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Browsing named entities in Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 2. You can also browse the collection for 1876 AD or search for 1876 AD in all documents.
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Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 2, Kossuth (1851 ). (search)
Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 2, The old South meeting House (1876 ). (search)
The old South meeting House (1876).
An address delivered in the Old South Meeting-House, June 4, 1876, and revised by Mr. Phillips.
It was in this building that he made his last public address,--the tribute to Harriet Martineau, which closes this volume,--December 26, 1883.
Ladies and Gentlemen: Why are we here to-day?
Why should this relic, a hundred years old, stir your pulses to-day so keenly?
We sometimes find a community or an individual with their hearts set on some old roof or great scene; and as we look on, it seems to us an exaggerated feeling, a fond conceit, an unfounded attachment, too emphatic value set on some ancient thing or spot which memory endears to them.
But we have a right to-day — this year we have a right beyond all question, and with no possibility of exaggerating the importance of the hour — to ask the world itself to pause when this nation completes the first hundred years of its life; because these forty millions of people have at last achieve
Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 2, Helen Eliza Garrison (1876 ). (search)
Helen Eliza Garrison (1876).
Remarks at the funeral services of Mrs. Garrison, 125 Highland Street, Roxbury, Thursday, January 27, 1876.
How hard it is to let our friends go!
We cling to them as if separation were separation forever; and yet, as life nears its end, and we tread the last years together, have we any right to be surprised that the circle grows narrow; that so many fall, one after another, at our side?
Death seems to strike very frequently; but it is only the natural, inevitable fate, however sad for the moment.
Some of us can recollect, only twenty years ago, the large and loving group that lived and worked together; the joy of companionship, sympathy with each other,--almost our only joy, for the outlook was very dark, and our toil seemed almost vain.
The world's dislike of what we aimed at, the social frown, obliged us to be all the world to each other; and yet it was a full life.
The life was worth living; the labor was its own reward; we lacked nothing