flag,--how they come pealing, pealing, Independence now, and Independence
forever!
R. Choate.

XXII.

TRIBUTE TO WEBSTER.

They say he was ambitious! Yes, as Ames said of Hamilton, "there is no
doubt that he desired glory; and that, feeling his own force, he longed to
deck his brow with the wreath of immortality." But I believe he would have
yielded his arm, his frame to be burned, before he would have sought to
grasp the highest prize of earth by any means, by any organization, by any
tactics, by any speech, which in the least degree endangered the harmony of
the system.

They say, too, he loved New England! He did love New Hampshire--that old
granite world--the crystal hills, gray and cloud-topped; the river, whose
murmur lulled his cradle; the old hearthstone; the grave of father and
mother. He loved Massachusetts, which adopted and honored him--that
sounding sea-shore, that charmed elm-tree seat, that reclaimed farm, that
choice herd, that smell of earth, that dear library, those dearer friends;
but the "sphere of his duties was his true country." Dearly he loved you,
for he was grateful for the open arms with which you welcomed the stranger
and sent him onwards and upwards.

But when the crisis came, and the winds were let lose, and that sea of
March "wrought and was tempestuous," then you saw that he knew even you
only as you were, American citizens; then you saw him rise to the true
nature and stature of American citizenship; then you read on his brow only