of wrapping the body in worthless cloth, which would be equally satisfactory to the dead, we dress it in muslins of the purest white, deposite it in a coffin decently made, and with every mark of tenderness, we bear the precious relic, to its last abode. And, as it sinks to its final resting place, the language of our hearts to the new made grave, is, rest lightly, O earth, upon the bosom of my friend, 10. And when all is past,―o our friends are beyond our sight, and we, in the character of mourners are going about the streets, there is a melancholy pleasure in ornamenting the place of their burial, and preserving it from desecration. Who could witness without pain, the grave of a husband, a wife, a child, or a parent, trampled down and profaned? 11. At few points on the surface of the globe, has nature been more liberal, in its provision for giving scope to the principles in question, than in the neighborhood of our own city. When you stand on the summit of Mount Hope, how enchanting is the prospect! Before you lies the thronged city, with its spires and minarets, pointing to heaven. Far off beyond the city, the broad blue Ontario skirts the undefined distance, as if to remind you of the boundless fields of existence, which eternity will unfold, and to make you feel how few and meagre are the objects subjected to our present inspection, compared with those in the distance, which a future world will disclose. 12. How favorable are these hills and slopes for the construction of tombs! But it matters not whether our dead repose in a mean or honored locality, whether their names perish with the age in which they lived or survive in the enduring granite of the tomb, their dust will spring to life, at the voice of the archangel and the trump of God. His searching survey, penetrating even to the crude elements of nature, will single out the portion nesessary to the reconstruction of the soul's original casement, and his power will consign it to immortality. Till that eventful period, we dedicate this wild retreat to the repose of the dead. 13. Let this place henceforth be visited, to revive the memory of departed friends, and to anticipate the exalted scenes of eternity. Here let the lover find a retreat of quiet weeping, over the untimely fate of his betrothed, and to deck her grave with flowers. Here, let the father erect his monument, to the memory of his noble son, who, from the threshold of a promising manhood, dropped into eternity. 14. Here, let the profligate son catch the inspirations of repentance and virtue, as he gazes on the last memorials of his pious parents. Here, let the daughter revive a mother's image and endearments, "While this place of weeping still Its lone memorial keeps, Whilst on her name 'midst woods and hills The quiet sunshine sleeps.". 15. Here, let maternal love find a calm resort to awaken |