"Happiness, my daughter, has, on earth, no local habitation. She _may_ dwell in the palace or in the cottage; with the rich, or with the poor; with the learned, or with the ignorant. Her seat is in the soul,--and its security does not depend on external circumstances. A _peaceful conscience_, and a _humble_, _contented_ heart, grateful for blessings bestowed, and feeling no craving desire for those that are withheld, are the pillars of her throne. But there are two classes of persons that she will never deign to visit, be their rank or station what it may. Neither the _idle_ nor the _vicious_ are ever happy." S. H. For the Southern Literary Messenger. PICTURE OF OLD VIRGINIA. Look here upon this picture--and on this, The counterfeit presentment.--_Hamlet_. Virginia had been beautiful And owned a lovely land; Her sons, who were so dutiful, Went with her heart and hand; They raised her to the highest seat, By talents and by worth, And sent her name in accents sweet, Far ringing through the earth. But lately she had fallen off; Her beauty was impair'd; Her younger sons were heard to scoff-- _They_ might at least have spared. 'Twas said that she was growing blind, Was lazy and supine, And that she weakly lagged behind Her sisters, grown divine. That all her days were spent, forsooth, In one eternal chime About her deeds of early youth-- "Resolves" of former time. Naught could be said and nothing told But she more devils spied; "_More devils than vast hell could hold_--" Or all the world beside. And strangers[1] did her land deride-- With wagging tongue, reviled; Wild beasts, they said, had multiplied In that most barren wild; Her houses were untenanted-- The fox[2] had _manned_ her walls; And "_rank grass_" waved around his head, As in old Ossian's halls! Her moral strength and physical,[3] Aye, both of them were gone, And every man seem'd phthisical, Or like to tumble down; Her talents all were buried deep, Or in some napkin hid, Or with the mighty dead, did sleep Beneath the coffin lid. But far! oh far beyond all these, She had displeased her God; _Inter dolosos cineres_, She on volcano trod; She could not get o' nights her rest; At midnight bell for fire, She hugged her infants to her breast, Prepared for fun'ral pyre. Virginia roused herself one day And took her picture down; And as she gazed, was heard to say-- Am I thus hideous grown? And am I stupid--lazy--blind-- A monomaniac too! Relaxed in body and in mind? Oh no! it is not true. There lies outstretched my glorious land, With her capacious bay; My rivers rush on every hand, With sail and pennon gay; My mountains, like a girdle blue, Adorn her lovely waist, "_And lend enchantment to the view_," As in "_the distance_" traced.