THE PUTNAM TABLETS.

Sacred be this Monument
to the memory of
ISRAEL PUTNAM, Esq.,
Senior Major-General in the Armies
of the United States of America,
who was born at Salem,

in the Province of Massachusetts,
on the 7th day of January,
A.D. 1718,

and died on the 29th of May,
A.D. 1790.

Passenger,

if thou art a soldier,

drop a tear over the dust of a hero,
who, ever attentive

to the lives and happiness of his men,
dared to lead

where any dared to follow.

If a patriot, remember the distinguished
and gallant services rendered this country by
the patriot who sleeps beneath this marble; if
thou art honest, generous and worthy, render a
cheerful tribute of respect to a man whose gen-
erosity was singular, whose honesty was
proverbial, who raised himself to univers-
al esteem, and offices of eminent dis-
tinction, by personal worth
and a useful life.

FORT MOULTRIE IN 1776 AND 1876.

JUST where the ocean laves Columbia's feet,

Within a broad expanse of waters blue,

Two leagues from shore, reposed a city near the sea,— Queen of the sunny South, pet of Britannia's crown, And by its royal patron christened Charles Town,Heir of his wealth, and haven of his fruitful ships. Around the neck of this fair city lay

Islands of flowers, Edens of beauty and of wealth,
Brighter than pearls on fair Cleopatra's breast;
Hither the royal Briton came, and Teuton bold,
Sons of old Scotia and of Erin's emerald isle,

The lily and the rose of France, exiled from Gallia's soil,—
All brave men, good and true, who settled there;
All Carolina's sons, chivalric, and to honor pledged
Their altars and their homes to moat with blood
Should e'er a tyrant's foot their soil invade.

But on the Northern shore that foot first pressed,
And on the neck of Boston placed its iron heel.
"Help, brethren, help!" the guns of Bunker Hill resound,
And down the whole Atlantic coast the echo rolled.
Each State sprang up, and Carolina cried,
"No cent for tribute, but millions for defence!"
Liberty was dearer than the patronage of kings,—
She dashed the crown in fragments at her feet,—
Her heart took fire as came that ringing cry for help,
And all her islands bristled quickly for defence.
Where should the British king strike next but at the head
Of his fair child, the Queen of sunny South,-the Queen,
Rebel to the kingdom of her royal sire?

His squadron ploughed the sea, three hundred guns;
A fleet so heavy-armed had never yet before

Atlantic's surface crossed to scourge Columbia's shore;
But on yon island front, just at the sea-gate pass,

All in a night, upsprang a wall of stout palmetto logs,—
Weak to the eye, "a very slaughter-pen," said Lee,

"Of pasteboard made," compared with ribs of English oak; But Moultrie with his Spartan band was there!

At morn the sea was white with glistening sails,
And, frowning as a bursting tempest-cloud,
The ships' black hulls bore swiftly down,

Launching their dread armament of mighty guns
'Gainst that proud fort that dared defy the king.

Back from its waiting walls, like swords of gleaming gold, Bright flames leaped forth from fifty guns,

Bridging the sea with a span of living fire,

Heaping the oaken decks with Britain's slain!

All day the battle raged; but with the setting sun
Moultrie his stout defences held,-the victory won!
Once, in the hottest of the fight, the flag went down,
Shot from the rampart to the reddened strand below,
But Jasper, leaping through the eddying flame and fire,
On gunner's staff upreared its folds again!

A century has passed since set that battle sun;

Again from Moultrie's ramparts sounds the patriot's call,
"Ye sons of Northern climes, whose cause the South espoused,
Come, kneel with us, and by this early altar of the free
Reconsecrate ourselves to truth and liberty!

Here come, as willing pilgrims to a Mecca come,
Hence go, to spread the reign of love and charity!"
Then Charleston will to Boston shout,

And cities clap their hands along the shore;

The Western mountains to the Eastern nod;
The peaceful valleys sing a hymn of joy;

Old ocean ripple, all along the coast,

From North to South, the common anthem of the free.

And then this mighty commonwealth of States,
The golden valleys of the West, and fertile slopes,
Our splendid cities, villages, and quiet homes,

In one grand brotherhood unite,—

"No North! no South! no East! no West!"

Great Sovereign of unnumbered worlds,
Father of nations, Lord of earth!
On this Centennial Day we Thee invoke!
Dost Thou not purify the gold by flames?

Is not grim War a messenger of Thine for good?

Are not the elements but servants at Thy feet?

Come, bid the waiting fields return Thy loving glance;

Stir all the energies of wealth to bless our land;

Make liberty our right, our rulers pure, our laws divine;
Unite, cement, and bind in one the nation's plans ;

Oh, keep our people ever free, and pure, and great,

Until the lamp of day be quenched by Time's concluding night.

JOHN THOMAS WIGHTMAN.

BUNKER HILL MONUMENT BEGUN. ITS PURPOSE. (From Address delivered June 17, 1825.)

We know, indeed, that the record of illustrious actions is most safely deposited in the universal remembrance of mankind. We know that if we could cause this structure to ascend, not only till it reached the skies, but till it pierced them, its broad surfaces could still contain but part of that which, in an age of knowledge, hath already been spread over the earth, and which history charges itself with making known to all future times. We know that no inscription on entablatures less broad than the earth itself can carry information of the events we commemorate where it has not already gone; and that no structure, which shall not outlive the duration of letters and knowledge among men, can prolong the memorial.

But our object is, by the edifice, to show our deep sense of the value and importance of the achievements of our ancestors; and, by presenting this work of gratitude to the eye, to keep alive similar sentiments, and to foster a constant regard for the principles of the Revolution. Human beings are composed not of reason only, but of imagination also, and sentiment; and that is neither wasted nor misapplied which is appropriated to the purpose of giving right direction to sentiments and opening proper springs of feeling in the heart.

Let it not be supposed that our object is to perpetuate national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military spirit. It is higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work to the spirit of national independence, and we wish that the light of peace may rest upon it forever. We rear a memorial of our conviction of that unmeasured benefit which has been conferred on our own land, and of the happy influences which have been produced by the same events on the general interests of mankind.

We come, as Americans, to mark a spot which must forever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish that whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hither, may behold that the place is not undistinguished where the first great battle of the Revolution was fought. We wish that this structure may proclaim the magnitude and importance of that event to every class

and every age. We wish that infancy may learn the purpose of its erection from maternal lips, and that wearied and withered age may behold it, and be solaced by the recollections which it suggests. We wish that labor may look up here and be proud in the midst of its toil. We wish that in those days of disaster, which, as they come on all nations, must be expected to come on us also, desponding patriotism may turn its eyes hitherward, and be assured that the foundations of our national power still stand strong.

We wish that this column, rising towards heaven among the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may contribute also to produce, in all minds, a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last object on the sight of him who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his return to it, may be something which shall remind him of the liberty and glory of his country. Let it rise till it meet the sun in his coming; let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit.

DANIEL WEBSTER.

THE BUNKER HILL MONUMENT COMPLETED.

(From Address delivered June 17, 1843.)

THE Bunker Hill Monument is finished. Here it stands. Fortunate in the natural eminence on which it is placed, higher, infinitely higher, in its objects and purpose, it rises over the land and over the sea; and visible, at their homes, to three hundred thousand citizens of Massachusetts, it stands a memorial of the last, and a monitor to the present and all succeeding generations.

I have spoken of the loftiness of its purpose. If it had been without any other design than the creation of a work of art, the granite of which it is composed would have slept in its native bed. It has a purpose; and that purpose gives it character. That purpose enrobes it with dignity and moral grandeur. That well-known purpose it is which causes us to look up to it