IT was in July, 1855, that I first walked up the nave of Concord, and, though I have visited many oldland cathedrals, from the queen of minsters at Lincoln to the sturdy temple at Chester, including York, Peterborough, Ely, and many minor ones in England and France, around whose every stone and rafter, from crypt to belfry, murmured heroic and pathetic memories, not one ever impressed me more than this sanctuary of thought and learning, with its broad aisle of arching elms, its teeming memories of New-World history, and its thousand associations with the evangelists of our new religion of humanity.
My Research