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STAND! the ground's your own, my braves !
Hope ye mercy still ?
Ask it ye who will.
foes who kill for hire ?
And before you see
Let their welcome be !
In the God of battles trust,
Be consigned so well
As where Heaven its dews shall shed
Of his deeds to tell !
CAROLINA, Carolina ! Heaven's blessings attend her ! While we live we will cherish, and love, and defend her. Tho' the scorner may sneer at, and witlings defame her, Our hearts swell with gladness whenever we name her !
FROM THE NEW YORK MIRROR.
STANDING in his noble park at Ashland, Henry Clay once said to a friend who was praising the “ tall” things of Kentucky—“ Yes, sir ! We have tall trees, tall horses, and tall men—but, sir, taller than all these are the women of Kentucky!" Eloquent eulogist and most competent judge never uttered his lips a braver truth. And what he said of the women of Kentucky may be said of American women, take them all together. Beautiful, intelligent, virtuous, industrious, and if need be heroic, they challenge to comparison the perfections of their sisterhood of whatever land or clime.
Not among the Circassian hills, where the lord of the harem hunts his concubine ; nor in sunnier Italy, nor by the hearths of the golden-haired, “blue-eyed nations of the North” are there fairer women and in all the world are there none so gentle and brave. Women of other nations are of orders of beauty and virtue— American women, composite in their graces and charms, cluster all the orders and blend, in themselves, the perfections of their sex. Not like ours, were the women of France, or Napoleon would not, when Madame de Stael asked—“ What does France most want ?” have replied, “France wants good mothers !” The