Hall�s illuminated windows, strolled there. A great concourse
assembled, in the street & Park, bands of music bray-
ing forth martial minstrelsy, and cannon firing in the Park.
Witnessing the latter performace for awhile. Political
meeting, Democratic. French�s Hotel next door all draped
in White & black festoons, as mourning-tokens for the
death of Daniel Webster.
That�s a great man gone.
I think as eloquent
words have been spoken by the �farmer�s son� as ever were
by Demosthenes, in his glorious orations.
a grand, solemn fact is death, dignifying even the meanest
of us, � and how much more so these great spirits, who
beacon like, stand up from among their fellow men. � All
of us drifting out, fast, to that great shoreless sea, whose
murmur is in our ears at quiet, solemn, times though all
unnoted by us in the uproar of worldly strife. Some day
sure noted in the calendar, when the Sun will rise, men go abroad
to their daily foil, read newspapers, laugh, talk, bargain, and
� I shall lie still enough, having done with it All. When