orceful
and to the point.

Mr. Long is a very fluent speaker, and, without oratorical display, he
always succeeds in winning the attention of his auditors. It is what he
says, more than how he says it, that has won for him his great
popularity on the platform. When, in February last, the Washington
monument was dedicated, he it was that was chosen to read the
magnificent oration of Robert C. Winthrop.

As a specimen of Mr. Long's happy way of expressing timely thoughts, the
following passage, selected from an address which he delivered at
Tremont Temple, Boston, on Memorial Day, 1881, deserves to be read:--

"Scarce a town is there--from Boston, with its magnificent column
crowned with the statue of America at the dedication of which even the
conquered Southron came to pay honor, to the humblest stone in rural
villages--in which these monuments do not rise summer and winter, in
snow and sun, day and night, to tell how universal was the response of
Massachusetts to the call of the patriots' duty, whether it rang above
the city's din or broke the quiet of the farm. On city square and
village green stand the graceful figures of student, clerk, mechanic,
farmer, in that endeared and never-to-be-forgotten war-uniform of the
soldier or the sailor, their stern young faces to the front, still on
guard, watching the work they wrought in the flesh, and teaching in
eloquent silence the lesson of the citizen's duty to the state, How our
children will study these! How they will search and read their names!
How quaint and antique to them will seem their arms and costume! How
they will gather and store up in their minds the fine, insensibly
filtering percolation of the sentiment of valor, of loyalty, of fight
for right, of resistance against wrong, just as we inherited all this
from the Revolutionary era, so that, when some crisis shall in the
future come to them, as it came to us, they will spring to the rescue,
as sprang our youth, in the beauty and chivalry of the consciousness
of a noble descent."

* * * * *

CONCORD MEN AND MEMORIES.

By George B. Bartlett.

On a pleasant June morning after a long drive through shady country
lanes, the little pile of rocks was reached, which for two hundred and
fifty years has marked the western corner of the lot, six miles square,
granted to form the plantation at Musketaquid on the second of September