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"It cannot be denied, but by those who would dispute against the sun, that with America, and in America, a new era commences in human affairs. This era is distinguished by free representative governments, by entire religious liberty, by improved systems of national intercourse, by a newly-awakened and an unconquerable spirit of free inquiry, and by a diffusion of knowledge through the community, such as has been before altogether unknown and unheard of. America, America, our country, fellow-citizens, our own dear and native land, is inseparably connected, fast bound up, in fortune and by fate, with these great interests. If they fall, we fall with them; if they stand, it will be because we have upholden them. Let us contemplate, then, this connection, which binds the prosperity of others to our own; and let us manfully discharge all the duties which it imposes. If we cherish the virtues and the principles of our fathers, heaven will assist us to carry on the work of human liberty, and human happiness. Auspicious omens cheer us: great examples are before us: our own firmament now shines brightly upon our path: WASHINGTON is in the clear upper sky. These other stars have now joined the American constellation; they circle around their centre, and the heavens beam with a new light. Beneath this illumination, let us walk the course of life, and at its close devoutly commend our beloved country, the common parent of us all, to the Divine Benignity."
During this visit at the East, at this time, President J. Q. Adams attended the annual examination of the public schools in Boston, and was present at the public dinner given in Faneuil Hall, to the school committee, teachers, and most meritorious scholars. In reply to a complimentary toast from the Mayor, Mr. Adams responded as follows:—
"MR. MAYOR, AND MY FELLOW-CITIZENS OF BOSTON:—A few days since, we were assembled in this Hall, as the house of mourning—in commemoration of the two last survivors of that day which had proclaimed at once our independence and our existence as a nation. We are now assembled within the same walls, at the house of feasting—at the festival of fathers rejoicing in the progressive improvement of their children.
"We have been told by the wisest man of antiquity, that it is better to go to the house of mourning, than to the house of feasting. How emphatically true would that sentence be, if the house of mourning were always such as this hall but so recently exhibited!—a mourning of gratitude—a mourning of faithful affection—a mourning full of consolation and joy. And yet, could the wisest of men now look down upon this happy meeting—of parents partaking together of the bounties of Providence, in mutual gratulation with each other at the advances of their offspring in moral and intellectual cultivation—would he, could he, my friends, have said that it is better to go to the house of mourning than to such a house of feasting?
"For is not the spirit of that solemnity, and of this, effectively the same? If that was the commemoration of the good deeds of your forefathers, may not this be called the commemoration of the future achievements of your sons? If that day was dedicated to the blessed memory of the past, is not this devoted to the no less blessed hope of the future? It was from schools of public instruction, instituted by our forefathers, that the light burst forth. It was in the primary schools; it was by the midnight lamps of Harvard hall, that were conceived and matured, as it was within these hallowed walls that were first resounded the accents of that independence which is now canonized in the memory of those by whom it was proclaimed.
"Was it not there that were formed, to say nothing of him 'fit for the praise of any tongue but mine,'—but was it not there that were formed, and prepared for the conflicts of the mind, for the intellectual warfare which distinguishes your Revolution from all the brutal butcheries of vulgar war, your James Otis, your John Hancock, your Samuel Adams, your Robert Treat Paine, your Elbridge Gerry, your James and your Joseph Warren, and last, not least, your Josiah Quincy, so worthily represented by your Chief Magistrate here at my side?
"Indulge me, fellow-citizens, with the remark, that I have been called to answer to myself these questions, before I could enjoy the happiness, at the very kind invitation of your Mayor and Aldermen, of presenting myself among you this day.
"In conformity to my own inclinations, and to the usages of society, I have deemed it proper, on the recent bereavement I have sustained, to withdraw for a time from the festive intercourse of the world, and in retirement, so far as may be consistent with the discharge of public trusts, to prepare for and perform the additional duties devolving upon me, as a son, and as a parent, from this visitation of heaven. To that retirement I have hitherto been confined; and in departing from it for a single day, I have needed an apology to myself, as I trust I shall need one to you. Seek for it, my fellow-citizens in your own paternal hearts. I have been unable to resist the invitation of the authorities of this my own almost native city, to mingle with her inhabitants in the joyous festivities of this occasion—and, after witnessing, in the visitation of the schools, hundreds and thousands of the rising generation training 'up in the way they should go;' to come here and behold the distinguished proficients of the schools sharing at the social board the pleasures of their fathers, and to congratulate the fathers on the growing virtues and brightening talents of their children.
"But, fellow-citizens, I will no longer trespass upon your indulgence. I thank you for the sentiment with which you have honored me. I thank you for the many affecting testimonials of kindness and sympathy which I have so often received at your hands; and will give you as a token of my good wishes, not yourselves, but objects dearer to your hearts. Mr. Mayor, I propose to you for a toast—