lthful breezes, balmy smells,
Golden grain-fields, pleasant meadows,
Fruitful orchards, gardens fair,
Lasting sunshine, fleeting shadows!
Freedom dwells for ever there!

Hark! what song is that high swelling,
Like an anthem dropped from heaven,
Of some joyful tidings telling,
Some rich boon to mankind given?
'Tis a happy people, singing
Thanks for Freedom's victory won;
Valley, forest, mountain, ringing
With one name,--great Washington.
Through distress, through tribulation,
Through the lowering clouds of war,
They have risen to be a nation:
Freedom shines, their morning-star.
Would we reach those realms of glory,
Would we join that righteous band,
We must speed us in our story:
Come, let's on to Freemen's Land!"

The next evening, the little folks, upon repairing to the library,
found their Uncle Juvinell seated, as was his wont, cross-legged in
his great arm-chair, looking with a fixed and absent gaze into 'the
glowing embers of the fire,' as if his thoughts were far away.

In his hand he held an open letter which he had just brought from the
post-office, in the contents whereof, it was evident, he had found
somewhat of a painful character; for a slight shadow had dimmed the
brightness of his otherwise placid countenance. So rare a thing as
that of a cloud on their good old uncle's sunny face caught their
notice at once; and instead of gathering round him in their usual
coaxing, teasing, bantering, frolicsome way, they seated themselves
quietly on either hand, and awaited in respectful silence until he
should rise to the surface of the deep brown-study into which he
seemed to be plunged. But the longer he sat, the harder he looked at
the fire, and the deeper he sank into his revery, till the little
folks began to fear that it would be a full hour before he would reach
the bottom and come up again.

Daniel, the young historian, sat watching his uncle's countenance with
his sharp black eyes, expecting each moment to hear him break the
silence with, "After the battle of Bunker's Hill;" or, "Washington,
upon his arrival at Boston;" or something to that effect. But, last in
his own thoughts, Uncle Juvinell still sat cross-legged in his
arm-chair, and spoke not a word. At last, just by way of reminding him
that a select and highly enlightened audience were in waiting to hear
him, Willie softly arose from his chair