character, that Senate seems to me as one general battle field, in which every possible engine of war is playing its noisy and destructive part.

Distinct, deep and sonorous comes the booming sound of Webter's heaviest columbiad; sharper, quicker, yet fully as loud, comes the thunder of Clay's rifled cannon; at regular intervals fall upon the ear the loud explosions from Benton's largest mortar, the projectiles producing fear and consternation in their fall; and then in its terrible magnificence, I hear the Seward belching forth his grape and case and cannister. Mingled with these come the less noisy but incessant discharges of small arms from Hale, Foote Mason, Benjamin, Weller, Dodge, Baldwin and Clemens; and in rapid succession, now from one point and now from another, I see the flashing and hear the report of the light artillery, played by Chase and Sumner, Hunter, Badger, Shields, Butler and Wade; and from the outskirts of the field recognize the crack of the sharpshooter's rifle in the hands of Toombs, Rantoul, Winthrop, and a host of others. The din is fearful. The clouds of battle lower over all; the drums beat the charge with eternal rattle; the bugle calls and recalls; legions move forward and retire, and cross before the vision; and during all, the booming of cannon, and the sharp clang of small arms go on constantly. And where, it is asked, in all this, is the Douglas?

Look back once more to that field! Look how columns are now pressing upon columns more closely; how intense the anxiety that is evidenced by all, and harken to the thunder that is rolling up yon valley. It grows louder and louder, and suddenly but resplendently there emerges on the field a new power. As with the force of ten thousand horse, led on by a more than Rupert, he thunders over the field; he charges boldly upon the square and solid array of bayonets before him, breaks the line, tramples down the living mass, rides through the host, dealing death on all sides; no sooner

through than back again, and then transversely, until of that wall of iron and human arms, not one is left to stay his progress. Right before him stands a battery, pouring down all manner of destructive projectiles upon him; he turns full upon it, dashes headlong up the hill, approaches until he can see down into the yawning ordnance. Nor does he pause there, but giving free rein to his steed, he charges boldly on, leaps both cannon and cannoniers, and by the sword-carries the hill! This dispatched, without pausing to rest, but with eye fixed upon some opponent, glittering in the pride of a new donned uniform, he dashes down the hill, sweeps across the field, and with a shock that startles the whole arrayed host, carries to the earth the luckless wight who had so recently played defiant; and thus from point to point, with an impetuosity that nothing can resist, a daring that seems to secure its own safety, he continues his course, until the foe is silenced, and victorious friends greet, with deafening cheers, the mighty champion of the people. There-that is the DOUGLAS!

But I leave the public servant, and ask your patience while I speak of the man. And after all, there can be no true greatness that has not an honorable heart to support and maintain it. His integrity was unquestionable and unquestioned. Never, even in the fiercest and most pitiless of all the many storms that broke upon him, was there ever a stain or an imputation upon his personal honor. Clay, with all his greatness, did not escape the calumny of corruption; Webster had enemies mean enough to charge him with bribery; but high as party and personal malice may reach after their victim, they spared the personal honor of Douglas. He went through nearly thirty years of public life, and no word of suspicion against his integrity was uttered. Until within a few years he had been poor; for twenty-five years he held office continually, and as legislator, judge and senator, he had remained not only pure, but unsuspected. He never received from office

more than enough to yield him an ordinary support for himself and family. Some years ago he invested a few hundred dollars in real estate. That investment grew in wealth, and extended until it became magnificent. His purchases were in and near Chicago, and if he became rich, it was because Chicago became rich. His wealth increased with the wealth of the city, and as that receded so did the value of his possessions. He could never amass wealth by the regular rules of trade. What he had was held by him only as trustee for the multitude who called him friend. With hand ever open, with purse strings never drawn, he dealt out with liberal hand to all who sought his aid. He prized riches only as a means of aiding others, and he gave freely and cordially while a dollar was left. His was no ostentatious liberality. Instead of crediting his own sagacity with the fortune that resulted from his investments, he recognized the disbursement of that fortune for noble purposes, as an additional obligation imposed upon him by Providence. Hence it was that the establishment of the Chicago University, when proposed to him, met, as you (President BURROUGHS) well know, a prompt and ready response. He saw in it a means by which he could serve the State, this city, and his fellow men, for all time to come, and with him Action always followed conviction. The establishment of the University at once became an object, and with the endowment came the practical and the only condition, that the building should at once be commenced. He did not fancy that spirit which hoards through life great masses of wealth, to be administered for good purposes after the owner is gone. He preferred to do good at once, and in seeing others enjoy the benefits of his liberality, found infinitely more happiness than if it had been retained by himself. He took the utmost pride in this University, and those who have supposed his life to have been devoted to the attainment of the Presidency, should know, as his friends do know, that

personally he found as much pleasure in the anticipation of presiding as President of the Regents of this University, and in the active business of all public enterprises, as in presiding at the cabinet councils of the nation. I do not say that he did not aspire to the Presidency of the Republic; but I do say, and say it from personal knowledge, that were it not for the sake of friends and to gratify their devotion and unlimited zeal, his political ambition would have sought no higher title than the Leader of the American Senate. He often contrasted the two positions of President and Senator, and took great personal pride in the fact that it had been demonstrated in his own case, that a President, though backed by all the powers of the nation, was not equal to a contest with a single Senator who did his duty to the people. He is buried within sight of the halls of this University. evening hour its shadows reach his tomb, covering it with the mellow light so appropriate to its solemn silence. As the pilgrim to his tomb shall stand at its side, musing on the memory of the dead, he will turn involuntarily to the west, and gazing upon the noble edifice, will exclaim-there stands the monument to the MAN which shall live forever; and which each year shall send forth to the country its graduates, all bearing upon their hearts the lesson of Douglas' great example.

At

Yet, this man with the free and bountiful hand, whose whole life was devoted to the service of the people, and upon whose private purse there was a never ending demand, died poor. From the magnificent domain which a few years ago he called his own, his family is debarred by the legal claims of others. In the broad State of Illinois, enriched by his labors, developed by his genius, and peopled through his enterprise, there was not ground enough that his children could call their own, in which to deposit his coffin.

The faithful widow, faithful even to the memory of the love

which her husband bore to Illinois, at the solicitation of the people, gave up all that was left of him, and gave too her own little tract of land for his grave. That grave, fellow citizens, stands uncovered. Within a few feet of it rolls by daily a score of ponderous locomotives, while the man, the statesman, patriot and orator, who called these railroads into being, lies without a stone to designate his resting place, without a sod to protect his grave from the rank verdure of weeds. And where are the widow and children? They have no home in Illinois, because the husband and father served the State and not himself. They are exiles-gone out from Illinois, because here they have neither home nor living. Shall this be forever? Will Illinois permit the children,—the orphans of her statesman to go forth to other States and to other climes, and from strangers receive that support and education which they cannot find in the land of their father. Cannot Illinoians spare enough to redeem five acres of Cottage Grove, and build a house for the children, and erect a monument over the grave of STEPHEN A. DOUGLAS? When he was buried were the affections of the people, the memory of past services, and the gratitude of his countrymen all buried with him? I trust not, and I trust further that from the place of temporary exile, the family of Douglas will soon be re-called, and the world informed that the American people will be just to those who have been true to the republic.

The country will hear with gratification that his associate regents and trustees, have, with great appropriateness, styled the grand apartment of the University, "DOUGLAS HALL," and have taken steps towards its completion.

I trust that there will come

up from every part of the northwest a generous assistance to your efforts to perpetuate his meinory. Adorned with a statue, and emblazoned with his name, the hall will be to his countrymen an object of unfading interest.