they had established the elements of a social system,[7] and at a much earlier period had settled their forms of religious worship.  At the moment of their landing, therefore, they possessed institutions of government, and institutions of religion:  and friends and families, and social and religious institutions, framed by consent, founded on choice and preference, how nearly do these fill up our whole idea of country!  The morning that beamed on the first night of their repose saw the Pilgrims already at home in their country.  There were political institutions, and civil liberty, and religious worship.  Poetry has fancied nothing, in the wanderings of heroes, so distinct and characteristic.  Here was man, indeed, unprotected, and unprovided for, on the shore of a rude and fearful wilderness; but it was politic, intelligent, and educated man.  Every thing was civilized but the physical world.  Institutions, containing in substance all that ages had done for human government, were organized in a forest.  Cultivated mind was to act on uncultivated nature; and, more than all, a government and a country were to commence, with the very first foundations laid under the divine light of the Christian religion.  Happy auspices of a happy futurity!  Who would wish that his country’s existence had otherwise begun?  Who would desire the power of going back to the ages of fable?  Who would wish for an origin obscured in the darkness of antiquity?  Who would wish for other emblazoning of his country’s heraldry, or other ornaments of her genealogy, than to be able to say, that her first existence was with intelligence, her first breath the inspiration of liberty, her first principle the truth of divine religion?

Local attachments and sympathies would ere long spring up in the breasts of our ancestors, endearing to them the place of their refuge.  Whatever natural objects are associated with interesting scenes and high efforts obtain a hold on human feeling, and demand from the heart a sort of recognition and regard.  This Rock soon became hallowed in the esteem of the Pilgrims,[8] and these hills grateful to their sight.  Neither they nor their children were again to till the soil of England, nor again to traverse the seas which surround her.[9] But here was a new sea, now open to their enterprise, and a new soil, which had not failed to respond gratefully to their laborious industry, and which was already assuming a robe of verdure.  Hardly had they provided shelter for the living, ere they were summoned to erect sepulchres for the dead.  The ground had become sacred, by enclosing the remains of some of their companions and connections.  A parent, a child, a husband, or a wife, had gone the way of all flesh, and mingled with the dust of New England.  We naturally look with strong emotions to the spot, though it be a wilderness, where the ashes of those we have loved repose.  Where the heart has laid down what it loved most, there it is desirous of laying itself down.  No sculptured marble, no enduring monument, no honorable inscription, no ever-burning taper that would drive away the darkness of the tomb, can soften our sense of the reality of death, and hallow to our feelings the ground which is to cover us, like the consciousness that we shall sleep, dust to dust, with the objects of our affections.