The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1852-11-10
From the Commercial Advertiser,
DANIEL WEBSTER.

intimate friend in this city. dated Franklin.
Nav Sd. 1876. from which we make the ex-
tract below. aud which we are sure will be
read al This time with unusual interest:
have made satisfactory arrangements
respecting my house here, the best Of which
is that Gan leave il where IL is. and yet
be comfortable notwithstanding the rail-
road.
TAis house faces due north. lis front
windows look toward the river Merrimack.
But then the river soon turns to the south,
90 that the eastern windows look toward
the river also. But the river has so deep
ened its channel in this stretch oft, in the
last fifty years. That we cannot see its wa
ters, without approaching it. or going back
to the higher lands behind US. The his
tory Of this change is of considerable i'm
portance in the philosophy of streams. |
have observed it practically, and know
something Of the theory of the phenome-
non; but | Joubt whether the world will
ever be benefited. either by my learning or
nv observation in this respect.
Looking out at the east windows this
moment, e. p. n.y. with a beautiful sun
just breaking out. my eye sweeps a rich
and level. field Of one hundred acres At
the end Of it, a third of a mile off, | see
plain marble grave stones, designating the
places where repose my father. my moth
er, my brother Joseph. and my sisters
Mehitable. Abigail. and Sarah-good Scrip
tufe names, inherited from their Puritan
ancestors. 9t aisiiaf
e,My father! Ebenezer Webster!-born at
Kingston. in the lower tart of the State. in
l739-fhe handsomest man | ever saw
except my brother Ezekiel, who appeared
to me. and 80 does he now seem to me. the
very finest human form that ever laid eyes
IN. saw him in his cofin-a white fore
head-a tinged cheek-a complexion as
clear as heayenly light! But where am !
straying!
1.-The grave has closed upon him, as it has
on all my brothers and sisters. We shall
soon be all together. But this is melan.
~choly--and leave it. Dear, dear kindred
blood, how | love you all!
g This fair field is before mel could see
alamb on any part Of it. have ploughed
ii, and raked il, and hoed it. but | never
moved il. Some how, Icould never learn
toshang a scythe! had not wit enough.
Mybrother Joe used to say that my father
sent me to college in order to make me
equal to the rest Of the children!
On a hot day in July-it must have been
one o fthe last years of W~ashington's adj
ministration-l was making hay, with my
father, Just where | now see a remaining
elm tree, aboutthe middle of the afternoon.
The Hon. Abel Foster, NJ. c., who lived
in Canterbury, six miles off, called at the
house, and came into the field TO see my
father. He was a worthy man, college
learned, and had been a minister, but was
not a person of any considerable natural
powers. My father was his friend and
supporter. He talked awhile in the field,
and went on his way. When he was gone.
my father called me to him, and we sal
down beneath the elm on a hay cock. He
said, "My son. that is a worthy mamie
is a member Of Congress-he goes to Phil
adelphia, and gets six dollars a day, while
Itoil here. 1t is because he had an edu-
cation. which | never had. If ! had had
hisfearly education | should have been in
Philadelphia in his place. came near it
as it was. But missed it, and now must
work here" "My dear father" said |.
"you shall not work. Brother and | will
work for you, and wear our hands out. and
you shall rest;" and | remember to have
cried-and | cry now at the recollection .
"My child" said he, sits ONO Importance
to mel now live but for my children;
could not give your elder brother the adj
vantages of knowledge, but | can do some
thing for you. Exert yourself--improve
your opportunities-learn-learn-and when
lam gone you will not need TO 90 through
the hardships which have undergone, and
which have made me an old man before
SThe next May he took me to .Exeter-to
the Philips Exeter Academy-placed me
! under the tuition of its excellent preceptor,
DR.. Benjamin Abbott, still living.
My father died in April, 1905, neither
left him. nor forsook him. My opening
an office at Buscawen was that | might be
near him. | closed his eves in this very
house. He died at sixty-seven years of
age, after a life Of exertion. toll, and expo
sure-a private soldier. an officer, a legis-
lator, a judge-everythingth a man could
be to whom learning never had disclosed
her sample page"
My first speech at the bar vas made
when he was on the bench. He never
heard me a second time.
He had in him what I recollect to have
been the character Of some Of the old Pa.
.ritans. He was deeply religious, but moi
souf-on the contrary, good humored. IA
cetious-showing even in his age, with a
contagious laugh, teeth, all as white as
alabaster--gentle. soft. playful--and YET
having a heart in him that he seemed to
have borrowed from a lion. He could