?2547£ tihxavy of Che theological ^tminavy PRINCETON . NEW JERSEY FROM THE LIBRARY OF ROBERT ELLIOTT SPEER BX 9225 .P377 L4 1903 Levi Parsons, D.D. pi/ ^i^-iy—r v>L^>>^ ^^^^-T'^-^/, \2^oeicAL PASTOR OF THE FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, MOUNT MORRIS, N. Y. 1856- I9OI A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE — FUNERAL SERVICES — TRIBUTES OF ESTEEM-EXTRACTS FROM HIS SERMONS AND ADDRESSES The Union Press, AIoxjNT Morris. New York, "For tJion hast kept the faith ; tJiy soul nndaitiited. Whatever storms might round thee rage and roll, By one celestial passion still enchanted. Has held its course right otn^'ard to the goal. Thou hast not basely gathered thrift 7oith fa^cning. Nor loom a laurel that thou hast not zoon ; But, in thy rsenith hour as in thy daivning, The good thy nature loilled thy hand has done. On thy calm front the 7i.. George P. Folsoni, D. D., Monnl Clemens, Mich.'\ * * " How much I loved and enjoyed him. The dear old Genesee Valley will not seem the same without him. I always feel thankful that a kind Providence led us to Geneseo, and among the sweetest memories of my ten years pastorate there are the social and spiritual interchanges with him." [From Rev. Samuel Jessup, D. D., Oneida. N. V.] "There is no word that so well expresses my impressions and recollections of him as the word good. It always did me good to have him look at me and speak to me, there was such a friendly look and tone about him. So thoroughly genuine and strong was he that I always looked up to him and revered him, while he drew me with a peculiar attraction of trust and friendship. Perhaps you will remember tliat I was associated with him in the old Presbytery of Ontario with Pasre and P"olsom." [Ffom Rev. If. H. Roberts, D D., Stated Clerk of General Assembly of the Presbyteria n Ch ii rch . ] "Your letter informing me of the death of my dear friend, Dr. Levi Parsons, of Mount Morris, N. Y., has been received. It gives me deep sorrow to receive this news. The sadness of such an event is, however, alleviated by the thought of the useful, prolonged and distinguished services rendered by Dr. Parsons throughout his life to the Presbyterian church and to the church of Christ in general." 81 Brick Presbyterian Church, Rochester, N. Y. The Hfe of a personaHty hke his is a real divine influence in a community, and one of God's best gifts to any people. For sub- stantial worth of character he stood eminent in this whole region. W. R. Taylor. Presbyterian Parsonage, Lancaster, N. Y. My dear Mrs. Parsons — * * I do not fail to remember how poor to you must seem all words of even the best and most esteemed of your friends in the midst of such bereavement as you have suffered. Still it is some- thing to know that others are bearing part of the burden under which we groan. =* * I am a mourner with you. The death of your noble husband was a sad surprise and an affliction to me. I loved the man, and there are none who stood higher in my esteem for those admirable qualities of sincerity, fairness, charity, sound judgment, high purpose, and unswerving righteousness and devotion to our common Master than Doctor Levi Parsons. William Waith. [From Henry IV. Miller of the Bnptist Church, Mojint Moj-ris, N. Y.] " Your family, the church and the community are under the shadow of no ordinary loss. Personally Dr. Parsons was one of my most cherished friends. We who remain return thanks to our lov- ing Heavenly Father for his Christ-like example among us for so many years. We thank God he is at 'rest from his labors and his works do follow him.' " St. Patrick's Church, Mount Morris. Dear Mrs. Parsons — This note is to tell you that my sister and I heartily sympathize with you and your family in your great bereavement. Your husband was one of Nature's noblemen — broad-minded, charitable and sin- cere. Of him many friends are saying and many more feel that "We shall not look upon his like again." James H. Day. 82 As one of Dr. Parsons' boys I want to tell you that I am mourn- ing with you that we shall see his face no more this side the river. Not mourning for him but for ourselves; for he has been translated to a higher and a greater and holier service. The sorrow is ours because of the separation. * * As I have from time to time thought of visiting the old home the very pleasing thought has come, I shall see Dr. Parsons. What a benediction his greeting always was ; all the world seemed brighter after it. * * Henry D. Ames. East Oakland, Cal. Marcellus, Dec. loth, 1902. Dear Sister — My visit with you made quite an impression on me. It was pleasant, it was sad. I never realized so fully that brother had left us permanently as at this time. Sickness, death and the necessary flurry connected with funeral arrangements, somewhat befog us in regard to the realization of the occasion. But now the master of the house was not to be seen. An occasional sound would (without thought) imply his presence here and there, because in all of my previous visits he was out and in. The house with all its arrange- ments, the garden with its terraces, told of his handiwork, and the hilltop where so many times we mounted, to look over the plain, and the hills with their several villages ; but now his presence ceases any longer to gi\-e enlivenment to the scene. Even the waiting at the depot was without his cheerful face and social ways, and the always good-bye shake of the hand failed to give the amen to the visit. Sabbath day at the church I missed him, and also at the Sunday school. The walk to the cemetery, bordered a portion of the way by his plot of land, brought him vividly to mind, and at last, further on, in the midst of his dear old flock, we found him lying in sweet repose, and wonderful to tell, among his immediate surroundings such a troop of Gospel Messengers. Brother, thy work is done, well done. What a glorious morning the resurrection morning will be, when all of God's chosen ones shall come forth from those graves in the image and beauty of their Savior and they shall see the King in his beauty. Yours truly, I. Parsons. «3 A CiiltmpB^ 0f tl|^ I|0m0 IdxU. AFTER all, the story of no man is complete that fails to picture his home life. If this is pure and strong and sweet, it gives an added flavor to that which may be considered external or public. Brought up in a minister's home of the old New England type, Dr. Parsons had the highest ideals regarding the importance of the family life, as well as a strong love for his home. His boyhood's home had been one where the rare principle of "high thinking and plain living" was put into daily practice, where the greatest rever- ence for all that was good and great and pure was inculcated, and a profound respect for true wisdom and learning. A thrifty, busy, hospitable home it was. How the hearts of its children were bound to it. How they clung to the memory of its ancient wood, its sparkling brooks, its sunny meadows, and the hills that stand when those who loved them have passed away forever. How they loved to gather about the glowing fireplace for long, long talks, and, as their number gradually diminished, how that bond of love waxed stronger, aye, ever stronger that held those hearts to each other and the sad, sweet memories of the past. Going forth from such a home, little wonder was it that each sought to found a home that should in some fashion reproduce the one they loved so well. It was in the second year of his life in Mount Morris that Dr. Parsons purchased the house that was to be his home during an unusually long pastorate. Such a purchase would be considered peculiar if not rash in these days, for at the time the minister's salary was but eight hundred dollars. However, he was economical, 85 thrifty, ingenious, fond of planning ways and means, and this trait which so often shone in the trustee meetings of later years was put to immediate use. The house was remodeled, and afterwards was frequently altered until at last it became a family joke that " every seven years instead of changing pastorates, Father contented himself with changing the house," adding awing, altering the piazza, or making the interior more convenient. The result pleased him. His home was to him a delightful place. "The home-coming is the best part of the journey," he would fre- quently say. His own sunny sitting-room was the pleasantest room he found. His home was "his castle" in which he could find a happy retreat from the besieging cares of life. He loved the seclusion of it ; he loved the comfort of it. He loved in winter to see the fire glow, for brought up in a home where wood fires rollicked and roared up capacious chimneys he would never consent to do away with all sign of fire, — an iron grating in the floor was no equivalent. The grounds about the home were to him a most important part of it, and he spent much time in their improvement. In summer he took the greatest satisfaction in the fruits that grew on the trees of his own planting, the grapes from his own carefully trimmed vines, and the early peas and lettuce of his own garden. Alas ! with what hope did he plan out this garden each spring and plant the early seed, leaving towards nightfall his study with its accumulations of presbyterial work for this communion with nature ; and then with what regret did he see the advantage gained by the weeds during his series of absences at presbytery, at the Auburn commencement, and possibly the General Assembly. The weeds might gain an advantage, but he never yielded them the victory, stoutly persisting in the unequal contest ; for the reward was, after all, great,— work where music of birds and apple-scented air and even the bursting clods of earth all spoke of life and growth, the reaching out towards that which is above and beyond. He loved this work in the open air, he loved country life and scenes ; and it was with no feigned interest that in his pastoral calls he talked of the crops or various farm improvements. As he had come to the door, he had remarked the condition of field and orchard, had noted with pleasure the probability of a plenteous harvest, or was ready with sympathy for the unfortunate. Of all classes of men, none to him were to be more envied than the farmer, "who might live like a king on the best of the land " he would say. Doctor Parsons was himself a man of simple tastes and habits, a firm believer in the value of early hours and abstemious living. He had inherited from some Puritan forbear a taste for economy, an aptitude for thrift, or was it the result of his early training.? But in him this saving was merely that, as Emerson puts it, he might "spend on a higher plane." A cent was never a small thing to him when spent for a non-essential, a dollar never too large for a real comfort or necessity, especially for others, for his economy was strictest in regard to himself. Towards others he was generous, while in expenditures for the church and for missions he was a worthy exam- ple. His thrifty management of a small salary was sometimes com- mented upon. "God must send his ravens to help the Doctor," said one parishioner, but the ravens were prudence and economy, with the added blessing promised to those who honor the Lord with their substance. It was always his delight to welcome guests to his home. Many a gathering has the church had under his roof. Indeed it is to be questioned whether, during his pastorate, anyone in Mount Morris has entertained a larger number of people. He was a sociable man, always interested in the little festivities of home or church life ; one who enjoyed "a good talk" to which he contributed not a little of wit as well as wisdom, for he possessed the art of telling a good story and had a fund of humor which was not infrequently a surprise to those who saw but the clerical side of his life. He was one who enjoyed to its utmost contact with the sympathetic, the cultured and bright, those to whom he might reveal his deeper thoughts and experiences with surety of appreciation and responsiveness. 87 I do not need to speak of his courtesy, — that was never faihng, in private or in public. During his last illness when he spoke but little, there was always a "thank you" for any little assistance given him. He had always been appreciative whether the matter in question was an "A No. i dinner," which caused him regretfully to wonder whether "Queen Victoria had such good fare," or was some achieve- ment of public importance. He was a firm believer in the duty and value of commendation, even preaching a sermon upon this subject. One peculiarity was his desire for counsel. " In the multitude of counsellors there is safety," was a proverb frequently quoted by him. Not only in matters of ecclesiastical importance but in those per- taining to the home as well, not only when great interests were at stake but even in the little things of life, not only of the wise ones of the church but even of his children, would he seek counsel. How often were they gathered in the study that he might gain the united judgment of the family regarding some important letter, — and how often did they feel that he would have depended on broken reeds had their judgment been all. In connection with this he was accus- tomed to refer to a little joke at his own expnse in regard to the purchase of a horse. The seller being asked whether Dr. Parsons had decided to take the horse, replied, " No, not yet, I believe there is still one deacon to consult." But if he were ready to ask advice, how ready, too, he was to bestow it, how willing to turn from his work, though it was a sermon, to listen to troubles or plans, and give the best of his wisdom. There was ever a welcome to that study ; no "blue Mondays" there, only a " royal welcome," a ready sympathy, the delightful assurance that there was plenty of time for a little talk and that it was a pleasure and a satisfaction to him. His pleasure in his home and family seemed to increase with years. The home-coming of the children was always a joy to him, their departure a trial. Who can forget his fervent "may the Lord bless you," as he bade farewell, or the letter that followed the wanderer telling how he " walked home from the station with a heavy heart." How faithfully he followed the traveler in imagin- ation through the hours of the journey, how eagerly he welcomed each letter from the absent loved ones, how impatiently he gathered the family so that all might enjoy it together. He was at his best in the home ; he gave of his best. It was his custom to bring the results of his reading to the table, and if wife or children followed the apostolic injunction to ask for information at home, they were quite sure to receive an abundant store. He read but little fiction, and that little critically ; but his interest in the events of the day was ever fresh. The description of the home life would scarcely be complete without some reference to its music, which is considered by a sweet Southern poet as the one essential of a true home. In the old Marcellus home there had been an enthusiastic love for music, especially singing. People sang in those days, sang for hours at a stretch when the inspiration was on, and the musical influ- ence of his youth remained throughout his life. After a Thanks- giving dinner, when most people would be ready for a siesta, he generally called for "a little music," which comprised the old hymns, although in his earlier days he enjoyed the secular songs and ballads of the times. It was the delight of his children to hear his enthusi- astic rendering of " Van's a used up man," "Trancadillo,," and "Tramp, the boys come marching," enriched by his fine voice. But he loved the old hymns best, and among those best loved and often sung as the Sabbath twilight deepened, were " Softly now the light of day," "Safely through another week," "Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah," and "Jerusalem, my happy home." He never seemed to weary of singing, and it is beautiful to think that his eternal home is filled with sweetest melody and praise. During the last years of his life, his growth in spirituality became more and more apparent. The outward man might perish but the inward man was indeed renewed day by day. There was a precepti- ble strengthening and ripening of all Christian graces and virtues. To his faith was added meekness and humility, an increasing love 89 toward all that was good and pure, a growing tenderness for the faults and frailites of human nature, a personal interest in even the little things that might make or mar another's happiness, the gracious spirit of sympathy and helpfulness that so surely wins the love and honor of all ; until at last when he passed from this earthly home to the home all-glorious, not only his own children, but many "another daughter," and those who called themselves "the Doctor's boys," now mourn a father's loss. To them as to all comes this message from the distant West : " You and all of us have a most precious memory of a noble, honored, saintly life ; and the more we dwell upon it the sweeter and holier and more useful will our lives be." 90 ^If^plfrriibss. In Memory of Rev. Levi Parsons, D. D. [Published by pertnission of New York Evangelist.'\ A SABBATH DAY of perfect rest and peace, Of deep, abounding joy, alas, how rare ! There may come days when in the praise of God All nature joins, and sounds discordant, toil And Strife are hushed, and earth, resplendent earth, Radiant with beauty, all aglow with light And love and joy, seems very part of Heaven. And yet, methinks, the bluest skies may tinge Of sadness wear, the sweetest earthly song May leave some mournful thought, and ev'n in June When, if at all, should come the perfect day, The passing breeze may whisper soft of death. Such Sabbath day was this. At earliest dawn The little birds their happy matins sang. And as the sun climbed up the golden stair To azure heights, louder the chorus swelled. The insect world, a busy throng, beat low And soft their monotone as basal note, Above which soared exultant, carols glad Of robins and melodious orioles ; Tuneful and sweet the air, and full of peace. But not until the sun has nearly reached Its height, comes there to man, neglectful man, The call to join in worship of the King. Then slow the church bell tolls its solemn tone, And at the summons to the house of God The village people wend their way. Some pass With gladsome heart, rejoicing in the day The Lord hath made, a Sabbath day in June. 91 But others walk with sad and downcast face, And half reluctant mount the steps that lead Up to the Holy Place. Ah, can it be That God's least creatures give him joyful praise And we, the favored ones, our worship grudge ? But hark ! the organ sounds a sobbing note, A mournful melody insistent swells. Then soft its anguish whispers till it sinks Into some minor strain — a threnody That causes hearts to beat in sad accord. Aye, meet it is to tread the aisle with slow And mournful feet, and banish all light thoughts And every careless smile, for here are signs Of grief, black draperies whose gloomy folds Droop unresponsive to the gentle touch Of summer breeze, which steals away abashed; Nor ventures in the sunshine glad, but leaves The place to shadow and to grief. Sad thoughts Abound, deep sighs and tears ; for Death has dared The fold and taken one much loved away. The Shepherd of the flock, leaving instead From his unwelcome train, mournful lament And silent grief, grave care and anxious fears. There is the sacred desk where he for five And forty years did preach salvation free, Warning the sinner from his downward way, Pleading the beauty of the paths of p?ace That he might win his flock to holy life And lead them all at last safe home to Heaven. There stands the massive pulpit chair now swathed In black, where oft he sat, perchance in prayer, Whilst anthems high ascended or the hymn Of praise ; and there the Bible where his hand Was wont to rest as earnestly he sought To lead his people to the Mercy Seat. To-day that hand rests in the silent grave. That voice on earth shall never more be heard. His work below is done ; and in his place A stranger stands to preach the word of God. And many list attentively, but some Avert their eyes and give scant heed ; yet blame 92 Them not, for even Holy Writ hath said That stranger's voice the sheep will not obey And some of these no other Shepherd's care Have known. Strange eloquence attracts them not. Let them alone. Shall not the child bewail His father dead, or friend lament a friend ? And he was friend to all and watched o'er all With more than common father's love, and deep Solicitude. And he was loved by all, By all revered. The little children scanned His face and knew him as a friend, for was He not their minister, who talked with God, And preached to them the words that God had said. The aged ones, whose comfort he had been As Death's remoiseless hand successive swept Away their loved ones, all that made life sweet And dear, now falter in life's dreary way, And dread to pass the lonely shadowed vale, And grieve that stranger priest their bodies shall Commit unto the grave. And even those Of other faith now mourn the good man gone, Finding the world a lonelier, sadder place, For one life vanished, whose mere presence was A benediction. A Christlike man was he, Who sought to preach God's word in purity, And by his own true life to show how near Man might attain to that fair pattern set By Christ. All marked him as a man Of peace, meek, patient, full of charity, And yet when 'gainst the weak and helpless gaped The ravening powers of sin, or when within The church strange doctrines rose and doubts were cast Upon the inspired Word of God, ah, then He fearless was as man of war with stern Rebuke for aught that dared contend the right And true. For this all honored him and for His thought profound, his insight keen in ways And thoughts of men, his knowledge deep of truths Which God alone reveals, his counsel wise With wisdom sought of God and granted him In measure full. Yet on that Sabbath day 93 As midst the signs of grief his people sat Methinks 'twas not of honor that they thought. Nay, rather did each mutely grieve as child Forsaken, missing the dear familiar face, Longing to hear again that gracious voice While Memory with a fad insistence dwelt Upon some helpful word, some thoughtful deed, Or whispered low of Eastertide when last He broke the bread and passed the wine and preached The blessed hope to all sad hearts God-given Since from the dead the Saviour rose again. Then blessed his people, from among them passed Whilst troubled eyes did note with secret dread The pallid face, the trembling voice and step. Yes, from the Table, passed he forth, as passed His Lord, to learn those last sad lessons which A Heavenly Father sends, of patient trust, Though led along the suffering way to death. To death andjoy beyond ! while we are left To mourn, to grope in darkness where once shone The steady light of that pure, faithful life, To wander in strange paths since he who knew So well the narrow way, no longer leads Our weary feet therein. Ah, helpless we. And scattered and in sore distress ; we know Not where to turn . Dangers assail, dark fears Beset our path, and faith lies low and hope Has sped away. O God, our Father, Thou Who didst remove our shepherd and our guide. I^ook down with pitying eye. Bind up sore hearts And pour the balm of consolation in. Send faith with surer power, and joyous hope Recall; and though we still may tread the rough And saddened path, oh, grant that vision rare, The vision of the perfect day, when grief And sorrow shall have fled away, and we With everlasting joy upon our heads Shall in the Zion of our God with those Who passed before and those who after come — When we, thy church complete, shall all unite In holy, perfect praise forevermore. Mary Almira Parsons. 94 Khhvts^tB. The Uses of Political Parties. [Delivered by Dr. Parsons before the Alumni at Hamilton College, July isi, i8Sj. Published in The New Princeton Revietv, May, 1887'] IN attempting to point out some of the uses of political parties, we shall make no comparison as to their relative merits, nor shall we trace their origin, nor the various changes which they have undergone; it being our object not to vindicate any party or party measure, but rather to meet the common objection that the influence of party politics is demoralizing both to the Government and the masses. Admitting that the very terms, rings, caucuses, and political con- ventions, have an unpleasant flavor, suggestive of trickery, rascality, the buying and selling of votes, and the misleading of honest men into the support of demagogues, we claim that all these evils are attributable to the abuse and not the proper use of the political party, which, so far from meriting condemnation, must be recognized as furnishing important wheels in the machinery of our Govern- ment which the fathers of the republic failed to provide, and through whose agency alone the most obscure citizen can make his influence so felt as to become a potent factor in the Government. And here, in the opening of this discussion, we cannot fail to be impressed with its importance when we consider the magnitude of these parties. We think of them as filling the land; with not a 95 township, a school district, or a hamlet but contains their ardent admirers and firm supporters. These parties, as they stand confront- ing each other face to face, far outnumber any armies which were ever marshalled on the field of battle ; each is composed of its mil- lions of free voters, while each represents still other millions of women and children who feel hardly less interest in their success. But these parties are not less marvellous for their extent and the diffused power which permeates the masses, than for those agencies by which that power is concentrated and rendered effective. For these are organized bodies, and in their organizations they recognize the principle of civil liberty, which is simply the right of every man to his share and no more than his share in the Government ; he is to bow to the will of the majority, and is to respect those rules and processes by which that will is ascertained. Here, then, in the party drill which is so common, are to be found the training-schools in which men are fitted either to stand in the ranks as the uncom- promising defenders of good government, or to execute the high and responsible duties of office if called to the same by their fellows. It is in these training-schools that men are taught how to work together and how to combine their influence ; they are taught that submission is the first duty of the citizen, and that only those who, in obedience to rules and regulations, work in harmony with others can ever be safely intrusted with the exercise of power. And cer- tainly the drill of these great parties, by which the millions of their adherents are brought into line and made to keep step, is a fact that challenges our admiration, and all the more so when we reflect that it is accomplished without the slightest compulsion. Think for a moment of the interest which culminates in those quadrennial nomi- nating conventions in which these parties, through their representa- tives from every part of the nation, select their candidates for the highest honors in the gift of the people ; think of the zeal of the various factions, which rises to a white heat as they urge the claims of their favorites — a zeal so intense in its antagonisms as to threaten the very disruption of the party ; and yet, as the culminating point 96 is reached and the one successful name is announced, how suddenly does this turbulent sea become calm, how quickly do these discor- dant notes change into one grand chorus of harmony. And shall we give no credit to agencies which, without coercion, exert such power to hold the selfish aspirations of men in check, and so concentrate their influence as to render it most effective ? Just at this point, however, we cannot leave unnoticed the agency of the political press, with its postal and telegraphic facilities, in promoting and securing this unity of action to which allusion has been made. We yield our perferences in order to work in unison, just because we have been counselling together through these mar- vellous agencies by which mind is brought in contact with mind, though widely separated all over these States and Territories. Our Congress, our State Legislatures, and even our political conventions are not the only deliberative bodies which we have ; the people themselves, with the daily newspaper in hand, constitute the great and controlling deliberative body of this country. At every fireside, through means of the press, questions as to governmental policy are thought out, discussed, and settled. Thus it is that public opinion is wrought out into a definite and reliable form. No man can un- derstand American politics without recognizing the leadership of the press. These editorial chairs have come to be thrones of power and centres of influence such as the fathers of the republic could never have dreamed of. They have far more to do in moulding public opinion and shaping the policy of the Government than all the debates of Congress and other legislative bodies. But while they are acknowledged leaders, it is a gratifying fact that they can- not lead the people arbitrarily, but are themselves controlled b}' the public opinion which crystallizes under their influence. And the surprising tenacity with which people cling to the party of their choice very naturally directs attention to the historical char- acter of these parties. They are like large trees which cannot be blown over, because of the years during which their roots have been striking deeply into the earth. To become acquainted with either of 97 the great polital parties of our land, you must trace its roots all through those agitations which have followed each other ever since the birth of the nation, and, especially, through that great conflict which almost accomplished its disruption. These parties are what they are to-day because they are not a fabrication, but a growth,and therefore they cannot be taken apart and built up at will. When we look at our mighty rivers and discover the large tributaries which flow into them, we say that they are where they are and their channels are broad and deep just because they have been obliged to dispose of the waters which have come to them through these tribu- taries; in like manner do we account for the deep channels which these political parties have cut for themselves, and for the direction of the current which flows through the same, by tracing them back to those tributaries of influence in the past which have served to define their policy and impart to them the character which they now possess. We cannot forget that, in the years gone by, men who have held high positions in our national councils, and who have been respected for their disinterested patriotism, have counted it an honor to enroll their names as members of these parties. The men of to-day are not a little indebted to those worthy names as furnishing a constant incentive to high-minded patriotism, and as constant a rebuke to everything that is narrow, selfish and base. It is thus that the best elements of any one age contribute more to the stream of party influence than those of the opposite character. The former live because they are cherished, while the latter die, being ignored. Added to this we must not fail to notice how largely this party zeal is the fruit of an ancestral spirit, and as such is worthy of being cherished. We are accustomed to honor the children when we see them following in the footsteps of their fathers and glorying in their party banner because their fathers once carried the same. In- stead of calling this a blind enthusiasm we rather commend it as a noble sentiment, and discover in it a conservative power for good. And this leads to the more general remark that the free institu- tions with which we, as a nation, have been blessed for more than a 98 century have furnished the very soil out of which these poHtical parties have sprun