no mines, glittering with gold and silver, to tempt the avarice of the selfish, or to stimulate the hopes of the ambitious. It presented an irregular and rocky front, lashed by the waves of a stormy ocean, and frowning with dark forests and bleak promontories. Its rough and stubborn soil yielded with reluctance to the labors of the husbandman; and the severities of a northern winter, for almost half the year, stripped the earth of its vegetation by its bitter blasts or drifting snows. It required stout hands and stouter hearts to encounter such discouragements; to subdue the ruggedness of nature, and to wait the slow returns, which perseverance and industry alone could reasonably hope to obtain. Men must have strong motives to lead them, under such circumstances, to such a choice. It was not an enterprise, which, being conceived in a moment of rashness, might by its quick success plead its own justification. It had none of the allurements of power, or the indulgences of pleasure, or the offerings of fame, to give it attractions. Higher motives and deeper thoughts, such as engross the passions and the souls of men, and sink into comparative insignificance the comforts of social life, are alone adequate to produce such results. One might well say, as Tacitus did of the Germany of his own times,* "Quis porro, præter periculum horridi et ignoti maris, Asiâ aut Africâ aut Italiâ relictâ, Germaniam peteret, informem terris, asperam cœlo, tristem cultu aspectuque, nisi si patria sit?" Who, independently of the perils of a terrific and unknown sea, would leave the soft climates of Asia, Africa, or Europe, and fix his abode in a land rough and uncultivated, with an inclément sky and a dreary aspect, unless indeed it were his mother country? It should excite no surprise, therefore, that a century had passed away after the Cabots discovered the southern part of this continent, and yet the Aborigines remained there in undisturbed security. Even the neighbouring colony of Plymouth, where the renowned Pilgrims, under Carver, Bradford, and Winslow, had already raised the standard of liberty and the cross, was encountering the severest trials, and struggling almost for existence. There were not a few friends, who began to entertain fears, that unless succours came in from other quarters, this noble band of worthies, worn down by hardships and discouragements, might be destined, at no distant period, to follow the fate of other adventurers, or be reduced to a * Hutchinson, in his History (vol. i. p. 2.) cites the passage. It is from Tacitus, De Germaniâ, c. 2. narrow factory.* Their original scheme of colonization involved in it some fatal defects, which were afterwards corrected by their own wisdom and experience. The notion of a community of property and profits was utterly incompatible with the growth of a state. It cut off, at a blow, every excitement to individual enterprise; and, by its unequal distribution of burthens and benefits, sowed far and wide the elements of discord. The followers of the excellent Robinson might, indeed, comfort themselves with the present possession of a refuge from religious oppression; but the possibility of a dissolution of their connexion at any period, however remote, must, whenever it was suggested, have filled their hearts with sorrow, and, even when least indulged, sometimes have disturbed their peace. Their own language, in defence of their settlement at Hartford, affords a striking picture of their situation. "They lived upon a barren place, where they were by necessity cast; and neither they, nor theirs, could long continue upon the same; and why should they be deprived of that, which they had provided, and intended to remove to, as soon as they were able?”† At the distance of ten years from their first landing, the colony could scarcely number three hundred inhabitants; a proof, at once, of the magnitude of their difficulties, and of the heroic zeal and perseverance, which met them without shrinking or dismay. By the blessing of God, however, our Fathers also came hither, and, in connexion with the good "Old Colony," fixed henceforth, and, as we fondly trust, for ever, the settlement and destiny of New England. And we are met, on the very spot first trodden by their footsteps, on the very day first welcoming their arrival, to celebrate this memorable event. It is fit, that we should so do. What occasion could occur more worthy of our homage? What recollections could rise up, better adapted to awaken our gratitude, cheer our hearts, and elevate our thoughts? Who is he that can survey this goodly land, and not feel a present sense of its various blessings? Let him cast his eyes over our mountains, or our vallies, our deep forests, or our cultivated plains. Let him visit our villages, and hamlets, and towns, thickening on every side, and listen to the sounds of busy, contented, thrifty industry. Let him view the green meadows, and the waving fields, and the rich orchards, * 2 Hutch. Hist. 468, 469, 470, 472, 476; Prince's Annals, 268; Robertson's America, book 10; 3 Hist. Collect. 417. t2 Hutch. Hist. 469, &c. Robertson's America, book x. p. 267; Chalmers's Annals, p. 97. See also the Commissioners' Report in 1665 (3 Hutch. Collect. 417). Let rising under his eyes in alternate order, yielding their products in profusion, and quickened into fertility by the labors of man. him hold communion with the inhabitants of these peaceful abodes, with the mountaineers, and peasants, and yeomen, the lords of the soil, the reapers of their own harvests, who look proudly down. upon their own inheritance. Let him learn from them the resolute spirit, the manly virtues, the intelligence and piety, which pervade New England. Let him glance at the neighbouring metropolis; its splendid spires glittering in the sun; its noble hospitals and public charities; its crowded and well-built streets; its beautiful harbour, floating on its bosom the commerce of the world, and reflecting on its surface islands, and islets, and shores of ever varying magnificence; its amphitheatre of hills, whose gentle slopes whiten with neat mansions, or soften into shade, under the joint ministry of nature and art; its lofty halls, where eloquence has burst forth in strains of patriotism, which have made captive the souls of thousands; its visible industry, and enterprise, and public spirit, gathering into the lap of a common mother the products of all climates, and spreading out a generous hospitality. Let him catch, in the distant reach, the walls of our venerable University, cemented by the solid strength of centuries, where learning and religion obtained their early glory, and will, we trust, receive their latest praise. Let him, I say, contemplate these scenes, and survey this goodly heritage; and who is he, even though a stranger to us and ours, whose voice shall not eagerly ask our lineage, our ancestry, our age? Who is he, that here inhales his natal air, and embraces his mother earth, and does not rejoice, that he was born for this day, and is privileged to pour out his thanks, and offer up his prayers at the home of his forefathers? To us, indeed, who own the local genius, and feel the inspirations of the place, the day may well be presumed to be crowded with thick-coming fancies and joyance. We may not turn our eyes on any side, without meeting objects to revive the images of the primitive times. We can still realize the fidelity of the description of the voyager of 1629, who said, "We passed the curious and difficult entrance into the large, spacious harbour of Naimkeake; and, as we passed along, it was wonderful to behold so many islands replenished with thick wood, and high trees, and many fair green. pastures." The woods have disappeared; but the islands and the fair green pastures remain with more than native beauty; and the rivers still meander in their early channels. This "city of peace," so called by our fathers, as significant of their enjoyment of civil and religious freedom, still boasts its ancient name; still justifies the original allusion to the scriptures, "In Salem also is God's tabernacle, and his dwelling-place in Zion."* The thin and scattered settlements can no longer be traced. But in their stead, are found spacious streets, and neat dwellings, and lively schools, and numerous churches, and busy marts, and all the fair accompaniments of opulence and knowledge, simplicity of life and manners, unobtrusive refinement, and social kindness. Yet, in the midst of these blessed changes, we can point out the very spot, where the first flock was gathered, and the first church consecrated to the service of the living God; where the meek and learned Higginson (alas, how soon to perish!) first raised his voice in prayer, and with trembling lips, and pale cheeks, where sorrow and sickness had worn many an early furrow, discoursed most eloquently of life, and death, and immortality, the triumphs of faith, and the rewards of obedience. Yes, it is still devoted to the same holy purpose. There, the voice of praise, and thanksgiving, and prayer still ascends from pious hearts; there, the doctrines of salvation are still preached with enlightened zeal and charity; there, the humble, the contrite, and the pure still assemble in sweet communion, and worship God in spirit and in truth. The sepulchres of our forefathers are also among us. We can trace them through all their various labors to their last appointed home; "sedes ubi fata quietas ostendunt." Time has not yet levelled the incumbent sod, nor the moss overgrown the frail memorials erected to their worth. But their noblest monument is around us, and before us. Their deeds speak their eulogy in a manner, which it requires no aid of language to heighten. They live in their works; not, indeed, in the perishable structures of human skill, in marble domes or triumphal arches, in temples or in palaces, the wonders of art; but in the enduring institutions, which they created, in the principles, which they taught, and by which they sought to live, and for which they were ready to die. On these they laid the solid foundations of our strength and glory; and on these, if on any thing human, may be written the words of immortality. Our graveyards offer no better epitaph for them than that, Here lie the Founders of New England; and brief though it be, and of simple phrase, it has a * 1 Historical Collections, 117; Psalm 1xxvi. See the excellent dedication sermon of the Rev. Mr. Upham, one of the pastors of this church, in November, 1826. pregnant meaning, the extent of which no human mind has yet grasped. It can be unfolded only with the destiny of our latest posterity. May I venture on some allusions not unbecoming this occasion, and yet of a nature somewhat personal, though not, I trust, obtrusive? I speak in the presence of the descendants of these men. Their names sound with familiar welcome in our streets, and greet us on every side, as we pass along. They seem to live again in their offspring. Their images grace our processions, and throng our churches, and enliven our festivals. We feel almost as in their conscious presence, and listen to the voices of other days. When, in the enthusiasm of poetry, we are asked, " And the pilgrims, where are they?" where are Winthrop, and Endicott, and Higginson, and Dudley, and Saltonstall, and Bradstreet, and Pickering, and Sprague, and Pynchon, and Hathorne, and Conant, and Woodbury, and Palfrey, and Balch, and the other worthies? we are ready to exclaim, - They are here. This is their home. These are their children. There is yet among us one, who brings their revered forms before us with peculiar dignity, and is at once the representative of their age and our own. Generation after generation has passed away, and yet he survives, the model, and the monument of a century. His early youth almost clasped the knees of the pilgrims. He was familiar with their sons, and listened to their story from the lips of those, who painted with the vividness of contemporaries, and with the feelings of Puritans. Standing upon the very verge of the first century, he seems the living herald of the first settlers, breathing into our souls their very words and sentiments, as one, who speaks not for the dead, but for those, who yet sojourn on the earth. Time in his favor has relaxed his wonted course, and touched even the faded graces of the past with a kind and mellowing charm. If one were to task his imagination to portray a patriarch of primitive simplicity, warmed with the refinements of these latter days, he could scarcely clothe the being of his own creation with other qualities than we have seen. He could not fail to point out to us a form, venerable for wisdom, learning, and modesty, in which the spirit of philosophy and benevolence was sustained by meekness and piety; in which blamelessness of life, cheerfulness of heart, and gratitude for past blessings, imparted solid lustre to a faith, and hope, and joy, resting upon immortality. Well may it be asked of such a being, in the tender language of |