4 

 brazen metals, and its glare of bon-fires and illuminations, and better than all, 

 more soul-stirring than all, that undertone of song and eloquence, which, all 

 over the country, in fervent verse and dignified prose, recited the mighty deeds 

 wrought by our wise and heroic fathers in the brave days of old. And here, 

 permit me to pause a moment to recall to your recollections the name of that 

 noble poet, whose venerable age almost spans the entire duration of our govern- 

 ment, whose admirable life is honorable to human nature, and whose fame is 

 one of the most excellent possessions of the Republic, His youthful miiid was 

 formed amid the scenery of Berkshire. As a citizen of your beautiful town he 

 made him friends of mountain and of glen, of brooks and birds, and of flowers; 

 and here and there, bit by bit, in a name, in a single phrase, or now and then 

 in a poem, he has given the features of this lovely scenery an exquisite setting 

 in his enduring verse. Bryant has friends the w^orld over. Wherever literature 

 is cultivated and the noblest qualities of manhood respected, there is his name 

 honored and beloved. But nowhere does he find a heartier appreciation than 

 among the denizens of Southern Berkshire, who walk the paths which he once 

 trod so lovingly, who hear the music of the same mountain streams, who pluck 

 the asters and the golden-rod by the wayside, who climb to the same wood- 

 crowned summits, who look in dreamy ecstasy across the wide expanse of 

 flowery meadows, and gaze with equal admiration, — though lacking the poetic 

 gift — upon the splendors of our "Autumn Woods." When 



Ere. in the northern gale, 



The summer tresses of the trees are gone, 

 The woods oi autumn, all around our vale, 



Have put their glory on. 



His voice, too, was heard amid the chorus of our National festivities, and I re- 

 peat his centennial ode here as forming in some sort the key-note of my ad- 

 dress. The verses are familiar to you all. He turns, in a few stanzas to the 

 past, and to the future. He utters words of thankfulness, of warning, and of 

 hope. He recalls tlie blood and fire, the strifes and hopes of bygone years. 

 He is not forgetful of our present greatness, he is grateful for our past success, 

 but with the enlightened vision of the true seer, h«j beholds in the dawning cen- 

 tury the possibility oi fairer, happier times. 



Throup:h storm and calm the years, have led 



Our nation on from stage to stajie, 

 A century's space. — until we tread 



The threshold of another age. 

 We see there, o'er our pathway swept, 



A torrent stream of blood and fire. 

 And thank the ruling power who kept 



Our sacred league of states entire. 

 Oh. checkered train of years farewell. 



Willi all tby strifes and hopes and fears, 

 But with us let thy memories dwell, 



To warn and lead the cominy years. 

 And tlioii thr new beginuiug ai;e. 



Warned by tlie pust and not in vuin. 

 Write ou a fairer, whiter page 

 The record of thy happier reign. 



And so, with these influences all around me, with the most resolute determina- 

 tion to do a yeoman's duty here to-day, I was swept away upon the current, 

 and borne into the very centre of the patriotic maelstrom. My notes upon the 

 Law of Inheritance lie tucked away, dust-covered, m a neglected pigeon hole, 



