even when his strong frame began to weaken and the germs of disease had
been planted in his system he disregarded the warning calls for rest
and continued to bend all his energies in the discharge of his trust,
and I but speak the truth when I say that he fell a martyr to duty.

But, Mr. Speaker, while he was grand as a soldier, pure as a man,
exalted as a citizen, and faithful as a Representative, it was in the
home circle, as husband and father, and not on the battlefield, in civil
life, or in the halls of legislation, that the beauty and loveliness of
his character drew a halo around him.

He loved home, and it had a charm for him which neither pleasures,
honors, nor fame could pluck from his bosom. Blessed by the
companionship of one worthy of all adoration, and who presided like a
queen over his household, entering into all his joys, sharing all his
sorrows, and encouraging all his aspirations, he loved the breezes that
kissed her cheeks, the birds that made sweet music to her ear, the
rivulets that gently murmured her name, the flowers that shed their
fragrance in her bowers, and the stately oaks under which the children
of their union had prattled and the pebbled walks upon which they had
played and gamboled.

Yes, he loved home, and in its sacred circle his presence was like a
sunbeam, brightening every face and warming every heart. He was all
patience, gentleness, kindness, and love, and if there ever was a home
which was a fit emblem of heaven it was Ravensworth, the home of this
distinguished man.

Mr. Speaker, he is gone. He lives now only in memory. In October last,
when the frosts were blighting and the leaves were falling and the