and Col. Thomas Hayes as seconds, and Drs. Hammond and Aylette as his surgeons.

Both seemed in good spirits, standing apart in conversation with their attendants. The weapons used were eight-inch Belgium pistols, both set with hair-triggers, and the distance marked off ten paces. In pursuance of the arrangements of the day before, the choice of ground belonged to Mr. Broderick and the selection of the pistols to Judge Terry.

When the articles of the meeting were first drawn up, it was objected to on the part of Judge Terry that the word "Fire!" was not to be followed by the usual "One-Two-Three!" but by simply the words "OneTwo!" The friends of Broderick, however, insisted upon this article remaining as it was, and the point was carried.

The code duello being read aloud, the contestants took their places. While Broderick's position seemed careless and somewhat awkward, that of his adversary was rather studied and his manner cooler.

Just before seven o'clock, the words, "Fire!-One! Two!" were spoken. Broderick raised his weapon, but it exploded before he could take aim, probably owing to the delicate touch of the hair-trigger, the ball from his pistol striking the ground only four or five paces in advance of where he stood.

A moment later, Judge Terry fired, the ball from his pistol striking Broderick full in the right breast, causing him to fall before his seconds could reach him.

He was taken to the house of his friend, L. Haskell, Esq., at Black Point, and visited there by many friends. The best of medical attention could do little for him. His sufferings were great, and about nine o'clock of Friday morning, September 16th, he died.

All the various Courts, Federal, State, and Municipal, adjourned upon hearing of the death of David C. Broderick.

The feeling throughout the city and the State was intense, and many public men paid tribute to the distinguished senator's memory by eloquent words of praise and regret.

The committee having in charge the arrangements connected with the funeral, refused the kind offer of General Haven to furnish a military escort, deeming it better that the ceremonies should be strictly of a civic character. His body lay until his burial in the Union Hotel on the Plaza, and was visited by almost every citizen, and shown marks of respectful attention by all.

The funeral took place on the afternoon of Sunday, the 18th of September. Col. Baker was selected to deliver the funeral eulogy, and Broderick's remains were escorted to Lone Mountain Cemetery by an immense assemblage, who showed the feelings of deeply seated regard and sorrow. The city was draped in mourning, the flags on buildings and in the harbor were at half-mast, and every thing wore a solemn and impressive appearance.

The train of events which seemed to make the death of the Senator the irresistible necessity of the tragedy, pointed to Dr. Gwin rather than to Judge Terry as his veritable opponent. It was not on the same plane with Terry that Broderick's acts were projected. The offence rankling between them was an episode rather than the absorbing emotion; and the frightful unities of the drama would seem to have been better met, had Gwin rather than Terry pointed the fatal pistol that finished the career of our hero.

The duel that closed the life of Broderick has been the theme of much political and personal scandal, affecting the characters and standing of the prominent men of the ultra wing of the party of which Broderick was the partial expositor in the State of California.

The minutest details of the combat have been sifted to find material for exciting paragraphs in the journals; and even a sort of superstitious glamor has been thrown about the remote cause of the strife.

But the issues can be narrowed down to a few propositions: It is wrong to engage in duels; Broderick committed the wrong; it is wrong to use language for which nothing but a personal meeting can atone; Broderick used such language. He attempted to evade the meeting with a dignity, far different from cowardice; but failing

to do so, went out like the brave heart that he was, fearlessly, seriously, with no mean repinings, no mawkish sentiment, no driveling about the morality of the act, and met his death, dealt under the code which he himself had recognized, and at other times invoked. Whether one pattern of pistol has a mechanical advantage or disadvantage over another; whether one combatant has a steadier eye or hand or more or less skill than another, are questions that cannot be raised on the field of rencontre without turning prudence into something worse. Broderick scorned to raise such quibbles himself, and this is no place for their discussion.

A little more generosity in pressing home the offence, a little less anxiety for the vulgar satisfaction of the day, a grander peering into futurity to see the dim reflection that the years threw back of the motives and feelings that then urged him in his course, would have cast no stain and given ground for no mean imputation on the personal character or courage of his antagonist. The bitter political strife that followed in after years, between North and South, would have swallowed up in a more catholic struggle the feverish hostilities that in those times exploded fitfully in California, between the impetuous spirits of either faction.

The bravery which led Broderick out to a meeting, from which it was the sum of possibilities that he could not return alive, was the same fire that a few years after blazed in the heart of one of his eulogists at the fatal cannon's mouth on the field of battle. It is the spirit that has made the Californian the boyish hero among his peers of the other States-reckless of his risks, ready to resent injuries, and obedient to the law, only when that law was in keeping with its original purpose, and not the fortification planted about greater wrong.

Broderick was, in the broadest sense of the hackneyed phrase, a representative man. In him could be marked the effect of the fullest liberty upon an Irish intellect. The weight of ignorance, poverty, and sorrow once flung from him, there was no mark of the shackles left. There

was as much of the sovereignty of will about his mental actions as ever developed from a royal cradle.

Sprung from a race from whom prosperity, mental improvement, and creed almost have been snatched, instead of being a cringing follower in the wake of others' errors, Broderick was more thoughtful of the interests of true republicanism, more considerate and unswerving in his regard for the interests of his fellows, a nobler citizen in fact than more pretentious children of the Republic, who used the lap of the national mother as a ground whereon to battle for their toys of theories-unsubstantial products of fallacious sentiment. He acknowledged all the defects and failings which could possibly be ascribed to him; and having thus stripped himself of every conceit and pretension not in accordance with the character upon which he was to build his life, and having accepted the position into which circumstances had thrown him, with all its asperities, he marched forward upon a career of pure glory, closed as in the days of ancient chivalry on the field of battle.

Oration by Eol. E. D. Baker,

DELIVERED OVER THE DEAD BODY OF DAVID C. BRODERICK, AT PORTSMOUTH SQUARE, SAN FRANCISCO, ON THE 18TH OF SEPTEMBER, 1859.

Citizens of California:

A Senator lies dead in our midst! He is wrapped in a bloody shroud, and we, to whom his toils and cares were given, are about to bear him to the place appointed for all the living. It is not flt that such a man should pass to the tomb unheralded; it is not fit that such a life should steal unnoticed to its close; it is not fit that such a death should call forth no rebuke, or be followed by no public lamentation. It is this conviction which impels the gathering of this assemblage. We are here of every station and pursuit, of every creed and character, each in his capacity of citizen, to swell the mournful tribute which the majesty of the people offers to the unreplying dead. He lies to-day surrounded by little of funeral

No banners droop above the bier, no melancholy music floats upon the reluctant air. The hopes of high-hearted friends droop like fading flowers upon his breast, and the struggling sigh compels the tear in eyes that seldom weep. Around him are those who have known him best and loved him longest; who have shared the triumph, and endured the defeat. Near him are the gravest and noblest of the State, possessed by a grief at once earnest and sincere; while beyond, the masses of the people whom he loved, and for whom his life was given, gather like a thunder-cloud of swelling and indignant grief.

In such a presence, fellow-citizens, let us linger for a moment at the portals of the tomb, whose shadowy arches vibrate to the public heart, to speak a few brief words of the man, of his life, and of his death.

Mr. Broderick was born in the District of Columbia, in 1819. He was of Irish descent, and of obscure and respectable parentage; he had little of early advantages, and never summoned to his aid a complete and finished education. His boyhood and his early manhood were passed in the City of New York, and the loss of his father early stimulated him to the efforts which maintained his surviving mother and brother, and served also to fix and form his character even in his boyhood. His love for his mother was his first and most distinctive trait of character, and when his brother died an early and sudden death-the shock gave a serious and reflective cast to his habits and his thoughts, which marked them to the last hour of his life.

He was always filled with pride, and energy, and ambition-his pride was in the manliness and force of his character, and no man had more reason than he for such pride. His energy was manifest in the most resolute struggles with poverty and obscurity, and his ambition impelled him to seek a foremost place in the great race for honorable power.

Up to the time of his arrival in California, his life had been passed amid events incident to such a character. Fearless, self-reliant, open in his enmities, warm in his friendships, wedded to his opinions, and marching directly to his purpose through and over all opposition, his career was checkered with success and defeat: but even in defeat his energies were strengthened and his character developed. When he reached these shores, his keen observation taught him at once that he trod a broad field, and that a higher career was before him. He had no false pride: sprung from a people and of a race whose vocation was labor, he toiled with his own hands, and sprang at a bound from the workshop to the legislative hall. From that time there congregated around him and against him the elements of success and defeat-strong friendships, bitter enmities, high praise, malignant calumnies-but he trod with a free and a proud step that onward path which has led him to glory and the grave.

It would be idle for me, at this hour and in this place, to speak of all that history with unmitigated praise: it will be idle for his