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land. But when it comes to military associations—to the arming of bodies of foreign-born men, for the purpose of fighting against the citizens and the institutions of the land of their adoption—we think it high time for the State to interfere. In a country of equal rights and equal laws, the lives, the property, and the religions of all classes are alike respected and protected. There is not an American citizen, worthy of the name, who would not arm himself to defend the rights, the churches, and the persons of any portion of the community, without regard to sect or origin. The strong arm of the Republic will protect all classes of her citizens. The stars and stripes float broadly and proudly over all. We want no clannish banners nor foreign cliques to disturb the unity of American feeling—to clash with American arms. The foreign element must either melt into and amalgamate with the native element, or battle lines will be drawn in all our future contests-political, if not military.

We cherish no hostility to any man on account of the accident of his birth-place, nor on the score of the religion which he inherited from his fathers. If the most uncompromising protestant among us had been born in Ireland, he would doubtless have grown up a firm believer in Romanism. Neither do we blame the poor emigrant for his ignorance of our institutions and the superstition which beclouds and benumbs his intellect. These are his misfortunes, not his faults. And even the crimes of these benighted men should be treated with the leniency due to children. They are often but the errors of men who stumble in darkness. But when it comes to a question of government ; when we are asked to vote for men to hold the reins and the sword over us, we say give us the intelligent, honest, native sons of the soil, rather than these strangers and aliens, who are equally ignorant of our language, our laws, and our history.

A PATRIOTIC DONATION.

WAEN General Green was retreating through the Carolinas, after the battle of the Cowpens, and while at Salisbury, North Carolina, he put up at a hotel, the landlady of which was Mrs. Elizabeth Steele. A detachment of Americans had just had a skirmish with the British under Cornwallis, at the Catawba ford, and were defeated and dispersed ; and when the wounded were brought to the hotel, the General no doubt felt somewhat discouraged, for the fate of the South, and perhaps of the country seemed to hang on the result of this memorable retreat. Added to his other troubles was that of being penniless ; and Mrs. Steele, learning this fact by accident, and ready to do anything in her power to further the cause of freedom, took him aside, and drew from under her apron two bags of specie. Presenting them to him she generously said, “Take these, for you will want them, and I can do without them."

THE FREEMAN'S HOME.

BY J. G. WHITTIER.

LAND of the forest and the rock

Of dark-blue lake and mighty river-
Of mountains rear'd aloft to mock
The storm's career, the lightning's shock-

My own green land for ever!
Land of the beautiful and brave-
The freeman's home—the martyr's grave-
The nursery of giant men,
Whose deeds have link'd with every glen,
And every hill, and every stream,
The romance of some warrior-dream!
Oh! never may a son of thine,
Where'er his wandering steps incline,
Forget the sky which bent above
His childhood like a dream of love
The stream beneath the green hill flowing,
The broad-arm'd trees above it growing,
The clear breeze through the foliage blowing ;
Or hear, unmoved, the taunt of scorn
Breathed o'er the brave New England born;

Or mark the stranger's jaguar-hand

Disturb the ashes of thy dead, The buried glory of a land

Whose soil with noble blood is red, And sanctified in every part,

Nor feel resentment, like a brand, Unsheathing from his fiery heart !

Oh ! greener hills may catch the sun

Beneath the glorious heaven of France; And streams, rejoicing as they run

Like life beneath the day-beam's glance, May wander where the orange-bough With golden fruit is bending low; And there may bend a brighter sky O'er green and classic ItalyAnd pillard fane and ancient grave

Bear record of another time, And over shaft and architrave

The green, luxuriant ivy climb; And far towards the rising sun

The palm may shake its leaves on high, Where flowers are opening, one by one,

Like stars upon the twilight sky ; And breezes soft as sighs of love

Above the broad banana stray, And through the Brahmin's sacred grove

A thousand bright-hued pinions play!

Yet unto thee, New England, still

Thy wandering sons shall stretch their arms, And thy rude chart of rock and hill

Seem dearer than the land of palms ; Thy massy oak and mountain-pine

More welcome than the banyan's shade,
And every free, blue stream of thine

Seem richer than the golden bed
Of oriental waves, which glow
And sparkle with the wealth below!

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