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the United States from 1809 to 1817. It is a large brick building. Its interior is furnished with plain, but rich furniture, and orna

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mented with busts, pictures, &c. There is an extensive lawn in the rear of the mansion, beyond which is a large and elegant garden, containing a great variety of both native and exotic plants. Mr. Madison died at Montpelier, on the 28th of June, 1836, at the advanced age of eighty-seven, deeply lamented as a national loss. The following sketch, from the New York Mirror, is by one who knew him well, and passed many pleasant hours in his society:

. Great occasions produce great men.

s \ The records of ourown country bear leg.

7 ^OH*"*^ £t-^£tsf f'mon7 to ll>» truth. In the early and

/ in the later ages of her struggles, there

were not wanting men to advise and to act for a nation's welfare. Among those who have acted a conspicuous part in building up our political and civil institutions for more than sixty years, was James Madison, who has lately sunk to rest, full of years and honors.

Mr. Madison was by birth the Virginian, and wholly educated in this country. He was intended for a statesman from his youth, and made himself master of constitutional law, when it was hardly known as a science either in England or in this country. He -was born on the sixteenth of March, 1751, and, of course, was in all the ardor and freshness of youth on the breaking out of the revolution. In 1775, Mr. Madison was a member of the legislature of Virginia, and at that early age, was distinguished for his maturity of understanding and sage prudence. He was soon appointed one of the council of the state. During the whole eventful struggle, James Madison had the confidence of the state of Virginia; and, as a member of her legislature, was listened to with profound attention when he brought forward sundry resolutions for the formation of a general government for the United States, based upon the inefficiency of the old confederacy. tion. From these resolutions grew a convention of delegates from the several states, who, in conclave, prepared a form of a constitution to be submitted to the several states for their discussion, approbation, and adoption. Mr. Madison was a member of this convention, aB the delegate from Virginia, and took an active part in the deliberations of that enlightened body, of which Washington, his colleague, was president. On the adoption of this constitution—a wonderful era in the history of the liberties of man—Mr. Madison was elected a member of the first Congress, and took an active part in setting the machinery in motion. At this period public opinion was greatly agitated by the crude and false opinions scattered through the country, through the medium of the opposition presses; this was grievous to the friends of the constitution, and three mighty minds, Jay, Hamilton, and Madison, formed a holy alliance to enlighten the people upon the great doctrines of the constitution, and breaking through the host of the Philistines, drew the pure waters of truth for the good of the people. The essays from the pens of these worthies, were collected in a volume, called the Federalist, which now stands a monument of the wisdom and patriotism of that age. In the debates of the first Congress, Mr. Madison took a large share. It was an illustrious assemblage of patriots, among whom there often arose a difference of opinion in regard to political policy, but all were lovers of their country, and laboring for her best interests. Here Mr. Madison acted with the Cabols and the Ames' of the east, in perfect harmony. It was reserved for •n after age to feel the withering effects of party feuds. These were hardly discovered •s long as the father of his country filled the presidential chair. In the administration of his successor, a separation into parties took place, and Mr. Madison ranked himself on the side of Mr. Jefferson and his party. During the presidency of Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Madison was secretary of state, and sustained that office with singular ability. He held a ready pen, had a clear, philosophical perception of the great principles on which the government professed to act, and could readily produce a defence of the course pursued. No secretary ever did, or ever will do more by force of argument, than Mr. Madison, while supporting the measures of Mr. Jefferson.

In March, 1009, Mr. Madison became President of the United States. It was a stormy period. France and England, in their fierce struggles for mastery, forgot the rights of neutral nations, and outraged our independence. Insult followed insult from both countries, for the three first years of his administration; but he was, from the very elements of his nature, inclined to peace, and had not urged preparations for war. In 1812, war was declared, without preparation, and the executive of the United States had a difficult task to perform. A powerful part of the people were opposed to the war, some for one reason, and some for another, and it required no small degree of moral courage, to steer the ship of state, at such a crisis. Mr. Madison was not a military chieftain, and took no pleasure in the glories of a victory, no further than they were beneficial to the interests of his country; but his moral courage was of the highest order, that which arises from a consciousness of an intention of doing good. There can be no doubt but that so sagacious a statesman as Mr. Madison, saw some of the blessings that were to flow to his country from the evils of war. He knew that nations, at times, bold incorrect opinions, and that the rude shocks of war are the only remedies for these errors. The war had its dark and bright spots on the tablets of fame, but its re suits were altogether fortunate. The necessity of a navy for national honor and protection, anchored itself into the firm bosom of every patriot, with such a hold as to ride out every billow and whirlwind of faction. By this war we were taught that no nation could ever claim to be independent, whose resources were confined to agriculture and com meres alone. By this war we became a manufacturing people to a respectable extent; but there was as much opposition to this as there was to the war. This goes to show, that it is beyond human reason to foresee what may be best; but all will agree that there should always be wisdom and honesty at the head of our people, to make the most judicious use of every event.

In 1817, when the reign of peace was established, Mr. Madison retired to his farm to enjoy the serenity of rural life; but here he has not been idle. On the death of Mr. Jefferson, he was made chancellor of the University of Virginia, and, as well as his predecessor, took a deep interest in the prosperity of the institution. When Virginia called a convention to alter her constitution, Mr. Madison, with Chief-Justice Marshall and Mr. Monroe, were found among the sages who had witnessed the birth of that constitution, and were well acquainted with its excellences and defects, and were good judges of the best forms of amendment. Several years ago, a bookseller at Washington got up an edition of the debates inllie several conventions called by the states in 1787 and 1788, to deliberate on the adoption of the constitution of the United States. Mr. Madison took, i lively interest in this publication, and afforded the editor all the information that he possessed upon the subject.

Mr. Madison was unquestionably the leading member in the Virginia convention, called for the adoption of the constitution of the United States, although there were several distinguished men among them. This body was fortunate enough to have employed a reporter of eminence for the occasion, which was not the case in many other states; and what the Virginia reporter did not put down in his notes, Mr. Madison's BUnqtes, and recollections most readily supplied.

In the convention he had to meet the blaze of Patrick Henry's eloquence, the subtle arguments of Mason, and the chilling doubts of Monroe; but all were overcome by the clearness of his views, and the force of his reasonings. Mr. Madison was not an orator in the common acceptation of the word;" there were no deep tones in his voice; no flashes of a fierce and commanding eye; no elegant gestures to attract the beholder; all was calm, dignified, and convincing. It was the still, small voice, in which the oracles of God were communicated to the prophet. He never talked for the love of display, but simply to communicate his thoughts. He spoke often in debate, when earnest in his cause, but was always heard with profound attention; not a word of his speeches was lost. He was so perfectly master of his subject, that he had nothing to correct in a retrospective view of it, and was so well understood that he had nothing to explain. His voice was deficient in volume, but it was so well modulated, that its compass was more extensive than that of many speakers of stronger lungs. His conversation was truly a charm. He was familiar with most topics, and he loved both to communicate and receive information. He lived in times when men grew op with strong prejudices and partialities; but his most familiar guests seldom heard a sentence tinged with them, either at his table or fireside. For nearly twenty years he had been daily preparing for the change of worlds, and at last sunk into the arms of death in as peaceful a sleep as a babe on the bosom of his mother. Nature and religion had cured him of all fears of the grave; he had no dread of what " dreams might come when he had shuffled off this mortal coil." He had no enmities to settle, for he had quarrelled with no one ; he bad no slanders to forgive, for no one ever traduced him. His history contains, indeed, a miracle, for there has not been one of mortal, or of immortal birth, who has acted a conspicuous part on this earth, but James Madison, whose private reputation has not been assailed.

The late Gov. James Barbour, and the late Judge Philip Pendleton Barbour, the sons of Col. Thomas Barbour, were born at the family seat near Montpelier.

James Bardoi/k " held the highest trusts in Virginia, as speaker of the House of

Delegates, governor of the state, and senator in Congress. Under the general government he sustained with ability the offices of secretary of war and minister to Great Britain. His political career was a distinguished one, and his character in life secured the esteem of all who knew hi in. He died June 8th, 1842, aged sixty-six."

Philip Pkndi.eto.n Barbour " was distinguished for his talents, and was indebted to his professional and political eloquence for his success in life. He was a member of Congress from 1814 to 1825 ; in 1821 he was elected speaker of the House of Representatives; in 1825 he was appointed a judge of the Virginia court; in 1827 he became again a member of Congress, and served three sessions. In 1836 he was appointed by President Jackson an associate judge of the supreme court of the United States. He died suddenly, February 25lh, 1841, at Washington city, of ossification of the heart, aged about sixty."


Pace county was formed in 1831, from Rockingham and Shenandoah, and named from John Page, governor of Virginia from 1802 to 1805. The county is 34 miles long, with a mean width of 11 miles, and consists of one entire valley, with the Shenandoah running its whole length through it, from N. to s., and I he Blue Kidge lying on the east, and the Fort or Massanuttin mountain on the west. These mountains ever present a beautiful and picturesque appearance, whether viewed robed in the snow, ice, and clouds of winter, the refreshing green of summer, or the gorgeous hues of autumn. The soil of Page is generally of the best quality of limestone valley land; a very considerable portion is bottom, lying on the Shenandoah River, and Hawksbill, and other creeks. The mineral wealth of the county is great; iron abounds, and copper, lead, magnesia, and beautiful marble, are found in many places. Population in 1840, whites 5,195, slaves 781, free colored 216; total, 6,194.

Luray, the county-seat, is 130 miles Nw. from Richmond, and 96 from Washington. It is situated on the Hawksbill Creek, near the centre of the county. The first house was built here in 1814. It now contains several mercantile stores, 2 or 3 churches, and a population of about 500. About one mile west of the town of Luray, is a cave which is but little inferior in extent, beauty, and magnificence, to Weyer's cave. Its entrance is at the top of a small mountain called Cave Hill, and not being very accessible, is not much visited. The most splendid apartments in it are Congress and Masonic Halls. From a published description of the cave by those who first explored it, we extract the following, relative to these beautiful rooms:

Congress Hall.—After descending, as we supposed, about a quarter of a mile, the passage became very straight and smooth, and gradually enlarged until we perceived that we stood in front of a room whose dimensions, from the light of our candles, we could not discover. The entrance here, as in the room which we first entered, was ten or fifteen feet above the level of the floor. After a few moments, however, by clinging to the projections of spar, which hero appeared like large icicles, the whole party stood safely upon the floor of this great room. Here all the wonder and magnificence of the subterranean world burst upon us at once. We found that we stood in a room, the area of whose floor was equal to a quarter of an acre. Immediately before us, and within a few feet of the centre of the room, arose a vast column, or pillar, in some degree combining architectural proportions, and running up about thirty feet, and supporting the dome of this immense hall. This column stands upon a block, or rude pedestal, about three feet in height, and the shaft where it rests upon it is about the thickness of a man's body. It then swells gradually until it becomes, at the distance of twenty feet from its base, about the size of a barrel, whence it continues of the same size, until it gradually enlarges into its capital, where it reaches the dome. Strange to tell, this vast column is almost as regularly fluted or grooved, as if it had been done with the chisel of the sculptor. About fifteen feet from the main pillar stand two smaller ones, about ten feet in height, which consequently do not reach the ceiling; and just at their base, and nearly between them, is a small pool or basin of water.' We perceived by the united glare of all our candles, that the whole of the arch of this immense hall was hung with the most beautiful stalactites, and variegated with almost every possible variety of color. In some places it was perfectly white, then red, gray, or yellow, and in others i^was as clear and transparent as ice.

In looking around us towards the lights which were dispersed in different parts of the hall, the various small spars or pillars that were pointing up—others that had been detached from the ceiling and lay scattered about the floor—and numerous large blocks of crystallized limestone, produce novel and almost indescribable feelings. It did not require an imagination unusually fervid, to liken this dim picture of the floor to the miniature ruins of some great city, with a few of its spires and steeples pointing up from the ruins; or to some mighty temple, with its shattered and broken columns and fallen walls, with just sufficient of its materials to show the style of its former magVuficence.

Masonic Hall.—In this room, about three and a half feet above the level of the floor, is a complete wainscot or chairboard, with apparent mouldings and carved work in complete relief, and extending in one entire and unbroken circle around the room. In the centre of the floor stand three large spars, resembling candlesticks of a mammoth size. These candlesticks arise from the floor of the room, with various enlargements and diminutions resembluig carved work, until they reach the exact level of the chairboard,

54 when the spar which resembles the candle, and seems to be set into a socket, runs of about two feet, As if to make the copy more exact, and the resemblance more palpably striking, the candlesticks seem to be of a dusky or bronze color, and the candle or spar arising from it of it clear white. The crystallization on the walls of this room is in beautiful waves and folds, resembling drapery. At one end of the room, a large spar, resembling a bed-post, stood in beautiful relief from the wall, and large folds and waves of drapery, resembling curtains, seemed to hide the rest of the bed.

Here, then, our admiration and astonishment were at their height Our feelings had been wrought up to a degree of almost painful intensity. Here we stood, hundreds of feet beneath the surface of the earth, and a full half-mile from the first entrance, treading upon a spot and breathing an atmosphere which had not been disturbed since the creation of the world. A place in which the human voice had never before been heard, and on whose beauties the human eye had never rested. There was, in truth, an awful sublimity in the state of our feelings, superinduced not only by what we saw, but in part, perhaps, by a contingent danger to which we were exposed. The falling of the arch, or the rolling of a single rock into some of the narrow passages which we had to retrace, would have shut us up in eternal darkness in this mysterious region of wonders.

Powell's Fort Valley, on the line of this and Shenandoah county, derives its name, says tradition, from an Englishman named Powell, who in early times discovered a silver mine in the West Fort mountain, and commenced coining money, and when attempts were made to arrest him, sought shelter in the fastnesses of the mountain. Kercheval says:

The grandeur and sublimity of this extraordinary work of nature, consist in its tremendous height and singular formation. On entering the mouth of the fort, we an struck with the awful height of the mountains on each side, probably not less than a thousand feet. Through a very narrow passage, a bold and beautiful stream of water rushes, called Passage creek, which a short distance below works several fine merchant mills. After travelling two or three miles, the valley gradually widens, and for upwards of twenty miles furnishes arable land, and affords settlements for eighty or ninety families, several of whom own very valuable farms. The two mountains run parallel about 94 or 25 miles, and are called the East and West Fort mountains, and then are merged into one, anciently called Mesinetto, now Masinutton mountain. The Mas mutton . mountain continues its course about 35 or 36 miles southerly, and abruptly terminates nearly opposite Kctsletown, in the county of Rockingham. This range of mountains divides the two great branches of the Shenandoah River, called the South and North forks. This mountain, upon the whole, presents to the eye something of the shape of the letter Y, or perhaps more the shape of the houns and tongue of a wagon.

A few miles above Luray, [says Kercheval,] on the west side of the river, there are three large Indian graves, ranged nearly side by side, thirty or forty feet in length, twelve or fourteen feet wide, and five or six feet high: around them, in a circular form, are a number of single graves. The whole covers an area of little less than a quarter of an acre. They present to the eye a very ancient appearance, and are covered over with pine and other forest growth. The excavation of the ground around them is plainly to be seen. The three first-mentioned graves are in oblong form, probably contain many hundreds of human bodies, and were doubtless the work of ages.


Patrick was taken from Henry in 1791. It is 25 miles long, with a mean width of 20; it is watered by the Dan and its branches. The face of the country is broken, and it has the Alleghany on its western boundary, and the Bull and other mountains

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