Virginia!  The land of mountains, upon whose summits and in whose gorges the spirit of freedom roams unfettered and unconquerable; the land of valleys, which are hung like alcoved aisles with scenes of heroism and pictures of daring, self-sacrifice, and devotion to principle; the land of rivers and rivulets, which reflect like mirrors the fields upon which her blood has been poured out like water upon the ground; the land of zephyrs and breezes, and where the storm king sometimes dwells, gently murmuring or in thunder tones proclaiming her glories and her fame; the land of blue beautiful skies, radiant with the virtues of her daughters and bespangled with the deeds of her sons; the land of memorials of the past, that inspire the Virginia youth, whether born in poverty or in riches, reared in the cottage humble or in the mansion stately, with a patriotism that knows not section and yet a State love that knows not bounds.

It was in this land that Richard Henry Lee, the fire and splendor of whose eloquence burned like a hot iron into the soul of tyranny, and Francis Lightfoot Lee, both of them signers of the Declaration of Independence, were born; it was in this land that Arthur Lee, through whose instrumentality the Colonies secured the friendship and support of France, and “Light-Horse Harry” Lee, whose legion following his plume, struck the enemy in the bivouac, on the march, in the lurid glare of battle, on the flank, and in the front like a thunderbolt from the skies, were born.  It was in this land that Robert Edward Lee, whose services on the fields of Mexico decked his brow with the warrior’s laurel, and whose leadership of the Confederate armies in the unfortunate strife between the States made his name immortal, and whose virtues shine with the brilliancy of a polished diamond, wreath his character in moral grandeur, and draw paeans and praises from friend and foe and from every clime where exalted manhood and a spotless life find devotees, was born; and it was in this land that WILLIAM HENRY FITZHUGH LEE, whose memory we are here to perpetuate, was born—­all, all of the same lineage and blood.

What a line of illustrious and distinguished men of one name for one State to produce.  What a line of illustrious men to spring from the old cavalier family that under the reign of Charles I settled in the county of Northumberland, between the waters of the Rappahannock and Potomac, since glorified by the pen of the historian and the lyre of the poet.

WILLIAM HENRY FITZHUGH LEE!  How sweet does that name sound to me.  What recollections does it awaken.  How quickly do I find my heart throbbing; how rapidly my blood rushes through its channels.

Less than a twelvemonth ago he sat in yon seat or moved hither and thither about this Hall and along these passageways, pausing here and there to speak a pleasant word or exchange a friendly greeting.  His tall and commanding person, his open, frank, and benevolent face and courtly bearing marked him among the membership of this House, and would have marked him in any assemblage, whether in the glittering splendor of royalty or in the plain dignity of our republican institutions.  To see him once was to remember him forever.  His image is as distinct before me this moment as if he stood in the flesh with his eye beaming forth the goodness of his nature and his hand outstretched, as was his wont, to receive mine.