4 
THE SOUTHERN CULTIVATOR. 
ihe only sort which the Society had not abun- 
dantly lurnished to our hand— those “ apples ol 
gold set in pictures ol silver” which the wise 
man of old had given us the synonyme of “ a 
word in season a synonyme ol which he was 
always reminded, when listening to the golden 
words and silver tones ol the distinguished 
friend, whom they had just welcomed home 
from England. 
Mr. W. said there was a time when he might 
have claimed some tellowship with the cultiva- 
tors of the soil. He had once eaten the pro- 
duce ol his own dairy ; but the experiment by 
no means proved that he knew which side his 
bread was buttered, and he was glad to fallback 
on the excellent supplies ol his friend Hovey. 
He had never cultivated flowers — not even 
the flowers of rhetoric.; and as to the sentiment- 
alities of the subject, Mrs. Caudle had quite 
exhausted them in a single sentence ol one of 
her last lectures, where she told her husband 
how “She was boin for a garden! There’s 
something about it makes one leel so innocent I 
My heart always opens and shuts at roses.” 
Yet though he mightnot employ either the 
language ol sentiment or of science, Mr. W. 
thanked heaven that he could leel as deep an 
admiration for the exquisite productions of 
Horticulture, as il he were an adept in all the 
processes and technicalities which belonged to 
it. It was one ol the great glories of such an 
exhibition that it yielded delight to every eye, 
and touched a chord in every heart. There 
was nothing exclusive atout Nature. She 
was no respecter ol persons. The rose and 
the honeysuckle smelt as sweet to the village 
beggar, as they did to Victoria ; and the most 
scientific cultivator whose name adorned these 
walls, had no more relish for his luscious clus- 
ters, than those ol us who hardly knew a Sweet- 
water from a Black Hamburg. 
Nordid these exhibitions appeal only to the 
eye and to the senses. As he was visiting the 
new and beautiful rooms of the Society this 
morning, Mr. W. said he could not help recall- 
ing some associations ol a time — more years 
ago than he might care to confess in that pre- 
sence — when he was climbing the stairways 
over that spot upon another errand and in a dif- 
ferent character — “ with satchel and shining 
morning (ace, creeping like a snail unwillingly 
to school.” Nor could he forbear regretting at 
first, that the site should have been diverted 
Irom the exalted purpose to which it had been 
so long devoted. But it needed only for him to 
enter the hall, and give a moment’s time lor the 
moral of the scene to impress itself on his 
mind, to lose all such regrets; to feel that the 
Genius of the place had not departed; ih&i edu- 
cation was still going on there ; education lor the 
heart as well as for the understanding; a moral 
education, without which the mere learning of 
the schools would be hardly better than the 
knowledge which our first parents derived from 
the forbidden tiee. 
The day had gone by (Mr. W. said,) when 
the dissecting knife of the economist could be 
permitted to make one of its merciless cuts be- 
tween utility and beauty. It the progress of 
invention had taught us to see something of 
beauty in mere utility, the progress ot humani- 
ty had taught us, also, to find a great deal of 
utility in mere beauty. No one, at any rate, 
would dare to disparage the intrinsic value of 
beoMly, before such an audience as he was then 
addressing. 
Shakspeare had, indeed, pronounced it to be 
wasteful and ridiculous excess “ to paint the 
lily or throw a perlume on the violet.” And 
so it would be. Nature had displayed some 
master works, which man could not improve. 
The violets had been called “ sweet as the lids 
ol Juno’s eyes, orCytherea’s breaih;”and of 
the lilies, it had been divinely said, that “ Sol- 
omon in all his glory, was not arrayed like one 
ol these.” Both had already a grace beyond 
the reach of art. But to multiply the varieties 
of fruit and flowers; to increase their abun- 
dance, and scatter them with a richer prolusion 
along the waysides ol life; to improve their 
quality and coloring, and fragrance, wherever 
it was possible to do so; this, the great poet 
ot Nature would have been the last person to 
call wasteful. Its utility would only be ques- 
tioned by those who counted it useless to extend 
the range of innocent recreation and virtuous 
enjoyment; useless, to brighten and strengthen 
the chain ol sympathy which binds man to 
man ; or useless, to excite a fresher or more 
Irequent glow ot grateful admiration in the hu- 
man breast towards the Giver ol all good! No 
one could take an afternoon’s ride along any 
part of our environs, and witness the beautitul 
lawns and flower gardens which encircle, as 
with emeralds and rubies, the neck oi our be- 
loved city, without feeling that he was inhaling 
something better than mere Iresh air and fra- 
grant perfume, and physical health ; nor with- 
out mingling with other and holier feelings, a 
tribute of gratitude to the skilful cultivators by 
whom these improvements had’been carried on. 
Mr. W. concluded by offering the lollowing 
sentiment, which he trusted the laie Minister to 
the Celestial Empire, at his elbow, would not 
construe into any depreciation of his success- 
ful services : 
Horticulture — It has done what diplcmatic negotia- 
tion and desperate valor have attempted in vain---il 
has penetrated to the very heart of tlie Central Flowery 
Kingdom, and brought away its richest spoils. (Great 
applause.) 
The President then gave — 
7%e Central Flowery Nation oj CAfna— We welcome 
the man who has united by closer ties the gardens of 
tile East and the gardens of the West. 
The Hen. Caleb Cushing replied as follows; 
Mr. President, and Ladies and Gentlemen— \ 
pray you to accept my most hearty acknovv- 
ledgmer.ts for the favor and indulgence with 
which you have given and received the senti 
ment just announced — still more tor the privi- 
lege I have enjoyed of witnessing your beauti- 
tul exhibition, and above all, lor the opportuni- 
ty you have afforded me of being present at 
this intellectual feast, and ot joining with you 
in your cordial and affectionate welcome of 
our eminent countryman and your fellow- 
townsman; to whom allow me to embrace this 
opportunity, the first that has offered, of tender- 
ing my warmest thanks for important, and even 
indispensable services, which in the midst of 
his own important and almost overwhelming 
official duties, he found time to extend to me at 
the antipodes. 
I am also, Mr. Presider t, most thankful for 
the opportunity of gazing on a spectacle like 
this, on the delicate and beautilul fruits and 
flowers before us, and on their introduction on 
an occasion like this. All our associations of 
beauty and taste are blended with flowers. 
They are our earliest tokens of affection and 
regard. They adorn the bridal brow at the 
wedding — they are woven in garlands around 
the head ol the conqueror — they are strewn on 
the coffins cl the dead. And here is another of 
their most grateful and beautiful uses — orna- 
menting the table at a festival, enlivening the 
scene and enchanting the eye. 
In that “Central Flowery Land” this is the 
case at all festivals— flowers there adorn the ta- 
ble and meet the eye in every direction on all 
festal occasions. But they are not there ac- 
companied by what we here enjoy. Here alone 
— here and in (T.ristian lands — woman en- 
chants and beautifies with her presence the fes- 
tive scene. Woman — our equal — shall I not 
say our moral superior. It is only here that 
such a scene can gladden the human eye. I re- 
gard this exhibition as a striking proof of the 
point which education and intellectual refine- 
ment have reached in our country' — that we 
have got beyond mere utility, and ceasing to in- 
quire how far it is incompatible with beauty 
have found that the beautilul is ol itsell useful. 
We have learned to admire art — to appreriate 
painting and sculpture — and to look upon fruits 
and flowers as models of delicacy and beauty. 
And although it is said that Massachusetts pro- 
duces nothing but the ice of her lakes and the 
granite of her hills, yet we know that she also 
produces men — free-hearted, high-minded, no- 
ble-pm posed men and women — the fairest and 
best. They are also the beautiful growth of 
our lana. It is lierethai we have the bestproof 
of the intellectual and moral elevation to which 
our favored State has ascended. And I trust 
that hereafter, mtn— natives of our soilj born, 
bred, living here, enjoying the bracing air, the 
high qualities, the strength ot character, the 
high privileges, and more than all, the high 
principles and aspirations alter all good things 
which we so highly prize, may ever be, as now, 
the indigenous product of the soil of Massa- 
chusetts. 
After further proceedings Mr. Webster rose 
and said; 
Ladies and Gentlemen;— I have obtained 
leave of the President to remind this company 
that a venerable lady honors this occasion with 
her presence. She is the daughter of Gen. Phi- 
lip Schuyler, of the Revolutionary army, and 
the widow of Alexander Hamilton. [Loud and 
continued cheering ] And, ladies and gentle- 
men, while devoted revolutionary services shall 
be remembered, and while great administrative 
talent finds a voice to sound its praises in our 
republic, neither one nor the other of these great 
names will be forgotten, nor can she cease to 
be held in the grateful remembrance of this re- 
public, who was the daughter of one and the 
bosom companion of the other of them. I pro- 
pose to you 
'File health, prosperity and long lift of Mrs. Hamil- 
ton. (Renewed applause.) 
The President said that he was requested by 
Mrs. Hamilton to return thanks lor the cordial 
manner in which she had been received, and to 
wish those present all health, happiness and 
prosperity* 
The President then announced the following 
volunteer toast : 
TVie youngest officer that ever presided over our city o f- 
fairs.'- A <'h p caught young, but a true man for effi* 
ciency. Heca»imakea hundred speeches a day, and 
ought to speak on this occasion. 
Hon. Jonathan Chapman was called upon to 
respond to this sentiment. He said : If 1 am 
the buv, Mr. Presiden', to whom you intend to 
apply that compliment, which is so luxuriant, 
that I think it must have been raised by guano — 
there are two ways in which I might answer it. 
One is to get upon stilts, put myself upon my 
dignity, and gravely defend myself. But if 1 
should attempt that, you might follow me up in 
the words, or nearly the words of the old song 
of “ The K ing and the Countryman 
‘ What! be that an ' Old Mayor’ that I see there ! 
Why, I’ve seen a Chop our village fair. 
Look more like an ‘ Old Mayor’ than that Chap there ’’ 
The other mode, and the one which on the 
whole 1 prefer, is, to ‘confess and avoid.’ And 
therefore, if you will apply to me such epithets 
as those of your toast, I have only to say, in ihe 
language of another quite old piece of poetry : 
“ You’d scarce expect one of my age 
To speak in public on the stage : (laughter.) 
And if I chance to (all below 
Demosthenes or Cicero,’’ 
[As Mr. Chapman pronounced this line, and 
indicated by a gesture two of the orators of the 
evening as those whom he alluded to, the whole 
meeting greeted him with shouts of amusement 
and applause. And, -continued he,] 
“Don’t view me wiih a critic’s eye, 
But pass my imperfections by.” 
And, sir, whether as man or boy, in office or 
out, here or elsew here, I stand so much in need 
of the charity invoked in those two last lines, 
that I repeat them liom the bottom c 1 my heart, 
“ Don’t view me with a critic’s eye, 
But pass my imperfections by.” 
Your toast, however, concludes with a lequi- 
sition upon me fora speech. Oh, sir, that you 
could realize the enormity of that requisition, 
in a position like mine. It is said, sir, and 1 
