earth, our beautiful earth, is like a charnel house to her.  And yet we think that the most ordinary passerby could see very satisfactory reasons why Charlotte Bronte was what she was, and felt what she felt.  Hollow cheek and faded eye, teach their wisdom to their possessor last of all.  The pale-eyed school-girl, who never played along with the other children, never ran and laughed and shouted with the rest, little knew what days and hours and years of dulness, of pain and agony, she was laying up for the future, what a premature grave she was digging for herself.  Peace be with her, her toil is over; it is now three years since Heaven received in Charlotte Bronte one angel more.

Intellect, then, needs body.  Come, then, and see me build a Man!  A calm, silent devotion, a conscience pure and reverent, a heart manful and true, an intellect clear and keen, a frame of iron,—­with these will we dower our hero, and call him Washington!

From me Washington needs no eulogy.  Free America is at once his eulogy and his monument!  It is useless to say more.  Every one here feels in his heart a higher praise than can be uttered by the tongue.  But let me ask you, What would Washington’s qualities of mind and heart have availed his country, unless the manly strength, the frame of iron had been added?  A good man he might have been, a patriot he surely would have been; but the Father of his Country, never!  The soul that trusted in God, the conscience that felt the omnipotence of justice and right, the heart that beat for his country’s weal alone, the mind that thought out her freedom, was upborne by the body that knew no fatigue, by the nerves that knew not how to tremble.

Washington had to endure physical fatigue enough to have killed three ordinary men.  And how well did his youth prepare him for a life of protracted toil.  Hear his biographer Irving.  “He was a self-disciplinarian in physical as well as mental matters, and practised himself in all kinds of athletic exercises, such as running, leaping, pitching quoits, and tossing bars.  His frame even in infancy had been large and powerful, and he now excelled most of his playmates in contests of agility and strength.  As a proof of his muscular power, a place is still pointed out at Fredericksburg, near the lower ferry, where, when a boy, he threw a stone across the river.  In horsemanship, too, he already excelled, and was ready to back, and able to manage, the most fiery steed.  Traditional anecdotes still remain of his achievements in this respect.”

Some of you have doubtless seen in Thackeray’s ‘Virginians,’ that young Warrington found that he was more than a match for the English jumpers, as indeed, writes he, he ought to be, as he could jump twenty-one feet and a half, and no one in Virginia could beat him, except Colonel G. Washington.