objects, was stationed in this corner of the Commonwealth, in command of the line of forts erected for border defence. You know that I allude to the founder of this Institution. He foresaw, even then, the destinies of the Country. He knew that the dreary forest was not designed forever to encumber the soil. He beheld it yielding to the march of civilization. As he heard the crash of the sturdy trunk, falling beneath the narrow axe of the settler; as he saw the log-cabins slowly rising on the edge of the clearing, and beheld the smoke here and there curling up in the lonely and mysterious woods; as he heard the voice of the mountain stream, then babbling, unheeded, over the rocks; his sagacious mind overleaped the interval of years. He was called, by his intrepid spirit and his country's voice, to take an active part in the first scenes of the war of 1755. A presentiment of his fate seems to have been upon his mind. Before plunging into the campaign, he made provision for the appropriation of his fortune to furnish the means of education to the people, whose struggles, in settling this region, he had witnessed and shared. His will was made at Albany, on the twenty-second of July, 1755, bequeathing his property for the foundation of this Institution; and, on the eighth of September, of the same year, in an engagement with the troops under the Baron Dieskau, he fell, at the head of his regiment. Eighty years, only, have passed away. The laudable purposes of your founder have been more than fulfilled; and, out of the living fountain struck open in the desert by his generous bequest, abundant streams of piety and learning have flowed, and are flowing.

Colonel Williams's character was of no ordinary mould. At a distance from the seat of his benefaction, full justice has not been done to his memory. A man of the happiest natural temperament, a gentleman of the true natural stamp, unassuming and simple, supplying the deficiency of a learned education by large experience of men and things, acquired in foreign travel, in the

legislature, and in the army, yet modestly lamenting what others did not trace, his want of early advantages; without a family, but the patriarch of the frontier settlement where he was stationed; he fell, in the prime of early manhood, a victim to his patriotic zeal. A brief sketch of his biography, in one of the early volumes of the Massachusetts Historical Collections,* informs us, that he witnessed, with humane and painful sensations, the dangers, difficulties, and hardships, which the settlers of these valleys were obliged to encounter; and that, to encourage them, he was accustomed to intimate the purpose which was carried into effect in his will. I regret, not to have found Colonel Williams's views, on this subject, preserved somewhat in detail. It would have been exceedingly interesting to see the topic of education, in reference to the wants of a newlysettled country, as it presented itself to the practical view of a man of his character, on the eve of a war. As no such record, as far as I know, has been preserved, you will pardon me for attempting to present the subject to you, under the same light in which he may have contemplated it.

"My friends," (we may conceive he would say, to a group of settlers, gathered about old Fort Massachusetts, on some fit occasion, not long before his marching toward the place of rendezvous,) "your hardships, I am F aware, are great. I have witnessed, I have shared them. The hardships, incident to opening a new country, are always severe. They are heightened, in our case, by the constant danger in which we live, from the savage enemy. At present, we are rather encamped than settled. We live in block-houses; we lie upon our arms, by night; and, like the Jews, who returned to build Jerusalem,† we go to work, by day, with the implements of husbandry in one hand, and the weapons of war in the other. Nor is this the worst. We have

been bred up in the populous settlements on the coast, where the schoolhouse and the church are found at the centre of every village. Here, as yet, we can have neither. I know these things weigh upon you. You look upon the dark and impenetrable forests, in which you have made an opening, and contrast it with the pleasant villages, where you were born and passed your early years, where your parents are yet living, or where they have gone to their rest; and you cannot suppress a painful emotion.

In vis

"You are, more especially, as I perceive, somewhat disheartened, at the present moment of impending war. But, my friends, let not your spirits sink. The prospect is overcast, but brighter days will come. ion, I can plainly foresee them. The forest disappears; the cornfield, the pasture, takes its place: the hill-sides are spotted with flocks; the music of the water-wheel sounds in accord with the dashing stream. Your little groups of log-cabins swell into prosperous villages. Schools and churches spring up in the waste; institutions for learning arise; and, in what is now a wild solitude, libraries and cabinets unfold their treasures, and observatories point their tubes to the heavens. I tell you, that not all the united powers of all the French and Indians on the St. Lawrence,-no, not if backed by all the powers of darkness which seem, at times, in league with them, to infest this howling wilderness, will long prevent the valleys of the Hoosac and the Housatonic from becoming the abode of industry, abundance, and refinement. A century will not pass, before the voice of domestic wisdom and fireside inspiration, from the vales of Berkshire, will be heard throughout America and Europe. As for the contest, impending, I am sure we shall conquer; if I mistake not, it is the first of a series of events, of unutterable moment to all America, and even to mankind. Before it closes, the banner of St. George will float, I am sure, over Cape Diamond ;* and the exten

* At Quebec.

sion of the British power over the whole continent will be but the first act of a great drama, whose catastrophe I but dimly foresee.

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"I speak of what concerns the whole Country; the fortune of individuals is wrapt in the uncertain future. For myself, I must own, that I feel a foreboding at my heart, which I cannot throw off. I can only say, if my hour is come, (and I think it is not distant,) I am prepared. I have been able to do but little; but, if Providence has no further work for me to perform, I am ready to be discharged from the warfare. It is my purpose, before I am taken from you, to make a disposition of my property, for the benefit of this infant community. My heart's desire is, that, in the picture of its future prosperity, which I behold in mental view, the last and best of earthly blessings shall not be wanting. I shall deem my life not spent in vain, though it be cut off to-morrow, if,. at its close, I shall be accepted as the humble instrument of promoting the great cause of education.

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My friends, as I am soon to join the army, we meet, many of us, perhaps, for the last time. I am a solitary branch; I can be spared. I have no wife, to feel my loss; no children, to follow me to the grave. Should

I fall by the tomahawk or in the front of honorable battle, on the shores of the stormy lake or in the infested woods, this poor body may want even a friendly hand to protect it from insult. But I must take the chance of a soldier's life. When I am gone, you will find some proof that my last thoughts were with the settlers of Fort Massachusetts; and perhaps, at some future day, should my desire to serve you and your children not be disappointed, my humble name will not be forgotten in the public assembly, and posterity will bestow a tear on the memory of EPHRAIM WILLIAMS.'

THE IMPORTANCE OF THE MECHANIC ARTS.*

MR. PRESIDENT AND GENTLEMEN,-I beg leave to congratulate you, on the success of your efforts to establish the first Fair of the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Association. Under circumstances somewhat unfavorable, you have produced an exhibition, which, I am persuaded, has fully answered the public expectation. More than fifteen thousand articles, in almost every department of art, have been displayed in the halls. Specimens of machinery and fabrics, reflecting great credit on their inventors, improvers, and manufacturers, many of them affording promise of the highest utility, and unitedly bearing a very satisfactory testimony to the state of the arts in this Country, and particularly in this community, have been submitted to the public inspection. The exhibitors have already, in the aggregate, been rewarded with the general approbation of the crowds of our fellow-citizens, who have witnessed the display. It will be the business of your committees, after a critical examination of the articles exhibited, to award enduring testimonials of merit. But the best reward will be the consciousness of having contributed to the common stock of the public welfare, by the successful cultivation of the arts, so important to the improvement of society and the happiness of life.

I feel gratified, at being invited to act as the organ of your Association, in this general expression of its sentiments, on so interesting an occasion. It would be a pleasing employment, to attempt an enumeration and description of some of the most important of the articles exhibited. But it would be impossible to accomplish this object, to any valuable purpose, within reasonable

* An Address delivered before the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Association, September 20, 1837, on occasion of their first Exhibition and Fair.