Here, like a monarch, I reign in my glory Måster am I, boys, of all that I see. Where once frowned a forèst, a garden is smiling— 2. Talk not of the town, boys-give me the broad prairie, Where man, like the wind, roams impulsive and free; Behold how its beautiful colors all vary, Like those of the clouds, or the deep-rolling sea! And die, boys, in peace and good-will to mankind. III. 87. THE IRISH EMIGRANT'S MOTHER. "OH 1. H! come, my mother, come away, across the sea-green water; daughter; 1George P. Morris, an American Philadelphia, Oct. 10, 1802; died in song-writer and journalist, born in New York, July 6, 1864. Oh! come with us, and come with them, the sister and the brother, Who, prattling, climb thine aged knees, and call thy daughter mother. 2. "Oh! come and leave this land of death-this isle of desolation- 3. ""Tis true o'er all the sun-brown fields the husky wheat is bending; 'Tis true God's blessed hand at last a better time is sending; 'Tis true the island's aged face looks happier and younger, But in the best of days we've known the sickness and the hunger. 4. "When health breathed out in every breeze, too oft we've known the fever, Too oft, my mother, have we felt the hand of the bereaver; Too well remember many a time the mournful task that brought him, When freshness fanned the summer air, and cooled the glow of autumn. 5. "But then the trial, though severe, still testified our patience, We bowed with mingled hope and fear to God's wise dispensations; ' 6. "But now through all the black expanse no hopeful morning breakèth, No bird of promise in our hearts the gladsome song awakèth; No far off gleams of good light up the hills of expectation— 3 Nought but the gloom that might precede the world's annihilation.* 7. So, mother, turn thine agèd feet, and let our children lead 'em Down to the ship that wafts us soon to plenty and to freedom; Forgetting nought of all the past, yet all the past forgiving; Come, let us leave the dying land, and fly unto the living. 8. “They tell us, they who read and think of Ireland's ancient story, How once its emerald flag flung out a sunburst's fleeting glory; 1 Ma līgn, unfavorable; tending to injure. 2 Dis pěn sa' tion, the act of dealing out; the distribution of good and ill to man by God. 3 Pre cede', to go before. * An nï'hi lā'tion, the act of reducing to nothing. Oh! if that sun will pierce no more the dark clouds that efface it, 9. "So come, my mother, come away, across the sea-green water; 10. "Ah! go, my children, go away-obey this inspiration; Go, with the mantling hopes of health and youthful expectation; 11. "But though I feel how sharp the pang from thee and thine to sever, 12. “A thousand fibres still have life, although the trunk is dying— They twine around the yet green grave where thy father's bones are lying. Ah! from that sad and sweet embrace no soil on earth can loose 'em, Though golden harvests gleam on its breast, and golden sands in its bosom. 13. "Others are twined around the stōne, where ivy blossoms smother The crumbling lines that trace thy name, my father and my mother; God's blessing be upon their souls-God grant, my old heart prāyeth, Their names be written in the Book whose writing ne'er decayeth. 14. "Alas! my prayers would never warm within those great cold buildings, Those grand cathedral churches, with their marbles and their gildings; Far fitter than the proudest dome that would hang in splendor o'er me, Is the simple chapel's whitewashed wall where my people knelt be ⚫fore me. 15. "No doubt it is a glorious land to which you now are going, Like that which God bestowed of old, with milk and honey flowing; But where are the blessed saints of God, whose lives of His law re 3 mind me, Like Patrick, Brigid,' and Columbkille, in the land I'd leave be hind me? 16. "So leave me here, my children, with my old ways and old notions; 17. "There's not a week but I can hear how you prosper better and better, For the mighty fire-ships o'er the sea will bring the expected letter; And if I need aught for my simple wants, my food or my winter firing, You'll gladly spare from your growing stōre a little for my requiring. 18. "Remember with a pitying love the hapless land that bore you; At every festal season be its gentle form before you; When the Christmas candle is lighted, and the holly and ivy glisten, Let your eye look back for a vanished face-for a voice that is silent, listen! 19. "So go, my children, go away-obey this inspiration; Go, with the mantling hopes of health and youthful expectation; D. F. MACCARTHY. IV. 88. OUR COUNTRY AND OUR HOME. `HERE is a land, of every land the pride, TH Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside; Where brighter suns dispense serener light, 1 St. Patrick, apostle of Ireland, in Ulster Co., Ireland, early in the born, according to the most probable accounts, near Boulogne, France, in 372; died in 464. His feast is celebrated on March 17. 2 St. Brig' id, or Bridget, the "Mary of Ireland," born at Fochard, sixth century. Her feast falls on Feb. 1. 3 St. Cŏl umb kille', born in Leinster, Ireland; died in 548. His feast falls on Dec. 12. * Em păr a dise, make beautiful. The wandering mariner whose eye explores Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife, "Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found?" MONTGOMERY. SECTION XXIV. I. 89. RELIGIOUS LIBERTY IN MARYLAND. B EFORE the patent could be finally adjusted and påss the great seal, Sir George Calvert died, leaving a name against which the breath of caluminy has hardly whispered a reproach. His son, Cecil Calvert, succeeded to his honors and fortunes. For him, the heir of his father's intentions not less than of his father's fortunes, the charter of Maryland was published and confirmed; and he obtained the high distinction of successfully performing what the colonial companies had hardly been able to achieve. At a vast expense he planted a colony, which for several generations descended as a patrimony to his heirs. 2. Lord Baltimore, who, for some unknown reason, abandoned his purpose of conducting the emigrants in person, appointed |