sook houses and land, and kindred, and nation, and with great suffering entered upon the new, the unknown. God, they felt, was with them, and with him they could not be alone. Time rolled on. The few became many. The handful a great people. A wider freedom was gradually developed. The parent who had cast out her children, some of her purest and her best, by her tyranny. on conscience and the religious life, or its forms, and had done little to sustain them in their distant unknown, or uncared-for sufferings,-the parent saw in their progress, their imperfect prosperity, the means of her own aggrandizement. She not only required their allegiance, but demanded a portion, and an inconvenient portion of their hard-earned gains, and this in an unusual, and an offensive manner. This was resisted, and at length unto blood. The war principle, which had not died out, in that great sacrifice of voluntary exile, and which so had not been replaced by the gentle spirit,—the spirit of love, and of Peace, which Christ came to diffuse deeply into the hearts and minds of men,-his new commandment,-and which is of irresistible power, when perfectly recognized and acted upon,—that ancient principle of evil and of wo had its place in the pilgrim heart. It showed itself somewhat in its treatment of the wild savages of New England, and it showed itself in the descendants of the Pilgrims in full force years after, in the direst of all its forms, civil war.

Indi

We have reached the age of our revolution. Peace was made. The stage of destruction, in the progress of human institutions, had been completed. But the stage of rest, of repose, that which has been said to be the second, was very imperfectly developed. The social elements were in motion. They had not come within the sphere of their own affinities. vidual pretension, and assertion, together with party alliances, showed themselves every where. Fierce antagonisms of diverse doctrines came out from among a people who had just been laboring together with the governing war principle; and it was not strange that the war of doctrine, and of speech, should replace the other form, or manifestation of the same principle. And this bloodless, but inglorious warfare has never ceased amongst us. There were circumstances however in the time that immediately followed the revolution, which strongly mark it. The great doctrine of equal right, of individual, and of universal liberty, had been asserted, and fought for, and, politically, had become the foundation of the new government. I say politically, for all that was strictly moral, and religious, retained much of its power for some time after the country declared itself free.

SO.

What now were the social aspects under which new institutions, new forms of government declared themselves? How did men live by themselves, so to speak, who had been so long under foreign rule? How was it with the young nation, which had reached suddenly its maturity, and by its own hand rather than by the consent of the parent state, had declared itself of age, free, politically and legally? You may at first suppose, that great and sudden changes showed themselves in the new order of things, that social life would have been as deeply revolutionized as was the political being of the nation. But it was not Associations could not be destroyed at once. Domestic life, including the school and the church, with its forms and its truths, would retain some and many of its deep-worn characteristics. Dress, and the old and familiar intercourse, would hold place some time even in the progress of change, and by these and all related things would the old keep alive, and more or less deeply blend itself with the new. I will, in speaking of those times, ask your attention to what an ancient memory may enable me to record. I shall speak of things as they were, or as they seemed to me to be. You will, I trust, pardon me, if in any thing I seem partial to that early time. I do not mean to be unjust to its great product, the present.

I.-DOMESTIC LIFE. The discipline of the family was strict. It was often more than this, it was severe. Authority existed. It was felt. The special law for every delinquency was not in a book, nor was it always very distinctly laid down. It existed in the will of the parent, or of the master, for there was then such a word, and though associated with the affections in the formation or rather constitution of the moral nature, still these were rarely allowed to interfere with the punishment of wrong doing. This strictness of domestic discipline was the lingering life and power of the Pilgrim. In his family parental authority stood foremost. Obedience, exact submission, was the unquestioned duty of all who naturally, or by any other relation, came within its legitimate influence. I remember this fact in my early life, this severe discipline of those early days. I have referred it to the surviving domestic institution of the pilgrim fathers. Authority might have still great power, because of the recent political institution. This had been monarchical. A King, an acknowledged monarch, whose authority was claimed to be divine, and which claim was allowed by the popular mind—a King had recently ruled here, and though a revolution had been achieved, and the sentiment of loyalty to one great head of the nation had been partially extinguished in the recognized rule of millions, still I have no

doubt the old reverence for authority still lingered and still gave tone to domestic discipline. Now what was the effect, the visible effect of this upon society? How did it show itself in the young? It is a phrase that "boys will be boys." It was strictly true then that children were children. They formed only a numerical portion of the inhabitants. They had no active part in the doings of men. They daily went to school, and were duly flogged. They came home, and were not allowed to be in the way there. We had no "cold water armies." The infants in law held no conventions to influence political movements, elections, and what not. The apprentice had a master. He was subjected to exact rules in regard to the handicraft by which he was to earn his bread, and build up character. He was bound to his master by an indenture of two parts, and for seven years, and he could not be "free of the trade" unless he complied literally with the terms of the instrument which bound him to another. The reason for all this was thought a true one. The master clothed, fed, sheltered, and taught the apprentice. Was it not his right to find a return for all these benefits in the product of the labor of the apprentice in some part of that time of instruction when enough had been learned to render his apprentice useful to him? Was there not good reason for this, when this apprentice labor was daily rendering the young man a more accomplished mechanic? The trade which I follow for my daily bread, still requires the old time of study or apprenticeship. No one can get a degree, or license to practice physic, who is not twenty-one years of age.

The effect of a strict domestic discipline was seen every where. The young respected, paid deference to age. A young man stood uncovered before his father, and his master. He spoke when he was spoken to; and answered with respect. Reverence had place in the young heart, and declared itself. There was kindness and hospitality blended with it,-the homely feelings were with it too, and their expression was not wholly lost in after life. Something of this feeling exists in New England to this day. I refer here to the bow and the curtsey of the children in the interior towns, where crowds, and the stern rule of fashion have not suppressed the expression of that recognition of brotherhood in the race,—and where full grown men too accord the same kindness. I speak of these things as they existed between fifty and sixty years since, and refer to their partial continuance to this day in no spirit of complaint at the altered times. They were facts in my history, and having their growth in sentiment, deserve a passing notice here, as characteristics of an earlier age.

Domestic life, and habits, include dress. This was quite distinctive of the times. It partook of rule, just as did every thing else. The young were dressed simply, while social position, or rank, for that was not yet forgotten, had its power. You saw the boy at play with his jacket and trowsers, as now; but his shirt collar, ruffled or plain, lay broadly open, exposing his whole neck to cold and heat, to the rain and snow. In the progress of change came first the collar button, or string,—then the ribbon, and at last the neckcloth, or cravat, as it was called. The older men wore the muslin stock with the silver buckle. From the jacket the transition was to the coatee, a garment now unknown, and then the full coat, never the frock. The mechanic retained the coatee into manhood for his Sunday dress, always working in his jacket, or shirt sleeves. Old men had their costume adapted to their age. The clothes were then ample. One of the coats would make two of modern times, and a vest would almost make a suit. It is curious to notice how, when cloth was scarce and dear, so much should be appropriated to the individual, and to contrast the early fashion with the present, when with the affluence in quantity, each person uses so little. A modern writer says, that the first coat made was a sack, with holes for the arms, then two sacks were added for sleeves,—and now in place of the formidable collar of former times, we have only a hem. Carlyle's description of the modern coat has daily ample illustration through all Washington street. I should not omit the well-powdered wig, the cane, and the three-cornered, cocked hat. The minister often wore these, and was still more distinguished on Sunday, by his flowing robes, his ruffled bands, and his black gloves, with the ends of the right thumb and finger open, for ease in turning the leaves of the sermon. The judges in court term appeared in full dress of gown and wig, and their office, like that of the ministers,' might be known by their dress. I remember when some men wore red gowns.

But why speak of so changeable a matter as fashion, especially in regard to dress? Because dress has much to do with manners, and with life; and in my early days fashion was not so capricious as it has been since, and dress had a much more permanent character. Like every other social fact, dress and fashion have their sources and their character in opinions and habits. Is it not a form of reverence for the past, which preserves to the present, the old custom, and secures its perpetuity, by jealous care of it? When I think of some of the old gentlemen of half a century ago, especially of those who were then called old-fashioned, I seem to be among the companions of Standish, and of

Brewster, and of Carver,-to have been carried back two centuries in my country's history.—An old friend, of the old school, told me some years ago that he was walking in a street in Albany one day, dressed in his usual dress, his small clothes, silk stockings, shoes and buckles, and powdered head, when he observed a man very carefully watching him. He walked before him, and on each side, examining him very carefully. At length my friend asked him what he meant, what he saw in him which so much interested him. Said the man,

"Your honor, you are the very first jontleman I have seen in all Ameriky.”

That was an hospitable age. With the strictness of the rule, there was much frankness, and generosity, in the life under and around it. Eating, and drinking too, were thought very pleasant things. The West India trade brought with it abundance of turtle, and tropical fruits in their season,—and the frequent deer of the unsubdued forest, made vension a not rare addition to the luxuries of the table. The slave trade was still permitted, and slaves, or those who had been such, remained in the families to which they had once belonged. They were esteemed amongst the most valuable domestics, and were always special favorites with the children. With all, they were excellent cooks; and were long remembered for their fidelity to those with whom they had been so long connected, and for their rare culinary skill. The following anecdote speaks for their skill in this way. Mr. had a fine haunch of venison, which by being kept too long, in order to be ripe, was supposed to have passed the extremest limits of epicurism. The cook was directed to throw it away. He threw it upon a somewhat questionable piece of ground between Mr.

's garden and his neighbor's. His friend saw it, and directed his cook to bring it in. The haunch was examined,-pronounced in most perfect keeping for the table, and ordered to be made ready for cooking. A party was invited. The haunch, and accompaniments, were brought on the table in their order. It was eaten, and pronounced the very best of the season. Mr. then gave the whole history of the venison, to the no small chagrin of his rival neighbor. The whole relation of domestics, of all classes, with families, was a kindly one in that day. If they were faithful, and the family prosperous, and disastrous changes were rare then, they were sure of continued kindness and care. They were not sent to hospitals or alms-houses when sick, and age did not loosen the ties which had bound them to their employers by long years of good service. There was much in this which existed longer in England than it has in