Ere I forget to think upon
My land, shall mother curse the son
She bore.

"Thou art the firm, unshaken rock
On which we rest;
And, rising from thy hardy stock,
Thy sons the tyrant's power shall mock,
And slavery's galling chains unlock,
And free the oppressed;
All who the wreath of freedom twine
Beneath the shadow of their vine
Are blest.

"We love thy rude and rocky shore,
And here we stand.
Let foreign navies hasten o'er,
And on our heads their fury pour,
And peal their cannon's loudest roar,
And storm our land;
They still shall find our lives are given
To die for home,--and leant on heaven
Our hand."

Did you think that a real Yankee could be so proud of living out of
Virginia? I am sure those we have seen appear to be half ashamed of
their country,--and to be sure it is not as good as ours; but I could
not help liking this boy's warm, honest love of his native soil. Even
Clarendon admired it, and, when he had done repeating his favorite
lines, handed him a silver dollar, saying,--"There! buy yourself a book