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of happy freedom. And more than once has it been necessary to forbid by military orders, in the armies of the Swiss mercenaries, the singing of their native songs."- Orville Dewey.

THERE is a land, of every land the pride,
Beloved by heaven o'er all the world beside;
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night;
A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth,
Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth:
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,
Views not a realm so beautiful and fair,
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air;
In every clime the magnet of his soul,
Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole;
For in this land of heaven's peculiar grace,
The heritage of nature's noblest race,
There is a spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest,
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride,
While in his softened looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend;
Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife,
Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life!
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye,
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet:
Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found?
Art thou a man?-a patriot ?-look around;
O, thou shalt find, however thy footsteps roam,
That land thy country, and that spot thy home!



"It might at first seem that patriotism, which implies a preference of one country over another, was opposed to philanthropy, which embraces in its generous scope the whole human family. But a consideration of the practical effect of patriotism will lead us not merely to dismiss all distrust, but to admire that dispensation of Providence, by which the inhabitants of every land, whether it be a region of sterile mountains, or an inhospitable climate of snow, or a land flowing with milk and honey, or a desert of sand, are attached to the soil

where their lot is cast. In the first place, this love is a source of contentment and happiness, even though it may be founded in ignorance or false comparisons; and in the second place, it excites the people to seek the good and promote the prosperity of the inhabitants. It stimulates them to act individually and unitedly, and, in cases of emergency, to put forth great efforts in the sacred cause of country, whether it be to realize some desirable object, or avert some threatened evil.” Goodrich's Fireside Education.

YE crags and peaks, I'm with you once again!
I hold to you the hands you first beheld

To show you they still are free. Methinks I hear,
A spirit in your echoes answer me

And bid your tenant welcome to his home

Again! O sacred forms, how proud you look!
How high you lift your heads into the sky!
How huge you look! how mighty and how free!
How do you look for all your bared brows
More gorgeously majestical than kings,

Whose loaded coronets exhaust the mines!

Ye are the things that tower, that shine-whose smile
Makes glad-whose frown is terrible-whose forms,
Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear

Of awe divine-whose subject never kneels
In mockery, because it is your boast
To keep him free! Ye guards of liberty,

I'm with you once again! I hold my hands to you
To show they still are free! I rush to you
As though I could embrace you!

Scaling yonding peak,

I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow.
O'er the abyss his broad expanded wings
Lay calm and motionless upon the air,
As if he floated there without their aid,
By the sole act of his unlorded will
That buoy'd him proudly up. Instinctively
I bent my bow; yet kept he rounding still
His airy circle, as in the delight

Of measuring the ample range beneath

And round about: absorbed, he heeded not

The death that threaten'd him-I could not shoot,
'Twas liberty. I turned my bow aside

And let him soar away.





"THE heart has memories that never die. They are memories of home early home. There is a magic in the very sound. There is the old tree under which the light-hearted boy swung many a day; yonder the river in which he learned to swim: there the house in which he knew a parent's protection; nay, there is the room in which he romped with brother and sister, long since, alas! laid in the grave in which he must soon be gathered, over-shadowed by yon old church, whither, with a joyous troop like himself, he has often followed his parents to worship with, and hear the good old man who ministered at the altar. * * * There are certain feelings of humanity, and those too, among the best, that can find an appropriate place for their exercise only by one's own fireside."-Dr. Hawkes.

My boy, thou wilt dream the world is fair,
And thy spirit will sigh to roam;

And thou must go; but never, when there,
Forget the light of home.

Though pleasure may smile with a ray more bright,
It dazzles to lead astray:

Like the meteor's flash, 'twill deepen the night
When thou treadest the lonely way.

But the hearth of home has a constant flame,
And pure as vestal fire:

"Twill burn, 'twill burn, for ever the same,
For nature feeds the pyre.

The sea of ambition is tempest-tost,

And thy hopes may vanish like foam;
But when sails are shiver'd, and rudder lost,
Then look to the light of home ;-

And then, like a star through the midnight cloud.
Thou shalt see the beacon bright!

For never, till shining on thy shroud,
Can be quench'd its holy light.

The sun of fame, 'twill gild the name;
But the heart ne'er felt its ray;

And fashion's smiles, that rich ones claim,
Are but the beams of a wintry day.

And how cold and dim those beams must be,
Should life's wretched wanderer come!
But, my boy, when the world is dark to thee,
Then turn to the light of home.




FRAGMENT OF A MODERN BALLAD FROM THE GERMAN. WHENCE does this love of our country, this universal passion, proceed? Why does the eye ever dwell with fondness upon the scenes of infant life? Why do we breathe with greater joy the breath of our youth? Why are not other soils as grateful, and other heavens as gay? Why does the soul of man ever cling to that earth where it first knew pleasure and pain, and, under the rough discipline of the passions, was roused to the dignity of moral life? Is it only that our country contains our kindred and our friends? And is it nothing but a name for our social affections? It cannot be this; the most friendless of human beings has a country which he admires and extols, and which he would, in the same circumstances, prefer to all others under heaven. Tempt him with the fairest face of nature, place him by living waters under shadowy trees of Lebanon, open to his view all the gorgeous allurements of the climates of the sun, he will love the rocks and deserts of his childhood better than all these, and thou canst not bribe his soul to forget the land of his nativity; he will sit down and weep by the waters of Babylon when he remembers thee, oh Sion !— Rev. Sydney Smith.

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"Hold your tongues! both Swabian and Saxon!”

A bold Bohemian cries;

"If there's a heaven upon this earth,

In Bohemia it lies.

"There the tailor blows the flute,
And the cobbler blows the horn,
And the miner blows the bugle,
Over mountain gorge and bourn.”
And then the landlord's daughter
Up to heaven raised her hand,

And said, "Ye may no more contend,-
There lies the happiest land!"



"THE great distinction of a country, is, that it produces superior men. Its natural advantages are not to be disdained. But they are of secondary importance. No matter what races of animals a country breeds. The great question is, does it breed a noble race of men? No matter what its soil may be. The great question is, how far is it prolific of moral and intellectual power? No matter how stern its climate is, if it nourish force of thought and virtuous purpose. These are the products by which a country is to be tried, and institutions have value only by the impulse which they give to the mind. It has sometimes been said, that the noblest men grow where nothing else will grow. This we do not believe, for mind is not the creature of climate or soil. But were it true, we should say, that it were better to live among rocks and sands, than in the most genial and productive region on the face of the earth."- Channing.

ENGLAND'S heart! Oh never fear
The sturdy good old stock;
Nothing's false or hollow here,
But solid as a rock:

England's heart is sound enough,

And safe in its old place,

Honest, loyal, blithe, and bluff,

And open as her face!

England's heart! With beating nerves
It rallies for the throne,-

And, like Luther, well preserves

The knee for God alone!

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