memory of the faith that had moved these masses into position: vanished like their own names was the spiritual domination that the builders had fondly imagined would outlast the granite.
From this lofty position my companion was able to point out to me the ruins of the dungeon-like walls of the Palace of the Inquisition on Governor's Island: the whole surface was so covered with ruined masonry, that it had never been thought worth while to clear it away. On Deer Island, a massive arch alone marked the site of what had once been a famous monastery. On Bunker's Hill rose a slender monolith of granite, on the summit of which I could still distinguish, through my instrument, the remains of what had been a statue, now crumbled down to little more than the feet. This I naturally supposed must have taken the place of the pillar once raised to mark the spot
Where drank the soil our heroes' blood."
But no such motives had prompted the erection of this graceful column. The church had regarded as little less than sinful the appropriation of such a site to the memory of uncanonized men, who had fallen, too, in a struggle that approached perilously near the confines of that rebellion which she taught was "as the sin of witchcraft." A monolith surmounted by a statue in honor of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception had, accordingly, taken the place of the pillar consecrated by the eloquence of Webster.
I certainly am not conscious of any special ill will
