ke ours, are wholly inefficient and worthless, unless
they are sustained by the confidence and devotion of the people. And I
confess my apprehensions, that in the death of the late President, we
have lost a degree of that confidence and devotion which will not soon
again pertain to any successor. Between public measures regarded as
antagonistic, there is often less real difference in their bearing on
the public weal, than there is between the dispute being kept up or
being settled either way. I fear the one great question of the day is
not now so likely to be partially acquiesced in by the different
sections of the Union, as it would have been could General Taylor have
been spared to us. Yet, under all circumstances, trusting to our Maker
and through His wisdom and beneficence to the great body of our people,
we will not despair, nor despond.

In General Taylor's general public relation to his country, what will
strongly impress a close observer was his unostentatious,
self-sacrificing, long-enduring devotion to his duty. He indulged in no
recreations, he visited no public places seeking applause; but quietly,
as the earth in its orbit, he was always at his post. Along our whole
Indian frontier, through summer and winter, in sunshine and storm, like
a sleepless sentinel, he has watched while we have slept for forty long
years. How well might the dying hero say at last, "I have done my duty,
I am ready to go."

Nor can I help thinking that the American people, in electing General
Taylor to the Presidency, thereby showing their high appreciation of his
sterling, but inobtrusive qualities, did their country a service, and
themselves an imperishable honor. It is much for the young to know that
treading the hard path of duty as he trod it will be noticed, and will
lead to high places.

But he is gone. The conqueror at last is conquered. The fruits of his
labor, his name, his memory and example, are all that is left us--his
example, verifying the great truth that "he that humbleth himself, shall
be exalted"--teaching that to serve one's country with a singleness of
purpose gives assurances of that country's gratitude, secures its best
honors, and makes "a dying bed, soft as downy pillows are."

The death of the last President may not be without its use, in reminding
us that we, too, must die. Death, abstractly considered, is the same
with the high as with the low; but practically we are not so much
aroused by the contempl