as far as there can be, an end to the blasting power of ignorance and the damning power of sin; that the fires of intemperance, and the injustice of slavery, and the crime of war, may be no more seen; that all superstition, polytheism, and idolatry, all violations of the eternal right, and all the bitterness of sectarian zeal, may have passed to their graves for ever. In one word, we hope and pray, that, as your turn shall come to act and suffer the allotments of humanity, there may not be on earth one rational being who does not cheerfully acknowledge the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man.

Το you, we must seem among the ancients ; and you may wonder how we looked, felt, and acted. The laws of Nature do not change; and your organs will obey them as do ours. You look at the light blue of the sky, or the dark blue of the ocean; at the green grass of summer, or the yellow leaf of autumn; at the brightness of Orion, or the mountains of the moon; at the changing hues of sunset, or the bursting splendors of the aurora; on the innocent gambols of a child, or the sweet smile of a parent; on the deep sorrow of misfortune, or the marble face of death. You look at these; and, let us tell you, they all appeared to us exactly as they do to you.

In the woods, you hear their feathered minstrelsy; and, in the bower, the advertising cricket. At Niagara, you hear the heavy tones of its pouring; and, on the rocky Atlantic shore, the thunder of the sea. In the angry debate, you hear the sharp voice of passion; and, in the family circle, the sweet song of love. And, be assured, these sounds, so well known to you, were as well known to us. To you, the fragrance of the rose and the miasma of the fen, the sweet of honey and the bitter of wormwood, the touch of fire and the feeling of ice, are probably the very same which we have experienced. Each of our senses has carried its report to the brain by that faithful electricity of the nerves in which you now rejoice.

Your minds, too, though enriched by superior cultivation, have attributes in common with ours. You delight to read the poems of Homer and Virgil, and repeat the orations of Demosthenes and Cicero ; you sometimes tire amid the sublimities of Milton, and love to see man and Nature lay their treasures at Shakspeare's feet. And here let us say, that your classic approbation and noble fire do not probably differ much from ours.

In the sweep of centuries, the heart changes less than the head. You feel indignant at the abuse of power and the triumph of wrong, at the sight of ingratitude and the thirst for revenge; while your whole soul melts with sympathy at the sight of suffering, and leaps with thanksgiving to perform the office of the good Samaritan. Your love of country is as strong as it is noble; and your patriotic hearts beat with generous exultation at the name of our Washington and yours, of our Franklin and yours. Your love of home is stronger yet. In you, the delicate tendrils of domestic affection intwine themselves life-long around the dear objects of your fire-sides; and for them you are ready to labor, and, if need be, you are willing to die. Above all, your minds are illumined by a Christian faith, your hearts sanctified by divine grace, and your souls made living temples of the living God. How far we resemble you in these riches of the heart, we dare not say. It has been our endeavor to cherish them all.

Standing, as we now do, mid-way in time between our first ancestors and you, we turn reverently towards them to render our homage of gratitude, and turn cheerfully towards you to express our fulness of hope; and, with the orator of our century, we would say,

"Advance, then, ye future generations! We would hail you, as you rise, in your long succession, to fill the places which we now fill, and to taste the blessings of existence, where we are passing, and soon shall have passed, our human duration. We bid you welcome to this pleasant land of the Fathers. We bid you welcome to the healthful skies and the verdant fields of New England. We greet your accession to the great inheritance which we have enjoyed. We welcome you to the blessings of good government and religious liberty. We welcome you to the treasures of science and the delights of learning. We welcome you to the transcendent sweets of domestic life, to the happiness of kindred and parents and children. We welcome you to the immeasurable blessings of rational existence, the immortal hope of Christianity, and the light of everlasting truth."

499

REGISTER OF FAMILIES.*

"Remember the days of old; consider the years of many generations: ask thy father, and he will show thee; thy elders, and they will tell thee." - DEUT. xxxii. 7.

ALBREE, JOHN, b. in the Island of. New Providence in 1688;
came to Boston in 1700, where he m., in 1711, Elizabeth Green,
of Boston, a cousin of Gov. Belcher. She d. Dec. 6, 1751; and
he d. Aug. 28, 1755. Children: -
Joseph, b.

1712.

3 Elizabeth, Jan. 28, 1716; d. Mar. 17, 1735.

4 Ruth,

5 Susanna,

John Albree had a sister, Elizabeth, who d. unm.

JOSEPH ALBREE m. Judith Reeves, Dec. 23, 1756: she was a dau. of Sam. R., and d. Jan. 26, 1778, aged 43. He d. Mar. 26, 1777, leaving children:

2- 6 John,

2- 6

b. Nov. 9, 1757.

7 Joseph, ,, Aug.15, 1760; m. Susan Dodge, d. s. p. Feb. 16, 1815. 8 Samuel, Oct. 20, 1761.

"

9 Elizabeth,,, May 17, 1768;,, Jonathan Brooks; d. Mar. 31, 1826.JOHN ALBREE M. Lydia Tufts, Jan. 5. 1793, who d. Apr. 27, 1850. He d. Nov. 6, 1842. Children: --

2-8

b. Jan. 23, 1794; m.

(1st, N. Shepherd, Feb. 10, 1824. 2d, Mar. Child, June 14, 1854.

13 William T.,,, July 8, 1805.

14 Elizabeth, Mar. 1, 1810; m. John A. Downie, April 12, 1838.

SAMUEL ALBREE m. Martha Hodge, of Amherst, May 16, 1786, who d. Apr. 2, 1841, aged 72. He d. Feb. 22, 1841. He had

Wherever two numbers are connected by a hyphen, the first is the number of the parent; and the second, of the child. Therefore, in every family, the grandfather, father, and child have their numbers in the same paragraph. Thus in the Albree family: Joseph m. Judith Reeves. The 1-2 against his name refers to the previous paragraph, where 1 is his father's number, and 2 his own. In the 2-6, 7, 8, &c.. these latter are his children's numbers, in the regular succession of descendants of the first John Albree.

The abbreviations used are b. for born; d. for died; m. for married; unm. for unmarried; d. s. p. for died sine prole (without issue).