Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found? Art thou a man? a patriot? Look around.

O, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,
That land thy country, and that spot thy home!

SWEET ANNIE FAY.

THE pride of the village was sweet Annie Fay,
So winsome and winning, so gladsome and gay;
She ruled all the swains by her beauty's bright sway,
And won hearts by dozens to throw them away.

This could not last always: young Love flitted by,
And shone in the glance of Willie's dark eye;
He aimed at sweet Annie, and barbed was the dart,
And fatal the power that pierced her young heart.

Young Willie was missing one morning in June,
The month of all others when hearts play in tune,
When hopeful affection the soft bosom fills,
Aud mutual confession with happiness thrills.

He could not be found; and rumor had said
He was jilted by Annie for rich Squire Ned.
And where was our Annie? The fond one had flown
With her Willie from church to a cot of their own.

TO A SISTER.

YES, dear one, to the envied train
Of those around thy homage pay;
But wilt thou never kindly deign

To think of him that's far away?
Thy form, thine eye, thine angel smile
For many years I may not see;
But wilt thou not, sometimes the while,
My sister dear, remember me?

But not in fashion's brilliant hall,
Surrounded by the gay and fair,
And thou the fairest of them all-

O, think not, think not of me there;
But when the thoughtless crowd is gone,
And hushed the voice of senseless glee,
And all is silent, still, and lone,

And thou art sad, remember me.

Remember me

but, loveliest, ne'er

When, in his orbit fair and high,
The morning's glowing charioteer
Rides proudly up the blushing sky;
But when the waning moonbeam sleeps
At moonlight on that lonely lea,
And Nature's pensive spirit weeps,
And all her dews, remember me.

In Flora's gay and blooming hour, When every brake hath found its mate, And sunshine smiles in every flower; But when the fallen leaf is sear,

And withers sadly from the tree, And o'er the ruins of the year,

Cold autumn weeps, remember me.

The hour when, on the gentle lake, The sportive wavelets, blue and clear, Soft rippling to the margin, break; But when the deafening billows foam In madness o'er the pathless sea, Then let thy pilgrim fancy roam Across them, and remember me.

If haply some thy friends should praise; 'Tis far too dear, that voice of thine, To echo what the stranger says.

They know us not but shouldst thou meet Some faithful friend of me and thee,

Softly, sometimes, to him repeat

My name, and then remember me.

Remember me — not, I entreat,
In scenes of festal week-day joy,
For then it were not kind or meet

That thought thy pleasure should alloy;

But on the sacred, solemn day,

And, dearest, on thy bended knee, When thou for those thou lov'st dost pray, Sweet spirit, then remember me.

On thee forever, ever dwell,
With anxious heart and drooping eye,

And doubts 'twould grieve thee should I tell! But in thy calm, unclouded heart,

Which dark and gloomy visions flee,

O, there, my sister, be my part,

And kindly there remember me.

A TOKEN.

So take my gift! "Tis a simple flower;
But perhaps 'twill wile a weary hour;
And the spirit that its light magic weaves
May touch your heart from its simple leaves;
And if these should fail, it at least will be
A token of love from me to thee.

ECONOMY AND HER DAUGHTER.

In a pleasant but plainly furnished apartment sat Economy and her daughter. The daughter had just handed her mother a bundle of cloth, when they were interrupted by the ringing of the door bell. Economy laid by the package, and hastened to open the door.

"Good morning, Mrs. Thrifty," said she; "walk in. My daughter Benevolence, Mrs. Thrifty," added she, introducing them.

"What, Benevolence the daughter of Economy!" thought Mrs. Thrifty; but she concealed her surprise at the information, and remarked, "You have been making quite a recluse of your daughter since you came to Boston, have you not? I was not aware of her being with you."

"True," replied Economy, "she has not, as yet, visited much in this place; she is rather diffident, and prefers that I should become acquainted with the people before she is introduced to them. She often remarks that she is most cordially received by those who are the friends of her mother."

"If that is the case, she may rest assured of receiving a cordial welcome, if she will honor me