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kissed, which I suppose to be the Bible, or at least the New Testament, which teaches me that all things whatsoever I would that men should do to me I should do even so to them. It teaches me, further, to remember them that are in bonds as bound with them. I endear. ored to act up to that instruction. I say I am yet too young to understand that God is any respecter of persons. I believe that to have interfered as I have done, as I have always freely admitted I have done, in behalf of His despised poor,

is no wrong,

but right. Now, if it is deemed necessary that I should forfeit my life for the furtherance of the ends of justice, and mingle my blood further with the blood of my children, and with the blood of inillions in this slave country, whose rights are disregarded by wicked, cruel and unjust enactments, I say let it be done. Let me say one word further. I feel entirely satisfied with the treatment I have received on my trial. Considering all the circumstances, it has been more generous than I expected; but I feel no consciousness of guilt. I have stated from the first what was my intention and what was not. I never had any design against the liberty of any person, nor any disposition to commit treason or incite slaves to rebel or make any general insurrection. I never encouraged any man to do so, but always discouraged any idea of that kind. Let me say, also, in regard to the statements made by some of those who were connected with me: I fear it has been stated by some of them that I have induced them to join me, but the contrary is true. I do not say this to injure them, but as regretting their weakness. Not one joined me but of his own accord, and the greatest part at their own expense. A number of them I never saw and never had a word of conversation with till the day they came to me, and that was for the purpose I have stated. Now I have done.'

While Brown was speaking perfect quiet prevailed, and when he had finished the judge proceeded to pronounce sentence upon him. After a few preliminary remarks, he said that no reasonable doubt could exist of the guilt of the prisoner, and sentenced him to be hung in public on Friday the 2d of December following, which sentence he received with composure.”

Subsequently the six remaining prisoners were tried and sentenced to death, and all seren paid the penalty of the law on the gallows. They were, beside Brown, Stephens, Coppic, Cooke, Harrison, whites, and Green and Copeland, blacks. Two of the whole twenty-two only ultimately escaped death.

The intense sectional agitation in Congress growing out of the tragedy at Harper's Ferry will long be remembered. It was at this time when for weeks it seemed as if the destinies of the country held on a single thread, in the apparent impossibility of carrying on the government, through the failure of Congress to organize, that the Hon. A. R. Boteler, member from this district, in a speech delivered in the House, touchingly related one of the most beautiful incidents in our revolutionary history:

“The district which I represent, and the county where I live—that county made famous by the raid of John Brown—was the first, the very first in all the South, to send succor to Massachusetts in the time of her direst necessity! In one of the most beautiful spots in that beautiful county, within rifle shot of my residence, at the base of a hill, where a glorious spring leaps out into sunlight from beneath the gnarled roots of a thunder-riven oak, there assembled on the 10th of July, 1775, the very first band of southern men who marched to the aid of Massachusetts. They met there, then, and their rallying cry was "a bee-line for Boston.” That beautiful and peaceful valley—the “valley of the Shenandoah"—had never been polluted by the footsteps of a foe; for even the Indians themselves had, according to tradi. tion, kept it free from the incursion of their enemies. It was the hunting range and neutral ground of the aborigines. The homes of those who lived there then were far beyond the reach of danger. But Boston was beleaguered! The hearths of your fathers were threatened with pollution, and the fathers of those whom I represent rallied to their protection

They left the plowshare in the mold,
Their flocks and herds without a fold,
The sickle in the unshorn grain,
Their corn half-garnered on the plain,
And mustered in their simple dress,

For wrongs of yours to seek redress." Thus they mustered around the spring I speak of, and from thence they made their "bee-line for Boston." Before they marched they made a pledge that all who survived would assemble there fifty years after that day. It is my pride and pleas

ure to remember that I, though but a child then, was present at the spring when the fifty years rolled round. Three aged, feeble, tottering men—the survivors of that glorious band of one hundred and twenty-were all who were left to keep their tryst, and be faithful to the pledge made fifty years before to their companions, the bones of most of whom had been left bleaching on your northern hills.

Sir, I have often heard from the last survivor of that band of patriots the incidents of their first meeting and their march; how they made some six hundred miles in thirty days—twenty miles a day—and how, as they neared their point of destination, Washington, who happened to be making a reconnoissance in the neighborhood, saw them approaching, and recognizing the linsey-wolsey hunting. shirts of old Virginia, galloped up to meet and greet them to the camp; how, when he saw their captain, his old companion-in-arms, Stephenson, who had stood by his side at the Great Meadows, on Braddock's fatal field, and in many an Indian campaign-and who reported hiinself to his commander as “from the right bank of the Potomac"-he sprang from his horse and clasped his old friend and companionin-arms with both hands. He spoke no word of welcome, but the eloquence of silence told what his tongue could not articulate. He moved along the ranks, shaking the hand of each, from man to man, and all the while, as my informer told me, the big tears were seen rolling down his cheeks.

Aye, sir, Washington wept! And why did the glorious soul of Washington swell with emotion? Why did he weep? Sir, they were tears of joy! and he wept because he saw that the cause of Massachusetts was practically the cause of Virginia; because he saw that her citizens recognized the great principles involved in the contest. These Virginia volunteers had come spontaneously. They had come in response to the words of her Henry, that were leaping like thunder through the land, telling the people of Virginia that they must fight, and fight for Massachusetts. They had come to rally with Washington, to defend your fathers' firesides, to protect their homes from harm. Well, the visit has been returned! John Brown selected that very county, whose citizens went so promptly to the aid of the North when the North needed aid, as the most appropriate place in the South to carry out the doctrines of the “irrepressible conflict,” and, as was mentioned in the Senate yesterday, the rock where Leeman fell was the very rock over which Morgan and his men marched a few hours after Stephenson's command had crossed the river some ten miles further up.

May this historical reminiscence rekindle the embers of patriotism in our hearts ! Why should this nation of ours be rent in pieces by this irrepressible conflict? Is it irrepressible? The battle will not be fought out upon this floor. For when the dark day comes, as come it may, when this question that now divides and agitates the hearts of the people shall be thrust from the forum of debate, to be de. cided by the bloody arbitrament of the sword, it will be the saddest day for us and all mankind that the sun of Heaven has ever shone upon."

Winchester is 32 miles south-west of Harper's Ferry by railroad. Its population is about 6,000. It is beautifully situated in the rich and fertile valley of Virginia, about twenty miles west of the Blue Ridge. Winchester was settled at a very early day, and in Braddock's war Washington had his headquarters here. A fort was erected in the place under the name of Fort Loudon, which was then the frontier post of Virginia. In 1781, 1,600 Hessian prisoners were confined in barracks west of the town.

In the Presbyterian grave-yard at Winchester is the grave of Gen. Daniel Morgan, the brave commander of the famous Virginia rifle corps of the revolution. The monument, a plain slab, states that he dicd July 6, 1802, in his 67th year. Howe, in his "Historical Collections of Virginia," published in 1845, says:

At the end of the war Gen. Morgan retired to his estate, named Saratoga, a few miles from Winchester. After the expedition against the insurgents in the Whisky

kissed, which I suppose to be the Bible, or at least the New Testament, which teaches me that all things whatsoever I would that men should do to me I should do eren so to them. It teaches me, further, to remember them that are in bonds as bound with them. I endear. ored to act up to that instruction. I say I am yet too young to understand that God is any respecter of persons. I believe that to have interfered as I have done, as I have always freely admitted I have done, in behalf of His despised poor, is no wrong, but right. Nos, if it is deemed necessary that I should forfeit my life for the furtherance of the ends of justice, and mingle my blood further with the blood of my children, and with the blood of millions in this slave country, whose rights are disregarded by wicked, cruel and unjust enactments, I say let it be done. Let me say one word further. I feel entirely satisfied with the treatment I have received on my trial. Considering all the circumstances, it has been more generous than I expected; but I feel no consciousness of guilt. I have stated from the first what was my intention and what was not. I never had any design against the lib. erty of any person, nor any disposition to commit treason or incite slaves to rebel or make any general insurrection. I never encouraged any man to do so, but always discouraged any idea of that kind. Let me say, also, in regard to the statements made by some of those who were connected with me: I fear it has been stated by some of them that I have induced them to join me, but the contrary is true. I do not say this to injure them, but as regretting their weakness. Not one joined me but of his own accord, and the greatest part at their own expense. A number of them I never saw and never had a word of conversation with till the day they came to me, and that was for the purpose I have stated. Now I have done.'

While Brown was speaking perfect quiet prevailed, and when he had finished the judge proceeded to pronounce sentence upon him. “After a few preliminary remarks, he said that no reasonable doubt could exist of the guilt of the prisoner, and sentenced him to be hung in public on Friday the 20 of December following, which sentence he received with composure.”

Subsequently the six remaining prisoners were tried and sentenced to death, and all seren paid the penalty of the law on the gallows. They were, beside Brown, Stephens, Coppic, Cooke, Harrison, whites, and Green and Copeland, blacks. Two of the whole twenty-ipo only ultimately escaped death.

The intense sectional agitation in Congress growing out of the tragedy at Harper's Ferry will long be remembered. It was at this time when for weeks it seemed as if the destinies of the country held on a single thread, in the apparent impossibility of carrying on the government, through the failure of Congress to organize, that the Hon. A. R. Boteler, member from this district, in a speech delivered in the House, touchingly related one of the most beautiful incidents in our revolutionary history:

“The district which I represent, and the county where I live-that county made famous by the raid of John Brown-w

was the first, the very first in all the South, to send succor to Massachusetts in the time of her direst necessity! In one of the most beautiful spots in that beautiful county, within rifle shot of my residence, at the base of a hill, where a glorious spring leaps out into sunlight from beneath the gnarled roots of a thunder-riven oak, there assembled on the 10th of July, 1775, the very first band of southern men who marched to the aid of Massachusetts. They met there, then, and their rallying cry was "a bee-line for Boston.” That beautiful and peaceful valley—the “valley of the Shenandoah"—had never been polluted by the footsteps of a foe; for even the Indians themselves had, according to tradition, kept it free from the incursion of their enemies. It was the hunting range and neutral ground of the aborigines. The homes of those who lived there then were far beyond the reach of danger. But Boston was beleaguered! The hearths of your fathers were threatened with pollution, and the fathers of those whom I represent rallied to their protection

“They left the plowshare in the mold,

Their flocks and herds without a fold,
The sickle in the unshorn grain,
Their corn half-garnered on the plain,
And mustered in their simple dress,

For wrongs of yours to seek redress." Thus they mustered around the spring I speak of, and from thence they made their "bee-line for Boston." Before they marched they made a pledge that all who survived would assemble there fifty years after that day. It is my pride and pleas

ure to remember that I, though but a child then, was present at the spring when the fifty years rolled round. Three aged, feeble, tottering men—the survivors of that glorious band of one hundred and twenty-were all who were left to keep their tryst, and be faithful to the pledge made fifty years before to their companions, the bones of most of whom had been left bleaching on your northern hills.

Sir, I have often heard from the last survivor of that band of patriots the incidents of their first meeting and their march; how they made some six hundred miles in thirty days—twenty miles a day—and how, as they neared their point of destination, Washington, who happened to be making a reconnoissance in the neighborhood, saw them approaching, and recognizing the linsey-wolsey huntingshirts of old Virginia, galloped up to meet and greet them to the camp; how, when he saw their captain, his old companion-in-arms, Stephenson, who had stood by his side at the Great Meadows, on Braddock's fatal field, and in many an Indian campaign--and who reported himself to his commander as "from the right bank of the Potomac"-he sprang from his horse and clasped his old friend and companion. in-arms with both hands. He spoke no word of welcome, but the eloquence of si. lence told what his tongue could not articulate. He moved along the ranks, shaking the hand of each, from man to man, and all the while, as my informer told me, the big tears were seen rolling down his cheeks.

Aye, sir, Washington wept! And why did the glorious soul of Washington swell with emotion? Why did he weep? Sir, they were tears of joy! and he wept

because he saw that the cause of Massachusetts was practically the cause of Vir. ginia; because he saw that her citizens recognized the great principles involved in the contest. These Virginia volunteers had come spontaneously. They had come in response to the words of her Henry, that were leaping like thunder through the land, telling the people of Virginia that they must fight, and fight for Massachusetts. They had come to rally with Washington, to defend your fathers' firesides, to protect their homes from harm. Well, the visit has been returned! John Brown selected that very county, whose citizens went so promptly to the aid of the North when the North needed aid, as the most appropriate place in the South to carry out the doctrines of the "irrepressible conflict," and, as was mentioned in the Senate yesterday, the rock where Leeman fell was the very rock over which Morgan and his men marched a few hours after Stephenson's command had crossed the river some ten miles further up.

May this historical reminiscence rekindle the embers of patriotism in our hearts ! Why should this nation of ours be rent in pieces by this irrepressible conflict? Is it irrepressible? The battle will not be fought out upon this floor. For when the dark day comes, as come it may, when this question that now divides and agitates the hearts of the people shall be thrust from the forum of debate, to be de. cided by the bloody arbitrament of the sword, it will be the saddest day for us and all mankind that the sun of Heaven has ever shone upon."

Winchester is 32 miles south-west of Harper's Ferry by railroad. Its

population is about 6,000. It is beautifully situated in the rich and fertile valley of Virginia, about twenty miles west of the Blue Ridge. Winchester was settled at a very early day, and in Braddock's war Washington had his headquarters here. A fort was erected in the place under the name of Fort Loudon, which was then the frontier post of Virginia. In 1781, 1,600 Hessian prisoners were confined in barracks west of the town.

In the Presbyterian grave-yard at Winchester is the grave of Gen. Daniel Morgan, the brave commander of the famous Virginia rifle corps of the revolution. The monument, a plain slab, states that he died July 6, 1802, in his 67th year. Howe, in his "Historical Collections of Virginia," published in 1845, says:

At the end of the war Gen. Morgan retired to his estate, named Saratoga, a few miles from Winchester. After the expedition against the insurgents in the Whisky

insurrection, he was selected from this district to Congress, where he served two sessions. In 1800 he removed to Winchester, where, after a confinement of two years from extreme debility, he expired. The house where he resided and died was the frame building now (1844) occupied by the Rev. Mr. Boyd, in the northwest part of the town. His widow moved to Pittsburg. His two daughters married officers of the revolution.

A writer in a recent number of the Winchester Republican has some interesting facts respecting Gen. Morgan, which we here annex:

This 'thunderbolt of war,' this 'brave Morgan, who never knew fear,' was, in camp, often wicked and very profane, but never a disbeliever in religion. He tes. tified that himself. In his latter years Gen. Morgan professed religion, and united himself with the Presbyterian church of this place, under the

pastoral care of the Rev. Mr. (now Dr.) Hill, who preached in this house some forty years, and may now be occasionally heard on Loudon-street. His last days were passed in this town; and while sinking to the grave he related to his minister the experience of his soul. People thought,' said that Daniel Morgan never prayed'— people said old Morgan never was afraid'--people did not know.' He then proceeded to relate in his blunt manner, among many other things, that the night they stormed Quebec, while waiting in the darkness and storm, with his men paraded, for the word to advance, he felt unhappy; the enterprise appeared more than perilous; it seemed to him that nothing less than a miracle could bring them off safe from an encounter at such an amazing disadvantage. He stepped aside and kneeled by the side of a munition of war, and then most fervently prayed that the Lord God Almighty would be bis shield and defense, for nothing less than an almighty arm could protect him. He continued on his knees till the word passed along the line. He fully believed that his safety during that night of peril was from the interposition of God. Again, he said, about the battle of the Cowpens, which covered him with so much glory as a leader and a soldier, he had felt afraid to fight Tarleton with his numerous army flushed with success, and that he retreated as long as he could--till his men complained—and he could go no further. Drawing up his army in three lines on the hill side, contemplating the scene, in the distance the glitter of the advancing enemy, he trembled for the fate of the day. Going to the woods in the rear, he kneeled in an old tree-top, and poured out a prayer to God for his army, and for himself, and for his country. With relieved spirits he returned to the lines, and in his rough manner cheered them for the fight; as he passed along they answered him bravoly. The terrible carnage that followed the deadly aim of his lines decided the victory. In a few moments Tarleton filed. 'Ah,' said he, 'people said old Morgan never feared'--they thought old Morgan never prayed, they did not know'— old Morgan was often miserably afraid.""

Staunton is 120 miles W. N. W. of Richmond by railroad, in the valley of Virginia. The Western Lunatic Asylum and the Virginia Institution for the Deaf, Dumb and Blind is situated here. The celebrated Weyer's cave is about 18 miles N. E, of the town.

Lexington, 35 miles southerly from Staunton, and, by railway, 35 miles north-westerly from Lynchburg, is the seat of Washington College, endowed by Washington himself, and founded in 1798; also of the Virginia Military Institute, a highly flourishing institution. Gen. Samuel Houston, of Texas, was born near the town.

The Natural Bridge is 14 miles south-westerly from Lexington, 172 from Richmond, and 213 from Washington. The mean light of the bridge, from the stream below to its upper surface, is 215 feet 6 inches; its average width is 80 feet, its length 93 feet, and its thickness 55 feet. This curiosity is nature like art, with the proportions of art, on the very spot where art would otherwise have been required for the construction of a bridge. It is unique. No structure exists like it. An eloquent foreign visitor says:

"You will have no just conception of this masterpiece until you get below. You go some little distance for this purpose, as in the vicinity of the bridge the rocks

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