His remains were interred in the grave on the bank at Mount Vernon, in front of his residence, and there, in no long time, according to her prediction at the moment of his death, his wife, Martha, whose miniature he always wore on his breast, was laid beside him. She died within three years of her husband, at Mount Vernon, the 22d of May, 1802.

We need not follow a mourning public in their sorrow and lamentations over the grave of Washington, or trace the growing admiration which attends his name throughout the world wher ever it has been heard. His merits and virtues are now proudly spoken of

army and take the command, should it He noticed the failing moments, his be brought into action, and he accord last act being to place his hand upon ingly busied himself in the necessary his pulse, and calmly expired. It was preparations. It was best, he thought, the fourteenth of December, 1799. to be prepared for the worst while looking for the best. New negotiations were then opened, but he did not live to witness their pacific results. He was at his home at Mount Vernon, intent on public affairs, and making his rounds in his usual farm occupations, with a vigor and hardihood which had abated little for his years, when, on the 12th December, he suffered some considerable exposure from a storm of snow and rain which came on while he was out, and in which he continued his ride. It proved, the next day, that he had taken cold, but he made light of it, and passed his usual evening cheerfully with the family circle. He became and dearly reverenced in the land of worse during the night with inflamma- his ancestors, against which he led the tion of the throat. He was seriously ill. Having sent for his old army surgeon, Dr. Craik, he was bled by his overseer, and again on the arrival of the physician. All was of no avail, and he calmly prepared to die. "I am not afraid," said he, "to go," while with ever thoughtful courtesy he thanked his friends and attendants for their little attentions. Thus the day wore away, till ten in the night, when his end was fast approaching.

armies of his countrymen. Every day it is felt that he belongs more and more to the world. He enjoys that apotheosis of fame awarded to the great spirits of the earth, who have been chosen by Providence to grand national duties; but more than most of them, his memory is the reward of a life of piety and purity, of simple faith and justice, of unrelaxing duty; great in its acts, greater in the heart, inspiring virtues which dictated them.

JOSEPH WARREN.

chased lands in Boston, in 1659. His son, Joseph, settled at Roxbury, where he was succeeded by a son of the same name, eminent as an agriculturist, who was the father of Dr. Warren, of the Revolution. This son, Joseph, the third of the name, the subject of this sketch, was born at Roxbury, June 11, 1741. He was fourteen years of age at the time of his father's death, and as he graduated at Harvard, in 1759, he must then, if he entered the lowest class, have just commenced his studies at that institution. He had been previously instructed in the excellent public school at Roxbury; for the fathers of New England provided well, not only for honored Harvard, but for elementary education through the country.

NATIONS, like families, have their sor- | martyr of the Revolution is traced to rows and regrets at the tomb. Their Peter Warren, a mariner, who pursons, too, fall in youth, in the first blush of promise, in the early noble efforts of performance. As the sun is rising, and men watch its glowing dawn, anticipating the glory of its mid-day career, and the warm effulgence of its parting honors-it is suddenly stricken from the heavens. Such youthful heroes there have been, "the rose and expectancy of the fair state," cut off in their prime, to be wept by poets and mourned by patriots, from the young Marcellus to the gentle Sir Philip Sidney. The family records of history tell of their honor, their courage, their martyr spirit; how their benevolence went hand in hand with valor; how fondly the old looked upon them, how dear they were to, their equals. Their story is indeed short; but men read in it all they have On leaving college, with the reputa lost in the possibilities of life had the tion of a youth of spirit and adventure, tale been longer. We study men's Warren engaged at once in the study lives backward, to discover the germs of medicine, and on the completion of of excellence in their youth; may we his course, began the practice of his not also prophesy of what would profession in Boston. His skill is have been had opportunity been given? spoken of, in the treatment of the smallNo augury of excellence could well be pox, and it is certain that he soon obbased on a surer foundation than the tained a considerable professional repu hope which was dashed to the ground tation. He married, in 1764, Miss with the fall of Warren. Elizabeth Hooton, daughter of a phy The immediate family of this proto- sician of Boston, who bore him several

children, and died before him at the ren's participation in the famous North age of twenty-six, in 1773.

Professional life, commonly a sedative for all active interference with the affairs of the world beyond its own sphere, does not appear to have been at all in the way of Warren's independence of character. When a British ministry resolved to interfere with the administration of the colonies, by imposing new and unheard-of taxes on the community, no one sooner took up the note of warning, or became more resolute in opposition.

A letter written by him, in 1766, to his friend, Mr. Edmund Dana, a graduate of his year in college, who was now in England, expresses, in calm, measured terms, the sentiments of intelligent, educated Americans of that period. He writes of the excitement which has extended through the whole continent, and of the danger of oppressing a people with whom "freedom and equality is the state of nature.". He has, evidently, looked clearly into the principles of the controversy. He sees around him a nation which has fairly, in the exile of its fathers, and the hardships of the sons, purchased its birthright of liberty, civil and religious liberties which it is not at all disposed to relinquish, for it knows well the cost at which they were purchased.

Warren stood alongside of Samuel Adams and the most ardent of the patriots. His newspaper attack upon Governor Bernard in 1768, in the communications signed "A True Patriot," in the "Boston Gazette," is proof alike of his wit and the temper of the times. We also hear about this time of War

End Club, or Caucus, as it got to be called, which exercised so powerful an influence in the revolutionary movements in Boston. Eliot tells us that he drew up the regulations on the readjustment and enlargement of the Club in 1772, and that nothing of any im portance was ever carried on without consulting him. He was in fact, by his sagacity and circumspection in business of this confidential nature, one of "the secret springs that moved the great wheels" of the inconsiderate, noisy politicians without who hardly felt the guidance.

It was in this year that Warren was called on to deliver the second anniversary discourse commemorative of the fall of the citizens by the fire of the foreign troops, known as the Boston Massacre. This was an undertaking, in presence of the Colonial Court and Council, and the very soldiery who were the subjects of comment, which well might be considered the very forlorn hope of political oratory. The duty was twice performed by Warrenin 1772, and again shortly before his fall in 1775. His discourse on the first occasion was argumentative, firm and patriotic. Its composition is certainly highly creditable to his taste and judg ment. The second, also delivered at the Old South Church, was in the midst of a scene which would make a most effective subject for a painter. The very pulpit stairs and pulpit were occupied by soldiers of the garrison. It was doubtful whether he would be permitted to proceed. While he was speaking, a Captain of the Royal