The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1852-12-23
Daniel websfer.--Interestin Sketch of
his Home and Family by Himself.


| his Home and Family by Himself.
| The New York Commercial has been favored
with the perusal of letter, written by Mr..
Webster to an intimate friend in that city, dated
Franklin, May 8, 1876, from which we make
the extract below, and which we are sure will
be read at this time with unusual interest:
Il have made satisfactory arrangements re-
spectng my house here, the best of which is
that can leave it where it is, and yet be COM
Portable, notwi hstanding the railroad.
| ssThis house faces due North. Its front win
dows look toward the river Merrimack. But
! then the river soon turns to the South, so that
the Eastern windows look toward the river also
But the river has so deepened its channel in
this stretch of it, in the last fifty years, that we
cannot see its waters, without approaching it,
or going back to the higher lands behind US
The history of this change is of considerable
Importance in the philosophy of streams. L
have observed it practically, and know some
thing of the theory of the phenomenon !; but
doubt whether the world will ever be benefited
either by my learning, or my observation, in
this respect.
| .tLooking out at the East windows, at this
moment, q ?. NJ with beautiful just
breaking out, my eye sweeps rich and level
I field of 100 acres. At the end of it, third of
a mile off, see plain marble grave stones, de-
signaling the places where repose my father,
my mother, my brother Joseph, and my sisters
Mehitable, Abigail and Sarah good Scripture
names, inherited from their Puritan ancestors.
''My father I. Ebenezer Webster born at
Kingston, in the lower part of the State in 1879
the handsomest man l ever saw, except my
brother Ezekiel, who appeared to me, and SO
does he to me, the very finest human
form that laid eyes on. l saw in his cof-
fin-a white forehead-a tinged cheek-a COM
plexion as clear as heavenly light But where
am l straying?
1.-The grave was closed upon him, as has on
all my brothers and sisters. We shall soon be
all together. But this is acknowledgement
leave it. Dear, dear kindred blood, how 1 love
you all .
''This fair field is before us-I could a
lamb on any part of it. L have plOughed it, and
raked it, and hoed it, but L never moved it
Some how, L could never learn to hang scythe.
L had not wit enough. My brother Joe used to
say that my father sent me to college in
der to make equal to the rest of the chii-
! dren
'.Of hot day in July-it must have been one
of the last years of Washington's administra-
ton, L making hay with my father, just
where 1 now see remaining elm tree, about
/ the middle of the afternoon. The Hon. Abiel
Foster, VI. c., who lived in Canterbury, six
miles off, called at the house and came into the
field to see my father. He was worthy man,
| college learned, and had been minister, but
=
powers. My father 7-as his friend and support
er. He talked awhile in the field, and went on
his way. When he was gone, my father called
me to him, and he sat down beneath the elm on
a hay cock. He said, 'Biy son, that is worthy
mamie is L member of Congress-he goes to
Philadelphia, and gets six dollars day, while
toll here. 1t is because he had an education,
which L never had. If had had his early ed
ucation, l should have been in Philadelphia in
his place. / came near it as it was. But Imis
sed it, and now / must work here My dear
father, said l, you shall not work. Brother
and will work for you, and wear hands
out, and you shall rest'-and l remember to
have cried-and 1 cry now, at the recollection
My child said he, 1t is of no Importance to
mel now live but for my children [ could
not give your elder brother the advantages of
knowledge, but l can, do something for you
Exert yourself-improve your opportunities
LEARN-LEARN-and when L gone, you will
not need to 90 through the hardships which |
have undergone, and which have made me an
old man before my time
The 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 1906. L neither
left him, nor forsook him, My opening of
fee at Bo scowan that 1 might be near him.
closed his eyes, in this very house. Ee died
at sixty-seven years of age-after life of ex-
ertion, toll, and exposure-a private soldier, an
officer, legislator, a judge-everything that
man could be, to whom learning never had dis
closed her ample page
E'My first speech at the bar, was made when
he the bench-he never heard me a Sec
ond time.
she had in him what recollect to have been
the character of some of the old Puritans. He
was deeply religious, but not sour-on the con-
trary, good humored, MISUNDERSTANDING even
in his age, with contagious laugh, teeth, all
as white as alabaster-gentle soft, playful-and
yet having heart in him, that he seemed to
have borrowed from lion. He could frown a
frown it was, but cheerfulness good humor and
smiles composed his most usual aspect.