MEMORIALS OF MR. WEBSTER,

IN A SERIES OF LETTERS FROM ELMS FARM AND MARSHFIELD.

A TRIP TO NEW-HAMPSHIRE-DANIEL WEBSTER'S FARM ON THE

MERRIMACK.

ELMS FARM, N. H., October, 1849.

I asked a physician where a dyspeptic person, suffering from want of exercise, and liable to an attack from the prevailing epidemic, could go to eradicate the one and evade the other? He answered, "Among the granite hills of New Hampshire." The cholera was then raging in New-York.

On the same day, at 6 o'clock, P. M., I was on board that paragon of steamboats, the Empire State, commanded by the gallant Capt. Joseph Comstock, bound for Fall River. The next day at an early hour, having passed through Boston, Lowell, and

* A portion of the following letters were published at about the period they were written,-those from Marshfield in the Commercial Advertiser, and several of the others in the Courier and Enquirer. They have all been carefully revised, however, and since Mr. Webster's death have been reproduced in the columns of the Daily Times, from which they are now printed.

other towns, with the speed of steamboat, I found myself here, stepping out of the car with my portmanteau, hunting apparatus and fishing-tackle, at a dingy looking dépôt building, on the front of which was inscribed, in large letters, "Webster Place."

A gentleman of venerable age and respectable appearance standing by, perceiving that I was a stranger addressed me in the most courteous manner. No tavern being near he politely tendered to me, and I accepted, the hospitalities of his house. He is the friend, and was one of the playmates and schoolfellows of Mr. Webster. With a mind rich in reminiscences, and unimpaired by age, he was as instructive and entertaining as any man I have met in many a day. He goes back to his childhood, and talks of events happening then as if it were but yesterday. He talks about the Defender of the Constitution, when he was a boy, and he has made me quite familiar with that interesting period of his life, of which, by-the-by, the world has hitherto known comparatively nothing. I shall during my sojourn here, recount to you some portions of the conversation of this venerable man and his old neighbours, who sit together in the cool shades of these majestic elms, on pleasant afternoons, and live over again the scenes of their youth.

Webster Place is at Elms Farm, owned by Daniel Webster, in the town of Franklin, on the banks of the Merrimack, the home of his late father Colonel Ebenezer Webster. From filial affection Mr. Webster retains and cultivates this homestead, and doubtless will do so through life. I had no conception

that there could be found among these rugged hills, so far up this river, a spot so inviting, so enchanting. It is no wonder he loves to come here.

Taking it for granted that you, in common with the millions of intelligent citizens of the United States, are interested in knowing whatever pertains to this great man-unquestionably the greatest man of his time, and justly the object of his country's pride-I will give you a brief description of his farming lands, of this farm, its location, and some of the legends which render it, and ever will, a place of interest.

The whole extent of his farming lands in this vicinity is not less than nine hundred acres, which though composed of several tracts, do not lie contiguous to each other. I have rambled over them today. About 360 acres lie on the western hills bordering this valley, which are seeded for pastures, and upon it his flocks and herds feed during the summer. Limpid streams meander through it, and refreshing springs bubble up from the cool recesses of the earth to slake the thirst of both man and beast.

Beautiful trees-oak, walnut, maple, pine, &c.are scattered profusely over the surface, affording shade and shelter, and at the same time, giving it the appearance of a vast and highly ornamented park. I rode through it in different directions, and saw nearly one hundred head of his thriving cattle, some of them thorough-bred, all good, and all apparently as fat as seals. On these hills the sweetest kind of grass grows spontaneously. On the western verge of this tract of land there is a swelling mount, the

apex of which is known as "Pisgah's top." With a telescope in my hand I ascended it, and had a view of the surrounding country, well worth all the journey hither.

This elevated point, which Mr. Webster owns as a part of his farm and values highly, he visits annually, and thence re-surveys the scenes of his childhood and youth; all of which are spread out to his view like a map at his feet-the streams in which he angled for trout; the glens and the hills where, in his boyhood, gun in hand, he chased his game, and the fields he tilled with his own hands, are often revisited, so that every incident in that bye-gone time, is kept as fresh in his memory as if it had happened but yesterday.

The view is magnificent. The Kearsage Mountain, in the County of Merrimack, which rises 2,461 feet above the level of the sea, and the summit of which is now a bare mass of granite, but whose sides are covered with wood, stands out in bold relief. There stood its constant neighbor, Ragged Mountain, so aptly named from its rough appearance, rising 2,000 feet above the level of the sea. There stand the Mink Hills, and close by is the famous Meeting-House Hill. Looking beyond Ragged Mountain, I saw the summit of Ascutney Mountain in Vermont, which rises 3,116 feet above the Connecticut River, and 3,320 above the level of the sea. It is solid granite, and destitute of covering. Travellers make pilgrimages to its summit to take a view of the surrounding country. Looking in a northerly direction, I had a good view of the tops of the White

Mountains. You are aware that the summit of that range of crystal hills, as they were named by Neal, Jocelyn and Field, who ascended them in 1632, have since been named Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Franklin and Lafayette. Their snow-white summits are seen from "Pisgah's top," nearly sixty miles distant, and their appearance is that of a silvery cloud skirting the horizon. Mount Washington rises 6,234 feet above the sea. This is known from its being the highest and most southern. Mount Adams is next in height, and Mount Jefferson is situated between these two. They are the highest and most celebrated in New England.

There, too, in a more easterly direction, is a fine view of the Ossipee Mountain, and of its neighbors, the Gunstock Hills.

He has a small farm on which he sometimes pastures sheep, situated on the other side of the river, which embraces about one hundred acres.

The sheep and cattle which feed on these two upland farms in the summer, are, in the winter, driven to the homestead on the flats, and sometimes to Marshfield where they are foddered during the winter.

But the valuable land, that which affords him the chief inducement to own any land in this part of New England, is the farm which was his father's, and with which are associated his earliest, and perhaps fondest recollections.

It comprises about four hundred acres. About one half of it is rich bottom land, very level, handsomely laid out, and apparently under the highest state of cultivation; the other half is rolling land,