On the 12th of this month will be celebrated the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the incorporation of the town of Concord, Mass. Judge John S. Keyes, whose father performed the same service at the bi-centennial celebration half a century ago, will preside. On the 15th of last May the committee of twenty-five made a report, which merits the attention of committees to be appointed in other towns in New England, on similar occasions. This report reads as follows:
"We have decided that it was not best to placard the town in an endeavor to make history; that with the sum at the disposal of the town, and those of the earliest dates, leaving to the future the memorials, if any, of recent events and more modern times."
For this purpose, the town appropriated one thousand dollars, and in connection with the celebration, it was suggested, and provided for, that a large fac-simile of the act of incorporation of the town, September 12th, 1635, should be procured and placed in the town hall in such a position that all persons might easily read it. The work of executing suitable memorials, to mark the most important spots in the history of the town, has already been done in a neat manner by a citizen of Concord, and we are informed that all the arrangements for the pleasant events are fully completed.
The following letter was laid on the Editor's Table the other day:—
"I am a farmer, and I own my farm free and clear. I also have two sons, both smart, capable and trustworthy. As I have been a sturdy and uncompromising Democrat all my life, I think the party ought to do something for at least one of my sons, who is fond of politics. Any appointment in one of the Government offices would suit them. Now, how shall I apply for a position, such as they want?"
No reasonable answer to such an inquiry as this will suit "smart, capable and trustworthy" boys, one of whom "is fond of politics," and whose father is disposed rather to favor than to discourage their misguided ambition. We venture to hope, however, that their father has lived long enough to become convinced that nothing pays so well on a farm as common sense and hard work, and that the rule holds equally in force in other fields of industry. Our friend seems to have forgotten that although the Democratic party is a very grateful old party, yet it has so much to be grateful for that, it has hardly enough gratitude to go round. He and his two sons can best keep their reverence for the grand old Party undisturbed, by remaining on the farm, aloof from the few millions of others who confidently believe that patriotism will be sooner or later rewarded by a postmastership.
We promise him that if he neglects to follow our wholesome counsel, and instead shall go on, to Washington to seek political gifts, he will return home mad. If he then will look about him, he will understand how this kind of madness works. There is a great deal of it just now.
Farmer's boys should not seek political gifts. For them there is no occupation so demoralizing as office-seeking, except office-holding. At the best, as a rule, they could become only Government clerks, liable to be turned out after they had served long enough to be spoiled for any other occupation except of a routine character.
The Democratic Party shows its gratitude best when it faces the infuriated office-seeker in his mad career and tells him that there is not even the smallest post-office open for him. It chastens but to save. Even though of Bourbon mould it has profited by experience; it has noted the demoralizing effect of office-holding on the Republicans! If it now and then gratifies the unruly demand of a Mugwump, it is because it knows,—and secretly gloats in the knowledge—that the Mugwumps are liable to rush to destruction during the next four years, and it therefore chooses the lesser evil. The Mugwumps are the guests of the Democratic Party. What a world of consolation for the farmer, always "a sturdy and uncompromising Democrat!"