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person can doubt the power of Congress I cannot understand. But, alas! there are doubters always.

I have already sent you a copy of my bill to settle this question by what I call "the short cut." Give us your vote. Of course, you will. Believe me, my dear

Very faithfully yours,

Sir,

THEODORE TILTON, Esq.

CHARLES SUMNER.

This was followed by an editorial article sustaining and vindicating Mr. Sumner's bill. It began:

"Yes. Mr. Sumner has our vote. He has always had it; he is always likely to have it. How did Roger Sherman vote?' asked our forefathers. They believed it was safe to vote with Roger Sherman. It is just as safe to vote with Charles Sumner."

After explanation and argument, the article proceeds: —

"Not only is Mr. Sumner right as to the power of Congress in the present case, but long ago he was right as to the power of Congress to govern the unconstitutional States as conquered provinces. He then stood almost alone in the Senate in an opinion which he has since seen adopted by his brother Senators. We trust his compeers will agree to his present bill. We happen to know that Thaddeus Stevens-who, even when sick, is more well than most men-is preparing, on his sick-bed, an argument in support of Mr. Sumner's plan. We happen to know, also, that Chief Justice Chase agrees with Mr. Sumner's view."

CELEBRATION AT ARLINGTON, ON ASSUMING

ITS NEW NAME.

SPEECH AT A Dinner in a Tent, June 17, 1867.

WEST CAMBRIDGE, originally part of Cambridge, Massachusetts, assumed the name of Arlington, with the consent of the Legislature. The change was celebrated in the town by a public dinner in a tent.

MR. PRESIDENT AND FELLOW-CITIZENS OF ARLINGTON:

Ν

IN looking around me on this beautiful scene of hos

pitality, I am reminded of that doge of Genoa, who, finding himself amid the splendors of Versailles, in its incomparable palace, and being asked what about him caused the most surprise, replied, "To find myself here." And so to me, coming from other scenes, and for many years absolutely unused to such occasions, this spectacle is strange. But it is not less welcome because strange.

Coming here to take part in this interesting celebration, I am not insensible to the kindness of good friends among you, through whom the invitation was received. But I confess a neighborly interest in your festival. Born in Boston, and educated in Cambridge, I am one of your neighbors. Accept, then, if you please, the sympathies of a neighbor on this occasion.

Yours is not a large town; nor has it any extended

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history. But what it wants in size and history it makes up in beauty. Yours is a beautiful town. I know nothing among the exquisite surroundings of Boston more charming than these slopes and meadows, with background of hills and gleam of water. The elements of beauty are all here. Hills are always beautiful; so is water. I remember hearing a woman of genius, Mrs. Fanny Kemble, say more than once, that water in a landscape is "like eyes in the human countenance," without which the countenance is lifeless. But water gleams, shines, sparkles in your landscape. Here the water-nymphs might find a home. Gardens, beautiful to the eye and bountiful in nourishing and luscious supplies, are also yours. Surely it may be said of those who live here, that their lines have fallen in a pleasant place.

I go too far, when I suggest that you are without a history. West Cambridge was part of that historic Cambridge so early famous in our country, the seat of learning and the home of patriotism. The honor of Cambridge is yours. West Cambridge adjoins Lexington, and was in the war-path of the British soldiers on that 19th of April, which, perhaps, as much as any day after the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, determined the fortunes of this continent. The shots of Concord and Lexington were heard here before their echoes began the tour of the globe. Shots from here followed, and your beautiful fields bore testimony in blood. The road from Concord was a prolonged battleground, on which British troops fell; there were patriots, also, who fell.

Then came the Battle of Bunker Hill, on the very day we now celebrate, followed soon by the arrival of

Washington, who, on the 3d day of July, 1775, drew his sword as Commander-in-Chief under the well-known elm of Cambridge Common. Do not forget that you were of Cambridge then. The first duty of the new commander-in-chief was to inspect his forces. The mass of the British army, amounting to 11,500 men, occupied Bunker Hill and Boston Neck, while their general with his light horse was in Boston. The Patriot forces, amounting to about 16,000 men, were so posted as to form a complete line around Boston and Charlestown, from Mystic River to Dorchester, nearly twelve miles in circuit. Regiments from New Hampshire, Rhode Island, and Connecticut occupied Winter Hill and Prospect Hill, where it is easy still to recognize their earthworks; several of the Massachusetts regiments were at Cambridge; and others from Connecticut and Massachusetts covered the high grounds of Roxbury. This was the Siege of Boston. With all these preparations, Washington was still provident of the future. And here commences an association with the hills about your town, which must be my justification for these details.

Many years ago, when I first read the account of this period by one of the early biographers of Washington, Rev. Dr. Bancroft, of Worcester, the father of our distinguished historian, I was struck by the statement, which I quote in his precise words, that, "in case of an attack and defeat, the Welsh Mountains in Cambridge, and the rear of the lines in Roxbury, were appointed as places of rendezvous."1 Perhaps this association, and even the name of the mountains, may be new to some whom I have the honor of addressing. "The Welsh Mountains" are the hills which skirt your peaceful val

1 Bancroft's Life of Washington (Worcester, 1807), p. 47.

ley. Since then I have never looked upon them, even at a distance, I have never thought of them, without feeling that they are monumental. They testify to that perfect prudence which made our commander-in-chief so great. In those hours when undisciplined patriots were preparing for conflict with the trained soldiers of England, the careful eye of Washington, calmly surveying the whole horizon, selected your hills as the breastworks behind which he was to retrieve the day. The hills still stand firm and everlasting as when he looked upon them, but smiling now with fertility and peace. They will never be needed as breastworks. There is no enemy encamped in Boston and ready to sally forth for battle; nor is there any siege.

But you will allow me to remind you that the ideas of the Revolution and the solemn promises of the Declaration of Independence are still debated. There are some who have the hardihood to deny them. Here I venture to bespeak from you the simple loyalty of those whose places you occupy. Should an evil hour arrive, when these ideas and promises are in peril, then let them find a breastwork, not in your hills, but in your hearts. And may the rally extend until it embraces the whole country, and the Revolution begun by our fathers is completed by the establishment of all the rights of all!

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