The Weekly Perrysburg journal. [volume] (Perrysburg, O. [Ohio]) 1861-1???, 1862-12-24
Am Amrritan geaena.
THE LAST HOURS OF JEFFERSON
AND ADAMS.
BY GEORGE LIPPARD.

Fits years had passed away; the Fourth Of
July Ii6, had been made immortal by its Dec
aration; the fourth # July, 1926, was to be
forever rendered Holy Day, by the hand OF
Death.
On that serene morning. the sun rose beauti-
fully upon the world, shining upon the young
brotherhood OF States, ex.ending from the wilds
of Maine to the GIf of Mexico, with the At
| lanic glitterng like belt of waves and beams
along its Eastern shore, the Mississippi vending
four thousand miles through its Western border,
while ruggedly sublime, the Alleghanies tow
cred in the centre of the land.
The same sun, hfty years before, had lighted
up, with its smile Of good omen, a little nation
Of thirteen Ptovince', Nesting between the
AlIeghanies and the Atlantic, and fighting even
for that space, bounded BY mountains and riv-
ers, with the greatest and bloodest power in
the world.
The battle of eight years had been fought
| England, foiled in the revolution, had been
humbled to the dI1s again ftty years had
passed away; the thirteen Provinces of the
bloody Monarch had sweled into twenty -four
|
waved so glorously in the Revolution, unveil
ing its thirteen stars to the bood-red glare of
battle now futtering in the summer morning
air, from Home, and Church, and Council Hall,
flashed from its folds the blaze of twenty -four
stars, joined in one sun of Hope and Promise.
The wild eagle who had swooped 30 hercelv
On the British host some ffty years before, now
|
sat calmly on his mouHtain cgag, surveying his
banper, crimsoned with the light of victory,
while the peaceful land beautiful with river and
valley, biossomed on every side.
It was the Fourth of July, 1926 From the
rohed virgins aud snless children - scattering
flowers oy the way; in the deep forests the
voice of praise and prayer arose to God; from
the pulpit the preacher spoke beside the old
cannon that blszed away at Germantown stood
the veteran of the Revolution, as battered and
Scared as the cannon which he fred in the
wide cities ten thousand hearts throbhed with
one common joy; and the flowers that were
scattered by the way, the words that the
preacher spoke, and the hymn that the forest
echoes sent to Heaven, the blaze of the cannon,
and the JOY of the wide city, all had one mean
ing: "This land that was once the Province
OF king, is now the Homestead of people"
And yet, while the hearts of fourteen mil,
lions of people palpitated with the same Joy,
there came an unseen and shsdoyy Messenger,
who touched two brave hearts with his hand,
and froze them into clay.
EOan whila tho iuhilaa nf fraadop, rann ;ts
hosaunRs from every wood aud dell, Death was
in the land. SoemnIy, with that step thai
never makes sound, with that voice which
speaks the language of Eternity - aud which
we never bear translated until we die - Death
glded into the chamber Of two heroes, aud
bade them Home to God
Almost at The same moment, almost within
the compass of the same hour, two hearts -
that once warmed with the passion of freedom
he frenzy of eoquence - we're stopped for.
ever.
We will go to the room of old age, we viii
stand beside the bed of death, We will see the
sunbeams OF July the Fourth, 1896 PLAYING
} over the clammy brows Of the Brother Heroes
The First Homel
Does it not look beautiful, the very picture o
rustic comfort and unpretending wealth, as Il
rises yonder on the soil of Massachusetts,, the
land OF Hancock and Warren, that mansior
} with many windows, porch extending along IL
front, fair flowers and richly fOliaged trees
blooming from its ha-door to the roadside
gate. The house ia very STILL 1t is near bigt
noon. You can see the roof with cOrnicet