Bunker Hill is within twenty miles of my home.

When I go to that sacred memorial of liberty, I strive to fortify my soul afresh against the slave-power.

After hearing favorable things said, in Boston, about the South, I can go to Faneuil Hall, and there, the doors being carefully shut, walk enthusiastically about the room, almost shouting, "Sam.

Adams!" "James Otis!" "Seventy-Six!" "Shade of Warren!" "No chains on the Bay State!" "Massachusetts in the van!" "Give me liberty or give me death!" I can enjoy the privilege of looking frequently on certain majestic figures in our American Apocalypse, under the present vial,--but I need not name them.

I meet in our book-stores with "Lays of Freedom," never sung by such as you.