the source of all our glory and greatness thus far, and is the ground of all our highest hopes.  This column stands on Union.  I know not that it might not keep its position, if the American Union, in the mad conflict of human passions, and in the strife of parties and factions, should be broken up and destroyed.  I know not that it would totter and fall to the earth, and mingle its fragments with the fragments of Liberty and the Constitution, when State should be separated from State, and faction and dismemberment obliterate for ever all the hopes of the founders of our republic, and the great inheritance of their children.  It might stand.  But who, from beneath the weight of mortification and shame that would oppress him, could look up to behold it?  Whose eyeballs would not be seared by such a spectacle?  For my part, should I live to such a time, I shall avert my eyes from it for ever.

It is not as a mere military encounter of hostile armies that the battle of Bunker Hill presents its principal claim to attention.  Yet, even as a mere battle, there were circumstances attending it extraordinary in character, and entitling it to peculiar distinction.  It was fought on this eminence; in the neighborhood of yonder city; in the presence of many more spectators than there were combatants in the conflict.  Men, women, and children, from every commanding position, were gazing at the battle, and looking for its results with all the eagerness natural to those who knew that the issue was fraught with the deepest consequences to themselves, personally, as well as to their country.  Yet, on the 16th of June, 1775, there was nothing around this hill but verdure and culture.  There was, indeed, the note of awful preparation in Boston.  There was the Provincial army at Cambridge, with its right flank resting on Dorchester, and its left on Chelsea.  But here all was peace.  Tranquillity reigned around.  On the 17th, every thing was changed.  On this eminence had arisen, in the night, a redoubt, built by Prescott, and in which he held command.  Perceived by the enemy at dawn, it was immediately cannonaded from the floating batteries in the river, and from the opposite shore.  And then ensued the hurried movement in Boston, and soon the troops of Britain embarked in the attempt to dislodge the Colonists.  In an hour every thing indicated an immediate and bloody conflict.  Love of liberty on one side, proud defiance of rebellion on the other, hopes and fears, and courage and daring, on both sides, animated the hearts of the combatants as they hung on the edge of battle.

I suppose it would be difficult, in a military point of view, to ascribe to the leaders on either side any just motive for the engagement which followed.  On the one hand, it could not have been very important to the Americans to attempt to hem the British within the town, by advancing one single post a quarter of a mile; while, on the other hand, if the British found it essential to dislodge the American troops, they had it in their power at no expense of life.  By moving up their ships and batteries, they could have completely cut off all communication with the mainland over the Neck, and the forces in the redoubt would have been reduced to a state of famine in forty-eight hours.