Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1844-08-09
MONTPELIER, FRIDAY, AUGUST 9, 1914.


of green Ashland Standing on swelling knoll
mat uncovers its grassy breast to the first kiss of
the uprising sun, you behold your mighty ward--
Call the CHI | of the Present to look upon him
and look well, for the day will come when to hav,
seen Inc Man Of Ashland will be honor and pride.
The picture is grand ard effective. The first beams
OF the uprising sun fall upon that tall and muscu.
lar form, revealing it's outline of bone, and sinew,
unoent by time, unconqucred by the toll of thirty
years, clad In plain garments Of American texture,
Whle the hat and staff in one hand, the dropping
cloak falling over the shoulder. impart an air Of
ease mingled with majesty to his commanding pres
! ence. The high brow, rising like tower, where
thought keeps his eternal watch, the grey hairs
floating wavingly in the morning air, the bold
marked eyebrows, throwing their arch above the
large grey eye that has gazed upon all the phases
ola glant-llle with an unquailing glance, the PROM
inent nose, the high cheek bones the massive chin
| the vide mouth with lips compressed indicating
the Will that never knew what il was to falter or
| to ie1r-such is the face Of the Man of Ashland,
as, standing on the green knoll, he looks upon the
| morning sun, while far away spreads the back
ground of hill and wood, and knoll, until at last
| the blue veil of distance minges the earth with
the sky
Oh! great is the fame of the warrior full of
! glory Is the broad banner whose folds are flung
waving on the winds of conquest mighty the voice
of the nation, yelling defeat to the foe and iov to
VIC NlCtOT. uul greater lllHu all tSSe, most gOr
Gus and most mighty of all Victories are the tr-
umphs of the Man of Ashland though these tr
| umpbs are not the triumphs of war.
! His are the triumphs Of Peace! Yes yes, from
ten thousand homes there ever arise to God, the
| voice of blessing on his name There comes to
his SOUL as he thus stands on the green knoll of
Ashland, gazing at the rising sun, the voice of the
toll wrnng mechanic, beudlng over his loom, and
| that voice blesses his name. From the dim chan.
bers Of the shadowy cavern, where the miner tolls
on his ny path, raising, by slow degrees to
the light of day. the rich stores of old mother earth
! CONS the voice of the INNER, and it echoes the
! word of blessing The farmer in the golden har.
vest takes up he sound and echoes the song. From
the noisy roums Of the factory, where the crash Of
! the machinery no longer is mingled with the groans
! Of the starving operative, there comes floating
along from old men and rosy-cheeked children.
from stout manhood end tender girlhood chorus
Of Joy. chanting merry, blessings on his head
peace to his grave glory to his ashes-eterna hon
or to his name!
And why comes this mingled song of blessing
from the mechanic and the MINER the factory man
! and the factory-chill from the operative of the
crowded city, and the farmer of the golden plain ?
The Man of Ashland first originated then amid
scorn and contempt defended, and at last firmly
| established, the AMERICAN SYSTEM, which rave
independence to the American working man, wheth-
he tolls in the mine or in the field in the shop
or at the loom, which gives bread to his table, com
fort to his fre-sidc, health and happiness to his
| home
Guardian Angel of that mighty man; thou to
whom his whole career has been delight thou to
| whom the Past and Future one, roll aside
the awful curtain that stretches the stage OF
Fate and give us glimpse Of the things that shall
| be. Were the guardian spirit to speak, this might
be the burden Of his Prophecy:-
On that same gentle knoll of the Ashland hills
no longer green, but wthered by autumn, viewing
the gories OF the sunset, streaking the sky with
the dazzling red, and purple, and gold, while cloud
ed pillars and sunbeam temples pile their forms oi
grandeur along the horizon Of the dying day, there
stands the Man of Ashland silent and alone at eve
ming; there is the flush of the day god on his lofty
| brow there Is a CLEAN of a tender memory and q
dear forgiveness in his clear grey eye, as he turns
to the south and looking to the hills of Tennessee
! his soul remembers the Mighty Hero, sheltered be
meath the quiet roof of the Hermitage Yes, yes
his antagonist in the grand tournament Of national
! fane-hls rival in the race of honor-the gallant
General Of the last war, so noby defended by the
| Man of Ashland, now rests beneath the roof of the
! Interchangeable tear-oh shame it not with q
smile or scoff-the tear glistens in his eye, ana
the feeling of the olden time comes throbbng round
his heart The political antagonist, the rival in The
race of honor, the bitter opponent for the chair Of
power, all, all are forgotten, while before the sou
of the Man of the Ashland hills, arises the might,
panorama OF New Orleans, the mist above and the
alott in the midst of flame, borne upward by thu
bard OF It's warrior champion, the white haired Maj
OF the Hermitage, who at his evening hour gaze
also upon yon red sunset, and whispers, as he waits
for the master, like Simeon of old -" Lord, nov
lettest thou thy servant depart in peace"
And, as the Man of Ashland gives bis soul t
the memoiy Of the white-haired warrior whom Coz
forever bessD there comes echoing along the twi
light air the sound ofhorses hoofs, breaking The dee
silence of the Indian Summer eve, and then tn,
) horse and rider heave in sight, and come pantin!
up the hill. And the horse all white with foam
: dashes along the ascent of the knoll, the rider
whose ATTIRE covered with the dust of travel tell
you he has ridden far and long, draws packetfron
his vest and waves it in the air, Another moment
he has flung himself from his painting steed h
PUSHES hastily forward, and in silence delivers thu
packet to the Man of the Ashland Hills
: Now, Guardian Angel, we summon you for tn
last time. Look well upon your charge as he break
the heavy seals of this strange packet. His finger
; trenble, his stature datcs and increases with tn
throbbings Of his chest, his proud eye quas an
Wanders in its glance.
The packet is broken and there in manly word
the Electors Of the Nation met in solemn council
send their message to The Orphan Boy of Hanover
the young backwoodsman of the West, the chaul
pon of war in the Senate Halls, the advocate o
American Industry, the wronged, the calumniatet
and the triumphant!
And as the sun goes down to his chambers @
glory, the guardian angel smiles, and turning froI
the Man oil Ashland, as his towering frame swell
proudly erect while his eye gathers new fire in it
: glance, the guardian spirit Of the Orphan Bow o
Hanover bows low before the alta: of America
Freedom, and on the proud column by its side
writes the orphanage, the struggles, the wrongs
and the triumph of genius, in a single name tina
shines and brightens even amid the names of Wash
lngton, Adams, Jefferson and Wayne, and Jack
son, the name of O. & NRY CLAY!
TROUBLE IN NEW YORK.
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