THE FUNERAL.

FRIDAY, October, 29, was the day of Mr. Webster's funeral. Boston never before presented-probably never will again present -so general an aspect of mourning, and never were there witnessed such spontaneous, universal, and deep tokens of feeling. Most of the shops were closed, as well as the public institutions, offices, and markets; and a large proportion of the city was dressed in the habiliments of sorrow. The mourning draperies upon many of the buildings, public and private, were rich, elaborate, and tasteful. Festoons of black and white were almost continuous through Washington, Hanover, and other principal streets; and multiplied mottoes, expressing grief and admiration, were placed upon walls and over door-ways. Flags, prepared with inscriptions and dressed in mourning, were extended across the streets. In general the mottoes and inscriptions were extremely well chosen and appropriate, and were a proof, not only of the estimation in which Mr. Webster was held in Boston, but of the high standard of taste and cultivation among its citizens.

In the multiplicity of these personal and spontaneous expressions of feeling, it is impossible to describe, or specify any; but from amongst the mottoes, of which more than a hundred were exhibited, the following are selected:

His words of wisdom, with resistless power,

Have graced our brightest, cheered our darkest hour.

Thou hast instructed many and thou hast strengthened the weak hands.

We've scanned the actions of his daily life and nothing meets our eyes but deeds of honor.

Some when they die, die all.

Their mouldering clay is but an emblem of their memories. But he has lived. He leaves a work behind which will pluck the shining age from vulgar time, and give it whole to late

posterity.

Thou art mighty yet. Thy spirit walks abroad.

The great heart of the nation throbs heavily at the portals of his grave.

Live like patriots! Live like Americans! United all, united now, and united forever. Wherever among men a heart shall be found that beats to the transports of patriotism and liberty, its aspirations shall be to claim kindred with his spirit.

Then this Daniel was preferred above the Presidents and Princes, because
an excellent spirit was in him.

Know thou, O stranger, to the fame
Of this much loved, much honored name,
(For none that knew him need be told,)

A warmer heart Death ne'er made cold.

The glory of thy life, like the day of thy death, shall not fail from the remembrance of man.

Between twelve and one-the hour of the funeral at Marshfield -minute guns were fired, and the bells of the churches were tolled; from sunrise to sunset guns were fired every fifteen minutes, and almost continuously. Similar signs of mourning were heard from the hills of the neighboring towns, and along the line of the coast. The streets were crowded with citizens and visitors from the country, reading the inscriptions and walking through the public buildings, all wearing, upon their saddened countenances, tokens of sincere sorrow. Though a day of leisure and entire cessation from labor there, and was no thought of anything but our great loss. There were no smiling faces to be seen, and no cheerful voices to be heard.

The funeral solemnities were at Mr. Webster's own residence. in Marshfield. In conformity with the wish expressed in his will, everything was arranged with the utmost simplicity, in the order usual in a New England funeral, but private it could not be. In

addition to the general sense of loss in the removal of a great leader and a statesman, in whose wisdom and firmness so strong a confidence was reposed, there was in many hearts a feeling of personal bereavement in the death of a revered and beloved friend; and thus thousands were led to the spot by a wish to honor his memory and look once more upon his face. From all quarters, by every path, and by every conveyance, great multitudes came together; and the whole number of persons assembled at the hour of noon was probably not less than ten or twelve thousand.

A thoughtful consideration for the feelings of all who were present was shown in the arragements of the funeral. In order that the wish which all felt, to look for he last time upon the face of the illustrious dead, might be gratified without hurry or confusion, the body was brought from the library at an early hour in the morning and placed upon the lawn, in front of the house, beneath the open heavens and under a tree which, in its summer foliage, was a conspicuous ornament of the spot. The majestic form reposed in the familiar garb of life, with more than the dignity of life in its most imposing moments. Suffering had changed, without impairing those noble features. The grandeur of the brow was untouched, and the attitude full of strength and peace. For more than three hours a constant stream of men and women, of all ages, passed on both sides, pausing for a moment to look upon that loved and honored form. Parents held their children by the hand, bade them contemplate the face of their benefactor, and charged them never to lose the memory of that spectacle and that hour.Many dissolved into tears as they turned aside; and one-a man of plain garb and appearance-was heard to make in a subdued voice, the striking remark, "Daniel Webster, the world will seem lonesome without you."

The thoughtful and kindly feeling which dictated all the arrangements, permitted any who wished, to enter the house by the principal entrance, walk through a small sitting-room, where hang several family portraits, and going through the library, a beautiful

and favorite room, ornamented with the likenesses of Mr. Webster and Lord Ashburton, pass out upon the lawn. Thousands availed themselves of this privilege,-silently, decorously, sadly. There was no sound from that vast multitude, but the inevitable grating of their feet upon the paths. This was like the chafing of the surf upon a pebbly beach,-a strange, impressive murmur.

At twelve, the passing through the house was stopped. Soon afterwards, the Rev. EBENEZER ALDEN, pastor of the Congregational Church in South Marshfield, where Mr. Webster had been accustomed to attend public worship, commenced the religious service by reading a selection from the Bible. After which, the following address was made by him:

On an occasion like the present, a multitude of words were worse than idle. Standing before that majestic form, it becomes ordinary men to keep silence. He being dead, yet speaketh." In the words he applied to Washington, in the last great public discourse he ever delivered, the whole atmosphere is redolent of his name; hills and forests, rocks and rivers, echo and re-echo his praises. All the good, whether learned or unlearned, high or low, rich or poor, feel this day that there is one treasure common to them all, and that is the fame and character of Webster. They recount his deeds, ponder over his principles and teachings, and resolve to be more and more guided by them in future. Americans by birth are proud of his character, and exiles from foreign shores are eager to participate in admiration of him; and it is true that he is, this day, here, everywhere, more an object of love and regard than on any day since his birth.

And while the world, too prone to worship mere intellect, laments that the orator and statesman is no more, we enter upon more sacred ground, and dwell upon the example and counsels of a Christian, as a husband, father, and friend. I trust it will be no rude wounding of the spirit, no intrusion upon the privacy of domestic life, to allude to a few circumstances in the last scenes

of the mortal existence of the great man who is gone, fitted to administer Christian consolation, and to guide to a better acquaintance with that religion which is adapted both to temper our grief and establish our hope.

Those who were present upon the morning of that Sabbath upon which this head of a family conducted the worship of his household, will never forget, as he read from our Lord's Sermon on the Mount, the emphasis which he alone was capable of giving to that passage which speaks of the divine nature of forgiveness. They saw beaming from that eye, now closed in death, the spirit of Him who first uttered that godlike sentiment.

And he who, by the direction of the dying man, upon a subsequent morning of the day of rest, read in their connection these words: "Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief;" and then the closing chapter of our Saviour's last words to his disciples, being particularly requested to dwell upon this clause of the verse -"Holy Father, keep through thine own name those whom thou hast given me, that they may be one as we are "--beheld a sublime illustration of the indwelling and abiding power of Christian faith.

And if these tender rememberances only cause our tears to flow more freely, it may not be improper for us to present the example of the father, when his great heart was rent by the loss of a daughter whom he most dearly loved. Those present on that occasion well remember when the struggle of mortal agony was over, retiring from the presence of the dead, bowing together before the presence of God, and joining with the afflicted father as he poured forth his soul, pleading for grace and strength from on high.

As upon the morning of his death we conversed upon the evident fact that, for the last few weeks, his mind had been engaged in preparation for an exchange of worlds, one who knew him, well remarked, "His whole life has been that preparation." The people of this rural neighborhood, among whom he spent the last twenty years of his life, among whom he died, and with whom he is to