Ere another
moon shall wax and wane the brightest star in the galaxy of nations may
fall from the zenith of her glory never to rise again. Ere the modest
violets of early spring shall ope their beauteous eyes the genius of
civilization may chant the wailing requiem of the proudest nationality
the world has ever seen, as she shatters her withered and tear-moistened
lilies o'er the bloody tomb of butchered France. JAMES PROCTOR KNOTT.
From Speech on "Duluth."
* * * * *
Among her noblest children his native city will cherish him, and
gratefully recall the unbending Puritan soul that dwelt in a form so
gracious and urbane. The plain house in which he lived--severely plain,
because the welfare of the suffering and the slave were preferred to
books and pictures and every fair device of art; the house to which the
north star led the trembling fugitive, and which the unfortunate and
friendless knew; the radiant figure passing swiftly through the streets,
plain as the house from which it came, regal with royalty beyond that of
kings; the ceaseless charity untold; the strong sustaining heart of
private friendship; the eloquence which, like the song of Orpheus, will
fade from living memory into a doubtful tale; that great scene of his
youth in Faneuil Hall; the surrender of ambition; the mighty agitation
and the mighty triumph with which his name is forever blended; the
consecration of a life hidden with God in sympathy with man--these, all
these, will live among your immortal traditions, heroic even in your
heroic story.
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