Near the site of the house where Mr. Webster was born, and in the bed of a little brook, are the remains of an old mill, which once stood in a dark glen, and was there surrounded with a majestic forest which covered the neighboring hills. The mill was a source of income to his father, and he kept it in operation till near the close of his life. To that mill, Daniel, though a small boy, went daily, when not in school, to assist his father in sawing boards. He was apt in learning any thing useful, and soon became so expert in doing every thing required, that his services as an assistant were valuable. And oftentimes, after setting the saw and hoisting the gate, and while the saw was passing through the log, which occupied some ten minutes for each board, he was usually seen reading attentively the books in the way of biography and history, which he was permitted to take from the house.

There, in that old saw-mill, surrounded by forests, in the midst of the noise which such a mill made, and this, too, without neglecting his task, he made himself familiar with the most remarkable events recorded by the pen of history, and with the lives and characters of the most celebrated persons of antiquity. What he read there has never been forgotten. So tenacious was his memory, that he has been able, within the last few years, to recite long narratives out of the old books upon which he then feasted, and which he had not subsequently perused. The solitude of the scene, the absence of every thing to divert his attention, the simplicity of his occupation, the taciturn and thoughtful manner of his father, all favored the pro

cess of transplanting every great idea found in those books to his own fresh, fruitful, and vigorous mind. Few other scenes of his boyhood are as interesting as the site of this old mill.

At this period of his life it was, too, that his eyes first fell upon the Constitution of the United States, of which he subsequently became the chief expounder and defender. And what is truly remarkable, is the fact that this particular copy was printed upon an imported cotton pocket handkerchief, according to a fashion of the time, which he chanced to stumble upon in a country store, and for which he paid, out of his own pocket, all the money he had, twenty-five cents. The evening of the day on which he obtained the document was wholly devoted to its close and attentive perusal, while seated before the fire, and by the side of his father and mother. What dreamer, on that night, in the wildest flights of his imagination, could have seen the result of that accident, or marked out the future career of that New Hampshire boy?

But with all this earnestness of character, there was closely connected a frolicsome disposition, which, for its smartness as well as harmlessness, it is pleasant to contemplate. Of the many anecdotes which tend to illustrate his love of fun, the following are worth mentioning:

Daniel and his brother Ezekiel, when boys, were really devoted to the pursuits of agriculture, but the following story is current in the vicinity of their birth-place. Their father had given them directions to perform a specific labor during his temporary absence from home, but on his return at night, he found the labor unperformed, and, with

a frown upon his face, questioned the boys in regard to

their idleness.

said the father.

"What have you been doing, Ezekiel ?” "Nothing, sir," was the reply. "Well, Daniel, what have you been doing?" "Helping Zeke, sir."

On another occasion, Daniel was put to mowing. He made bad work of it. His scythe was sometimes in the ground, and sometimes over the tops of all the grass. He complained to his father that his scythe was not hung right. Various attempts were made to hang it better, but with no success. His father told him, at length, he might hang it to suit himself; and he therefore hung it upon a tree, and said, "There, that's just right." His father laughed, and told him to let it hang there.

When Daniel and Ezekiel were boys together, they had frequent literary disputes, and on one occasion, after they had retired to bed, they entered into a squabble about a certain passage in one of their school-books, and having risen to examine some of the authorities in their possession, they set their bed-clothes on fire and nearly burned up their father's dwelling. On being questioned the next morning in regard to the accident, Daniel remarked, "That they were in pursuit of light, but got more than they wanted."

The father of these brothers used to speak of them with great kindness, but dwelt principally upon the qualifications of Ezekiel; and when questioned by a friend as to his reasons for so doing, he replied, "Ezekiel is a bashful boy, who needs a word to be said of him; but Daniel, I warrant you, will take care of himself."

The father was very strict in all religious observances, and required, among other things, that his sons should go every Sunday to church, though the distance was about four miles. Daniel complained of the hardship, for he must needs walk all the way. His father said to him, "I see Deacon True's boys there every Sunday regularly, and have never heard of their complaining.'

"Ah! yes," replied Daniel; "the deacon's boys live half the way there, and of course have only half as far to walk."

“Well,” said his father, "you may get up in the morning, dress yourself, and run up to Deacon True's, and go with them; then you will have no further to walk than they do."

The logic of his father was conclusive, for he never considered it a hardship to run up to Deacon True's to play with the boys, and that the hardship, if any, lay beyond the deacon's residence. On every future pleasant Sabbath, therefore, Daniel was found at church, notwithstanding the distance.

And now we have an anecdote to record, going to show the existence of an innate eloquence. When he was about seven years of age, his father kept a house of public entertainment, where the teamsters, who traveled on the road, were in the habit of obtaining a dinner, and feeding their horses; and it is said that the incipient orator and statesman frequently entertained his father's guests by reading aloud some of the Psalms of David, to the great delight of his rustic listeners. Indeed, it was customary for the teamsters to remark, as they pulled up their horses before

the Webster tavern, "Come, let's go in and hear a Psalm from Dan Webster! 192 Even at that time, his voice was deep, rich, and musical. The identical dwelling alluded to above is still standing, and it was only a few months ago, when Mr. Webster, bending under the weight of years and a painful illness, sat with the writer upon its little porch, and descanted with streaming eyes upon the various events associated with his "boyhood's home.”