^0 
 
 ^ 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 PROFESSOR 
 GEORGE R. STEWART 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/emblemgiftforallOOnewyrich 
 
THE 
 
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 GIFT FOR ALL SEASONS, 
 
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 l^hi aiilr (fifgant |l!nslratiaits. 
 
 *'Paith, — Hop©, — Oharltf.'* 
 
 NEW Y O E K : 
 
 PUBLISHED BY LEAVITT & ALLEN, 
 
 NO. 879 BROADWAY. 
 
l^xtfuit 
 
 Masonic literature — rich in all that pertains to the antiquity 
 of the Order, its growth and maturity — while it afifords much 
 to illustrate the genial influence of its principles upon the 
 domestic, and the social circle, has hitherto lacked that attrac- 
 tive form, so fitting for Gift Books, and which has been adopted 
 with so much advantage by other social organizations. Almost 
 every society and order, has its Souvenir, or Offering, or 
 Annual ; and the idea associated with these caskets of choice 
 literature, that which makes them valuable, is at once a princi- 
 ple and an inculcation of our Order 
 
 The Editors of this volume have attempted to furiiish a clus- 
 ter from the field of thought and feeling cultivated under the 
 broad sheen of our cherished institutions, that shall be agree- 
 able to the taste of the fraternity. That they may not have 
 made the most desirable selections in all cases is quite probable, 
 but they do not hesitate to commit their work to the friendly 
 criticism of those to whom it is inscribed, nor do they enter- 
 tain the fear that they have entirely failed in the enterprize to 
 which they have applied their efforts. 
 
I£]&KT§fSAS20I§. 
 
 PAINTES PAOl 
 
 BEAUTY .... Corbeaui - - - frontispiece 
 
 PRESENTATION PLATE Illuminated - - before title 
 
 JUSTICE .... Weetall 42 
 
 FAITH - - - - Dubufe 80 
 
 HOPE Dubufe 148 
 
 CHARITY .... Dubufe - - - - 200 
 
0(D)irT Jowl's. 
 
 
 
 Pag« 
 
 Masonic Charity. 
 
 
 9 
 
 Ancient Mysteries. , 
 
 Comp. Bradley. 
 
 13 
 
 The Origin of Freemasonry. 
 
 . 
 
 15 
 
 A Spring Melody. 
 
 Miss M. J. E. Knox. 
 
 . 33 
 
 Woman's Love. 
 
 John T, Mayo. 
 
 . 34 
 
 The Masonic Ladder. 
 
 . 
 
 42 
 
 Three Pillars of Masonry. 
 
 
 68 
 
 Hymn to Charity. 
 
 
 71 
 
 Masonry a Republican In- > 
 stitution. 5 
 
 
 . 78 
 
 . 
 
 
 On Reading Mrs. Hemans' ) 
 Poems. > 
 
 Miss M. J. E. Knox. 
 
 . 79 
 
 Moses at the Burning Bush. 
 
 F. J. Otter son. 
 
 . 81 
 
 A Day o' Love. . 
 
 John Boyle. 
 
 . 84 
 
 Lines 
 
 A Young Lady horn Blind. 
 
 . 86 
 
 Jane Willson. — A Sketch 
 
 Ahnanzor. 
 
 . 87 
 
 Lines on the Death of a 
 Poetess. 
 
 J. C. Hagen. . 
 
 . 110 
 
 The Light-House. 
 
 Alfred A. Phillips. . 
 
 . Ill 
 
 lo * * * *.— A Response. 
 
 
 Duncan Gray. 
 
 . 119 
 
 .^NEAS. 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 122 
 
 Secrets of Masonry. 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 123 
 
 Masonic Ode. 
 
 
 A Workman of the Temple. 
 
 . 126 
 
 l^HE PrESSGANG. . • 
 
 
 
 . 128 
 
 The Reclaimed. . 
 
 
 Mrs. Alice C. Hallock. . 
 
 . 141 
 
 Mirtharessa. 
 
 
 J. B. Murphy. 
 
 . 149 
 
 The Wedding. 
 
 
 
 . 152 
 
 A Thought 
 
 
 
 . 166 
 
Vlll CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 Dalcho's Elegant Apology " 
 
 TO THE Ladies. 
 The Spiritual Apprentice's 
 
 I 157 
 
 Song. } 1^^ 
 
 Joshua. 159 
 
 An Old Manuscript 161 
 
 Masonic Counsel : — Charges, > -./^o 
 
 Addresses, etc. ) 
 
 Masonry A Universal Religion . 206 
 
 German Precept. . 2lf^ 
 
 Shibboleth. 212 
 
 CoNSTANTiNE Talbot.— A Ro- ) t aj • oio 
 
 • ■»»••. > James ^dair. , , Aio 
 
 mance in Miniature. ) 
 
 Masonry in 1776. . John D. Hoyt. . 238 
 
 The Master's Song. . . Dr. Anderson. . 248 
 
 The Four Cardinal Virtues 250 
 
 Masonic Maxim 251 
 
 The Fatal Prediction. . J. C. Hagen. . . , 252 
 
 Masonic Song 254 
 
 Masonic Hymn 255 
 
 The Patriot-Masons of our ) „ /^ 7 t. ^x ^ oc^ 
 
 ^ > Bro. Caleb Atwater. 256 
 
 The Mason-'s Boast 261 
 
 The Temple. o^o 
 
MASiSrii E3IA1IST 
 
 In introducing this work to the notice of the noble and 
 ancient Order of Masons, we do so, impressed that, although 
 the harvest is ripe, the laborers are comparatively few. 
 We have been subjected to the storms of life, as well as 
 the sunshine ; and with that experience, (for no experi- 
 ence is so valuable as that which affords a personal evi- 
 dence — which evidence we can indubitably assert we are 
 in possession of,) we feel that we cannot do less than 
 address the Masonic Fraternity on a subject they well 
 understand. We trust they will do us the credit to believe, 
 that in the publication of this Annual, we are not led to the 
 adoption of this, our first attempt in this way, from motives 
 of selfishness or pecuniary reward. We can candidly say, 
 such is not our feeling. Our highest anticipation is, that a 
 work may be . presented that will teach the principles we 
 espouse, and also be beneficial, not only to the members of 
 
10 MASONIC CHARITY. 
 
 the Order, but, should it fall within the notice of those who 
 are not at present associated with us, that they may, by the 
 precepts here taught, become wiser and better. The Order 
 itself has one main object, "Universal Good;" and in its 
 dispensations, its view is to establish that great moral 
 truth, " Love thy neighbor as thyself." This command 
 must be admitted by every thoughtful individual to be 
 essential to the duties and obligations we owe to each 
 other as members of the vast brotherhood of humanity. 
 A source, no matter how unpretending in its influence, 
 that has humanity for its standard, cannot, we feel con- 
 vinced, prove unavailable in its appeal to the judgment of 
 the discerning and honest portion of community. The 
 effects of any society are proved by its operations ; and it is 
 unnecessary to observe, that the Masonic Order has at all 
 times elicited a very warm sympathy for every individual 
 within the limits of its influence. Nor has it been back- 
 Ward in administering to the numerous wants of those not 
 connected with it. " Charity, or Love, is pure;" it knows 
 no bounds, and, as such, is and ought to be open to all. It 
 knows no ill ; and though it may have many claimants upon 
 its philanthropy, yet it is not adverse to the general relief 
 of necessity, wherever it may exist. 
 
 The study of the leading axioms of this Order leads an 
 individual to know himself, and this is a grand first prin- 
 ciple ; for if Man knows himself, he must, " ex necessitate,^^ 
 see that, as a creature of circumstances, there is not a 
 moment of his life but affords the evidence that he is in- 
 debted to his fellow-man for something. Every day'* 
 
MASONIC CHARITY. 1, 
 
 transactions naturally show him that he is a dependent 
 being, resting for, in fact, all his comforts upon more or^ 
 less exertion of his fellow-man. This being admitted, 
 ought he not to reciprocate this feeling, and so carry 
 out the force of his own convictions ? Most assuredly he 
 ought, and with the most perfect and unbiased preten- 
 sions. And as a very large portion of society is subject 
 to reverse of fortune, the members of this ancient Order 
 have laid down a means of alleviation where such was the 
 case. The principal reverse alluded to is that of unfore- 
 seen misfortune — Sickness, whether by accident, or from 
 natural causes. In this case the afflicted are provided for. 
 Nor does it end here ; for, exclusive of the constitutional 
 regulations, many a brother's private means are freely open 
 to the pressing requirements of the unfortunate. Should 
 the arch arrow of death overpower the means applied, still, 
 to the last moment of existence, no exertions are left 
 untried to effect the power of human skill ; and in the event 
 of decease, the dying Mason, as the lamp of life gradually 
 fades, has this consolation, that he can look upon the fond 
 partner of his life, and the offspring of his love, and say, 
 " These are cared for." Oh, what consolation to the poor 
 son of earth, that can carry this comfort to his heart, faint- 
 ing with the ravages of death! — that he can smile upon 
 that wife, — upon those children, — and know he has no need 
 of a solitary pang for their future condition, when his head 
 shall be laid in the grave ! Death has its terrors — the 
 bravest have felt them — but when the glassy eye can look 
 upon its objects of endearment, and feel the assurance of 
 
12 MASONIC CHARITY. 
 
 provision for those he loves in life, how greatly are those 
 terrors assuaged ! An allowance to the widow — provision 
 for the children — education promised — and, in the event 
 of children being orphans, an asylum provided ! 
 
 In London an asylum for the orphan children of Masons 
 is conducted upon the most liberal principles. That insti- 
 tution was established by Mr. Ruspini, many years ago. 
 In the great hall is his full-length portrait as the founder ; 
 and the little ones look upon that picture with a love that is 
 beautiful to behold. His countenance beams with joy while 
 he is leading little children, one on each hand, as an earthly 
 protector. How singularly this picture coincides with the 
 frontispiece of this work ! There we behold our beloved 
 Washington, leading children by the hand, with La Fayette, 
 Hancock, and De Kalb, in the back-ground, giving a sanc- 
 tion to the grand example of the Father of our Country ! 
 
 John Perky. 
 
ANCIENT MYSTERIES. 18 
 
 ASdIllf lI¥SflMlS. 
 
 BY COMP. BRADLEY. 
 
 During the reign of Solomon, especially, as well as before 
 and afterwards, a very intimate connection existed between 
 the Jews and Egyptians. Moses was born in Egypt and 
 educated in Pharaoh's court, until he was forty years old, 
 and was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, and 
 was mighty in words and in deeds. Solomon married 
 Pharaoh's daughter, and brought her into the city of David. 
 This affinity with the king of Egypt inchned many of his 
 nobility to visit Jerusalem ; and commercial arrangements 
 were made and carried on amicably between those nations. 
 From this reciprocal connection, we are inclined to infer 
 that Masonry was introduced among the Egyptians. Be 
 this, however, as it may, we are informed, by several authen- 
 tic historians, that masonry did flourish in Egypt soon after 
 this period. By this mysterious art existing in our prin- 
 ciples, and smiled upon by the Eather of lights, ancient 
 Egypt subsisted, covered with glory, during a period of 
 fifteen or sixteen ages. They extended our system of bene- 
 volence so far, that he who refused to relieve the wretched, 
 when he had it in his power to assist him, was himself 
 punished with death : they regarded justice so impartially, 
 that the kings obliged the judges to take an oath, that they 
 
14 ANCI£.NT MYSTERIES. 
 
 would never do anything against their own consciences, 
 though they, the kings themselves, should command them. 
 They would not confer upon a bad prince the honors of a 
 funeral. They held a session upon every noted Egyptian 
 who died, for the direct purpose of inquiring how "he had 
 spent his life, so that all the respect due to his memory 
 might be paid. They entertained such just ideas of the 
 vanity of life, as to consider then* houses as inns, in which 
 they were to lodge as it were only for a night. They were 
 so laborious, that even their amusements were adapted to 
 strengthen the body and improve the mind. They pro- 
 hibited .the borrowing of money, except on condition of 
 pledging a deposit so important that a man who deferred 
 the redemption pf it was looked upon with horror. 
 
 It is well-known that the Egyptian priests have uniformly 
 been considered by ancient historians as possessing many 
 valuable secrets, and as being the greatest proficients in the 
 arts and sciences of their times. Whether they actually 
 possessed the masonic secrets or not, we cannot absolutely 
 determine ; but we have strong circumstantial reasons to 
 believe they did. It was here that Pythagoras was initiated 
 into their mysteries, and instructed in their arts. It was 
 here that sculpture and architecture, and all the sciences 
 of the times, were so greatly perfected. And here, it has 
 been thought by some of the most curious observers of 
 antiquity, masonry has been held in high estimation. 
 
ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 15 
 
 The antiquity and utility of Freemasonry, being gen- 
 eJrally acknowledged in most parts of the habitable globe, it 
 would be as absurd to conceive it required new aids for its 
 support, as for him who has the use of sight to demand a 
 proof of the rising and setting of the sun. Nevertheless, 
 in compliance with the requests of many worthy brethren, I 
 shall lay before my readers some strictures on the origin, 
 nature and design of that institution ; and with prudent re- 
 serve confute and avert the many shameful and idle false- 
 hoods which are ind-ustriously propagated by its enemies, 
 the better to inform the candid and well-meaning, who 
 might not readily know how to investigate the truth, or 
 want leisure and opportunity for that purpose. 
 
 If our first parent and his offspring had continued in the 
 terrestrial paradise, they would have had no occasion for 
 mechanic arts, or any of the sciences now in use ; Adam 
 being created with all those perfections and blessings, which 
 could either add to his dignity, or be conducive to his real 
 welfare : in that happy period he had no propensity to evil, 
 no perverseness in his heart, no darkness or obscurity in 
 his understanding ; for had he labored under these maladies, 
 he would not have been a perfect man, nor would there be 
 
16 ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 
 
 any difference betwixt man in a state of innocence, and in a 
 state of degeneracy and corruption. It was, therefore, in 
 consequence of his wilful transgression that any evils came 
 upon him. And having lost his innocence, he in that 
 dreadful moment forfeited likewise his supernatural lights 
 and infused knowledge, whereby every science (as far as 
 human nature is capable of) was rendered familiar to him 
 without the tedious labor of ratiocination, requisite to men 
 even of the greatest abilities, whose ideas after all remain 
 weak and imperfect. 
 
 From this remarkable and fatal era, we date the neces- 
 sity and origin of the sciences. First arose divinity, where- 
 by was pointed out to fallen man the ways and will of God, 
 the omnipotence and mercy of an offended Creator: the 
 law,* as directing us to distribute justice to our neighbor, 
 and relieve those who are oppressed or suffer wrong. Then 
 royal art was beyond all doubt coeval with the above 
 sciences, and was carefully handed down by Methuselah, 
 who died but a few days before the general deluge, and who 
 had lived 245 years mth Adam, by whom he was instructed 
 in all the mysteries of this sublime science, which he faith- 
 fully communicated to his grandson Noah, who transmitted 
 it to posterity. And it has ever been preserved with a 
 veneration and prudence suitable to its great importance, 
 being always confined to the knowledge of the worthy only. 
 
 ♦ No sooner had Adam transgressed the divine command, than we find him 
 cited to appear before the Almighty Judge. When, self-accused, after hearing his 
 defence, sentence was pronounced upon him ; a method of proceeding in that 
 science, which las been adopted in criminal cases, by the more enlightened na- 
 tions, ft Dm that period and example, down to the present day. 
 
•ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 17 
 
 This is confirmed by many instances, which men of reading 
 and speculation, especially such as are of this society, cannot 
 suffer to escape them. 
 
 At first mankind adhered to the lessons of nature ; she 
 used necessity for the means, urged them to invention, and 
 assisted them in the operation. Our primitive fathers, see- 
 ing the natural face of the earth was not sufficient for the 
 sustenance of the animal creation, had recourse to their 
 faithful tutoress, who taught them how to give it an arti- 
 ficial face, by creating habitations and cultivating the 
 ground ; and these operations, among other valuable effects, 
 led tliem to search into and contemplate upon the nature 
 and properties of lines, figures, superfices and solids ; and 
 by degrees, to form the sciences of geometry, and architec- 
 ture, which have been of the greatest utility to the human 
 species. Hence we were first taught the means whereby 
 we might attain practice, and by practice introduce specu- 
 lation. 
 
 From the flood to the days of King Solomon, the liberal 
 arts and sciences gradually spread themselves over different 
 parts of the globe ; every nation having had some share in 
 their propagation ; but according to their different manners, 
 some have cultivated them with more accuracy, perseverance 
 and success than others ; and though the secrets of the 
 royal art have not been indiscriminately revealed, they have 
 nevertheless been communicated in every age to such as were 
 worthy to receive them. 
 
 But I am not at liberty to undraw the curtain and 
 publicly descant on this head : it is sacred and ever will 
 
18 ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 
 
 remain so ; those who are honored with the trust, will not 
 reveal it except to the truly qualified brother, and they who 
 are ignorant of it cannot betray it. 
 
 I shall, however, observe, that this art was called royal, 
 not only because it was originally practised by kings* and 
 princes, who were the first professors of it, but likewise on 
 account of the superiority which so sublime a science gave 
 its disciples over the rest of mankind. 
 
 This supreme and divine knowledge being derived from 
 the Almighty Creator to Adam, its principles ever since 
 have been, and still are, most sacredly preserved and 
 inviolably concealed. For as all things in process of time 
 are liable to decay and corruption, the ancient professors, 
 wisely foreseeing the great abuses which their exalted mys- 
 teries might sustain, if generally made known, determined 
 to confine the knowledge of them only to select brethren, 
 men whom they had found by long experience to be well 
 versed in the general pinciples of the society, and who were 
 eminent for their piety, learning and abilities. 
 
 From the earliest ages of antiquity, the royal art was 
 ever taught with the, greatest circumspection, not in schools 
 or academies, to a promiscuous audience, but was confined 
 to certain families ; the rulers >f which instructed their 
 
 • The celebrated Selden *ell9 us, that civil society, beginning first in particular 
 families, under economic rule, representing what is now a commonwealth, had in 
 its state, the husband, father, and master, as King (Selden'a works, tom. 3, col. 927). 
 And in Abraham's treaty with the sons of Heth, for a burying place for Sarah, they 
 style him a mighty Prince ; as indeed he was (Gen. xxiii. 6). In a word, not 
 only Adam, but all the succeeding patriarchs, as well before as after the flood, had 
 by the laws of nature, kingly power over their respective families. 
 
ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 19 
 
 children or disciples, and by this means conveyed their 
 mysterious knowledge to posterity. 
 
 After the flood, the professors of this art (according to 
 ancient traditions) were first distinguished by the name of 
 Noachidae (or sons of Noah), afterwards by that of sages 
 or wise men (men instructed as Moses in all the wisdom of 
 the Egyptians), Chaldeans, philosophers, masters in Israel, 
 &c., and were ever venerated as sacred persons. They 
 consisted of persons of the brightest parts and genius, who 
 exerted their utmost abilities in discovering and investi- 
 gating the various mysteries of nature, from whence to draw 
 improvements and inventions of the most useful conse- 
 quences. Men whose talents were not only employed in 
 speculation, or in private acts of beneficence, but who were 
 also public blessings to the age and country in which they 
 lived, possessed with moderate desires, who knew to con- 
 quer their passions ; practisers and teachers of the purest 
 morality, and ever exerting themselves to promote the har- 
 mony and felicity of society. They were, therefore, consult- 
 ed from all parts, and venerated with that sincere homage 
 which is never paid but to real merit, and the greatest and 
 wisest potentates on earth esteemed it an addition to their 
 imperial dignities to be enrolled among such bright orna- 
 ments of human nature. 
 
 A principal excellence which rendered them famous 
 among men was taciturnity, which, in a peculiar manner, 
 they practised and inculcated as necessary for concealing 
 from the unworthy what few were qualified to learn, and 
 still fewer to teach. 
 
20 ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 
 
 In the first ages of the world science was in a low state ; 
 because the uncultivated manners of our forefathers ren- 
 dered them in general incapable of that knowledge which 
 their posterity have so amply enjoyed : the professors of the 
 royal art, therefore, found it absolutely requisite, to exclude 
 the more unworthy and barbarous part of mankind from 
 their assemblies, and to conceal their mysteries under such 
 hieroglyphics, symbols, allegory and figures, as they alone 
 could explain (even at this day it is indispensible in us, to 
 prevent future bad consequences, by concealing from vulgar 
 eyes the means used by them to unfold such mysteries), 
 wherefore the greatest caution was ever observed at their 
 meetings that no unqualified person might enter amongst 
 them; and every method was employed to tyle them 
 Becurely, and conceal the real intent and design of their 
 convocations. 
 
 In order to render their proceedings more edifying and 
 extensively useful, charges were delivered at certain times, 
 as well for regulating the conduct of the fraternity, as pre- 
 serving that mark of distinction which their superior merit 
 justly entitled them to. 
 
 Several of those ancient orations are still extant, by which 
 it appears that, among others, one of their principles was to 
 inculcate by precept, and enforce by example, a strict ob- 
 servance of the moral law, as the chief means of supporting 
 government and authority. And it is evident that they 
 thereby effected their purpose, and secured to themselves the 
 favor, respect, and esteem of the world in general ; and, 
 notwithstanding the indolence and ignorance of some ages, 
 
ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 21 
 
 the various countries, languages, sects, and parties, through 
 whick Masonry has passed, alwa3^s subjected to the neces- 
 sity of oral tradition, and under the numerous disadvantages 
 with which the masters of the royal art had to struggle in 
 the course of many centuries, still does it retain, in a great 
 degree, its original perfection; — a circumstance that not 
 only bears honorable testimony of intrinsic worth, but is 
 highly to the praise of those to whom this important trust 
 has been from time to time committed. 
 
 After this concise and general account of the ancient pro- 
 fessors of the royal art, and the sublime truths which they 
 were possessed of, and were by them transmitted down to 
 posterity in the manner before described, we will proceed 
 to the building of that glorious edifice, at which period this 
 society became a regular and uniform institution, under the 
 denomination of Free and Accepted Masons, whose customs 
 and proceedings I shall describe as far as may be necessary 
 and prudent. 
 
 Though the almighty and eternal Jehovah has no occasion 
 for a temple or house to dwell in, for the heaven of heavens 
 is not capable of containing his immensity, yet it was his 
 divine will that a tabernacle should be erected for him in 
 the wilderness by Moses, and afterwards a temple by 
 Solomon, at Jerusalem, as his sanctuary; both of which 
 were to be constructed, not according to human invention, 
 but after a, pattern which the Lord himself had given. 
 The whole model of the tabernacle was shown to Moses 
 on Mount Sinai (Exod. xxv. 9). and the pattern of the 
 temple was likewise given to David by the hand of the 
 
22 ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 
 
 Lord, and by him delivered to Solomon his son (1 Chron. 
 xxviii. 11). 
 
 The tabernaole might be considered as the palace of the 
 Most High, the dwelling of the God of Israel ; wherein the 
 Israelites, during their journeyings in the wilderness, per- 
 formed the chief of their religious exercises, offered their 
 sacrifices, and worshipped God.* It was thirty cubits in 
 length,- ten in breadth, and ten in height ; it was divided 
 into two partitions, the first was called the holy place, 
 which was twenty cubits long, and ten wide : here were 
 placed the table of shew-bread, the golden candlestick, and 
 the golden altar of incense. The second was called the 
 most holy place, whose length was ten cubits, and breadth 
 ten cubits, wherein, before the building of the temple, the 
 ark of the covenant was kept, which was a symbol of God's 
 gracious presence with the Jewish church. The most holy 
 place was divided from the holy place by a curtain or veil 
 of very rich cloth, which hung upon four pillars of Shittim 
 wood, that were covered with plates of gold (Exod. xxvi. 31. 
 Heb. ix. 23). 
 
 The temple erected by Solomon (which was built after the 
 model of the tabernacle) at Jerusalem, had its foundation 
 laid in the year of the world 2992, before Christ 1008, be- 
 fore the vulgar era 1012 ; and it was finished a. l. 3000, 
 and dedicated 3001, before Christ 999, before the vulgar 
 era 1003. The glory of this temple did not consist in the 
 magnitude of its dimensions ; for though it was twice as 
 lorg and capacious every way as the tabernacle, yet, alone, 
 
 * The tabernacle was erected about a., l. 3613. 
 
ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 28 
 
 '^ __ 
 
 it was but a small pile of building. The main grandeur 
 and excellency were in its ornaments ; the workmanship 
 being everywhere exceeding curious, and the overlayings 
 prodigious : in its materials, being built of new, large 
 stones, hewn out in the most curious and ingenious manner; 
 in its out-buildings, which were large, beautiful, and sump- 
 tuous; — but still more admirable in this majestic edifice 
 were those extraordinary marks of divine favor with which 
 it was honored, viz. : the ark of the covenant j in which were 
 put the tables of the law and the mercy-seat, which was 
 upon it ; from whence the divine oracles were given out, 
 with an audible voice, as often as God was consulted in 
 behalf of his people ; the Schechinah, or the divine presence, 
 manifested by a visible cloud resting over the mercy-seat ; 
 the urim and thummum, by which the high-priest consulted 
 God in difficult and momentous cases, relating to the public 
 interest of the nation ; the holy fire which came down from 
 heaven, upon the altar, at the consecration, — these, indeed, 
 were excellencies and beauties derived from a divine source, 
 distinguishing and exalting this sacred structure above all 
 others (1 Kings xviii. 38). David, filled with the hopes of 
 building this temple, declared his intentions to Nathan the 
 prophet (2 Sam. vii. 1, 2, 3) ; but this was not permitted 
 him, because his reign had been attended with wars, blood- 
 shed and slaughter, and he still had to contend with many 
 powerful enemies ; but, though forbid to execute this divine 
 and glorious work, he made considerable preparations for 
 that purpose ; which having done, and drawing towards his 
 latter end, he assembled all the princes and chief persona 
 
24 ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 
 
 of his kingdom, and ordered and encouraged Solomon pub- 
 licly, and in their presence, to pursue such his intention 
 (1 Chron. xxviii. 1-10), and delivered him the pattern, or 
 scheme, of all the houses, &c. (ver. 11, 12), the courses of 
 the priests and Levites (ver. 11-31), and likewise the 
 pattern of the cherubims (ver. 18), earnestly exhorting his 
 servants, in regard to the tender age of his son Solomon, 
 who was yet but very young, to yield him their councils and 
 assistance in erecting a palace, not designed for man, but 
 for the Lord God. David himself gave towards the build- 
 ing of the temple out of his own treasures, besides a vast 
 variety of precious stones, three thousand talents of gold of 
 Ophir, and seven thousand talents of silver (1 Chron. 
 xxix. 25). 
 
 The princes of his kingdom followed the glorious exam- 
 ple of their king, and gave five thousand talents and ten 
 thousand drachms of gold, ten thousand talents of silver, 
 eighteen thousand talents of brass, and one hundred thou- 
 sand talents of iron, as also a grf xt many of the most pre- 
 cious stones (1 Chron. xxix. 6, 7, 8). 
 
 When David the king was dead,* and Solomon was 
 estabhshed on his throne, he resolved to carry into execu- 
 tion his father's design, and to erect a temple to his great 
 Creator. 
 
 For which purpose he applied to Hiram, King of Tyre, 
 for- assistance ; and having readily obtained a promise of 
 what he desired, and procured from thence, and other parts, 
 men and materials sufl&cient for his intentions, he began that 
 
 ♦ A. L. 2989. 
 
ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 25 
 
 great and majestic fabric \ and as method and order are 
 known and confessed to be essentials requisite in conducting 
 all great designs and undertakings, he proceeded in the fol- 
 lowing manner : he numbered and classed his men accord- 
 ing to their skill and abilities, viz : — 
 
 1. Harodim, princes, rulers or provosts, in number . . . 300 
 
 2. IMenatzchim, overseers and comforters of the people in 
 
 working, that were expert Master-Masons .... 3,300 
 
 3. Ghiblim, stone-squarers, polishers, and sculptors* and 
 
 Ishchotzeb, men of hewing ; Benai, setters, layers or 
 builders, being able and ingenious fellow-crafts . . 80,000 
 
 4. The levy out of Israel, appointed to work in Lebanon 
 
 one month in three, 10,000 each month, under the 
 direction of noble Adoniram, who was the junior 
 
 grand warden 30,000 
 
 Whole number employed, exclusive of the two grand war- 
 dens, and of the men of burthen, who were the 
 remains of the old Canaanites, who being bondmen, 
 are not numbered among Masons, was 113,600 
 
 Solomon likewise partitioned the fellow-crafts into certain 
 lodges, appointing to each one to preside as a master, assist- 
 ed by two others -as guardians, that they might receive 
 commands in a regular manner, take care of the tools and 
 jewels, and be duly paid, fed, clothed, &c. 
 
 These necessary regulations being previously settled, to 
 preserve that order and harmony which would be absolutely 
 requisite among so great a number of men, in executing so 
 large a work, he also took into consideration the future 
 
26 ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 
 
 agreement and prosperity of the craft, and deliberated on 
 the best means to secure them by a lasting cement. 
 
 Now, brotherly love and immutable fidelity presented 
 themselves to his mind, as the most proper basis for an in- 
 stitution, whose aim and end should be to establish per- 
 manent unity among its members, and to render them a 
 society who, while they enjoyed the most perfect felicity, 
 would be of considerable utility to mankind. And being 
 desirous to transmit it under the ancient restrictions as 
 a blessing to future ages, Solomon decreed, that when- 
 ever they should assemble in their lodges to discourse 
 upon, and improve themselves in the arts and sciences, and 
 whatever else should be deemed proper topics to increase 
 their knowledge, they should likewise instruct each other in 
 secrecy and prudence, morahty and good-fellowship ; and 
 for these pui-poses he estabhshed certain pecuhar rules and 
 customs to be invariably observed in their conversations, 
 that their minds might be enriched by a perfect acquaint- 
 ance with, and practice of, every moral, social, and religious 
 duty, lest while they were so highly honored by being em- 
 ployed in raising a temple to the great Jehovah, they should 
 neglect to secure to themselves a happy admittance into 
 the celestial lodge, of which the temple was only to be a 
 type. 
 
 Thus did our wise Grand Master contrive a plan, by 
 mechanical and practical allusions, to instruct the crafts- 
 men in principles of the most sublime speculative philoso- 
 phy, tending to the glory of God, and to secure to them 
 temporal blessings here, and eternal life hereafter ; as well 
 
ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 27 
 
 as to unite the speculative and operative Masons thereby 
 forming a two-fold advantage from the principles of ge- 
 ometry and architecture, on the one part, and the precepts 
 of wisdom and ethics on the other. The next circumstance 
 which demanded Solomon's attention was the readiest and 
 most effectual method of paying the wages of so vast a body 
 of men, according to their respective degrees, without error 
 or confusion, that nothing might be found among the Masons 
 of Sion save harmony and peace.* This Avas settled in a 
 manner well known to all regularly-made Masons, and 
 therefore is unnecessary, as also improper, to be mentioned 
 here. 
 
 These arrangements being adjusted, the noble structure 
 was began,t and conducted with such grandeur, order, and 
 concord, as afforded Solomon the most exalted satisfaction, 
 and filled him with the strongest assurance that the royal 
 art would be further encouraged in future ages, and amongst 
 various nations, from the excellencies of this temple, and 
 the fame and skill of the Israelites, in the beauty and 
 symmetry of architecture therein displayed. 
 
 He was likewise sensible that, when this building should 
 be completed, the craftsmen would disperse themselves over 
 the whole earth ; and being desirous to perpetuate, in the 
 most effectual manner, the harmony and good-fellowship 
 
 * 1 Kings vi. 7. 
 
 * This noble structure was erected on Mount Moriah, in the month Zif, which 
 answers to our April, being the second month of the second year (A. L. 2992), and 
 was carried on with such prodigious expedition, that it was completely finished in 
 little more than seven years, in the month Bui, which answers to our October, 
 A. L. 2999, and was dedicated the year following. 
 
28 ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 
 
 already established among them, and to secure to them- 
 selves, their future pupils, and their successors, the honor 
 and respect due to men whose abilities were so great, and 
 would be so justly renowned — in conjunction with Hiram, 
 King of Tyre, and Hiram Abiff, the deputy Grand Master, 
 concerted a proper plan to accomplish his intentions ; in 
 which it was determined that, in conformity to the practice 
 of the original professors of the royal art, general distinguish- 
 ing characteristics should be established for a proof of their 
 having been fellow- laborers in this glorious work, to descend 
 to their successors in all future ages, who should be in a 
 peculiar manner qualified to cultivate the sublime principles 
 of this noble establishment ; and such were adopted and 
 received accordingly. With respect to the method which 
 would be hereafter necessary for propagating the principles 
 of the society, Solomon pursued the uniform and ancient 
 custom, in regard to degrees of probation and injunctions to 
 secrecy, which he himself had been obliged to comply with 
 before he gained a perfection in the royal art, or even 
 arrived at the summit of the sciences ; therefore, though 
 there were no apprentices employed in the building of the 
 temple, yet as the craftsmen were all intended to be pro- 
 moted to the degree of Masters after its dedication, and as 
 these would secure a succession, by receiving apprentices 
 who might themselves, in due time, also become Master^ 
 Masons, it was determined that the gradations in the 
 science should consist of three distinct degrees, to each of 
 which should be adapted a particular distinguishing test, 
 which test, together with the explication, was accordingly 
 
ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 29 
 
 settled and comniiinicated to the fraternity, previous to their 
 dispersion, under a necessary and solemn injunction to 
 secrecy; and they have been most cautiously preserved, 
 and transmitted dovjn to posterity by faithful brethren, ever 
 since their emigration. Thus the centre of union among 
 Freemasons was firmly fixed — their cabala regulated and 
 established, and their principles directed to the excellent 
 purposes of their original intention. 
 
 The harmony and connection of the society of Free- 
 masons, and the excellent precepts and principles thereof, 
 have produced the utmost good consequence, not only to the 
 particular members of it, but frequently to the nations 
 where it has been cultivated and practised. 
 
 For, united by the endearing name of brother, they 
 live in an afiection and friendship rarely to be met with 
 even among those whom the ties of consanguinity ought to 
 bind in the firmest manner. That intimate union which 
 does so much honor to humanity in general, in the particu- 
 lar intercourse which prevails among Freemasons, difiuses 
 pleasure that no other institution can boast. For the 
 name which they mutually use one towards another is not 
 a vain compliment, or slu idle parade ; no, they enjoy, in 
 common, all the felicities of a true brotherhood. Here, 
 merit and ability secure to their possessors an honorable 
 regard, and a respectful distinction, which every one re- 
 ceives with an unaffected complacency and a perfect 
 humility — constantly exerting himself for the general good, 
 without vanity, and without fear. For they who are not 
 adorned with the same advantages, are neither mortified 
 
30 ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 
 
 nor jealous. No one contends for superiority ; here emula- 
 tion is onlv with a view to please ; the man of shining 
 abilities, and those unblessed with such ornaments, are here 
 equally admitted ; all may here perform their parts ; and 
 what may seem surprising, amongst such a variety of char- 
 acters, haughtiness or servility never appear. The greatest 
 admit of a social familiarity ; the inferior is elevated and 
 instructed, constantly maintaining by these means a benefi- 
 cent equality. 
 
 With respect to the conversation which they hold during 
 their assemblies it is conducted with the most perfect 
 decency : here it is a universal maxim never to speak of 
 the absent but with respect ; ill-natured satire is excluded ; 
 all raillery is forbidden ; they will not even suffer the least 
 irony, or the poignant strokes of wit, because they generally 
 have a malignant tendency; they tolerate nothing which 
 carries with it even the appearance of \ ce. 
 
 Their pleasures are never embittered by ungrateful reflec- 
 tions, but produce a serene and lasting composure of mind. 
 They flow not like a torrent which descends with noise and 
 impetuosity, but like a peaceful stream within its own chan- 
 nel, strong without violence, and gentle without dulness. 
 
 This exact regularity, very far from occasioning a melan 
 choly seriousness, diffuses, on the contrary, over the heart, 
 and over the understanding, the most pure delights; the 
 bright effects of enjoyment and hilarity shine forth in the 
 countenance ; and although the appearances are sometimes 
 a little more sprightly than ordinary, decency never runs 
 any risk — it is wisdom in good-humor. For if a brother 
 
ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 31 
 
 should happen to forget himself, or in his discourse should 
 have the weakness to use such expressions as are distin- 
 guished under the name of liberties, a formidable sign 
 would immediately call him to his duty; a brother may 
 mistake as a man, but he hath opportunity and courage to 
 recover himself, because he is a Freemason. Although order 
 and decorum are always scrupulously observed in the lodges 
 of Freemasons, these exclude not, in anywise, gaiety and 
 cheerful enjoyment. The conversation is animated, and 
 the kind and brotherly cordiaHty that presides there affords 
 the most pleasing sensation. 
 
 These particulars may justly recall to our minds the 
 happy time of the divine Astrea ; when there was neither 
 superiority nor subordination, because men were as yet un- 
 tainted by vice, and uncorrupt. 
 
 T. W. 
 
 Freemasony was introduced into America one hundred 
 and thirteen years after the first settlement of Plymouth, 
 in the State of Massachusetts, under the auspices of the 
 Most Worshipful Anthony Montague, Grand Master of 
 Masons in England, who granted a patent for the first 
 American Lodge ; which lodge was accordingly held in 
 Boston, the metropolis of that State, on the 30th July, 
 1*733. Since that time, lodges have been established in 
 every State and territory in the Union ; insomuch that 
 Masons are more numerous now in the United States, in 
 proportion to the number of people, than they are in 
 
32 ORIGIN OF FREEMASONRY. 
 
 Europe. This is a striking proof of the rapid progress of 
 refinement and civihzation in America ; for Freemasonry, 
 which lays the hne, stretches the compass, apphes the 
 square, and rears the well ordered column, must and will 
 always keep pace and run parallel with the culture and 
 civilization of mankind. Nay, we may pronounce with the 
 strictest truth, that where Masonry is not, refinement and 
 civilization will never be found. 
 
 Since Freemasony has exerted her heaven-derived talents 
 in this country, what a train of arts have entered, and 
 joined in ample suite, to give their patrons Architecture, 
 Sculpture, and Painting, completion and glory. Every art, 
 ^very exertion of the husbandman and mechanic, have been 
 busied and complete. 
 
 By the help of operative Masonry, we have made the 
 wilderness a fruitful field ; have suppUed our tables with 
 the conveniences and many of the luxuries of Hfe ; have 
 decorated our habitations with the productions of the man- 
 ufacturer; and have built us cities to inhabit, which for 
 convenience, beauty and regularity, may vie with any in the 
 world. In addition to these, our canals are a stupendous 
 work of operative Masonry, and bid fair to be of incalcu- 
 lable advantage to millions yet unborn. By speculative 
 Masonry we have also been enabled to perform those civil, 
 those legislative moral plans, by which our most sacred 
 rights and invaluable liberties are secured ; by which we 
 are adorned, established, and dignified as an independent 
 nation, and the greatest, the happiest, the most powerful 
 repubhc that ever existed in the world. 
 
A SPRING MELODY. S3 
 
 A sfaii® mifflii', 
 
 BY MISS M. J. E. KNOX. 
 
 I HAVE heard the gentle voice of Spring, 
 
 She hath come again to her old-time haunts. 
 And the hill-sides echo, and vallies ring 
 With the happy notes which she loves to sing, 
 O'er the birth of the first young plants ! 
 
 The bare trees rustle their branches gray, 
 
 As they hear her pass along ; 
 The black-bird tuneth his joyous lay, 
 And streamlets leap on their sea-ward way 
 
 With a burst of merry song. 
 
 Spring hath come to our land again ! 
 
 And she roameth wild and free ; 
 She stealeth away through the shadowy glen. 
 Or visiteth kindly the homes of men. 
 
 With her smiles and minstrelsy. 
 
 Spring hath come ! but she sheddeth tears 
 
 O'er many a new-made grave 
 Of those she smiled on in other years- 
 Over their bosoms the young grass peers. 
 
 And her earliest flowers shall wavfe 
 
84 W M A N ' S I, O V E . 
 
 Spring liath come ! and her smile is ours. 
 
 And her promise of lovely things, 
 The soft sunsliine, and the fragrant showers — 
 But who shall gather the latest flowers 
 Which the beautiful Sybil brings ? 
 
 We know that her smile is upon us now, 
 
 But we know not her parting lay ; 
 Ah ! that may be of the smiling brow. 
 And the blooming cheek in dust laid low 
 By the touch of swift decay ! 
 Maj/y 1851. 
 
 WiMiLS'S 1(B¥3. 
 
 BYJOHNT. MAYO. 
 
 The rude conflicts of active life, which it is the lot of 
 man to encounter, often tend to check the sensibilities of 
 the heart. His intercourse with his species is, to a great 
 extent, in the arena of business, and the cold and calcula- 
 ting spirit of worldly policy is apt to engross his mind and 
 paralyze his affections. Natures there have been which, 
 in the spring-time of youthful buoyancy, were warm, gene- 
 rous, and confiding, and susceptible of being influenced by 
 the slightest touch of human tenderness, but which, under 
 the pressure of accumulating cares, become frigid and re- 
 served, and seem to consider the enjoyments arising from 
 the exercise of the gentler emotions of the heart as unworthy 
 of the stern dignity of the man of business. 
 
LOVE. 35 
 
 No mercliant ever maintained a higher reputation for 
 keen sagacity and inflexible integrity in all his transactions 
 than did Henry Freeman. The world for him appeared to 
 contain but one central point of attraction — that in which 
 he planned and conducted the operations of his business. 
 Every advantage that wealth could bestow was realized in 
 his family ; but there, as in the mercantile circle, he was 
 essentially the man of business. It was not that his home 
 was deficient in any of the ingredients necessary to the 
 existence of domestic happiness, but the character of the 
 husband and the father was in a great degree lost in that of 
 the merchant. Yet it was not that he had ceased to regard 
 with affection the amiable being whom he had singled out 
 from the lists of loveliness as his companion on the pilgrim- 
 age of life, or to t^ke an interest in the welfare of his chil- 
 dren. In his case was exemplified the powerful sway which 
 the passion for worldly gain is capable of exerting upon the 
 mind, concentrating all its energies to the one solitary point, 
 and rendering it comparatively indifferent to every other 
 consideration. The favors of Fortune are not to be coldly 
 wooed or lightly won, and not unfrequently are they pur- 
 chased by her infatuated votaries at the sacrifice of every 
 noble principle and every generous sentiment. 
 
 But no blighting influence had passed over the heart of 
 his devoted wife. Her afiections entwined around him with 
 all the freshness and constancy of earlier days, and her sen- 
 sitive mind could not but perceive and mourn his distant 
 and reserved deportment towards her. It is true he was 
 never positively harsh or unkind, for naturally a more gen* 
 
WOMAN'S LOVE 
 
 erous soul never inhabited a human breast. Her utmost 
 powers of pleasing were exerted to win his approving smile, 
 — but to him a smile seemed an effeminate indulgence not 
 to be too often or injudiciously repeated. His brow con- 
 stantly wore the shade of a moody though tfulness, wliich she 
 was sometimes inclined to attribute to the reverses of busi- 
 ness, but when with :ender solicitude she pressed the 
 inquiry, he briefly assured her that her apprehensions were 
 unfounded. Often would she seek in tears relief from the 
 intensity of her feelings, but her womanly spirit never 
 suffered him to witness an exhibition which he would be sure 
 to characterise as unpardonable weakness. The questions 
 were ever revolving in her mind. Had she offended in word 
 or look 1 Could the demon of jealousy have dared to whis- 
 per in his ear a suspicion of her consta]*3y ? Was it pos- 
 sible that she had a rival in his affections'? The latter 
 thought was too painful to entertain for a moment, and 
 it was banished from her mind as soon as it suggested 
 itself. Her generous confidence forbade her to indulge the 
 shadow of a suspicion of his unfaithfulness. 
 
 Had Freeman been aware of the unhappiness which his 
 singular demeanor had thus occasioned, it would have 
 aroused him from his listless apathy, and called forth his 
 efforts to convince his amiable companion that he had not 
 designed in the least to disturb her tranquility. He had 
 been, however, so habitually absorbed in his own reflections 
 that any indication of uneasiness on her part had been by 
 him entirely unnoticed. The truth is, that although 
 cngagec' in an extensive and prosperous business, he was 
 
woman'sluve. 87 
 
 not a liappy man. He was the victim of care and disquie- 
 tude, rendered still more distressing from the distrust and 
 uncertainty which porvaded the mercantile world. He lived 
 in constant dread of some unforeseen blow, which should 
 level to the dust the fair fabric of his prosperity. 
 
 And the blow, long dreaded, came at last. No human 
 prudence or vigilance is secure against the disasters of life. 
 The very precautions we take to avoid danger may in reality 
 only accelerate it. The men in whom we place the most 
 unbounded confidence may either be themselves prostrated, 
 or repay the trust we reposed in them with the basest 
 treachery. In a moment of fancied security tho results of 
 long years of unremitted toil may be wrapped in flames, or 
 the winds of heaven may turn traitor to our hopes, and the 
 gallant barque, and the treasures it was probably bearing to 
 our feet, may go down to increase the hidden wealth of 
 *'old ocean's caverned deep." How justly does the voice 
 of wisdom admonish us, " Boast not in uncertain riches !" 
 
 To one who had never before encountered the chilling 
 blast of misfortune, this sudden reverse came with stunning 
 force. With intense anguish and bitter despondency he 
 gazed upon the wreck of his earthly expectations, and 
 beheld the gaunt monster, adversity, advancing to embrace 
 him in his ruthless grasp. His wife soon read the fearful 
 truth in the wildness of his eye, the haggard expression of 
 his care-worn features, and the deep groans which broke 
 the stillness of the midnight hour. But did she, too, quail 
 and sink beneath the appaling stroke ? She felt its weight, 
 indeed, deeply and keenly, but in the hour of affliction she 
 
38 wo MA n's love. 
 
 •was firm and unsubdued. The crisis was one which served 
 to call into action those mighty resources which exist only 
 in the pure fountain of a woman's love. 
 
 One evening, while he was reclining on the sofa absorbed 
 in deep and melancholy thought, his wife quietly seated 
 herself by his side, and gently laying her hand upon his 
 shoulder, and looking earnestly in his face she said : 
 
 " Does Henry forget the beautiful groves of Beechland 1" 
 
 He started from his reverie, and a faint smile lighted up 
 his countenance as he asked, 
 
 " Does EUza remember them without regret ?" 
 
 " Never," she replied, " can I retrace those happy scenes 
 without delight, until the conviction is forced upon me that 
 I possess no longer a place in your affections. It was there 
 we pledged our mutual love ; and surely if ■ ever earth wit- 
 nessed the union of kindred hearts, it was at that moment. 
 To this hour my soul fondly dwells upon the declaration 
 which you then uttered, that the lowliest cottage, if shared 
 with me, would be to you a paradise. Nor can I forget 
 how, in the fullness of my confiding heart, I reciprocated 
 the sweet assurance." 
 
 " Eliza," said Freeman, solemnly, " I have not changed 
 in jny regard for you, and the thoughts of contributing to 
 your happiness has ever cheered and sustained me in my 
 conflicts with the world; and were it not that you must 
 suffer with me, I could endure with greater fortitude the 
 misfortunes which have overtaken me ; but when I see those 
 tears" — 
 
 " They are not tears of sorrow, Henry. You mistake 
 
woman'slove. 39 
 
 me if you think I am unhappy — at least on my own account. 
 Our sky is for the moment overcast ; but let us not despair. 
 Brighter days will come, and all the brighter for having 
 been clouded with affliction. Let us put our trust in our 
 heavenly Father, and he will never leave nor forsake us." 
 
 Until this occasion Freeman had never tested the dovoted- 
 ness of woman's love. He had till now indulged the painful 
 apprehension, that she would be unable to sustain the pri- 
 vations consequent upon their reduced circumstances. He 
 now beheld her rising superior to the power of adversity, 
 and not only nobly maintaining her own calmness and 
 fortitude in the hour of trial, but by kindness and sympathy 
 gently relieving his own mind from the burden of despond- 
 ency, and animating him to new efforts to retrieve his fallen 
 condition. 
 
 It is not in the gay haunts of pleasure and dissipation, in 
 the frivolous ceremonials and sickening parade of fashion- 
 able life, nor amidst the profusion of prosperity and the 
 refinements of luxurious indulgence, that we are to seek for 
 those traits of virtuous excellence which distinguish and 
 adorn woman's character. Under such circumstances there 
 is nothing to call forth the latent but ennobling energies of 
 her nature. She is there the sensitive creature of the ima- 
 gination — a wayward and capricious being, fluttering in the 
 sunshine, braiding her raven tresses with the fairest flowers 
 of summer, or tossing them wildly to the fresh dalliance of 
 the morning breeze, whilst her joyous laugh rings out 
 merrily on the ear, awakening in our hearts responsive tones 
 of gladness, and in the ecstasy of the moment causing us to 
 
40 woman'slove. 
 
 dream that no envious cloud can ever obscure the brightness 
 of our sky, or gloomy care dash mth bitterness the spark- 
 hng cup of our earthly existence. If we would see woman 
 in the greatness of her attributes, we must contemplate her 
 in the hour of trial and affliction — we must behold her 
 bending over the couch of sickness, and with self-denying 
 devotedness tasking all the ingenuity of her affectionate 
 heart to relieve the distress of the. beloved sufferer, and 
 whispering to his soul the consolations of hope, and the 
 assurances of undying love. It is in such scenes that she 
 stands out in bold relief, an angel of light amidst the dark- 
 ness of the surrounding storm. 
 
 In the mind of Freeman the affectionate sympathy of his 
 wife tended not only to soothe the pains of disappointment, 
 but to give a new and interesting direction to the current of 
 his thoughts. He saw that there were springs in the sacred 
 enclosure of the domestic affections, overlooked in the ardor 
 of his ambition, but capable of ministering to the heart 
 pleasures more pure, and peaceful, and enduring than 
 wealth, with all its boasted pretensions, can ever bestow. 
 Inspired by these views, his manly spirit threw off the burden 
 which had so fearfully depressed him, and sprung forth with 
 fresh vigor to renew the struggle with his destiny. Com- 
 mitting the details of his domestic arrangements entirely to 
 the judicious management of his wife, he addressed himself 
 to the regulation of his business affairs ; and although his 
 losses had been severe, he was soon encouraged to find that 
 his situation was not quite so desperate as he had imagined. 
 By a course of strict prudence and economy he succeeded 
 
woman'slove. 41 
 
 after a time in regaining in some degree the prosperous 
 position which he had formerly enjoyed. 
 
 During the period of his embarrassment, in order to 
 retrench his expenses, Freeman removed his family to a 
 romantic situation, a short distance from the metropolis. 
 In this peaceful abode his mind often wandered back to the 
 scenes of distracting care through which he had passed, 
 and the disastrous termination of his arduous struggle for 
 riches. He had learned, by painful experience, the transi- 
 tory nature of earthly possessions, and his thoughts, sobered 
 and chastened by the stern lessons of adversity, were directed 
 to a duty more congenial with the dignity and destiny of 
 man — that of acquiring an interest in that inheritance which 
 fadeth not away. In this respect the reverses of temporal 
 fortune were overruled for good ; while the noble and 
 generous devotion of his wife, in the hour of his deepest 
 despondency, taught him a most cheering and interesting 
 lesson of the power and constancy of Woman's Love. 
 
42 THE MASONIC LADDER. 
 
 In the midst of justice God always remembered mercy. 
 After the first great display of power in the general destruc- 
 tion of mankind, this gracious Being placed his bow in the 
 clouds, as a divine token that me^cy should now prevail ; 
 and that he would no more destroy the earth by a flood of 
 waters. And when mankind had degenerated to the lowest 
 point of human depravity, he sent his Son to make atone- 
 ment for them, that lost purity might be restored, faith 
 and hope placed on a firm foundation, and his fallen crea- 
 tures be again placed within the sphere of his favor and 
 protection. Thus the dark clouds of divine wrath are 
 dissipated, the heavens are opened ; and we enjoy a ray of 
 his glory in the celestial covering of the Lodge. And more 
 than this ; the same divine Being has taught us how to 
 attain the summit of the same, by means which are emble- 
 matically depicted by a Ladder consisting of three prin- 
 cipal Rounds or Staves, which point to the three theo- 
 logical virtues, Faith, Hope, and Charity. Let us consider 
 the origin and application of this symbol, by which a com- 
 munication is opened between the creature and his Creator, 
 with the gracious design of restoring to man that supreme 
 happiness which was forfeited by Adam's transgression. 
 
oD QJ © TTD (S E 
 
THE MASONIC LADDER. 43 
 
 The application of this emblem is said to be derived 
 from the vision of Jacob ; an idea of which the artist has 
 presented in the accompanying engraving. When the Patri- 
 arch, to avoid the wrath of his brother Esau, fled to Pa- 
 danaram, benighted and asleep, with the earth for his bed, 
 a stone for his pillow, and the cloudy canopy of heaven for 
 his covering, he beheld a Ladder, whose foot was placed on 
 the spot where he lay, and its summit lost in the subtile 
 ether. On this Ladder, angels continually ascended and 
 descended to receive communications from the Most High, 
 who visibly appeared above the uppermost round of the 
 Ladder, and to disseminate their divine commissions over 
 the face of the earth. Here God graciously condescended 
 to enter into a specific covenant with the sleeping Patri- 
 arch, who was hence so impressed with the feelings of 
 gratitude and devotion, that when he awoke he pronounced 
 this consecrated spot " the house of God, and the gate of 
 heaven." 
 
 The history of an event of this importance, connected 
 with a very significant emblem, which was probably a 
 square pyramid, with steps on every side, might with 
 unequivocal effect be introduced by Jacob into the system 
 of Masonry which he taught to his children, and from them 
 be transplanted into the mysteries of Egypt, whence it 
 might spread into other countries, until the symbol became 
 common to the mysteries of all. I rather incline to the 
 opinion, however, that its origin may be ascribed to a much 
 earlier period — even to the first institution of Masonry in 
 Paradise, when the communication between God and man 
 
44 THE MASONIC LADDER. 
 
 was immediately and um'estrainedly practised by the com- 
 mon parents of mankind. The ascent to the summit of 
 the paradisiacal mount of God, by means of a pyramid 
 consisting of seven steps, was an old notion certainly enter- 
 tained before the vision of Jacob, for it prevailed amongst 
 the Mexican Savages;* and the original settlers on the 
 vast continent of America could have no knowledge of this 
 vision, either by tradition or personal experience. The 
 Jewish Cabalists entertained a behef that the paradisiacal 
 mount was the place of residence chosen by the children of 
 Seth, while the contaminated descendants of Cain resided 
 in the plains below; and its altitude was said to be so 
 great, that from its summit might be heard the angels of 
 heaven singing their celestial anthems before the throne of 
 God! 
 
 In ancient Masonry the Ladder was figuratively said to 
 rest on the Holy Bible, and to consist of three principal 
 staves, although the general number was indefinite, pointing 
 to Faith, Hope and Charity, as the fundamental virtues 
 which exalt mankind from earth to heaven. But in subse- 
 quent ages the Essenes increased the number to seven, 
 and subsequently to ten, principal steps, which were 
 denominated the Sephiroth. In the emblematical repre- 
 
 * " In the midst of a thick forest," says M. Humboldt, " called Tajin, near the 
 gulf of Mexico, rises the pyramid of Papantla. It had seven stories ; was built of 
 hewn stone, and was very beautifully and regularly shaped. Three staircases led 
 to the top. The covering of its steps was decorated with hieroglyphical sculpture 
 and small niches, which were arranged with great symmetry. The number of 
 these n'ches seems to allude to the three hundred and eighteen simple and com. 
 pound signs of the days of the Compohualilhuitl, or civil calendar of the Toltecks," 
 Researches in America, vol. i. p. 86. 
 
THE MASONIC LADDER. 45 
 
 sentation of these divine splendors, we find the three great 
 hypostasis of the godhead surmounting the seven steps of 
 the Ladder, and by regular gradations ascending to the 
 celestial abodes. The names of the seven Sephiroth were, 
 Strength, Mercy, Beauty, Victory or Eternity, Glory, the 
 Foundation, and the Kingdom. Initiation was considered 
 absolutely necessary to entitle the candidate to a participa- 
 tion in those divine splendors, which communicated with 
 each other by progressive stages ; until, from the summit 
 of the Ladder the three hypostasis of the divine nature 
 were attained, whose consummation was a crown of glory 
 and the throne of God. 
 
 Amongst the heathen this Ladder always consisted of 
 seven steps or gradations ; probably as a memorial of the 
 seven magnificent stories of the tower of Babel ; or it might 
 have been derived from a tradition respecting the establish- 
 ment of the Sabbath, in commemoration of the great day 
 of rest which followed the creation, and received the 
 peculiar benediction of the Most High. This division of 
 time and consecration of the seventh day vras known to 
 the sons of Noah, as we may gather from our own scrip- 
 tures, for it was practically enforced by the patriarch 
 while he continued in the Ark. Hence the sacred nature 
 of the seventh day was universally acknowledged by all 
 nations of their posterity ; and subsequently many myste- 
 rious properties were ascribed to the number itself. The 
 extreme probability that the number seven was applied to 
 the Theological Ladder with this reference may be deduced 
 from the fact, that each gradation was appropriated to a 
 
46 THE MASONIC LADDER. 
 
 day in the week, and also to a particular planet ; and it is 
 observable that the seven days, and the seven planets, were 
 made to correspond in almost every country in the world. 
 Our own names of both may be referred to as a corrobora- 
 tion of the system. Thus, Sunday is so called from the 
 Sun ; Monday from the Moon ; Tuesday and Wednesday 
 from Tuisco and Woden, the Gothic Mercury and Mars ; 
 Thursday from Thor, the Jupiter of the same people ; 
 Friday from the goddess Friga, who amongst the Getae 
 corresponds mth the Grecian Venus ; and Saturday from 
 the idol Seater, who represented Saturn among the nor- 
 thern nations of Europe. 
 
 The Ladder with seven steps was used in the Indian 
 mysteries to designate the approach of the soul to perfec- 
 tion. The steps were usually denominated gates. The 
 meaning is undoubtedly the same, for it is observable that 
 Jacob, in reference to the lower stave of his Ladder, 
 exclaimed, " this is the house of God, and the gate of 
 heaven." Here we find the notion of ascending to heaven, 
 by means of the practice of moral virtue, depicted by the 
 Hebrew patriarchs and by a remote idolatrous nation under 
 the idea of a Ladder ; which we may hence conclude was 
 a masonic symbol much earlier than the time of Jacob. 
 These gates were said to be composed of different metals, 
 of gradually increasing purity ; each being dignified with 
 the name of its protecting planet. The first and lowest 
 was composed of lead, and dedicated to Saturn ; the second 
 of quicksilver, sacred to Mercury ; the third of copper, 
 under the protection of Venus ; the fourth of tin, typical 
 
THE MASONIC LADDER. 47 
 
 of Jupiter ; the fifth of iron, sacred to Mars ; the six th of 
 silver, dedicated to the Moon ; and the uppermost stave, 
 which constituted the summit of perfection, and opened a 
 way to the residence of the celestial deities, was composed 
 of the pure and imperishable substance of gold, and was 
 under the protection of their most high god, the sun. 
 
 In these mysteries, during the ceremony of initiation, 
 the candidate was passed successively through seven dark 
 and winding caverns, which progress was mystically deno- 
 minated the ascent of the Ladder. Each cavern termi- 
 nated in a narrow stone orifice, which formed an entrance 
 into its successor. Through these gates of purification the 
 mortified aspirant was compelled to squeeze his body with 
 considerable labor ; and when he had attained the summit, 
 he was said to have passed through the transmigration of 
 the spheres, to have accomplished the ascent of the soul, 
 and to merit the favor of the celestial deities. These seven 
 stages of initiation, emblematical of the seven worlds, are 
 thus explained : " The place where all beings, whether 
 fixed or moveable, exist, is called earth, which is the First 
 World. That in which beings exist a second time, but 
 without sensation, again to become sensible at the close 
 of the period appointed for "".he duration of the present 
 universe, is the World of Re-existence. The abode of the 
 good, where cold, heat, and light are perpetually produced, 
 is named Heaven. The intermediate region between the 
 upper and lower worlds, is denominated the Middle World. 
 The heaven, where animals, destroyed in a general confla- 
 gration, at the close of the appointed period are bom, is 
 
48 THE MASONIC LADDER. 
 
 thence called the World of Births. That, in which Sanaca, 
 and other sons of Brahma, justified by austere devotion, 
 reside exempt from all dominion, is thence named the Man- 
 sion of the Blessed. Truth, the Seventh World, and the 
 abode of Brahme, is placed on the summit above other worlds. 
 It is attained by true knowledge, by the regular discharge of 
 duties, and by veracity ; once attained, it is never lost. 
 Truth is indeed the Seventh World, therefore called the 
 Sublime Abode. 
 
 In the Persian mysteries, the candidate, by a similar 
 process, was passed through seven spacious caverns, con- 
 nected by winding passages, each opening with a narrow 
 portal, and each the scene of some perilous adventure to 
 try his courage and fortitude before he was admitted into 
 the splendid Sacellum, which, being illuminated with a 
 thousand torches, reflected every shade of color from rich 
 gems and amulets, with which the walls were copiously 
 bedecked. The dangerous progress was denominated, as- 
 cending the Ladder of perfection. 
 
 From this doctrine has arisen the tale of Rustam, who was 
 the Persian Hercules, and Dive Sepid, or the White Giant. 
 
 " Cai-Caus, the successor of Cai-Cobab, the first mon- 
 arch of the Caianian dynasty, is instigated by the song of a 
 minstrel to attempt the conquest of Mazenderaun, which is 
 celebrated as a perfect earthly Paradise." 
 
 This celestial abode refers to the splendid sacellum of 
 the Persian Epoptse, which was an emblematical representa- 
 tion of heaven. 
 
 " It lies in the region of Aspruz, at the foot of which, 
 
THE MASONIC LADDER. 49 
 
 with respect t) Persia, the sun sets ; and in literal geogra- 
 phy it is determined to be a province bordering on the 
 Caspian Sea. Hence it is part of that high tract of coun- 
 try denominated the Tabaric or Gordyean range, within 
 the limits of which the groves of Eden were planted, and 
 the Ark rested after the Deluge. Cai-Caus fails in his 
 enterprise ; for the sacred country is guarded by the White 
 Giant, who smites him and all his troops with blindness^ 
 and makes them his prisoners." 
 
 This is a literal account of the first stage of initiation, 
 which, in the mysteries, always commenced with darkness. 
 In those of Britain, the candidate is designated as a blind 
 man. He is commanded to prepare the cauldron of Cerid- 
 wen, three drops of whose contents, properly concocted, 
 were said to possess the faculty of restoring the sight, and 
 infusing a knowledge of futurity. Being unsuccessful, 
 Ceridwen (the giantess) strikes the unfortunate aspirant a 
 violent blow over his head with an oar, and causes one of 
 his eyeballs to fall from the socket. And the captivity of 
 Cai-Caus and his Persians in the cavern, under the rigid 
 guardianship of the Dive, is but a figurative representation 
 of the candidate's inclosure under the Pastes; and this 
 place of penance in the Celtic mysteries, which had many 
 ceremonies in common with those of Persia, was said to be 
 guarded by the gigantic deity Buanawr, armed with a 
 drawn sword, who is represented as a most powerful and 
 vindictive being, capable in his fury of making heaven, 
 earth, and hell to tremble. In the Gothic mysteries, the 
 same place of captivity and penance is fabled to be guarded 
 
60 THE MASONIC LADJER. 
 
 by Heimdall, whose trumpet emits so loud a blast, that the 
 sound is heard through all the worlds. 
 
 " In this emergency the king sends a messenger to Zaul, 
 the father of the hero Rustam, begging his immediate 
 assistance. For the greater despatch, Rustam takes the 
 shorter, though more dangerous road, and departs alone, 
 mounted on his charger Rakesh." 
 
 Here Rustam enters upon the dreadful and dangerous 
 business of initiation, mounted, says the legend, upon the 
 charger Rakesh, or more properly Rakshi. This was a 
 horrible winged animal, whose common food is said to have 
 been serpents and dragons. Now these reptiles, together 
 with monsters compounded of two or more animals, were the 
 ordinary machinery used in the mysteries to prove the 
 courage and fortitude of the aspirant, during his progress 
 thrdugh the seven stages of regeneration. 
 
 " The course which he chooses is styled. The Road of the 
 Seven Stages ; and at each of the first six he meets with a 
 different adventure by which his persevering courage is 
 severely tried." 
 
 At each of the seven stages the uandidate really encoun- 
 tered many dangers, and vanquished a multitude of dives, 
 dragons and enchanters, who in succession opposed his 
 progress to perfection. . Being pantomimically enacted dur- 
 ing the process of initiation, and the reiterated attacks 
 prosecuted with unrelenting severity, instances have occur- 
 red where the poor affrighted wretch has absolutely expired 
 through excess of fear. 
 
 " Having at length, however, fought his way to the sey- 
 
THE MASONIC LADDER. 51 
 
 enth, he discovers his prince and the captive Persians ; 
 when he learns from Cai-Cuus, that nothing will restore his 
 sight but the application of three drops of blood from the 
 heart of the White Giant." 
 
 The symbolical three drops of blood had its counterpart 
 in all the mysteries of the ancient world ; for the number 
 three was ineffable, and the conservator of many virtues. 
 In Britain, the emblem was three drops of water ; in Mex- 
 ico, as in this legend, three drops of blood ; in India, it was 
 a belt composed of three triple threads ; in China, three 
 strokes of the letter Y, &c. &c. 
 
 " Upon this, he attacks his formidable enemy in the 
 cavern where he was accustomed to dwell ; and having torn 
 out his heart, after an obstinate combat, he infuses the pre- 
 scribed three drops into the eyes of Cai-Caus, who immedi- 
 ately regains his powers of vision." 
 
 In this tale we have the theological Ladder connected 
 with the system of Persian initiation transferred from 
 mythology to romance ; and the coincidence is sufficiently 
 striking to impress the most ordinary observer with the 
 strict propriety of the application. The candidate comes 
 off conqueror, and is regularly restored to light, after hav- 
 ing given full proof of his courage and fortitude, by sur- 
 mounting all opposing dangers. Father Angelo, who went 
 out as a missionary into the East about 1663, says, that in 
 the midst of a vast plain between Shiraz and Shuster, he 
 saw a quadrangular monument of stupendous size, which 
 was said to have been erected in memory of this great enter- 
 prise of the hero Rustam, The fact is. that this quadrangu- 
 
52 THE MASONIC LADDER. 
 
 lar inclosure was an ancient place of initiation ; and from a 
 confused romembrance of the scenes of mimic adventure 
 which were represented within its seven secret caverns, the 
 fabulous labors of Rustam had doubtless their origin. 
 
 It is not the least singular part of this inquiry, that the 
 followers of Mahomet still use the same form of expression 
 to convey an idea of the progressive state of torment in the 
 infernal regions. This is only a continuation of the doc- 
 trine of the mysteries, which taught, that the initiation of 
 candidates was in reality a representation of the descent of 
 the soul into Hades, and of its passage through the seven 
 stages of purification preparatory to its admission into the 
 abode of light and purity. Thay say that hell has seven 
 gates, each containing a different degree of punishment. 
 The first and least severe they call Gehennem, which is 
 prepared for all Mussulmen who are sinners. The second 
 called Ladha, is for the Christians. The third is the Jew- 
 ish hell, and called Hothama. Sair, the fourth, is for 
 Sabians ; and Sacar, the fifth, for Magians. Pagans and 
 idolaters occupy the sixth, which they call Gehim ; and the 
 lowest and most horrible depth of hell they assign to 
 hypocrites, who pretend to more religion than their neigh- 
 bors, and set themselves up as patterns of perfection, while 
 inwardly they are full of all kinds of wickedness and 
 impiety. This dreadful gate, or place of eternal punish- 
 ment, is called Haoviath. 
 
 The reader will wonder at these very extraordinary coin- 
 cidences, which are exceedingly valuable, because unde- 
 signed, and render the conjecture highly probable that they 
 
THE MASONIC LADDER. 58 
 
 were but an imitation of the Masonic Ladder, as used in 
 our science before the mysteries had a being. But I have 
 yet to introduce to notice a coincidence still more remarka- 
 ble, because proceeding from a country where such a tra- 
 dition could scarcely be expected to exist. Yet it is no less 
 true that distinct traces of this Ladder, attended by the 
 very same references, are found in the inhospitable regions 
 of Scandinavia, which have been indubitably preserved in 
 the Gothic mysteries, though the application is somewhat 
 more obscure. 
 
 " The court of the gods," says the Edda, " is ordinarily 
 kept under a great ash tree called Ydrasil, where they dis- 
 tribute justice. This ash is the greatest of all trees ; its- 
 branches cover the surface of the earth ; its top reaches to 
 the highest heavens ; and it is supported by three vast roots, 
 one of which extends to the ninth world or hell. An eagle, 
 whose piercing eye discovers all things, perches upon its 
 uppermost branches. A squirrel is continually running up 
 and down to bring news ; while a parcel of serpents, 
 fastened to the trunk, endeavor to destroy him. The per- 
 pent Nidhogger continually gnaws at its root. From under 
 one of the roots runs a fountain, wherein wisdom lies con- 
 cealed. From a neighboring spring (the fountain of past 
 things), three wgins are continually drawing a precious 
 water, with which they irrigate the ash tree ; this water 
 keeps up the beauty of its foliage, and after having refreshed 
 its leaves falls back again to the earth, where it forms the 
 dew of which the bees make their honey." 
 
 Mr. Mallet offers no conjecture on this mysterious tree, 
 
54 THE MASONIC LADDER. 
 
 and Mr. Cottle fairly ^ves it up. I pronounce it, however, 
 to have been the Theological Ladder of the Gothic mys- 
 teries. Mr. Cottle, in the preface to his interesting version 
 of the Edda of Saemund, says, " The symbolical purport 
 of this tree is inexplicable amidst the dearth of information 
 respecting the ancient religion of Scandinavia." And with- 
 out a reference to the various systems of initiation into the 
 religious mysteries of other nations, I should incline to that 
 gentleman's opinion. But by comparing the qualities and 
 characteristics of this sacred tree with the ladder of the 
 mysteries, the difficulty vanishes, and the solution appears 
 at once simple and natural. 
 
 The basis of Ydrasil, like that of Jacob's Ladder, was 
 the earth, where it was firmly established by three vast 
 roots ; one of which extended to the central abyss. These 
 roots evidently referred to the three lower gates or cham- 
 bers of initiation ; the last of which was Hades, or the 
 region of the dead. Its branches covered the earth and its 
 top reached to the heavens, where sat enthroned an eagle, 
 the representative of the Supreme God. The court of the 
 inferior gods was said to be under this tree ; and Jacob 
 said of the place where the foot of his ladder was situated, 
 this is the house of God and the gate of heaven. On its 
 summit sat the emblematical eagle, as Jehovah appeared on 
 the Ladder of Jacob, or on the paradisiacal mountain ; and 
 this bird, as we have already seen, was actually a com- 
 ponent part of the visible symbol of the true God, as 
 exhibited in the Jewish Cherubim, and the universal repre- 
 sentation of the Deitj* in almost every nation under heaven. 
 
THE MASONIC LADDER. 55 
 
 A squirrel, or messenger, continually ascended and descend- 
 ed to carry celestial commissions from the eagle-deity, to 
 the council of inferior gods seated below ; whence they were 
 supposed to be disseminated over the face of the earth. 
 And the same subordinate deities were said to take cogni- 
 zance of the actions of mortals, and to convey an impartial 
 account thereof by the squirrel to the Deity seated on the 
 summit of the tree ; which was also the office of the angelic 
 messengers on Jacob's Ladder. A parcel of serpents, 
 symbols of the evil power, unceasingly endeavored to inter- 
 cept the communication between God and man, by the 
 destruction of the messenger. The monstrous serpent, 
 Nidhogger, who is the representation of the prince of dark- 
 ness himself, we are further told, continually gnaws its root 
 for the same purpose, willing to sever the connection 
 between the Creator and his fallen creature, by the total 
 demolition of the medium through which the benevolent 
 communication is carried on. In the Hindu mythology, the 
 prince of evil demons is represented as a large serpent, 
 whose name is Naga, And the Hebrew name for the 
 tempter of Eve in Paradise, translated in our version of the 
 Bible, " the serpent," was Nachash. These were both the 
 Nidhogger of the Gothic mysteries. In the Essenian mys- 
 teries, the Holy Bible was figuratively said to be the conse- 
 crated foundation of Jacob's Ladder, because the covenants 
 and promises of God are permanently recorded in tnat 
 sacred book ; and this basis the old serpent who deceived 
 Eve, is continually endeavoring to destroy, by subverting 
 the faith of mankind in its contents. 
 
56 THEMASONICLADDER. 
 
 The three roots are emblems of Faith, Hope and Charity, 
 because it is by the exercise of these virtues alone that 
 man can enjoy a well-grounded expectation of ascending 
 from earth to heaven. Three virgins, sjnnbols of Past, 
 Present, and Future, continually watered this Tree from 
 the fountain of Past Things ; which is expressive of the 
 solemn truth, that tho deeds of men shall be kept in perpet- 
 ual remembrance until the last day, when they shall be 
 rewarded or punished according to their works. From the 
 surplus of this water which fell to the earth after having 
 refreshed the leaves of the Ash, the bees made their honey. 
 In all the ancient mysteries. Honey was an acknowledged 
 symbol of death ; and is said in this case to have been pro- 
 duced from the refuse of the water, which, being rejected 
 by the sacred Tree, referred unquestionably to the evil 
 deeds contained in the water of Past Things (the good 
 actions having been absorbed by the Ash, and consequently 
 accepted by the supreme Being, personified by the eagle) ; 
 and hence the honey which was concocted from it was 
 emblematical of that second death, which forms the eternal 
 punishment of sin. 
 
 In illustration of the contents of this article, I here intro- 
 duce the following table, which will exhibit the Seven- 
 Stepped Ladder of the Mysteries in all its various and 
 extensive application. 
 
 G. 0. 
 
THE MASONIC LADDER 
 
 57 
 
 . 
 
 fco 
 
 CO 
 
 rf^ 
 
 en 
 
 05 
 
 ^1 
 
 f 
 
 2 
 
 2.0 
 
 
 3 
 
 1— 1 
 
 
 Q 
 o 
 
 1 1 
 
 a 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 5 
 
 5' 
 B 
 o 
 
 p. 
 
 1 
 
 PL 
 
 zn 
 
 1 
 
 1^ 
 
 1 
 
 p 
 
 
 p 
 pi 
 
 
 <1 
 
 iri 
 
 S3 
 
 P 
 
 p 
 
 g 
 
 2 
 II 
 
 U2 
 I 
 
 
 
 O 
 
 
 o 
 
 m 
 
 02 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 p 
 
 
 P 
 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 if 
 
 
 Pi- 
 co 
 
 9 
 
 g 
 
 .? 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 -7 
 
 
 > 
 p5* 
 
 r 
 
 
 tr*- 
 
 1 
 
 ©5' 
 
 ^1 
 
 3 
 
 
 1 
 
 < 
 
 1 
 
 
 f 
 
 ^=1 
 
 i 
 
 
 i 
 
 o p. 
 
 
 2 ^ 
 
 a> ct> o 
 p. ^ 
 
 5^ 
 
58 THREE PILLARS OF MASONRY. 
 
 We have here a most extraordinary coincidence of custom 
 with respect to the Masonic Ladder existing in every region 
 of the world, and all equally applicable to a gradual ascent 
 to heaven by the practice of moral virtue. Amongst us 
 this practice is founded on the strong basis of Faith, which 
 is the first step of the Ladder resting on the word of God. 
 It produces a well-grounded hope of sharing the promises 
 recorded in that sacred volume ; and this is the second step 
 of the Masonic Ladder. The third, a most perfect step, 
 is Charity, by which we attain the summit of the Ladder ; 
 metaphorically speaking, the dominion of bliss, and the 
 mansion of pure and permanent delight. g. o. 
 
 sum f iisAis m MAiBii¥« 
 
 The emblematical foundation of a Mason's Lodge is, 
 Wisdom, Strength, and Beauty. These three noble Pillars 
 give it a stability, which no exertion of art or ingenuity can 
 subvert, no force can overthrow. They were thus named 
 in allusion to the perfection with which our system has been 
 endowed by the Almighty Architect ; because without 
 Wisdom to contrive, Strength to support, and Beauty to 
 adorn, no structure can be perfect. And this is illustrated 
 by a reference to the most splendid and awful images which 
 can be presented to the human mind. The universe is the 
 temple of the Deity whom we serve ; Wisdom, Strength, and 
 
THREE PILLARS OF MASONRY. 69 
 
 Beauty are about his throne as Pillars of his Works, for 
 his wisdom is infinite, his strength is omnipotence, and his 
 beauty shines forth through all his creation in symmetry 
 and order. He hath stretched forth the heavens as a 
 canopy, the earth he hath planted as his footstool ; he hath 
 crowned this superb temple with stars as with a diadem, 
 and in his hand he extendeth the power and the glory ; the 
 sun and moon are messengers of his will, and all his laws 
 are concord. This universal harmony of nature and nature's 
 works, emblematical of the peace and unity which subsists 
 in a Mason's Lodge, is produced from the union of those 
 sublime qualities by which our fabric is supported. Wisdom, 
 Strength, and Beauty. 
 
 The first Pillars used by the primitive inhabitants of the 
 earth, were merely trunks of trees, placed upright on stones 
 to elevate them above the damp, and covered at the top with 
 a flat stone to keep off the rain. On these the roofs of their 
 huts were placed, covered with reeds and plastered with clay 
 to resist the effects of tempestuous weather. From such sim- 
 ple elements sprang the noble Orders of Architecture. But 
 pillars were not confined to this use alone. In primitive 
 times they were appropriated to the purpose of perpetuating 
 remarkable events, and were erected as monuments of grati- 
 tude to divine Providence for favors conferred, or for dangers 
 avoided. By the idolatrous race who first seceded from the 
 true worship of God, Pillars were dedicated to the H^^st of 
 Heaven. Of this nature were the Pillars set up by Hyp- 
 souranios and Ousous to Fire and Air before the Flood, 
 which were termed Banvlm, Osiris set up Pillars in com- 
 
60 THREE PILLARS OF MASONRY. 
 
 memoration of his conquests, on winch were hieroglyphical 
 inscriptions, importing the degree of resistance made by the 
 inhabitants of those countries which he subdued. The 
 ancient kings of Egj^t followed this example, and usually 
 engraved records of their conquests, power, and magnifi- 
 cence on obelisks or pillars. Sesotris, in his military pro- 
 gress through the nations he had vanquished, erected Pillars 
 on which hieroglyphical inscriptions w^ere engraven, accom- 
 panied by certain emblematical devices, expressive of the , 
 bravery or pusillanimity of the conquered people. And, if 
 Proclus may be beheved, all extraordinary events, singular 
 transactions, and new inventions, were recorded by the 
 Egyptians on stone pillars. Hiram, king of Tyre, accord- 
 ing to Menander, dedicated a pillar of gold to Jupiter, on 
 the grand junction he had formed between Eurichorus and 
 Tyre. 
 
 This custom was also in use amongst the descendants of 
 Seth and Shem, who erected Pillars to the honor of the true 
 God, the creator and preserver of all things. Enoch 
 erected two Pillars, in order to transmit his knowledge to 
 posterity, by inscriptions engraven on such materials as 
 were calculated to resist the element by which the world 
 was to be destroyed. The Pillar of Jacob, at Bethel, was 
 to commemorate his most extraordmary vision and covenant 
 with God. On this pillar he poured oil, whence arose the 
 custom amongst the heathen of consecrating their idols by 
 anointing them with oil. A similar monument was erected 
 by the same patriarch at Galeed, to perpetuate the treaty 
 of amity with his uncle Laban ; by Joshua at Gilgalj on 
 
THREE PILLARS OF MASONRY. 61 
 
 his miraculous passage over the river Jordan; and by 
 Samuel, between Mizpeh and Shen, on a remarkable defeat 
 of the Phihstijies. Absalom erected a Pillar in honor of 
 himself, which, as we are told by modern travellers, remains 
 to this day ; but Dr. "Lloyd says that the passers-by throw 
 stones at it in detestation of his memory. And Solomon 
 set up two Pillars at the entrance of the Porch of the 
 Temple, to remind the Jews of their dependence upon God 
 for everything they possessed ; evidenced by their escape 
 from Egypt, and their miraculous wandering and preserva- 
 tion in the wilderness for a period of forty years. 
 
 It is needless to add that commemorative Columns were 
 used by every nation of the world, and never with more 
 propriety and effect, than in our own country at the present 
 day. 
 
 The particular Pillars which are the subject of this 
 Article, are emblematical of three great masonic characters, 
 whose united abilities rendered an essential service to true 
 religion, by the construction of a primitive Temple, then 
 first dedicated to the exclusive purpose of religious Avor- 
 ship, for they jointly possessed the essential properties 
 which characterise the three great sustaining Pillars of 
 our Lodge ; — the one had Wisdom to contrive ; the other 
 had Strength to support ;* and the third possessed genius 
 
 * " Tatian, in his Book against the Greeks, relates, that amongst the Phsenicians 
 flourished three ancient historians, Theodotus, Hysicrates, and Mochus, who all of 
 them delivered in their histories an account of the league and friendship between 
 Solomon and Hiram, when Hiram gave his daughter to Solomon, and furnished him 
 with timber for building the Temple. The same is affirmed by Menander of Fsr 
 gamus." Sir Isaac Newton's Chron. p. 114. 
 
62 THREE PILLARS OF MASONRY. 
 
 and ability to adorn the edifice with unexampled beauty. 
 The result of this union was " a building which highly 
 transcended all that we are capable to imagine, and has 
 ever been esteemed the finest piece of masonry upon earth, 
 before or since." This magnificent work was begun in 
 Mount Moriah, on Monday the second day of the month 
 Zif, which answers to the twenty-first of our April, being 
 the second month of the sacred year, and was carried on 
 with such speed, that it was finished in all its parts in little 
 more than seven years, which happened on the eighth day 
 of the month Bui, which answers to the twenty-third of our 
 October, being the seventh month of the sacred year, and 
 the eleventh of King Solomon. What is still more aston- 
 ishing is, that every piece of it, whether timber, stone, or 
 metal, was brought ready cut, framed, and polished to 
 Jerusalem ; so that no other tools were wanted nor heard 
 than what were necessary to join the several parts together. 
 All the noise of axe, hammer, and saw, was confined to 
 Lebanon, and the quarries and plains of Zeredathah, that 
 nothing might be heard amongst the masons of Zion, save 
 harmony and peace. 
 
 These Pillars refer further to the three governors of the 
 Lodge. The Pillar of * Wisdom represents the W. M., 
 whose business is to exert his judgment and penetration in 
 contriving the most proper and efficient means of complet- 
 ing the intended work, of what nature soever it may be. 
 The Pillar of Strength refers to the S. W., whose duty is 
 to support the authority, and facilitate the designs of the 
 Master, with all his influence amongst the brethren, and to 
 
THREE PILLARS OF MASONRY. 65 
 
 see that his commands are carried into full and permanent 
 effect. The Pillar of Beauty is the J. W., whose duty is 
 to adorn the work with all his powers of genius and active 
 industry ; to promote regularity amongst the Brethren by 
 the sanction of his own good example, the persuasive 
 eloquence of precept, and a discriminative encouragement 
 of merit. Thus, by the united energies of these three pre- 
 siding Officers, the system is adorned and established firm 
 as a rock in the midst of the ocean, braving the malignant 
 shafts of envy and detraction ; its summit gilded with the 
 rays of the meridian sun, though stormy winds and waves 
 beat eternally on its basis. 
 
 In the British and other mysteries, these three Pillars 
 represented the great emblematical Triad of Deity, as with 
 us they refer to the three principal officers of the Lodge. 
 We shall find, how^ever, that the symbolical meaning was 
 the same in both. It is a fact, that in Britain the Adytum 
 or Lodge was actually supported by three stones or pillars, 
 which were supposed to convey a regenerating purity to the 
 aspirant, after having endured the ceremony of initiation in 
 all its accustomed formalities. The delivery from between 
 them was termed a new birth. The corresponding Pillars 
 of the Hindu mythology were also known by the names of 
 Wisdom, Strength, and Beauty, and placed in the east, 
 west, and south, crowned with three human heads. They 
 jointly referred to the Creator, who was said to have 
 planned the great work by his infinite Wisdom ; executed 
 it by his Strength; and to have adorned it with all its 
 Beauty and usefulness for the benefit of man. These 
 
64 THREE PILLARS OF MAS.ONR-S. 
 
 united powers were not overlooked in the mysteries, for we 
 find them represented in the solemn ceremony of initiation 
 by the three presiding Brahmins or Hierophants. The 
 chief Bralimin sat in the east, high exalted on a brilliant 
 throne, clad in a flowing robe of azure, thickly spangled 
 with golden stars, and bearing in his hand a magical rod, 
 thus symbolizing Brahma the creator of the world. His 
 two compeers, clad in robes of regal magnificence, occupied 
 corresponding situations of distinction. The representative 
 of Vishnu, the setting sun, was placed on an exalted throne 
 in the west ; and he who personated Siva, the meridian sun, 
 occupied a splendid throne in the south. 
 
 The Masonic Lodge, bounded only by the extreme points 
 of the compass, the highest heavens, and the lowest depth 
 of the central abyss, is said to be supported by three Pillars, 
 Wisdom, Strength, and Beauty. In like manner the Per- 
 sians, who termed their emblematical Mithratic Cave or 
 Lodge, the Empyrean, feigned it to be supported by three 
 Intelligences, Ormisda, Mithra, and Mithras, who were 
 usually denominated, from certain characteristics which 
 they were supposed individually to possess. Eternity, 
 Fecundity, and Authority. Similar to this were the forms 
 of the Egyptian Deity, designated by the attributes of 
 Wisdom, Power, and Goodness ; and the Sovareign Good^ 
 Intellect, and Energy of the Platonists, which were also 
 regarded as the respective properties of the divine Triad. 
 
 It is remarkable that every mysterious system practised 
 on the habitable globe contained this Triad of Deity, which 
 some writers refer to the Trinity ; and others to the triple 
 
THREE PILLARS OF MASONRY. 65 
 
 offspring of Noah. The oracle in Damascius asserts that 
 "" throughout the world a Triad shines forth ^ which resolves 
 itself into a Monad ;" and the uniform symbol of this 
 threefold deity was an equilateral triangle ; the precise form 
 occupied by our Pillars of Wisdom, Strength, and Beauty. 
 In the mysteries of India, Brahma — Vishnu — Siva, were 
 considered as a tri-une God, distinguished by the significant 
 appellation of Tri-murti. Brahma was said to be the 
 Creator, Vishnu the Preserver, and Siva the Judge or 
 Destroyer. In the east, as the Pillar of Wisdom, this 
 deity was called Brahma ; in the west, as the Pillar of 
 Strength, Vishnu ; and in the south, as the Pillar of Beauty, 
 Siva ; and hence, in the Indian initiations, as we have just 
 observed, the representative of Brahma was seated in the 
 east ; that of Vishnu in the west ; and that of Siva in the 
 south. A very remarkable coincidence with the practicd 
 of ancient Masonry. 
 
 Mr. Faber offers the following reasonable conjecture on 
 the origin of these idolatrous Triads : " Adam was born 
 from the virgin earth ; Noah was produced from his alle- 
 gorical mother the Ark. Each was a preacher of righteous- 
 ness ; each dwelt upon the paradisiacal mount of God ; 
 each was a universal parent. If Adam introduced one 
 world, Noah destroyed that world and introduced another ; 
 and as the actual circumstance of two successive worlds 
 led to the doctrine of an endless mundane succession, each 
 patriarch was alike received as a Creator, a Preserver, and 
 a Destroyer." Sir William Jones very strongly reprobates 
 the principle which would resolve these triads into the 
 
66 
 
 THREE PILLARS OF MASONRY. 
 
 doctrine of the Trinity. In his essay on the gods of Italy, 
 Greece and India, he says : " Very respectable natives 
 have assured me that one or two missionaries have been 
 absurd enough, in their zeal for the conversion of the gen- 
 tiles, to urge, that the Hindus were even now almost Chris- 
 tians, because their Brahma, Vishnu, and Mahesa (Siva) 
 were no other than the Christian Trinity ; a sentence in 
 which we can only doubt whether folly, ignorance, or 
 impiety predominates. The three powers, creative, pre- 
 servative, and destructive, which the Hindus express by 
 the trilateral word OM, were grossly ascribed by the first 
 idolaters to the heat, light, and flame of their mistaken 
 divinity, the Sun ; and their wiser successors in the East, 
 who perceived that the Sun was only a created thing, 
 applied those powers to its Creator ; but the Indian Triad, 
 and that of Plato, which he calls the Supreme Good, the 
 Reason, and the Soul, are infinitely removed from the holi- 
 ness and sublimity of the doctrine which pious Christians 
 have deduced from texts in the gospel." " In another 
 point of view," says Captain Wilford, " Brahma corres- 
 ponds with the Chronos or Time of the Greek mytholo- 
 gists ; Vishnu represents Water, or the humid principle ; 
 and Iswara (another name of Siva) Fire, which recreates 
 or destroys as it is differently employed." 
 
 It seems not altogether improbable, however, but these 
 Triads, which are quaintly termed by Purchas, " an apish 
 imitation of the Trinity, brought in by the devil," might 
 originate from a tradition of the Holy Trinity, revealed to 
 Adam, and propagated by his descendants through the 
 
THREE PILLARS OF MASONRY. 67 
 
 antediluvian world. Known consequently to Noah and his 
 family, this doctrine would spread with every migration of 
 their posterity ; and as it certainly formed a part of that 
 original system which is now termed Masonry, so it was in- 
 troduced into every perversion of that system, until the doc- 
 trine of a divine Triad, resolvable into a monad, was 
 universally disseminated in every nation, and was admit- 
 ted by every people in the world. In successive ages the 
 true purport became lost or misunderstood, but the princi- 
 ple remained, though its application ceased to be made to 
 the true God and Father of all, and was generally trans- 
 ferred to the three sons of Noah, as a triplication of the 
 mortal father of the human race. 
 
 In Britain the Triad was usually represented by three 
 Pillars, and many monuments remain which show to what 
 an extent this system of devotion was carried by the British 
 Druids. These Pillars were not always uniform either in 
 dimensions or situation, but were differently placed, either 
 triangularly, or in a right line ; and were certainly objects 
 of adoration to the superstitious natives. The celebrated 
 Pillars at Boroughbridge were of this nature. They con- 
 sist of three colossal upright stones, placed at about two 
 hundred feet distant from each other, and stand about 
 twenty-two feet above the surface of the ground, measuring 
 on an average sixteen feet in circumference. They are 
 termed by the country people " The Devil's Arrows," which 
 corroborates the opinion that they were British Deities ; for 
 it is a singular fact, that every monument which has this 
 name attached to it, is supposed to have been peculiarly 
 
68 THREE PILLAKS OF MASONRY. 
 
 sacred. L eland tells us that there were originally four 
 Pillars, and that one of them has been destroj^ed. This 
 might have been of still more extensive magnitude, and 
 designed to express the triad completed in a monad. The 
 three stones which formed one of the Adyta in the stupend- 
 ous Druid Temple at Abury in Wiltshire, said by Gough in 
 Camden to have served for a Chapel, are called by Aubrey 
 " The Devil's Quoits." A Kist-vaen in Clatford bottom, in 
 the same county, is also composed of three upright stones, 
 and is called, " The Devil's Den." In the parish of Llan 
 Rhwy-Drus, in that grand depository of Druidical super- 
 stition, Anglesey, are the remains of this species of idol. 
 Gibson in Camden informs us that they are placed trian- 
 gularly ; one is eleven feet, and the others ten and nine feet 
 in height. On a mountain near Kil y maen Ihwyd in Caer- 
 marthenshire, is another specimen of this kind of monument, 
 placed near a circular temple. In Penrith church-yard, in 
 the county of Cumberland, still remain three Pillars placed 
 triangularly, and erected on other stones, to avoid the sup- 
 posed contamination of the earth. Two of them are about 
 twelve feet, and the third about six feet in height. The 
 two former enclose a space of ground which is traditionally 
 denominated " The Giant's Grave ;" and the latter is called 
 " The Giant's Thumb." Now, the British deities were all 
 esteemed giants ; and the tradition in this instance corres- 
 ponds with the fact. Besides, the Pastos, or symbolical 
 grave, in which the candidate suffered a mythological inter- 
 ment, was said to be guarded by the gigantic deity Buanwr, 
 and if these three Pillars formed constituent parts of an 
 
THREE PILLARS OF MASONRY. 
 
 adytum, which is highly probable, the name it now retains 
 is perfectly consistent with the pure principles of British 
 mythology. Much has been written on the subject of these 
 Pillars by all our best antiquaries, who seem to agree that 
 they were of British erection, though they could not account 
 for their being inscribed with a Cross. But this doubtless 
 arose from the anxiety uniformly displayed by the first 
 Christian missionaries to transfer the devotional attachment 
 of the natives from a lifeless image to the eternal God, by 
 assuming the great emblem of Christianity, which had 
 indeed been previously used by the Druids, but with a dif- 
 ferent allusion. And this conjecture is strikingly exem- 
 plified by the fact, that a Christian church was erected 
 within the actual bounds of this sanctuary of idolatry. 
 
 Such were the representatives of Hu — Ceridwen — Creir- 
 wy — the principal deities of the ancient inhabitants of Brit- 
 ain, or their substitutes, the three presiding officers of the 
 British mysteries, who were denominated Cadeiriath, Goron- 
 wy, and Fleidwr Flam, seated in the east, west, and south. 
 Before these senseless blocks of unhewn stone, the more 
 senseless inhabitants of Britain prostrated themselves daily 
 in humble adoration, firmly persuaded that their prosperity 
 in every undertaking — iiay, even the preservation of their 
 lives and liberties, was dependent on the beneficent agency 
 of these shapeless idols ! 
 
 We shall conclude the present Article, with a brief consi- 
 deration of the ultimate reference which the three Masonic 
 Pillars bear to the moral and religious duties of Freemasons. 
 As the Doric, the Ionic, and the Corinthian Orders of 
 
70 THREE PILLARS OF MASONRY. 
 
 Architecture are said to support the Lodge, so let our conduct 
 be governed by the qualities they represent. Let Wisdom 
 guide our steps to that fountain of knowledge and source 
 of truth, the Holy Bible. There shall we find rules for the 
 government of our actions, and the path that leads to eter- 
 nity. Even the science we profess instructs us, that if 
 we be conversant in the doctrines of this Holy Book, and 
 strictly adherent to its precepts, it will conduct us to a 
 building not made with hands, eternally in the heavens. 
 Let us proceed in this career, armed with the Strength of 
 faith and hope, assured that if our faith in the Deity be 
 securely founded, our constancy can never fail ; so shall 
 our charity shine forth in all the Beauty of holiness ; our 
 acts of piety and virtue shall emit a brilliancy like the Sun 
 pursuing his daily course in the heavens, and finally secure 
 us a place in the Grand Lodge above, where Peace, Order, 
 and Harmony, eternally abide. 
 
HYMN TO CHARITY. 
 
 Daughter of heaven, oh would'st thou but descend. 
 
 And with my numbers, thy sweet spirit blend. 
 
 And teach my cold and trembling harp to frame 
 
 A psean worthy thy celestial name, 
 
 Then should the meed of song, awarded mine, 
 
 To thee be hallowed, and the praise be thine ! 
 
 The crystal springs that feed the mountain rills, 
 The dew that summer's balmy eve distils. 
 The bud that nature's earliest promise brings, 
 Oh ! these are pure, and bright, and lovely things — 
 But purer, brighter, lovelier far than these. 
 The tear that falls o'er human miseries. 
 
 Hast thou not seen, when gloomy winter reigns. 
 And binds the captive world in icy chains. 
 How dread and desolate creation lies. 
 Around cold wastes — above the frowning skies ! 
 But spring, love-breathing spring, comes laughing forth, 
 And with soft music wakes the torpid earth — 
 Then gush the waters, and the meadows bloom. 
 The heavens are brightness, and the gales perfume ; 
 And nature in her Eden beauty glows. 
 Lovely as at Jehovah's word she rose. 
 Thus selfishness, the winter of the mind. 
 In hate's dark bonds would human feelings bind ; 
 While man an isolated being dwells. 
 Nor grants the mercy which his heart repels ; 
 
72 HYMN TO CHARITY. 
 
 His soul is gloomy as the realms of death — 
 But let mild Charity's reviving breath, 
 The moral spring, its blessed warmth impart, 
 How glow the soft sensations of the heart ! 
 Love, peace and joy the melting bosom owns. 
 And kindred minds respond its kindly tones. 
 
 Spirit of Charity, how blest thy sway ! 
 And earth were heaven did men thy laws obey. 
 Where'er thy footsteps press 'tis hallowed ground — 
 Thou smil'st, and blessings are diffused around — 
 The world forsakes, but thou wilt bend thine ear. 
 Each tale of wo or penitence to hear ; 
 And thine the hand that ever grants relief; 
 And thine the sympathy that calms our grief; 
 And with thy heaven- wrought mantle thou dost hide 
 Those frailties envy watches to deride. 
 
 The slave hath heard thy voice proclaim, " Be free !** 
 His chains are loosed, and wild with ecstasy, 
 To Charity his broken thanks are poured ; 
 And injured Afric sees her son restored : 
 Again he treads the soil his fathers trod. 
 And bends in worship to the living God ! 
 Knowledge ! Religion ! pearls his suff 'ring gains. 
 The only price that could repay his pains ; 
 And these, diffused -by Charity, atone 
 For deeds a guilty world must blush to own. 
 
 And soon that bright and blessed morn shall rise. 
 The glowing theme of ancient prophecies, 
 When Charity, with her attendant Peace, 
 Throned o'er the world, shall bid its discord cease ; 
 Then Truth shall clear each mote from Reason's sight. 
 And every nation bask in Freedom's light ; 
 And men be linked in holy brotherhood. 
 And earth regain its first, best title, " good !" 
 
 8. J. H. 
 
MASONRY REPUBLICAN. 73 
 
 2IiLifflSa¥ A a 1 I? Wl S I (E AST 
 
 isififwsi(Oir« 
 
 The institution of Freemasonry is truly republican ; and 
 can never flourish, to the extent of which it is susceptible, 
 under any other form of government. Kings may know the 
 secrets of the craft, yet treason might lurk behind a cover- 
 ing contrived to imitate our Order, and with clamorous 
 " proofs of conspiracy" aim to bring it into disrepute. The 
 contrariety of opinions also, on politics, religion, philosophy, 
 &c., are not so well calculated to foster and protect the 
 principles of brotherly Love and Charity, which we profess 
 to cultivate. And there is no country or community of 
 people so liberal in their views, so free from prejudice, but 
 there may be found individuals incapable of forming a just 
 estimate of our profession. But if there be a portion of the 
 whole habitable globe, where the spirit of toleration pre- 
 vails in a higher degree, with a more anxious forbearance 
 and successful influence, than in others, it is in our own dis- 
 tinguished and beloved country. 
 
 Here, under a government instituted by our fathers, in 
 opposition to the abuses and tyranny of the old world, no 
 society or combination, for any professed worthy purpose, 
 can provoke a proscription from those who govern. The 
 
74 MASONRY REPUBLICAN. 
 
 freedom of opinion and riglit of discussion which every- 
 where prevail have a tendency to create inquiry, elicit 
 knowledge, and furnish correct views of " right and wrong." 
 The opportunity afforded all, by our civil institutions, to 
 rise in the proportion of merit ; the intelligence of our fel- 
 low-citizens, their advancing attainments and improvements 
 in arts, literature and social pohty, all warrant the conclu- 
 sion, that no societies can exist, or associations be formed, 
 " where liberty dwells," under sanction or indulgence of its 
 enlightened citizens, unless its avowed objects are innocent 
 and of prospective utility, to promote the public good. 
 
 And what have we to fear from abroad ? The irritable 
 and the incorrigible prejudices of the few or many, the 
 envy of the illiterate and disaffected, or the spleen, hatred 
 and wrath of the " crown and cowl," are no concern of 
 ours ! They shadow not the bright virtues of our profes- 
 sion, or sully the lustre of the Shield of Truth, " mighty 
 above all things," and inwrought with Faith, Hope and 
 Charity, as our strong defence, to countervail the attacks 
 of the vicious and powerful, and like the " celestial jEgis," 
 confound the hydra of oppression. We heed not their 
 threats, malevolence or inquisitions. With our immemorial 
 laws and usages in peace and happiness, we are protected 
 within our hallowed walls, by the government we honor, and 
 the same merciful kind Providence we adore. 
 
 The governments of Europe and the world have yet to 
 learn, " whatever the theory of their constitutions may have 
 been, that the end of their institution is the happiness of 
 the people ; and that the exercise of power among men «an 
 
MASONRY REPUBLICAN. 75 
 
 be justified only by the blessings it confers upon those over 
 whom it is extended." And where is the government thus 
 justified asim this our "happy land?" — where power is the 
 offering of the public will, and its career by no means a 
 limited and ceaseless duration : the People^ sovereign ; pre- 
 rogative and privilege, civil and social blessings, all flowing 
 from the s&me- fountain of Liberty. With others not so — 
 too often the reverse — verified by the tears of sufiering and 
 wrongs of oppression, despotism and tyranny, in all their 
 forms. There associations are watched with keen-eyed 
 jealousy, where rank, title, power, honor and interest, run 
 from generation to generation, forming a visible and dis- 
 tinct line of demarcation, over which none can pass, by the 
 ordinary works of Charity and Benevolence. 
 
 An institution veiled in secrecy with telegraphic banners 
 and symbols, mystical rites and heraldry of hieroglyphics, 
 founded in freedom and equality, coeval with the volume 
 of ages, and radiating in glory amid concentric circles of 
 firmest brotherhood, must be a terror to those who have 
 stolen their way along to empire and grasped the diadem 
 distained with blood, and the dread of those who sway the 
 hereditary sceptre of domination, and hold their high dis- 
 tinction by no other tenure than the mental gloom by which 
 they are surrounded. But the condition of the unfortunate 
 Craftsmen in the north and south of Europe is not peculiar : 
 every effort of the human mind — all noble sentiment, 
 hberal views and generous feelings, are there alike pro- 
 scribed, or made subservient to perpetuate the arrogance of 
 supremacy and power. AH the social, charitable and 
 
76 MASONRY REPUBLICAN. 
 
 moral virtues, which unite in " Brotherly Love, Relief and 
 Truth," commanding our respect and esteem, as they enrich 
 the altar of incense " brighten the chain of friendship," 
 and glow in our devotion, must there of necessity act in 
 secret, lest their very appearance should provoke the most 
 fatal consequences. But thanks to the Supreme Author of 
 all our blessings, the gloom of darkness and superstition is 
 fast wasting away before the mighty sunbeams of knowledge 
 and improvement. " Wisdom is justified of her children," 
 her chosen ones are on the alert, and constantly making dis- 
 coveries in the unknown regions of intellect; erecting 
 beacons and establishing barriers, to warn and protect the 
 passing stranger against those false and delusive principles, 
 which have hitherto been built and net-worked upon the 
 credulity of mankind. With the radiance of lights and the 
 reach and compass of its illumination, these discoveries and 
 improvements are now spreading over the entire world. 
 Man begins to think and act his real character, comporting 
 with the dignity of his nature and his high destination : 
 disabused from the scholastic falsity of creeds, and absurd 
 and gross impositions of power, he begins to learn he has the 
 right to control and direct his own faculties ; and that all 
 distinctions, not founded in merit, should be little esteemed, 
 lightly regarded. 
 
 " Knowledge is progressive." — Vast portions of the 
 habitable globe have, within the memory of the present age, 
 enjoyed — some its salutary and refreshing influence —some 
 its variegated and richest luxuriance ; and new corrusca- 
 tions of light are daily and hourly bursting upon mankind. 
 
MASONRY REPUBLICAN. 77 
 
 » — — ' — — 
 
 As the principles of Freemasonry embrace allegiance, 
 and the Amor Patrice (or love of country), in the full and 
 strictest sense of the terms, especially where there is a 
 reciprocal and due regard to the rights and immunities of 
 the citizen, or subject; and whereas, the profession and 
 cultivation of the liberal arts and sciences, together with 
 works of charity, amity, integrity and good-will to all man- 
 kind, constitute the basis and edifice of our Order — its 
 grand points — -fellowship ; its emblems — moral ; its theme 
 and service — devotion and philanthropy ^ we have a right 
 to expect the commendations of the intelligent and humane ; 
 and it is a part of the reward of our labors to share and 
 enjoy, in common with others associated for the public good, 
 the honors, advantages and felicities to which they aspire. 
 
 As constituting an integral part of an indissoluble union 
 • — and with its political institutions extending over an 
 immense region of territory resuscitated with prophetic 
 benedictions, and, through an eventful revolutionary his- 
 tory, nurtured, protected and honored ; pursuing the same 
 national objects, and in the spirit and pride of repubhcan 
 legislation, with the same honorable intents and perseve- 
 rance, acting in subserviency to the common weal, — the 
 ambition of the Masonic family is only to become useful 
 and worthy citizens — with a judicious consideration of and 
 accommodation to the circumstances by which they are 
 surrounded. " Our duty to God, our neighbors and our- 
 selves," requires neither more nor less of us. We are 
 reminded that no established law of nature or society can be 
 infringed with impunity. Our recommended duty — " pre- 
 
78 MASONRY REPUBLICAN. 
 
 cept upon precept" — ^is, " fulfil the law of Love." " Be 
 kindly affectionate one toward the other." With sympathy 
 and compassion — " rejoice with those who do rejoice, and 
 weep with those who weep." " Exercise patience and for- 
 bearance, with all good fellowship and zeal, in the cause of 
 humanity and the Christian virtues." Thus do we delight 
 in the blessings of civilization, social improvement, and the 
 advancement of knowledge and virtue and equal rights ; 
 exulting when suffering nations break their massive shackles 
 upon the heads of their oppressors; and when the prin- 
 ciples of the Fraternity, with those of our national institu- 
 tions and government, are received and welcomed, acknowl- 
 edged and cultivated in distant regions, we triumph with a 
 laudable pride and exalted enthusiasm. 
 
 The auspicious principles and benefits of our institution 
 are rapidly progressing, with the increase of wealth, 
 improvements and population; the suiu of human wants 
 and the miseries of human life must necessarily increase 
 in a comparative ratio. Every stage we advance in civil- 
 ization — each step of departure, and even fractional egress, 
 from a state of barbarism, ignorance and subjugation, 
 imposes upon us and our cotemporaries increased obliga- 
 tions to our predecessors — to preserve, and multiply, and 
 perpetuate, by the exercise and exertion of all our talents, 
 the arts, principles and virtues, essential to the happiness 
 of present and future generations. 
 
ON READING MRS. HEMANS' POEMS. 79 
 
 m aiAiii® mm. simais" shims. 
 
 BY MISS M. J. E. KNOX. 
 
 KouND every page is a mellow light. 
 
 And a gem in every line, 
 That sparkles like sunbeams falling bright 
 
 On the wealth of a fairy mine. 
 I see the blue violets springing out 
 
 From clustering moss-tufts green, 
 And hear the wild stream's ringing shoiit» 
 
 Its shadowed banks between. 
 
 The rose's breath is around me shed. 
 
 And water-lilies gleam 
 In dewy light, from their silvery bed 
 
 In the edge of the woodland stream. 
 The glorious light of Italian skies 
 
 On my rapt vision breaks ; 
 And my soul is full of such melodies 
 
 As night from the wind-harp shakes. 
 
 Aye, more ! for the breathings of harp and lute 
 
 Come over me like a spell. 
 And the dreamy sound of the shepherd's flute. 
 
 With its rich melodious swell. 
 
80 ON READING MRS. HEMANS' POEMS. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 I see the forms of the glorious dead, — 
 
 Each beautiful buried brow, 
 With soft hair wreathing in curl or braid, 
 
 Is smiling upon me now. 
 
 ^ And souls which have burned with passionate thought. 
 
 And yearnings for other spheres. 
 Whose memories are, as with gems inwrought, 
 
 Undimmed by the mist of years ; 
 They greet my soul in those blissful hours, 
 
 In which I am borne away 
 By thrilling song, to the land of flowers, 
 
 Where the fountains of feeling play : 
 
 A dreamland formed in the Poet's brain. 
 
 And peopled with glorious things. 
 Where music floats in delicious strain. 
 
 From the sweet song- angel's wings ! 
 Oh ! fountain of rich poetic lore. 
 
 How gladly I drink from thee ! — 
 But shall my songs, when I am no more» 
 
 So dear to one spirit bef 
 
x 
 
 r .ilU'T IKI- 
 
MOSES AT THE BURNING BUSH. 81 
 
 MiSli AS SMI aWMIl® swia 
 
 BY F. J. OTTERSON. 
 
 'TwAs summer-time in Midian, 
 
 Three thousand years ago, 
 The sunbeams, falling vertical. 
 
 Like molten fire did flow — 
 On Horeb's angel-trodden hill. 
 
 On Arab's arid plain, 
 In every dell the fire-flood fell, 
 
 As falls a summer rain. 
 
 Close at the holy mountain's foot 
 
 A clustering forest stood. 
 As if the trees instructive sought 
 
 The dwelling-place of God ; 
 With leafy arms intwined, they made 
 
 A sun-proof arch of green. 
 And gently play'd within the shade 
 
 A thousand forms unseen. 
 
 'Twas sultry noon, — all silently 
 
 Beneath the cool trees sleeping. 
 An Israeli tish shepherd lay. 
 
 While, round about him creeping. 
 The fleecy herd came carefully. 
 
 And, bowing down before him, 
 Gazed tearfully and prayerfully, 
 
 As if they would adore him. 
 
82 MOSES AT THE BURNING BUSH 
 
 Look ! on the mountain-top descended, 
 
 A gorgeous cloud of fulgent Glory- 
 Hath with the sun its radiance blended. 
 
 And made his beams look pale and hoary ; 
 Look ! doAvn the mountain grandly going, 
 
 The bright effulgence passes slowly, 
 And in its viewless brilliance glowing, 
 
 Stops noar the shepherd slumbering lowly. 
 
 The shepherd woke, and wildly gazing. 
 
 Half- blinded by the bright illuming. 
 Saw where the bush was fiercely blazing, 
 
 Yet perfect still, and unconsuming ; 
 And while he marvell'd at the wonder, 
 
 He heard a voice his own name telling, — 
 An awful voice, like far-off thunder. 
 
 Among the distant mountains swelling 
 
 It was the voice that call'd to being 
 
 A universe at its command. 
 And Darkness, from His presence fleeing. 
 
 Disclosed the water and the land ; 
 It was the voice that, in the garden, 
 
 Call'd gently for the sinning mortals, 
 The voice that bade the flaming warden 
 
 For ever guard the shining portals. 
 
 The voice that broke the great deep's fountains. 
 
 And oped the windows of the heavens. 
 That made the flood o'ertop the mountains, 
 
 And whelm a world to ruin given ; 
 That bade the bow, the east adorning, 
 
 Tell vengeance fast and mercy reigning — 
 That sent the dove, with peaceful warning, 
 
 To cheer the eight well-nigh complaining. 
 
MOSES AT THE BURNING BUSH 
 
 The flaming bush, the quaking ground, 
 
 The leprous hand, the hand restored, 
 The serpent-rod no serpent found, 
 
 Proclaim'd the presence of the Lord ; 
 And when the doubting shepherd spoke. 
 
 And humbly ask'd the Glory's name, 
 In thunder from the Presence broke — 
 
 *' Tell them thou comest from I AM !'* 
 
 Then waned the Glory, wasting slow. 
 
 As if exhaling on the air, 
 Expiring with a gentler flow 
 
 Than soul departing while in prayer, 
 Till nought the vision could reveal. 
 
 Save mountain, forest, herd and ground 
 Though still the subtler soul could feel 
 
 The atmosphere of heaven around ; 
 
 And viewless angels, thronging near. 
 
 Made coolness with their waving winga. 
 While oft upon the shepherd's ear 
 
 The cadence of their music rings — 
 And oftener still — now near, now far — 
 
 A great vibration broke the calm. 
 As, echoing from star to star. 
 
 Went »ound the awful name, " I AM !** 
 
84 adayo'love. 
 
 A 3DA¥ i' Si¥3 
 
 BY JOHN BOYLE. 
 
 By Hudson's stream, I min' it weel, 
 
 Wi' spirits light and cantie, 
 I trod a wood-embosomed dell, 
 
 And oh ! but I was vauntie ! 
 It was a flower-bespangled bawk 
 
 O'erhung wi' coppice braery : — 
 For wi' me in that am'rous walk 
 
 Was linked my bonnie Mary. 
 
 The simmer sun was glintin' doun 
 
 Through trees wi' foliage laden, 
 Frae which I poud a leafy crown 
 
 To deck my winsome maiden ; 
 Aboon her snaw- white polished bron 
 
 I wreathed mony a blossom. 
 Ah ! nane but lovers can tell how 
 
 It thrilled a' my bosom. 
 
 A zone o' woodbine roun her waist, 
 
 Alang the swaird she stept her. 
 An' in her tiny hand I placed 
 
 An osier for a sceptre ; 
 Wi' silken robe, and spangled shoon. 
 
 She trippit like a fairy ! 
 Ah but it was a bonnie moon. 
 
 That hallowed moon o' Mary ! 
 
dayo'love. 85 
 
 We traced the neuks, and wimplin' brooks, 
 
 In hermit-haunted places, 
 An' never has that valley seen 
 
 Twa mair contented faces ; 
 We framed a tale for every vale. 
 
 For every hill, a palace, 
 The tiny shells were fairy bells. 
 
 Each buttercup, a chalice. 
 
 A brawlin' rill cam doun the hill. 
 
 Gem-decked and silver-crested, 
 Whiles shadowed frae the noontide ray, 
 
 An' on its bank we rested ; 
 An' there she sang, the shades amang, 
 
 A lay frae Alice Carey ! — 
 Not Coila's sel could sing sae well 
 
 As thee, my peerless Mary. 
 
 Sae passed away the lee-lang day, 
 
 The e'en, the hour o' gloamin', 
 The sun gaed down, the bright May moon 
 
 Looked in, and found us roamin', 
 An' by her light that hallowed night 
 
 We pledged the word and token 
 0' mutual faith which, unto death. 
 
 By both remained unbroken ! 
 
 Unbroken,— but, God, the rest! — 
 
 Like streams through meadows flowing. 
 While sunbeams dance alang their breast. 
 
 Dank weeds beneath are growing — 
 Sae shadowed our smooth stream o' life, 
 
 Frae beams our hopes had wreathed. 
 So sprang beneath the hand o' death, 
 
 An' Mary sank beneath it ! 
 
88 LINES. 
 
 The snaw-Tvreath lies ower vale and hill. 
 
 An' claithes the birk and breckan. 
 The wintry wind blaws cauld and shrill. 
 
 An' dark the clouds are fleckan. 
 An' I, by grief an' care opprest, 
 
 A pilgrim on life's prairie — 
 An' ah ! I lang to be at rest 
 
 Wi* thee, my peerless Mary ! 
 
 £]E3riS. 
 
 Y A YOUNG LADY BORN BLIND 
 
 If this delicious, graceful flower. 
 Which blows but for a single hour, 
 Should to the sight as lovely be. 
 As from its fragrance seems to me, 
 A sigh must then its color show. 
 For that's the softest joy I know 
 And sure the rose is like a sigh, 
 Born just to sooth, and then — to die. 
 
 My father, when our fortune smiled, 
 With jewels deck'd his eyeless child ; 
 Their glittering worth the world might see. 
 But, ah ! they had no charms for me. 
 Still as the present fail'd to charm, 
 A trickling tear bedewed my arm ; 
 And sure the gem to me most dear 
 Was a kind father's pitying tear. 
 
JANEWILLSON. 87 
 
 jAsri wsissfls. 
 
 A SKETCH. 
 
 BYALMANZOR. 
 
 " I PKAY you let me pass — my sick grandmother is wait- 
 ing for my return," timidly, and in trembling tones, spoke a 
 young girl, at the corner of one of the streets, on a cold, 
 dark, and stormy evening in December. " Do, kind sirs, 
 let mo go !" continued the young girl, and she grasped with 
 a tighter hold a scarlet-woollen shawl, which she wore, 
 more closely around her shoulders. — " For the love of 
 mercy I must not be stopped !" she ejaculated in a still 
 louder voice, the pitiable tones of which struck upon the 
 ears of George Alden, as, with head bent forward and face 
 half buried in the fur collar of his cloak, he was coming up 
 the dark street, on the corner of which the entreating voice 
 was heard. 
 
 As the tones of entreaty were heard, Alden quickened 
 his step, and in an instant was at the corner. As he came 
 up, the light, airy form of a girl rushed past him ; and by 
 the light of one soUtary lamp that stood there, he saw two 
 men start off in another direction, and heard one of them 
 muttering curses as he ran. Ever alive to the voice of 
 distress, George turned, determined to follow the unpro- 
 
88 JANEWILLSON. 
 
 tected girl to her place of destination. He could just see 
 a glimpse of her as she rapidly flew along the wet and 
 slippery pavement, and he quickened his walk, keeping 
 some distance behind her. Suddenly the sound of her foot- 
 steps ceased, and a light for an instant flashed from an 
 under-ground room, then all was dark and still. He, how- 
 ever, continued his walk to the spot where the light had 
 flashed out, and from a small window by a door, which shed 
 a faint light, he could just discover a few steps that led 
 into the basement story of an old building, and judging that 
 the poor girl was one of its inmates, and that she was now 
 in safety, he felt that his object was accomplished, and 
 turned to leave the spot, when suddenly the door slowly 
 swung back, and an elderly lady with an old quilted hood 
 on her head, and the same red shawl around her which had 
 covered the shoulders of the girl, stood in the passage. By 
 the light, Alden could partly see her countenance, which 
 was sallow and thin. Close by her, half bending over and 
 looking up towards the woman, stood the young girl, holding 
 in her hand an iron candlestick, with a piece of candle about 
 two inches in length, flaring from the current of air which 
 rushed past the open door ; and he heard, in a soft musical 
 voice, " Mother, do let me go ! perhaps they have gone, 
 and I shall not again be molested." He could only catch 
 an indistinct view of the face of the speaker, but he thought 
 it more than ordinarily handsome. 
 
 " No, my dear daughter, stay with your grandmother ; I 
 shall be less likely to be beset by ruffians, and insulted, 
 than a young girl : I cannot consent for you to be exposed 
 
JANE WILLSON 
 
 again to-night," answered the woman, moving to ascend the 
 short flight of steps that reached a level with the pavement. 
 
 George, not wishing to be discovered, commenced step- 
 ping along, passing the door. He heard again the voice of 
 the girl almost in a whisper saying, " Stop a moment, mo- 
 ther, there is some one passing." He moved on, half 
 turning his head to look back to see which way the woman 
 was going ; as soon as he had passed, she ascended the 
 steps and went up the street, the door again being shut. 
 Waiting a moment, he turned and followed after her, 
 determining to secretly keep watch over her, and be near 
 at hand should any one molest her. 
 
 He kept her in sight for some time, until finally she 
 stopped at a shop, and went in, which, as he came up, he 
 discovered was a baker's. As he came in front of the 
 door, the upper part of which had a window in it, he dis- 
 covered the woman standing by the counter with a couple 
 of loaves of bread lying in front of her, and she appeared 
 vainly searching, alternately in a little calico bag and then 
 in a small basket, for something. George paused only for 
 a moment, and opening the door walked into the shop. 
 
 The woman ceased her search, and moved as if to make 
 room for the supposed new customer. A short, thick, red- 
 faced man stood inside the counter, with his open hand 
 resting on it, seemingly waiting to receive his pay for the 
 bread, and as George came up, the baker looked sternly at 
 ihe woman, saying " It is just as I supposed — you have no 
 money ! You can have no more of my bread until the old 
 score is paid up !" 
 
90 JANEWILLSON. 
 
 The poor woman looked as though she would sink 
 through the floor, and a deep-drawn sigh escaped her as, 
 tremblingly, she said, " I thought I had one shilling ; but I 
 cannot find it. I suppose I must have lost it on my way," 
 and she commenced searching anew the little bag she had 
 with her. 
 
 " Perhaps you had better go back and look for it," sneer- 
 ingly said the man, taking the loaves off the counter, and 
 laying them on a shelf where numerous others were piled up. 
 
 Alden knit his brows at this sight. " Give the bread to 
 the woman !" said he. "I will pay for it." 
 
 " Certainly, sir, certainly !" quickly answered the shop- 
 man ; " she spoke for some soda-crackers also — shall she 
 take them likewise 1" continued he, handing back the bread, 
 and bowing to George. 
 
 " If she wishes anything in your shop, let her have it !" 
 abruptly replied Alden, and turning to the woman, " Mad- 
 am," said he, " permit me to be an almoner to you to- 
 night, — nay, nay ! no refusal," observing that she was 
 about to decline, " I have a right to give bread to the 
 hungry !" he added, smiling. 
 
 " And God bless you for it !" ejaculated the woman, 
 casting on him a look of gratitude, while tears involuntarily 
 gushed from her sunken eyes. 
 
 " You wished some crackers also, did you not, good 
 woman'?" feelingly asked George. "Let her have the 
 quantity she wishes," continued he, addressing the man. 
 
 "I did wish to get a pound of soda-crackers for a 
 sick person; but as I cannot pay for, I must not take 
 
J A N E W I L L S O N . 91 
 
 them. I have already trespassed on your charity too 
 much." 
 
 George made no reply. " Pyit up the crackers for the 
 woman !" said he, looking at the shop-man. " Did she 
 inquire for anything else ?" 
 
 " No, sir; but when she has money, she often gets a cus- 
 tard for her sick mother," answered the baker. " We 
 have some fresh ones that are very nice." 
 
 " Have you a sick mother, madam ?" tenderly asked 
 George, turning again to the woman ; " and will a custard 
 add to her comfort ? Indeed you will take a few, I hope," 
 rather imploringly he added, " baker, put the woman up 
 two or three custards." 
 
 " Stop, sir, stop ! I entreat of you. Your bounty over- 
 whelms me !" exclaimed the woman ; " I have now sufficient 
 for my mother's comfort and our present wants until after 
 the Sabbath." 
 
 The baker, however, took no heed to what she said ; but 
 proceeded to put three custards into the woman's basket, 
 which she reluctantly received, and seizing young Alden's 
 hand she thanked him, and, nearly overcome by her feel- 
 ings, while her eyes beamed with joy through the tears that* 
 fast trickled down her cheeks, she hastily left the shop. 
 
 Alden staid but a moment after, to pay for what had 
 been taken by the woman, and then throwing a dollar on 
 the counter to cancel her debt formerly contracted, bade 
 the baker supply her with more bread should she call 
 again, and followed on after the object of his charity, for 
 the purpose of seeing her safe return home. 
 
92 JANEWILLSON. 
 
 On leaving the shop, the woman ran rapidly homeward ; 
 and it was with difficulty he could keep her in sight ; but 
 she reached her home unmolested, and he saw her enter 
 the lowly place of residence, when he turned and wended 
 his way to his own lodgings. 
 
 Few there are, comparatively speaking, who know the 
 untold pleasure which is felt in a generous bosom, springing 
 from a heart conscious of performing a deed of unostenta- 
 tious charity in relieving the distressed ; and true it is, that 
 many w4io enjoy competency, and are liberal in dispensing 
 favors for great specific objects of charity for a name only, 
 never stoop to reheve the poor widow and fatherless, or the 
 sick and distressed whom the iron hand of penury has with 
 a heavy hand laid low. 
 
 George Alden laid his head on his pillow that night with 
 a conscious feeling of having acted as he would others should 
 act to himself in like circumstances. Left with a few 
 thousand dollars by his father, George lived with his mother 
 and sister, the latter about eighteen years old. This 
 sister, whose name was Alice, was the idol of George, was 
 his confidant in all his movements, and he had made her his 
 aftnoner in dispensing acts of charity, the objects of which, 
 often, he sought out. He was a clerk in one of the banks, 
 and received for his services sufficient, with the income 
 from the property left by his lamented parent, to support 
 his mother, sister, and himself. 
 
 The next day, George communicated the circumstances 
 of the preceding evening, naming the street, and describing 
 the place of residence of the recipient of his charity. 
 
JANE WILLSON. 
 
 Alice Alden n-eeded no other stimulant to visit the abodes 
 of poverty and wretchedness than the approving smile of 
 her brother to sanction such acts. The poor woman whom 
 George had mentioned to her was fresh in her mind on 
 Monday morning when she arose, and she determined that 
 day to seek the place of her residence. Circumstances in 
 the fore part of the day prevented her from going out : but 
 towards night, in the afternoon, she went. After thridding 
 several streets, she came to the corner of the one sought, 
 and proceeded with a light heart, carefully noticing the 
 buildings as she passed along, to find the one described by 
 George. It was a street occupied by dwelling-houses 
 mostly, and there was such a sameness in the appearance 
 of them, that it would have been impossible for her to have 
 found the right one, had not a little circumstance occurred, 
 that led her, as it were intuitively, to the very spot. As 
 she passed along, she saw a man a few rods ahead ascend 
 from the basement of one of. the buildings and come towards 
 her. As he passed her, he was muttering to himself some- 
 thing, and she distinguished in one of his sentences, " I'll 
 let them bury the old woman, and then they must budge, 
 or consent to my proposition. I must and will have my 
 rent somehow." She heard this much of what the man 
 was saying to himself as he passed her, and judging that 
 the place he had left was the abode of poverty and affliction, 
 she had no hesitation in concluding it was the place she 
 sought, or at least that there were those there who were in 
 need of assistance. Accordingly she proceeded to the cel- 
 lar-way she had seen the man emerge from, and tapped at 
 
©4 JANEWILLSON. 
 
 the door. A moment elapsed and it was opened, when a 
 tallj slender woman, the picture of melancholy, stood before 
 her. She bowed, and faintly smiled, as Alice spoke and 
 passed in ; and shutting the door, she handed her one of 
 three chairs, which had once had seats of flags, but were 
 now bottomed with " list" of variegated colors ; and the 
 frames, at some period painted, perhaps some fancy color, 
 were at this time worn off, and presented a white appear- 
 ance like the original color of the wood. 
 
 Alice cast her eyes around the room as she seated her- 
 self. 
 
 " I called, not to intrude, my good woman," said she, in 
 a tender voice, " but was informed that some one was sick 
 here that possibly might need assistance." 
 
 Here she paused, as her eyes were directed to one corner 
 of the room, where on a common bedstead some one lay, 
 covered up and still, as if asleep. The room was clean, and 
 smelt of camphor and burnt vinegar. A handful of coals 
 were burning in the grate, emitting scarce heat enough to 
 take the chill from the room. The furniture was scanty 
 enough, consisting, aside from the three chairs, of only a 
 pine table, clean and white from constant scouring, an old 
 "^hest of the same kind of wood, the outside presenting 
 the same cleanly appearance. In one corner was a cup- 
 board with a black earthen tea-pot, two or three white cups 
 and saucers, and three or four plates. One iron candle- 
 stick stood upon the mantel-piece, and with two or three 
 other trifling articles, these constituted the whole household 
 goods of the room, which was low and lighted only by two 
 
JANEWILLSON 95 
 
 basement windows — a large newspaper serving as a curtain 
 for one of them. 
 
 " My mother has been sick — but is now reheved. God, 
 in mercy, has just taken her," huskily replied the woman, 
 burying her face in her hands and sobbing as if her heart 
 would break. Removing her hands, she in a moment point- 
 ed to the bed, saying, " There she lays — her soul at rest — 
 my dear mother !" 
 
 A thrill of horror and a shuddei passed through the 
 frame of Alice, as she arose and moved to the bed. The 
 old lady, who but an hour before had breathed her last, lay 
 as if in a sweet sleep, and Alice removed the dark-colored 
 coverlet that was over her, and silently gazed on the lifeless 
 corpse. The poor woman, the daughter of her who thus lay 
 in the arms of death, now rose and came also to the bedside. 
 " Happy mother !" she exclaimed, " would that my troubles 
 
 were ended like thine ! but " and she suddenly stopped 
 
 short a moment — " O, this wicked murmuring ! — pardon 
 me, my Heavenly Father!" 
 
 Alice, sensibly affected with the affliction of the poor 
 woman, withdrew her tear-brimmed eyes from the cold mor- 
 tality she had been gazing on, and turning them on the 
 woman, tenderly and soothingly attempted to comfort her 
 in her affliction by consoling and sympathizing language. 
 While thus engaged, the door softly opened, and a young 
 girl with a noiseless step entered the room. She timidly 
 shrunk back as she saw a stranger conversing with her 
 mother ; and Alice started with surprise as she looked at 
 the graceful form of the young and beautiful girl, who, with 
 
06 JANEWILLSON. 
 
 parting lips just ready to speak, stood looking alternately at 
 her and then at her mother. She was dressed in a dark 
 calico frock, which fitted her exquisitely-shaped person to 
 admiration, and a scarlet-woollen shawl hung lightly over 
 her shoulders. On her head she had a faded-blue silk, 
 quilted, open bonnet, lined with a pink color of the same 
 kind of goods. Her hair, in glossy natural ringlets, hung 
 in clusters down her neck, and a profusion of dark curls 
 partly concealed her high and polished forehead, with one 
 or two negligently hanging down on her roseate-tinged 
 cheeks. Alice thought she had never seen a more beauti- 
 ful creature. 
 
 " I feel for your loss, my lovely ^rl ; but trust your 
 grandma is now in heaven !" said AHce, in an affectionate 
 voice. 
 
 " And is she gone !" cried the girl, looking aghast ; and 
 instantly rushing to the bed, she clasped the inanimate 
 remains in her arms, and wept in all the agony of a bereaved 
 heart. 
 
 Alice waited until the first burst of the oveVwhelming 
 grief of poor Jane had passed ; and then, after some con- 
 versation with Mrs. Willson (the mother), ventured, in a 
 delicate way, to ask what she intended to do in respect to 
 the performance of the obsequies of the deceased. 
 
 Mrs. Willson burst into tears, completely overcome with 
 her feelings. The contending emotions caused by her 
 wretched circumstances — she being entirely penniless and 
 worn down with constant fatigue of watching the sick 
 bed of her mother for a series of weeks, during which time 
 
JANEWILLSON. 97 
 
 she had been unable to earn anything — completely overcame 
 her. Their whole support had been derived from the 
 scanty earnings of Jane, who labored in an extensive tobacco 
 factory, and that was scarce sufficient to buy provisions for 
 them, without the absolute necessaries required for the sick 
 grandmother. She owed for rent, and also was indebted 
 to the apothecary, physician, and grocer. Her situation, 
 therefore, as it rushed on her mind, rendered her almost 
 speechless at the question put her by Alice. 
 
 " I know not,'' at length articulated Mrs. Willson ; and 
 in broken language, and with a convulsed frame, she laid 
 open her wants to the tender-hearted Alice. 
 
 Alice Alden keenly felt the wretched position in which 
 Mrs. Willson was plunged, and rising, she embraced the 
 mother and daughter, then sHpping her purse into the hand 
 of the former, said she would send some one to assist and 
 do what was necessary on the occasion ; and promising 
 to come again the next day, she started to return home. 
 Ere she reached home, however, she accidentally met her 
 brother, and hastily communicated to him the scene she had 
 witnessed. 
 
 George lost no time in complying with his sister's request, 
 in sending proper persons to perform the offices to the 
 dead, and to relieve Mrs. Willson in her hour of trouble, 
 until the last sad tribute was paid to the remains of her 
 deceased mother. 
 
 It would be needless here to record that everything was 
 done which benevolence and philanthropy requked, in the 
 performance of the funeral obsequies, which were attended 
 
98 JANEWILLSON. 
 
 by Alice, who strove to her uttermost to sooth the over- 
 whelmed mother and daughter. The duties of George 
 Alden, in attending to his vocation, prevented him from 
 personally acting in any of the transactions ; but his purse 
 had freely supplied and paid the necessary expenses. 
 
 It was with a heavy heart, the morning after the funeral 
 of her grandmother, that Jane Willson left the cheeerless 
 room her mother occupied, to again continue her labor. The 
 recent scene she had passed through had impressed a melan- 
 choly on her beautiful countenance, and the thoughts of her 
 mother and their extreme poverty pained her gentle heart. 
 Though the manner in which they had subsisted had inured 
 her to privation and self-denial, that all of them might con- 
 tinue their existence without actually becoming objects of 
 public charity, yet the small pittance she earned had been 
 insufficient to more than feed them, penury had increased 
 upon them, and now the future looked darker to her than 
 ever. 
 
 Not so with Mrs. Willson. The recent friends, which it 
 seemed as if Heaven had oppoitunely raised up within the 
 few last days, though it humbled her from a sense of obUga- 
 tion, yet had inspired renewed energy to her feelings ; and 
 though she meekly bowed to all the trying circumstances 
 that had surrounded them, she still looked forward to better 
 days. Mrs. Willson had not always been so poor. She 
 was the daughter of a seafaring man, who died when she 
 was young, leaving her mother and herself in rather strait- 
 ened circumstances ; but the energy of her surviving parent 
 enabled her to support them comfortably until she was 
 
JANEWILLSON. 99 
 
 grown up ; at which time a smart young man, named 
 Willson, a boatswain's mate in the navy, paid attention to 
 her, and they were married. As his wife she hved with him 
 for a number of years, Jane being the only fruit of their 
 union. Mrs. Willson, however, was destined like her 
 mother to become a widow, which event happened when 
 Jane was about thirteen years of age. From that period, a 
 series of little reverses in their affairs took place, and with 
 her aged mother on her hands, she had become so reduced 
 as to part with everything valuable, and to reside in the 
 cheapest tenements — barely living from hand to mouth. In 
 addition, her mother being taken sick with a lingering ill- 
 ness, she was compelled to let Jane enter a tobacco factory, 
 where she had to work each day, with many other girls, ten 
 or twelve hours in the summer, and in the winter evenings 
 until eight o'clock. 
 
 It was on the Saturday evening mentioned at the com- 
 mencent of our tale, that Jane Willson returned home from 
 her work. Her grandmother was in the last stages of her 
 disease, and her mother fatigued and worn out with constant 
 watching and anxiety. Jane had numerous little errands to 
 perform, and the evening was wet, cold and stormy ; yet 
 she had performed them all but one, and that was to get a 
 small supply of bread. One shilling alone remained of her 
 week's earnings, and with that she again salHed out to pro- 
 cure two loaves. As she reached the end of the street 
 which led into another containing the bake-shop, she saw 
 two tough-looking men standing on the corner, and as she 
 
100 JANEWILLSON. 
 
 attempted to pass, one of them seized hold of her, saying to 
 the other, Avith an oath, " By heavens, Bill ! here is the 
 pretty tobacco-girl !" 
 
 Jane, trembling and affrighted in the grasp of the ruffian 
 brute, tried to disengage herself from his hold; but he 
 rudely drew her towards the lamp-post, swearing he would 
 have one look at her pretty face. It was at this moment 
 that the entreating tones of Ijer voice reached the ears of 
 George Alden, who arrived in time to frighten the men from 
 their intentions ; for the one that held her let go his hold 
 instantly, and she rushed past George, as has been men- 
 tioned. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Two days after the funeral had elapsed, and Alice had 
 not visited Mrs. Willson. George had promised to accom- 
 pany her to the humble residence in the after part of the 
 day ; and she was sitting, with her bonnet and cloak on, 
 waiting for him to come in. He came not, however, and 
 after staying for some time for his arrival, she started off 
 alone. As she reached the door of Mrs. Willson's resi- 
 dence, she heard the voice of a man talking in a loud strain, 
 and she hesitated a moment about going in ; but the recol- 
 lection of the muttered sentences of the man who passed 
 her, and who at that time came from Mrs. Willson's when 
 she was seeking the place of her residence, crossed her 
 mind, and she tapped at the door for admittance. 
 
 Mrs. Willson came and opened it, almost screaming with 
 joy at seeing her, and she passed m, helping herself to a 
 chair. The same neat and clean appearance that was seen 
 
JANEWILLSON. 101 
 
 before in the room was still observable. By the grate sat a 
 well-dressed, hard-featured man, with his hat on, his legs 
 crossed and his arms folded up, who, as she entered and took 
 a seat, stared her in the face, and though she did not par- 
 ticularly notice the man who passed her a few days before, 
 she thought this was the same one. He sat a few moments 
 in moody silence, and then rose to go, saying to Mrs. 
 Willson, " You will think of that thing, madam ! one or 
 the other must be done. Remember, I am not to be trifled 
 with !" and moving towards the door, he added, " I will 
 call again this evening." 
 
 Mrs. Willson turned pale as the man spoke, and her eyes 
 seemed to light up with a flash of indignation, as in a firm 
 and energetic voice she looked towards him and said, " You 
 have already had your answer, sir ! Sooner would I die 
 by inches in the deepest dungeon which unfeeling tyranny 
 could prepare, than listen for one instant further to your 
 proposal ! Oh ! my God!" she exclaimed, " and is it come 
 to this 1" and dropping into a chair she covered her face 
 with both hands, while the contending emotions of grief and 
 indignation warred in her bosom, and agitated her slender 
 frame. 
 
 The man made no reply; but looking with a frown 
 towards the poor woman, opened the door and left the room. 
 
 Alice, with surprise pictured on her countenance, fol- 
 lowed the man with her eyes as he went out, and then 
 looked at Mrs. Willson for some explanation of the lan- 
 guage she had heard. 
 
 A moment or so elapsed ere Mrs. Willson recovered 
 
102 J A N E W I L L S O N . 
 
 from her agitation sufficiently to look up. "0, my dear 
 young lady !" at length she said, " what must you think of 
 what has just passed ! That brute in human shape who 
 has just left us is my unfeeling landlord. Unfortunately I 
 owe him for rent, and have asked lenity and time to cancel 
 his claims on us ; but what think you is the alternative 
 the wretch has dared to offer 1 Start not," continued she, 
 convulsively seizing her hand, " start not, when I say he 
 demands the uttermost farthing of his rent within twenty- 
 four hours, or the virtue of that guileless being, my daugh- 
 ter. Do you wonder, then, at the agitation of a mother in 
 hearing such an infernal proposition 1" 
 
 Ahce Alden hstened with the most intense earnestness 
 to this communication, a burning blush covering her face 
 and shooting up to her temples. 
 
 " Is it possible ?" said she, " is it possible, that there 
 exists on God's footstool such a deprave. J villain ? Calm 
 your feelings, my good woman ! The vile wretch shall have 
 his rent, and you shall leave his detested tenement !" and she 
 shuddered at the thoughts that imperceptibly rushed through 
 her mind. The noble and generous emotions of the heart 
 of Alice rose higher and higher as the troubles of Mrs. 
 Willson came to her knowledge. " Yes, calm your feel- 
 ings, madam !" repeated she, " you shall be released from 
 the toils of such a base, unprincipled scoundrel. You 
 shall hear from me shortly. I will send a person to you 
 this evening with sufficient to liquidate your brutish land- 
 lord's claim. Let not your daughter, I beseech you, ever 
 hear of the villain's polluted proposition. Shock not her 
 
J A N E W I L L S O N . 108 
 
 pure ears with a recital of the foul insult that has been 
 aimed at yourself and her." Having said thus much, 
 Alice took her leave of Mrs. Willson, hastening home as 
 fast as she could. 
 
 She found her brother George at home. Throwing her- 
 self into his arms, she unfolded to him the wretched and 
 unprotected situation of Mrs. Willson. Tenderly kissing 
 his beloved sister, he smiled an assent to fulfil the promises 
 she had made Mrs. Willson, and writing a short note, he 
 enclosed the amount she owed her landlord, which was only 
 ten dollars, and adding another for her present necessities, 
 directed it to her, ordering his bearer to deliver it imme- 
 diately, and then to seek out some cheap, respectable tene- 
 ment, and assist her in moving into it the next day. 
 
 The tenement to which Mrs. Willson removed, on the 
 day following, was a front room in the second story of a 
 neat house in Greenwich street ; and Ahce had raised 
 a small subscription among a few of her acquaintances, 
 which she appropriated in the purchase of a few articles ol 
 second-hand furniture, and some useful and necessary cook- 
 ing utensils, crockery, &c., of which the poor woman was 
 mostly, if not entirely, destitute. These she ordered to the 
 new residence of her charge. Nor did she stop here ; but 
 procured from the circle of her acquaintance sufficient plain 
 sewing to enable Mrs. Willson to live in a comfortable 
 manner. 
 
 The winter passed off, and George and Alice Alden, 
 fully recompensed in the conscious feelings that they had 
 been instrumental in assisting an unfortunate woman, 
 
104 JANEWILLSON. 
 
 thought no more of the acts which had, directly and indi- 
 rectly, brought it about. 
 
 The month of May, that delightful season of budding and 
 opening blossoms, had come, when nature, arrayed in living 
 green, and dotted with the gorgeous petals of wild flowers, 
 spread before the eye a loveliness and beauty tempting to 
 all who enjoy the variegated scenery of her landscape in the 
 country, when George and AHce Alden, with their mother, 
 left the city for a few days, to visit some of their friends 
 living up the noble Hudson. 
 
 About a week after they had left, Mrs. Willson was 
 sitting one afternoon in her room fronting the street ; the 
 window was open, and she sat busily sewing. The rattling 
 of the carriages and carts, and the din and bustle in the 
 street, did not withdraw her attention from her work ; but 
 suddenly a loud shout and the babel sounds of many voices 
 struck upon her ears, and looking from the window, she 
 saw several persons lifting the lifeless body of a man from 
 the pavement, while near by was a horse without its rider, 
 rearing and plunging, with one or two persons vainly 
 attempting to hold him. Throwing her work aside, she 
 rushed below, and met several men bearing the body of the 
 person up the steps of the house she was in. 
 
 " Bring him to my room !" she hastily exclaimed, turn- 
 ing and leading the way ; and in a moment more the man 
 was laid on Mrs. Willson's bed. 
 
 " Who is he '?" was asked by several ; but no one present 
 knew him. A surgeon, who had been sent for, immediately 
 came in, and instantly proceeded to examine him. One of 
 
JANEWILLSON. 105 
 
 his arras was broken, and though badly bruised, no other 
 serious injury was discovered. He was bled, and the frac- 
 tured limb set by the surgeon, who ordered that he should 
 be kept quiet ; and shortly after, the persons who had been 
 drawn to the room by the accident went away, leaving no 
 one but Mrs. Willson and the surgeon ; and he, after giving 
 some further directions with regard to his patient, also left. 
 The stranger had not spoken ; but had, after being brought 
 from his lifeless state, caused by the shock of being thrown 
 from his horse with violence on the pavement, passively 
 submitted in silence to all that was done for him. 
 
 Mrs. Willson, being left alone with him, seated herself 
 by his bed-side, that she might be in readiness to attend to 
 anything he might want. He seemed to lay in a gentle 
 sleep, and she looked at his countenance, the lineaments of 
 which appeared familiar, yet she could not recollect where 
 she had seen it. 
 
 Evening at length arrived, and Jane came home, finding 
 their little room an hospital with the invalid young man. Jane 
 Willson partook too largely of the feelings of her mother 
 to stand back from acts of kindness to the sick and dis- 
 tressed ; and, on learning the circumstances of the accident, 
 evinced as much interest as her mother for the invalid thus 
 unexpectedly quartered on them. Jane, with noiseless steps, 
 was putting some of the things of the room in order, that had 
 been displaced in the confusion of the first attention to the 
 injured person, when she discovered that his hat, which had 
 a number of papers and letters in it, had been upset, and 
 some of them were scattered on the floor. Picking them 
 
106 .TANEWILLSON. 
 
 up, the direction of several letters could not escape her 
 observation, and she discovered that they were all addressed 
 to " George ^den." 
 
 It was not until the next morning that George awoke to a 
 consciousness of his situation. He opened his eyes, and 
 stared around. The room looked strange to him, and 
 denoted poverty, though everything appeared in the utmost 
 order and regularity. His bed-clothes were coarse, though 
 clean, and he wondered whose hands he had fallen into. 
 The last that he distinctly recollected was, that he was 
 thrown from his frightened horse upon the pavement. He 
 had a confused recollection of seeing persons around him 
 when he recovered from the shock ; but he even did not 
 know how much he was injured. He attempted to raise 
 one of his arms, however, and soon found, from the pain 
 he experienced, that it was broke, and he felt a soreness 
 over him. Seeing no one in the room, he lay looking 
 towards the door, musing on his situation, when suddenly 
 he saw the door slowly open, and a girl on tip-toe enter, 
 shutting it carefully after her. The surpassing beauty of 
 the visitor caused him to start as if electrified, and he 
 involuntarily half raised his head. " What angel is that 1" 
 thought he, as he saw her with a noiseless step cross the 
 room, and go to a cupboard. She stood there a moment, and 
 as she turned, he closed his eyes, fearful that she might see 
 him looking at her, and leave the room. As he lay with his 
 head on the pillow, with one eye just open sufficiently to 
 discern her, he saw her come to his bed-side softly and look 
 at him, gently touch his face with her hand, and then care- 
 
JANEWILLSON. 10? 
 
 fully smooth down the bed-clothes. After which, she stood 
 a few seconds gazing with a sorrowful look at him, and 
 then lightly moved to the window ; a muslin curtain shaded 
 it, which she drew aside a little and stood looking out. He 
 had a kind of side view of her face. " She is a very beauti- 
 ful girl," mentally said he. For half an hour she remained 
 in the room, when the door again opened, and some other one 
 entered, she at the same time passing out. The person 
 who entered was an elderly woman, who seated herself in 
 silence by the window, apparently as a kind of relief-watch. 
 The dazzling beauty of the girl who had left the room, 
 compared to the ordinary appearance of the woman who had 
 taken her place, led him rightly to suppose they were 
 neither kith nor kin to each other, and he lay still some 
 time thinking of the fairy-beauty that had smoothed down 
 his bed- covering. At length the sound of voices on the 
 stairs and of persons coming up aroused him, and in an 
 instant, his mother and sister, pale with affright, hastily 
 entered the room. 
 
 " Dear George !" they exclaimed, as he raised his head, 
 and they both alternately threw their arms around his neck, 
 and wept over him. Mrs. Willson, who had entered the 
 room with them, also approached his bed-side, and after 
 the mother and sister had risen from their embrace of the 
 invalid, she poured out her thanks to him as her benefac- 
 tor. His sister communicated to him who Mrs. Willson 
 was, and that it was through her they had just heard of 
 his accident — having that morning returned from their visit. 
 The surgeon in attendance now coming in, they all had the 
 
108 JANEWILLSON. 
 
 gratification of hearing that George was in no danger, and 
 in a day or two might mth safety be removed. 
 
 " And why not immediately ?" asked Mrs. Alden, who 
 wished her son at home, that they might nurse him with less 
 trouble than at his present place of confinement. The sur- 
 geon, however, thought it too risky to attempt it that day ; 
 and George felt a secret pleasure that he was to remain, the 
 thoughts of the beautiful Jane running in his head, whom 
 he hoped he might see again. He longed to ask some ques- 
 tions concerning her of Alice ; but no opportunity seemed 
 to present. He overheard, however, Alice's inquiry respect- 
 ing Jane, and learned with a thrill of pleasure that she 
 would be home from her work about dark. 
 
 Mrs. Alden ordered everything necessary for her son's 
 comfort to be brought from her house, and she and Alice 
 Bpent the most of the day with him. His mother, towards 
 night, left Alice to assist Mrs. Willson in attending on him. 
 
 It was nearly dark, and George was impatiently looking 
 at every one that entered the room, with the vain hope that 
 it was the handsome Jane. At length she came in, and his 
 eyes glistened with delight, as he saw her trip lightly across 
 the room, and fondly throw her arms around his sister's 
 neck, and kiss her with all the ardor and affection of inno- 
 cent love and friendship. In his heart he envied the lips 
 of his sister ; and when Alice led her timidly towards him 
 and introduced her, he put forth his arm, and, with pleasure 
 beaming in his countenance, took her hand in his, pressing 
 it involuntarily from feelings he could not repress. 
 
 Alice could not but observe the marked admiration her 
 
JANEWLLSON. 109 
 
 brother showed when looking at Jane. He was her idol, 
 and whatever pleased him caused a simultaneous feeling 
 with herself. The first opportunity that George and Alice 
 were alone, he said to her, " Why, dear sister, did you 
 never tell me of that lovely girl ? I have frequently heard 
 of the pretty Jane ; but little dreamed that she was the 
 daughter of the widow that had elicited our sympathies." 
 
 Alice smiled, and replied, " Though I have known her 
 also, I little dreamed she would at first sight steal my 
 brother's heart. George," continued she, " you are 
 caught !" and she smiled as a deep blush mantled his 
 face. 
 
 " Perhaps not," he answered, striving to conceal his con- 
 fusion at the quick perception of his sister. 
 
 The next day George Alden was removed home, and it 
 
 was nearly a week ere his physician would let him go out. 
 
 Once only during that time did he see the object that now 
 
 occupied all his thoughts ; and then for a moment only, 
 
 as she came to return some trifling things, that had been 
 
 carried to Mrs. Willson's for his convenience. 
 
 * * ** * * * # 
 
 About six months after the convalescence of George 
 Alden, a splendid fete was given by Alice, the principal 
 attraction of which, that drew the .wondering gaze of the 
 guests in attendance, was the young and lovely bride of 
 George, "The Pretty Jane Willson." 
 
 AuBURir, N. Y 
 
110 LINES 
 
 IISIS iSr SMI HASH ®1 A IfllSliS. 
 
 BY J. C. HAGEN. 
 
 As lately I strayed througli the eyergreen bowers, 
 
 Whose music so often had cheered me before, 
 A voice from the trees, and the birds, and the flowers. 
 
 In accents of wailing, sang — *' Fanny's no more !'* 
 
 A sweet child of nature, so gentle, so tender, 
 Our hearts in her numbers it cheered us to pour. 
 
 And all that was pure in our music to lend her — 
 
 But hushed is her voice, for " our Fanny's no more !'* 
 
 In the quiet of evening, the breeze's soft sighing. 
 
 The voice of the stream, and the groves on the shore. 
 
 And echo's sweet notes to their music replying, 
 All bore the sad burden — " Our Fanny's no more !'* 
 
 The dear ones whose loved home to cheer she delighted. 
 While life's pulses beat, shall her mem'ry adore ; 
 
 Their bosoms are rent, and their fondest hopes blighted, — 
 Ah. ! well may they weep, for " their Fanny's no more !'* 
 
 All crushed is her lute, and no aid can restore it, 
 
 For cold are the fingers that swept it of yore ; 
 Yet still when the wings of the zephyr pass o'er it, 
 
 It sighingly whispers — " Our Fanny's no more '." 
 
 The angels have added a harp to their numbers. 
 
 Or regained one but lent, they had sought to restore. 
 
 Though mortals still fancy its voice ever slumbers. 
 And weep at the thought that " the!? Fanny's no more.* 
 
THE LIGHT-HOUSE 111 
 
 SMI 1 I ® M S«-I1 i W i 1. 
 
 BY ALFRED A. PHILLIPS. 
 
 Sailing from the noble harbor of New York on a sunny 
 afternoon in July, in Mie of those fairy-like craft which 
 skim through our waters like things of life, scarce marking 
 the placid surface of the deep even with a ripple, we passed 
 through the narrow entrance of the majestic bay, and swiftly 
 cut our way towards the ocean. The prospect was indeed 
 beautiful, — far astern the receding spires of the great 
 metropolis rose dimly in the distance, while the bold bluffs 
 of Staten Island stood like grim watchers of the portals of 
 the spacious harbor. Directly in view appeared the con- 
 spicuous beacon of Sandy Hook Light-house, while or 
 either side the white sandy beach gradually receded from 
 the eye until lost in the surges of the ocean. Even here all 
 was bustle and activity : the wide expanse was studded with 
 vessels of every class, manned with crews from every clime. 
 Here the snug clipper silently flew through the water to her 
 destination; farther astern the cumbrous hulk of a Ger- 
 man ship tumbled clumsily along, while the loud clatter of 
 confused voices proclaimed her the bearer of an increase to 
 our population. In close contact, gallantly breasting the 
 
112 THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 
 
 surge, came one of our noble frigates, alike the dread and 
 admiration of the world, while in her wake a ponderous 
 British steamer ploughed her way amid steam and smoke, 
 like a huge monster chafing at restraint, and madly plung- 
 ing in his endeavors to be free. These, together with 
 numerous inland craft and pleasure-steamers, completed the 
 scenery. Toward evening the stiff breeze died gently away, 
 and not a breath of air ruffled the surface of the water. 
 The sky was cloudless, the air unusually calm, and no 
 sound save an occasional burst of merriment from the crew 
 of a neighboring vessel disturbed the death-like quietude. 
 As the shades of night threw their gloomy pall over the 
 lovely scene, the beacon on the shore threw its glare wildly 
 on the dark waters, contrasting its strong, lurid light with 
 the dull glimmering of the sleepy eyes of heaven. The 
 moon had not yet risen, and a placid yet gloomy liglit 
 awakened a pensive, half-melancholy feeling within the 
 breast of the observer. Nature lay calm as a sleeping 
 infant, betraying nought to alarm or destroy — a striking 
 illustration of the deceptiveness of outward appearances. 
 Little could the entranced beholder realise that in a moment 
 the voluptuous, quiet scene before him could be roused into 
 the most violent and terrible contortions. The beacon still 
 shone in lustrous splendor, and cast its glaring Hght upon 
 the unrippled water. As I gazed and admired the scene 
 before me, the thought was presented to my mind. Yon bea • 
 con shines as a warning ; surely danger lurks not beneatii 
 so secure end calm a spot — 'tis but to cause anxiety 
 and dread within the breast of the approaching stranger^ 
 
THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 113 
 
 whose bosom leaps with hope at the speedy termination of 
 his dreary voyage. But, alas ! how short-sighted and fal- 
 lacious the idea ! scarce were my reveries concluded, when 
 the dark-boding outlines of a ponderous cloud appeared 
 in the southern sky, and, as if by magic, small fleecy par- 
 ticles, as of the breadth of a man's hand, arose in every 
 quarter and fled with impetuous haste to join their mother, 
 with the black, frowning mass which now rose in terrific 
 grandeur, and cast a dreadful wildness over the lovely scene 
 beneath ; and, as if the spell had been broken by a word, 
 the vast expanse of water started into a thousand masses, 
 and with the wind, which rose instantaneously into a fright- 
 ful roar, tost our httle bark like a shell upon the maddened 
 billows. Gallantly, however, she breasted the storm, and 
 reached in a few • minutes a comparatively secure harbor, 
 under the shelter of the bold bluff", from which shone the 
 blood-red light. Here we could view, at the expense of a 
 thorough drenching, the effects of the fearful convulsion 
 which had so suddenly arrested our quiet journey. The 
 white sails of the shipping, which had been spread to catch 
 every breath of air, were now closely secured, and nothing 
 but the dark hull of the giant steamer was visible in the 
 thickly- gathering gloom. The wild howls of the rushing 
 wind, and angry toss of the foaming wave, as it dashed 
 with maddened fury upon the beach, filled me with alarm 
 for the safety of the vessels in the vicinity. The storm 
 raged with unabated fury for upwards of an hour, yet amid 
 all this war of elements the beacon still shed its warning 
 light, a guardian genius to the wave-tossed mariner, a 
 
114 THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 
 
 symbol of safety and welcome to the returning wanderer. 
 The thunder seemed to shake the earth to its very centre, 
 and the forked lightning played in terrific gambols through 
 the dark expanse. The heavy, lowering clouds seemed at 
 length to envelop and obscure even the strong light of the 
 beacon, and the continual crash of the deafening thunder 
 struck with awe and deep solemnity the astonished listener. 
 The transformation of the lovely and quiet scene into this 
 hideous combination of deafening sounds and frightful fea- 
 tures led me imperceptibly into a reverie, from which I was 
 aroused by perceiving a vessel, discernible only by her long, 
 dark hull, rapidly approaching the shoal-water. Startled 
 and alarmed by her immediate danger, I wildly shouted to 
 her to beware a near approach, but my voice was as nothing 
 in the deafening hubbub, — still she kept on. " Heavens !" 
 involuntarily exclaimed our captain, " she cannot see the 
 light!" 
 
 Scarcely had the words passed his lips when the cloud, 
 which had frowned so fiercely, suddenly broke above, and 
 she perceived the light, as we conjectured by her instantly 
 changing her course, and avoiding so dangerous a colHsion. 
 The lowering clouds gradually melted away, the gale 
 abated, the stars seemed waked from their slumbers, and 
 shone with increased brilliancy. The storm had subsided, 
 and all was peace. 
 
 A lesson, fraught with deep import, may be drawn from 
 this simple narration. Thousands have sailed through the 
 quicksands of vice and crime, and no beacon-fight reared 
 its friendly warning for them. How cruel and inhuman 
 
THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 115 
 
 would it be deemed, if a vessel should enter a dangerous 
 track which led to irremediable destruction, should the 
 light be extinguished, and she left to dash unwarned and 
 unpitied upon the hidden rock ! And yet, when the youth 
 has entered upon his career of sin, how often has the door 
 of benevolence and sympathy been shut to his call, and he 
 left to perish unmourned and unheeded in the dread abyss 
 of wo 1 Thanks to the philanthropy of the present age, so 
 gross a negligence has ceased to exist. Every class and 
 condition of men, every sect and denomination, civil and 
 religious, have erected their different lights, and the wan- 
 derer, however reckless, may behold their faithful beams. 
 The church stands upon the highest pinnacle, and throws 
 her radiating beams over the civilized world ; the watchmen 
 upon her walls continually sound the alarm, and to her 
 friendly shelter she invites the voyager upon the sea of life, 
 bids him enter the haven of her rest, and anchor within her 
 quiet precincts. The Genius of Liberty, with pinions 
 extended over our beloved land, shines with unapproachable 
 lustre as the Light-House of Universal Freedom to Man. 
 Her radiance has pierced the dark clouds of feudal tyranny, 
 and revealed the cruelty of despots. Her happy, soul- 
 inspiring strains, have roused the slumbering spirits of the 
 vassal, have filled the slave with a new-born impulse, and 
 kindled within him a spirit of indignation against his lawless 
 oppressor, that has burst the galling chains of bondage that 
 held him from his high estate, and caused the tyrant to 
 quail before the impetuous onset of his down-trodden and 
 insulted subjects. She shines as a warning as well to 
 
116 THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 
 
 individual as to national tyrants. She is the beacon mark- 
 ing the sunken rocks of ambition and arrogance, upon which 
 mighty republics, in their voyage to the glorious haven of 
 man's political amelioration, have struck, and made ship- 
 wreck their fondest hopes and joyous expectations. Their 
 outset was indeed prosperous ; the sea of experiment rolled 
 smoothly on, and not an adverse wind ruffled their calm 
 repose, till the inviduous cloud of personal aggrandizement 
 and voluptuous ease sent forth the winds of discontent, and 
 scattered the voyagers over the trackless ocean, when, losing 
 sight of the port of their destination, the hurricane of fac- 
 tion dashed the fragile bark upon the devastating rock of 
 corruption, and destroyed the last vestige of their transient 
 greatness. She stands pointing with tearful eyes to the 
 remains of Rome's once mighty people, and bids the free- 
 man beware of the withering influence of that deadly 
 ambition which laid waste the splendid fabric of that 
 primary but powerful republic. She appears as the guar- 
 dian angel of Freedom, and bids those who approach to 
 shun the rock upon whiv.h others have split, or meet the 
 same destructive fate. Philanthropy also has planted 
 innumerable lights among the shallow waters of destruction. 
 Her vivifying rays render the night of vice and immorality 
 so clear that the wanderer as he runs may be admonished 
 of their dangerous precincts. The pure Genius of Tem- 
 perance, clothed in garments of spotless white, sparkling 
 with crystal, charms the deluded victim of unhallowed 
 lust, and in characters of living light illuminates the path 
 in which his unsteady feet are straying, and shows in all 
 
THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 117 
 
 their dread deformity the yawning gulf and bitter panga 
 that have already marked him for their prey. To the son 
 she points to the broken heart of the widowed mother, who, 
 with streaming eyes, upon her knees supplicates the throne 
 of heaven for her inebriate son. To the broths she whis- 
 pers the agonizing sighs of a youthful sister, whose pale and 
 wan countenance tells of nights of sleepless sorrow and days 
 of endless torture ; and to the husband and father she 
 speaks in the thundering tones of conscience of the horrors 
 of his fireside, where an affectionate wife and doating 
 family mourn in heart-rending misery the dreadful depravity 
 of him, who, before angels and men, voluntarily assumed 
 the relation of their first friend and protector. And, bright- 
 ly conspicuous among this dazzling array, shines the pure 
 yet modest and retiring spirit of Benevolence^ arrayed in all 
 the charming simplicity of a cottage maiden, who pleases 
 more by her shrinking modesty than the glowing splendor 
 of her beauty. She has planted the beacon of Charity and 
 Love upon the natural basis of social feeling, and her dove- 
 like spirit has taken refuge in and imparts her genial influ- 
 ence through the philanthropic channel of the Lodge. She 
 has lighted a flame so powerful and so pure, that it is felt 
 in the most obscure and wretched abode. Want and 
 poverty fly before her searching rays. The distressed and 
 sufiering hail her as the messenger of mercy from above, 
 and the fatherless child, clinging to her widowed mother, 
 learns to lisp the gratitude of an afiectionate heart. 
 
 The fabric of our Order is knit together, and composed 
 of the rarest materials drawn from the finest feelings of 
 
118 THE LIGHT-HOUSE. 
 
 the heart. The enthusiasm of myriads of her sons form 
 an unextinguishable light to guide the worthy to her friend- 
 ly embrace. Not only is she a safeguard from immorality 
 and crime, but her portals are thrown open as a shelter and 
 refuge to those who have been overtaken by the blasting 
 storm. Her watchword is Honesty, her password is 
 Purity, and the beautiful motto that appears in characters 
 of light above her portal will shine with undying lustre 
 when the material part of her framework has mouldered 
 and decajod. 
 
 " 'Twas not a love of earthly mould 
 
 That first awoke this sweet communion, 
 And earth can never break the hold 
 
 Of such a heaven-enkindled union. 
 The silken cord hath bound them fast, 
 
 And every storm that beateth round them. 
 And sorrow's dark and bitter blast, 
 
 Still draws them closer than it found them." 
 
 Her principles shall instruct and bless, her kindness cheer, 
 and her alleviating balm sooth, iill generation after gen- 
 eration shall proclaim that, through her ii^;strumentality, 
 Benevolence is indeed a brilUant Light-House for the 
 unfortunate, and a peaceful shelter for the way-worn 
 traveller. 
 
TO****. 119 
 
 A RESPONSE. 
 
 BY DUNCAN GRAY. 
 
 The sun gaed down wi' lurid hue 
 
 Ayont the horison's crimsoned brim. 
 An' mony a weary toiler, too, 
 
 Gaed down to tak' their rest wi' him ; 
 But na for me, oblivious rest, 
 
 I wandered far o'er hill and brae, 
 For care was heavy at the breast. 
 
 An' banished rest frae Duncan Gray. 
 
 I sat me down beside a rill 
 
 That steals its way to Hudson's stream^ 
 An' soon, on thoughts o' human ill. 
 
 Was buried in a fevered dream ; 
 I thought on love, I thought on thee. 
 
 When a' our days were bright an' gay. 
 An' of thy fickle vows to me. 
 
 That stole the peace o' Duncan Gray. 
 
 A leal light heart, whose earliest springs 
 Along thy vernal path were shed, 
 
 A maiden lyre, whose pliant strings 
 Wove chaplets only for thy head ;-r- 
 
120 TO 
 
 These were my offerings, — what their meed ? — 
 But dew-drops shed on desert clay ; 
 
 A seared heart, a broken reed. 
 An' life a blank to Duncan Gray. 
 
 Sic were my gloomy thoughts the night 
 
 That we baith met na mair to meet ; 
 An' ah ! how mony a weary gaet, 
 
 Sin syne, ha' pressed my restless feet ! 
 A blighted hope, a ruined mind, 
 
 A future fraught wi' certain wae, 
 Drave me to war's alarms, to find 
 
 A soldier's grave for Duncan Gray. 
 
 I've been where UUoa castle stands 
 
 Aboon the ocean's foamy crest, 
 Columbia's flag 'gainst Mexic bands 
 
 Up Sierra Gorda's bosom prest, 
 In mony a pass, where bluid and scaith 
 
 Wi' ghastly terrors strewed the way, 
 I sought the dark release o' death ; 
 
 But death aye fled frae Duncan Gray. 
 
 Fame crossed my path wi' orient wing, 
 
 And placed a wreath upon my brow. 
 But ah ! what pride could glory bring — 
 
 For what were fame and fortune now ! 
 A gloomy pall my vision crossed. 
 
 Despair by night an' grief by day ; — 
 Hop^ bloomed na mair like tliose I lost. 
 
 The early hopes o' Duncan Gray. 
 
 At length I find thy heart was leal. 
 
 Thy thoughts were round my pathway still ; 
 
 An' my wrung heart the strength reveals 
 0' human love o'er human will : 
 
TO****. 121 
 
 Frae aff my path the dark clouds roll, 
 
 A light has broken o'er my way, 
 An' kindled in the darkened soul 
 
 The long lost joys o' Duncan Gray. 
 
 The mavis haunts the forest tree, 
 
 Where first she built her maiden nest. 
 The wounded heart will steek, to die. 
 
 The glade its early gambols prest : 
 Sae I, on life's rude ocean tost. 
 
 To carking care and grief a prey, 
 Maun turn, to where in youth were lost 
 
 The heart an' hopes o' Duncan Gray. 
 
 Then weep na mair, my ain dear maid. 
 
 But wipe away thy pearly tears. 
 The course o' love sae lang delayed 
 
 Will flow more smoofli in after years : 
 The beds in drear December trod, 
 
 Wi' earliest promise bless the May ; 
 Sae, ablains, purified by God, 
 
 The bruised heart o' Duncan Gray. 
 
 Oft by braid Hudson's wave, alane. 
 
 We'll haunt each long-remembered dell. 
 And a' the sorrows we ha' nane 
 
 We'll aft recount atween oursel' ; 
 Wi' thy pure snaw- white han' in mine, 
 
 Ye'll sing to me the melting lay 
 That mony a lanely night sin' syne 
 
 Ha' filled the soul o' Duncan Gray 
 
122 JE N E A S 
 
 JS M 1 A 3. 
 
 This is the name of one celebrated in song and poetry, 
 by some of the first and most beautiful classic poets the 
 world ever was graced with. Virgil has been most success- 
 ful in his delineation of the character. The name 
 " ^neas," as classically rendered, signifies a man, in dis- 
 tinction from the fairer ornaments of society ; also the male 
 of any species, as distinguished from the female. By the 
 direction of the gods, he left his country under their con- 
 duct, and sailed for Italy, jn sight of which place, Juno, 
 to revenge herself upon the Trojans, obtained assistance 
 from iEolas, who, with his terrific winds, dispersed the 
 Trojan fleet, which so irritated Neptune that he stayed the 
 storm, and assisted in the relief of the fleet. Eventually 
 iEneas is found in Carthage, subject to the admiration of 
 Dido; and at a banquet, prepared regardless of all expense, 
 she requests him to relate the sufferings of his country- 
 men, the Trojans, during the latter part of the siege of 
 Troy, in which the Trojans were overcome, and the city 
 destroyed. His story was, that the Greeks gave ^Eneas 
 permission to carry off" what was dearest to him, and that 
 he took his father upon his shoulders to a place of safety ; 
 that the Greeks, astounded with this eminent example of 
 filial tenderness and affection, gave him further privileges, 
 whereby he was enabled to secure his household gods, and 
 
SECRETS OF MASONRY. 123 
 
 the whole of his family, and all his effects. The plate re- 
 presents iEneas with his father upon his shoulders, bearing 
 him away from the scene of destruction and horror. The 
 little boy, who goes forward, and so hopefully points to the 
 future, is supposed to be the son of ^Eneas. 
 
 siBiif i m MAumwr. 
 
 It has been hinted by some insidious and malevolent 
 characters, who are excluded from the secrets of free- 
 masonry, that, therefore, such society cannot be good. 
 "If," say they, " their meetings be for the promotion of 
 probity and virtue, why are there so many secrets 1" 
 Nothing but what is mischievous, they think, is ever con- 
 cealed. 
 
 The philosophers of old informed us, that to be secret 
 (or silent) was to be wise. None but fools babble ; wise 
 men keep their counsel. This is surely verified in the pre- 
 sent times ; and I am certain, if the world had been ac- 
 quainted with the mysteries of freemasonry, notwithstand- 
 ing the many excellencies it possesses, it would not have 
 been in existence now ; for, seeing that by secrecy friend- 
 ship is proved, so by secrecy friends are united. It is the 
 chain which unites our hearts and affections ; and without 
 which there can be no honor. When friends part, they 
 should faithfully lock up in their hearts each other's secrets, 
 and exchange keys. 
 
 But why is it supposed that secrets imply some mischiev- 
 
124 SECRETS OF MASONRY. 
 
 ous or unworthy designs ? Are there not secrets in every 
 family ? and why not in a society ? Does not a member 
 thereby feel himself secure ? and is not he, through this de- 
 corum, enabled to relate any secret misfortune which he 
 would be very loth to advertise the public of 1 Secrecy is 
 the union of hearts ; and the more important the secrets, 
 the greater is his confidence who imparts them — the greater 
 his honor who preserves them. 
 
 The utility of having secrets in a society is to prove by 
 secrecy that the members thereof are men of probity, truth, 
 and honor — who can withstand all inducements to violation 
 of a trust, and prove themselves above deceit, and too 
 strong for temptation. 
 
 We are told that there are secrets above. Many of the 
 divine determinations no man knoweth, not even the angels 
 which are in heaven ; and seeing that we are enjoined to 
 be secret, even in charity, there is, to use a common phrase, 
 much virtue in secrecy. Why then attribute to the arcana 
 of freemasonry aught that is improper or unjust, when the 
 most noble of all virtues. Charity, may, for aught they 
 know, be included among those secrets 1 
 
 In order to prove the utility of secrecy, I shall here de- 
 lineate two characters which form a perfect contrast : Tom 
 Tattle and Jack Wary. 
 
 Tom is a wild, unthinking fellow, so much addicted to 
 loquacity, that, if intrusted with a Secret, he would die, if 
 he did not tell it immediately. Indeed, Tom Tattle could 
 never keep his own secrets ; — the consequences of such im- 
 prudence have frequently been fatal. He once lost a place 
 
SECRETS OF MASONRY. 125 
 
 by too freely and unguardedly communicating his intention, 
 and the source of his interest, by which means he was sup- 
 planted. Another time he lost a mistress by expatiating 
 upon her charms, and discovering that she had a fortune. 
 Such attractions induced one of the many to whom he im- 
 parted this secret to become acquainted with the lady, and 
 poor Tom was again supplanted ! This imprudent confi- 
 dence has likewise subjected him to much ridicule ; his dis- 
 appointments being always the more mortifying as they 
 were consequently known to his friends, who, according to 
 custom, forbore not to deride the man who could not be 
 silent till he had an occasion to speak. Misfortunes are 
 rendered double by becoming pubUc. Thus it is with Tom 
 Tattle ; — he goes to every one to let them know that he in- 
 tends to wait on my lord to-morrow to ask such a favor. 
 To-morrow comes ; and he is obliged to confess his lordship 
 refused him. Whenever any one, according to the usual 
 phrase, and as a prelude to some discovery, says, " Can you 
 he secret ? — the question hurts his pride, and he promises 
 to be as silent as the grave ; but his tongue, like the tomb- 
 stone, tells every passer-by what the contents are. This 
 has brought poor Tom into many scrapes. He has been 
 obliged to fight several duels ; but, till shot through the 
 head, he will never be able to keep a secret. 
 
 Not so with Jack Wary. He is so exceedingly cautious 
 and reserved, that all his actions are to himself only. No 
 one knows how much he owes, or how much is due to him ; 
 yet Jack can be communicative at times. It is not, however, 
 to Tom Tattle that he would impart any of his secrets. 
 
126 M A S C N I C O D E 
 
 but to one of his own stamp, who can be equally prudent 
 and reserved. 
 
 Such is the character of Jack, that his friendship is uni- 
 versally courted. He is never involved in any quarrel ; he 
 never offends; he never breaks his word; and, as he 
 troubles no one with his own affairs, of course he escapes 
 all the sarcastic rubs of his neighbors. Notwithstanding 
 Jack can be on some occasion inquisitive, he will be curious 
 when he means to be of service, and officious when anxious 
 to perform the task of friendship. In this instance, curi- 
 osity is laudable, though for the most part reprehensible. 
 
 These two characters were proposed to a lodge for admis- 
 sion. Tom, as it may be naturally concluded, was re- 
 jected, while Jack, on account of his well-known prudence 
 and integrity, was immediately admitted ; he soon arrived 
 to the honor of becoming master, and met with the warm 
 approbation of his brethren. 
 
 BY A WORKMAN OF THE TEMPLE 
 
 Empires and kings have pass'd away 
 
 Into oblivion's mine ; 
 And tow'ring domes have felt decay. 
 Since auld lang syne. 
 
 But Masonry, the glorious art. 
 With wisdom's rays, divine — 
 *Twas ever so, the Hebrew crie& 
 In auld lang syne. 
 
MASONICODE. 127 
 
 Behold the occidental chair * 
 
 Proclaims the day's decline — 
 Hiram of Tyre was seated there. 
 In auld lang syne. 
 
 The South proclaims refreshment nigh. 
 
 High twelve's the time to dine ; 
 And beauty deck'd the southern sky. 
 In auld lang syne. 
 
 Yes, Masonry, whose temple here 
 
 Was built by hands divine. 
 Shall ever shine as bright and clear 
 As in auld lang syne. 
 
 Then, brethren, for the worthy three 
 
 Let us a wreath entwine — 
 The three great heads of Masonry, 
 In auld lang syne. 
 
 Remembering oft that worthy one. 
 
 With gratitude divine — 
 The Tyrian youth — the widow's sob 
 Of auld lang syne. 
 
128 THEPRESSGANG. 
 
 It was blowing fresh from the S. S. W. as the good 
 ship Mermaid, homeward bound from the West Indies, 
 passed Flamborough Head. The watch had been called at 
 twelve P. M., and the master, before he left the deck, gave 
 charge to the mate to carry on all the canvas that the ship 
 would bear, so that she might save the next day tide into 
 Shields, whither she was bound. But such orders were 
 unnecessary to him who now held command of the deck ; 
 independently of the exciting hopes of the seaman, which 
 strengthen as he draws nearer to his destined port, there 
 were more than ordinary hopes and fears struggling in his 
 bosom. After a careful glance aloft, seeing that the yards 
 were well trimmed, and every sail drawing properly, he 
 commenced his walk along the larboard side of the quarter- 
 deck ; but it was not with the steady and somewhat proud 
 step vrith which he was wont to tread that he now walked. 
 His pace was rapid, as if the speed with which the gallant 
 ship bounded over the waters was all too slow for his 
 impatient wishes. At times he would suddenly stop, note 
 carefully the land they were passing, gaze earnestly on the 
 foam, as it flew, or seemed to fly, past her ; and then a low 
 
THEPRESSGANO. 129 
 
 whistle would just be heard, as if it came almost uncon- 
 sciously from him — an invocation to the breeze. 
 
 Whilst he is thus engaged, and as the wind is steady, we 
 will take the opportunity of acquainting our readers with 
 some particulars of him whose fate will form the subject of 
 the following narrative. His parents, now dead, had for- 
 merly been in good circumstances, and he, having evinced an 
 early predilection for the sea, had been bound apprentice, 
 at the usual age, to one who was then considered a firm 
 friend of his late father ; but when misfortune overtook the 
 devoted family, a sum of money was owing to this person, 
 and avarice being his ruling passion, this loss was never for- 
 gotten or forgiven. After exhausting his efforts to harass 
 and distress, by course of law, those whom misfortune had 
 already brought too low for oppression, and finding his 
 endeavors of no avail, he attempted, after the death of the 
 father, by every means in his power, to annoy the son, who 
 was to a certain degree under his control. Fortunately for 
 our hero, his malice was partly baffled here also. Attentive 
 to his duty, and giving his whole soul to his profession, in 
 hopes of hereafter reinstating himself in the sphere of life 
 in which he had hitherto moved, he was the favorite, not 
 only of the master, but of the whole ship's company ; and 
 as the ship was chiefly engaged in foreign trade, except in 
 the winter, his enemy's opportunities of showing ill-will and 
 oppression towards him were considerably lessened. Whilst 
 the father was thus exhausting every effort which malice 
 could devise to render the career of the young man miser- 
 able, there was one who, like a ministering angel, poured 
 
130 THEPRESSGANG. 
 
 balm into the wounds of his affliction, and shed the light of 
 her love and beauty on the darkness of his sorrows. This 
 gentle being was Margaret Ridley, the daughter of his stern 
 employer, and as the richest fruits are often borne by the 
 rudest trees, so did this fair creature form a striking con- 
 trast to the author of her existence. She had lost her 
 mother at an early age, and had principally been brought 
 up with the oppressed family. During the lifetime of the 
 widow, she had, unknown to her father, contrived to do her 
 all the good offices in her power, and now that the mother 
 was dead, the whole of her young affections were centered 
 in the son. Even in their infancy they had formed for 
 each other a tender friendship, and this, increasing with 
 their years, had now become a strong and absorbing passion, 
 which neither the frown of a parent or any other adverse 
 circumstance could subdue. Yielding at length to the dic- 
 tates of her own heart, and the importunities of Cuthbert 
 Lambton, she set the consequences at defiance, and became 
 a wife. After this the rage of old Ridley knew no bounds, 
 and he was only withheld from putting into execution the 
 dictates of his fiendish disposition by the universal execra- 
 tion which his conduct called forth. Fortunately for Cuth- 
 bert, he very shortly after his marriage obtained a berth as 
 mate in a respectable employ, and thus himself and wife 
 were enabled to live humbly, but happily. This, however, 
 was not doomed to last long. The owner had died before 
 the return of the ship from her second voyage, and his ships 
 were directed by his will to be all sold. Cuthbert was now 
 Dut of employ, and therefore subject to the abominable cus- 
 
THEPRESSGANG. 181 
 
 torn (not law) of impressment, and of these circumstances 
 the smouldering vengeance of old Ridley did not fail to 
 avail itself. On the very night on which he heard of his 
 discharge, he repaired to the rendezvous-house, and although 
 the information would, in ordinary times, have been suf- 
 ficient to put the bloodhounds on the immediate track of 
 their victim, yet as peace was then expected, they were not 
 anxious about men, and he was forced to add a handsome 
 bribe for the accomplishment of his infernal design. 
 
 On that night the hellhounds broke into the dwelling of 
 Cuthbert, and finding that their prey had escaped them, 
 proceeded, according to their established custom, to treat 
 the inmates with the most brutal and disgusting violence. 
 Poor Margaret was the more particular object of their 
 brutality ; but she, rejoicing in her husband's escape, bore 
 it with patient meekness ; and at length, having exhausted 
 their modes and means of oppression, and having occasioned 
 as much destruction as they could accomplish in the period, 
 the degraded villains departed with blasphemous threats of 
 future vengeance. Such were the visitations to which every 
 house was subjected in those days, and thus were its 
 inmates wont to be treated by rufiians, the very refuse of 
 the base and vile, who were pointed out with execration 
 and loathing, as they haunted and skulked about our sea- 
 ports, the very Parias of society, and whose presence men 
 were wont to shun as they would fly from the blast of the 
 Sirocco, — and for this the boasted laws of England afibrded 
 wo redress. 
 
 Cuthbert had on that evening retired to rest, but anxiety 
 
132 THEPRESSGANG. 
 
 as to his future prospects, and for the welfare of those dear 
 to him, had banished sleep. He at once divined the mean- 
 ing of the disturbance he heard, and springing from his bed, 
 he rigged himself with a sailor's quickness, and after a 
 hasty embrace of his wife and child, he escaped through a 
 back window to the roof of an adjoining house ; and per- 
 fectly acquainted with the bearings of the place, he found 
 no difficulty in reaching a street, secure from the demons 
 who were no^ ransacking his once happy dwelling. His 
 task was now easy, and passing quickly through the deserted 
 streets, he reached the nearest landing, and casting loose a 
 boat, was soon on board the Mermaid, which, commanded 
 by an old friend of his father, now laid loaded ready to sail 
 for the West Indies, and where he found shelter and safety 
 for the night. When the master came on board in the 
 morning, he, after hearing his statement, strongly advised 
 him to proceed with the ship on the voyage, as in those days 
 there were always good chances to be picked up in the 
 West Indies. Having accepted his offer, he wrote a hasty 
 adieu to his wife, which he entrusted to the master ; and the 
 kind-hearted old man enclosed it in a letter to his own wife, 
 charging her to deliver it in person, and to act a mother's 
 part towards the now unprotected Margaret. That tide 
 the Mermaid ran out of the harbor ; and luckily escaping 
 from being overhauled by the gang, she proceeded, with a 
 favorable breeze from the S. W., north about on her 
 voyage. 
 
 On the passage out, the second mate was lost overboard 
 during a heavy squall, and Lambton was appointed to his 
 
THEPKESSGANG. 133 
 
 situation. They arrived safely at their destination, a 
 secluded port on the north side of Jamaica ; and here the 
 mate, one of that class who considered grog a remedy for 
 all disorders, applying too much of his favorite stimulus to 
 a constitution already worn out by hardships, and perhaps 
 by excess, was soon confined to his berth ; when the duty 
 of the ship of course devolved upon Lambton, and we need 
 scarcely say was well and faithfully performed, and with 
 that rare tact only to be found in the true-bred seaman, 
 which gains alike the good-will of both master and men. 
 Old " hard-a- weather" yet fingered, and unluckily, through 
 false delicacy, his name was still retained on the ship's 
 papers. It was not until after they struck the Gulf Stream 
 that he parted ; they were yet scarcely out of the influence 
 of the Trades, and the ship was close-hauled. The evening 
 was bright and beautiful, and night was taking place of the 
 short twilight of the Tropics. He had been lying for the 
 last few hours insensible to surrounding objects, but it was 
 evident that his mind was employed among the scenes 
 of his youth. At times the answer would come as lively 
 from him as on that day when first in his pride he took the 
 helm on crossing Shields bar, and the sound was as cheering 
 and jocund as when he delighted to answer the pilot's con. 
 Again the soundings would be sung forth in a deeper strain, 
 and confused murmurs would at times be heard, as though 
 he were backing and filling a vessel through some narrow 
 channel, and as if his mind reverted to the proud time when 
 he first took command of a ship. And so he parted. The 
 three knocks had been given, the words " larboard watch 
 
134 THEPRESSGANG. 
 
 ' ~ — ~- — — — \ 
 
 a-hoy" were sung out, when, raising himself in his berth, 
 he faintly murmured, " my watch on deck," and sunk back 
 a corpse ! Rest thee well, brave old heart, for never did 
 the blue waters close over a better seaman ! 
 
 Cuthbert was now second in command, and so well had 
 the master been pleased with his conduct, that he more 
 than once intimated his intention of leaving the sea, and, 
 being the chief owner of the ship, of giving him the com- 
 mand of her. Thus, therefore, was he agitated, as he 
 watched the course of the Mermaid along the Yorkshire 
 coast, and when the termination of his watch had placed the 
 ship nearly abreast of Huntcliff, the struggle in his breast 
 had not ceased. To find himself approaching the goal 
 of his desires, all his hopes satisfied by the station to 
 which he had raised himself, and yet his fears excited by 
 the situation in which he had left his beloved Margaret, we 
 cannot wonder that his feelings were in a strong state of 
 excitement. But the necessary duty of preparing the ship 
 for going into harbor came opportunely to his relief ; and 
 now as they neared Suter point, they could see the dark 
 sails of the pilot cobles standing out to meet them. And 
 who, but those who are approaching to their own port, can 
 tell the anxiety with which the pilot is expected 1 it is 
 from him that they look for the news of the port, always 
 interesting to seamen, and it is from him that they hope to 
 gain some tidings of those dear to them. When he had at 
 length got on board, after replying to the usual inquiries, 
 he informed them of that which at once damped the joy 
 they felt on returning to their loved home ; to use his own 
 
THEPRESSGANG. 135 
 
 words, there was a cursed gun-pelter of a thing come down 
 as a tender, and was pressing all before her, and breaking 
 through all protection. " I wish," said he, " she was 
 upon the rocks, if the men were all out of her ; she is lying 
 in Peggy's hole, and has got seventy or eighty men on board 
 of her, and will sail next tide, or the tide after." This, of 
 course, took the ship's company all aback, but Cuthbert, 
 confiding in his situation as mate, felt no alarm. Alas ! 
 he was doomed to be fearfully awakened from his bright 
 dreams of happiness ; the hour was fast approaching which 
 was to shed its dark and desolating influence over his 
 future fate. But time and tide will wait for no man, and 
 the good ship stood in over the bar. She had a leading 
 wind through the narrows, and, when abreast of the low 
 light, as she hove in stays, a boat shoved off from the 
 tender, and pulled towards her ; and it was afterwards said, 
 by those who were on the look-out, that another boat left 
 at the same time, and that the figure which crouched in the 
 stern sheets — as if he endeavored to hide his accursed deed 
 from the sight of God and man — was old Ridley. The 
 ship's company, engaged in hauiing up the foresail, and 
 trimming the yards according to the pilot's directions, were 
 not aware of the approach of the vultures, until they were 
 on board. It was evident from their proceedings that they 
 had some particular object in view ; instead of demanding 
 the crew to be mustered, the fellow who commanded 
 required to see the ship's papers, and having glanced at 
 them, ordered the mate to be produced. Their meaning 
 was now plain enough ; Lambton's name not being in the 
 
186 THEPRESSGANG. 
 
 ■ < 
 
 papers, he was unfortunately within their power. It was 
 in vain that the master urged the acknowledged custom, 
 that the mate could not be taken from the ship, until the 
 cargo was delivered ; the answer of the ruffian was short, — 
 " He is not your mate, as appears from the papers — seize 
 him, men !" There were three of the tribe lounging near, 
 according to their preconcerted scheme, and they at once 
 sprung forward. Cuthbert, fully alive to their proceedings, 
 struck down the first, and seizing a capstan bar, made 
 equally short work with the remaining two. The blustering 
 coward who commanded them, seeing blows going on (which 
 he held in the utmost abhorrence, when there was a chance 
 of a return, and only admiring them when they could be 
 safely inflicted, under the sanction of established tyranny) 
 had withdrawn to a secure distance, when the pilot, who, in 
 his care for the ship, had not lost sight of what was going 
 on, found a moment to approach Cuthbert. " The coble is 
 under the larboard forechains, run for her, my canny fel- 
 low ; pull over for the south side — all the boats belonging 
 to the tender cannot catch you." He sprang forward in 
 obedience to the well-meant hint, but it was too late. 
 Alarmed by the scuffle, the remainder of the gang had 
 got upon deck, and were in close pursuit of him ; he had 
 just got hold of the fore-rigging, and was preparing to 
 light himself over, when one of the villains caught up a 
 handspike, and at one blow brought him senseless to the 
 deck. The worthy commander, seeing all danger over, 
 quickly recovered his usual bluster, and having ordered his 
 victim into the boat, into which he was hove with very little 
 
THEPRESSGANG. 187 
 
 ceremony, he took his scoundrels with him, and shoved oiF 
 from the ship. In the meantime poor Margaret, having 
 heard of the arrival of the Mermaid, had put off, flushed 
 with the joyful anticipation of meeting with him who was 
 to her the dearest thing on earth, radiant with hope, and 
 exulting in the thought of welcoming home the wanderer. 
 How often, in the silent watches of the night, had she 
 prayed for this moment — ^how often had fancy pictured forth 
 his safe return, and bright and cheering visions of future 
 happiness ! We may imagine, but we cannot describe, the 
 deadly pang which chilled to her heart, when she beheld her 
 husband wounded and bleeding in the fangs of the blood- 
 hounds. Her first impulse was to spring to his assistance, 
 but she was repulsed with rude and savage violence ; and at 
 length, provoked by her cries and lamentations, the unmanly 
 brute who held command struck her on the face with the 
 tiller ; the blood gushed from her mouth, and she fell back 
 insensible. Cuthbert was now taken on board the tender, 
 and bundled down amongst the rest of the pressed men, 
 with no care or thought, upon the part of his captors, 
 whether he were living or dead. Whilst his companions, 
 in distress, are using all their means for his recovery, we 
 will endeavor to describe the lieutenant who commanded 
 the tender. He was now an old man of some sixty years' 
 standing in his present rank, drunken and debauched in his 
 habits, and yet with cunning sufficient to evade the conse- 
 quences ; he was considered a pest and a nuisance in every 
 ship to which he had been appointed, and it was always the 
 practice with the captains with whom he had sailed to 
 
THE PRESSGANG 
 
 manage to get rid of him as soon as possible. He was at 
 length appointed to this service, because they probably could 
 not spare a better man. Always despotic as far as he dared 
 to put it in practice, on being appointed to a separate com- 
 mand, his arrogance and tyranny knew no bounds ; to use 
 an expression, which too truly designated his character, he 
 made the ship " a hell afloat !" Some little idea may be 
 formed of him from the conversation which took place 
 between him and the worthy before mentioned. " Well, 
 Mr. Hardup, so you have hooked the fellow ; but what was 
 that infernal squalling I heard when you were shoving off 
 from the ship ?" " Oh, his wife, I suppose ; but I gave her 
 a dab across the figure-head, which will spoil her beauty for 
 some time to come." " Serve her right ; but avast, I had 
 forgotten ; where are those fellows that were put into irons 
 last night? order the gratings to be rigged, and let Mr. Start- 
 em turn up the hands for punishment. I will learn them to 
 pay proper respect to their superior ofiicer ; discipline must 
 be kept up, Mr. Hardup." The preparations were accord- 
 ingly made, the two men were brought upon deck, and 
 without being allowed a word in defence or explanation, 
 they were subjected to the savage torture of the lash, for a 
 fancied slight offered to their drunken commander. It was 
 now near four bells in the afternoon, and the worthy lieu- 
 tenant had gone below to take his grog, or as he himself 
 perhaps more properly expressed it, " to lay his soul in 
 soak," when the master of the Mermaid, having despatched 
 the unavoidable duties of the ship, had come on board the 
 tender, to use every means in his power for Cuthbert's 
 
THE PRESSGANG. 139 
 
 release. Old Drumhead was rooised from the enjoyment of 
 his grog, in much the same temper in which you might 
 imagine a famished tiger, when forced to quit its prey. It 
 was in vain that the master protested against his mate being 
 taken from the ship, whilst a valuable cargo was on board ; 
 it was equally in vain that he offered to lay down the 
 amount requisite to procure a substitute ; nothing would be 
 listened to, and on growing mere pressing, and threatening 
 to have recourse to the proper quarters, he was ordered 
 over the side, with threats of violence if he did not immedi- 
 ately leave the ship. The old tyrant was, however, ill a,t 
 ease, conscious of the illegality of his proceedings, but 
 unwilling to disgorge the bribe he had received ; he walked 
 the deck for some time in much apparent perplexity ; at 
 last, calling to him his second in command, they descended 
 into the cabin together. He was now forced to take Hard- 
 up further into his confidence than he had originally intend- 
 ed, and after handing over to him a portion of the bribe he 
 had already pocketed, and promising him a share of the 
 amount he was to receive, if he carried Cuthbert off, he 
 secured his zealous co-operation. Such a mode of proceed- 
 ing was the more necessary, as, after this hour of the day, 
 he generally found himself not much inclined, or rather not 
 much fit for duty. The result of their conference was soon 
 evident. When Hardup reached the deck, he immediately 
 ordered the signal to be made for the pilot, and turned up 
 the hands to unmoor. 
 
 Such was often the manner in which those entrusted with 
 its execution " abused the king's press most damnably." 
 
140 THEPRESSGANG. 
 
 There are many who, unacquainted with the workings of 
 the system, will defend it under the plea of necessity, or to 
 couch it in more statesman-like language, under the miser- 
 able shuffle of expediency. But setting aside its horrid and 
 glaring tyranny and injustice, are they aware that this cus- 
 tom, abhorrent alike before God and man, has too often 
 been made available as the means of satisfying private 
 vengeance 1 He who had gold at his command could 
 always find in the ruffians who composed our pressgangs 
 the ready and willing ministers of his will. It Was of no 
 avail that the victims were, by their condition in life, sup- 
 posed to be exempt from the operation of the brutal cus- 
 tom ; it was but pouncing upon them at the proper moment, 
 and before the tardy remedy of the law could be put in 
 force, they were hurried fir from its protection. 
 
 a 
 
 Manchester, England. 
 
THE RECLAIMED. 141 
 
 SMI ^lg£AIMll. 
 
 BY MRS. ALICE C. HALLOCK. 
 
 ** Luxury ! bane of elated life, of affluent states. 
 What dreary change, what ruin is not thine ! 
 To the soft entrance of thy rosy cave. 
 How dost thou lure the fortunate and great — 
 
 Dreadful attraction !" 
 
 ■s 
 
 It may be remembered, that, during the winter of '33 — 
 the cause of Temperance began to engross the attention of 
 all classes and grades of society. 
 
 This desirable state of popular excitement was not pro- 
 duced by party measures ; nor was it confinea to the abuse 
 of alcoholic liquors. It took the more ample range of cor- 
 recting habits of intemperance in eating and drinking, dress, 
 exercise, &c., at the same time insisting on the necessity of 
 holding absolute control over all the mental emotions and 
 passions. The scourge of the preceding year, with more 
 than the eloquence of a Demosthenes, still re-echoed the 
 warning, " Turn ye , turn ye, for why will ye die, O sons 
 and daughters of dissipation '?" 
 
 About this time Mr. Dumont, a gentleman of fortune, 
 who had for many years figured largely in the world of 
 
142 THE RECLAIMED. 
 
 fashion, espoused the cause of Total Abstinence. His 
 family, consisting of an amiable and affectionate wife, two 
 sons, and a daughter, though enchanted with the pomp of 
 rank, and the glitter of wealth and fashion, gave their 
 assent to the new measures, and in less than three short 
 months a thorough revolution was affected in every part of 
 the establishment. 
 
 Augustus, the elder, was evidently the favorite son ; per- 
 haps from his being naturally of a slender constitution and 
 a ready wit, thus keeping alive anxiety on one hand, and on 
 the other a flow of humor and delight. He had finished 
 his course of instruction, fitting him for the mercan- 
 tile life, but declined entering into business, on account of 
 his health. They passed the holidays, that season of 
 parade and festivity, with no ostentatious display, confining 
 their ceremonious hospitality within the limits prescribed 
 by true dignity to themselves and proper respect to their 
 guests. In the domestic circle each seemed naturally to 
 possess his own appropriate department, so that each felt a 
 degree of dependance on the other for their full measure of 
 happiness. George, the younger, had returned to the field 
 of his scientific labors, whilst Augustus and Juliette, 
 remaining at home, employed their energies chiefly in the 
 promotion of the great cause of reform so lately introduced 
 among them. Louisa Morton, the intimate friend of 
 Juliette, was no less an enthusiast than she, in every enter- 
 prise connected with the interests of virtue and benevolence. 
 It was now the latter end of the month of May, and all 
 nature, just expanding into new life, every zephyr wafting 
 
THE RECLAIMED. 143 
 
 fragrance, every breeze murmuring melody, gave intima- 
 tions that the rural feast was prepared. Songs of gladness 
 on the mountain-tops, pouring forth the praises of the com- 
 mon Parent, were now heard, saying, for " He is good, for 
 his mercy endureth forever." Juliette and Louisa had 
 planned a little excursion, that they might enjoy something 
 of the glories of the opening season, and Augustus belong- 
 ing to a club, and being skilled in managing a boat, under- 
 took to row them a considerable distance round a rockj 
 point, where they might disembark in safety, and find a spot 
 suited to their wishes. Several others were invited, among 
 whom were two young gentlemen, members of the same club. 
 The exertion of rowing had formerly been beneficial to 
 Augustus ; but on this occasion it proved too fatiguing, and 
 when they reached home his strength was entirely exhausted. 
 Contrary to his usual custom, on the following morning he 
 remained in his room till the breakfast was over, when, 
 inquiry being made, he was found literally weltering in 
 gore, the vital current still issuing from his mouth. 
 
 A physician was instantly sent for, who succeeded in 
 checking this frightful symptom, and, by the use of ano- 
 dynes, soon quieted the agitated frame of the sufierer. He 
 had been seized with violent hemorrhage of the lungs, 
 brought on by the fatigue of the day preceding. Every 
 kind of excitement was now excluded, and all hopes of 
 recovery or amendment depended on keepmg both body and 
 mind in a state of the most profound quiet. The sole care 
 of the patient was confided to the mother, assisted by 
 Juliette, and not a footstep, save that of the physician, 
 
144 THE RECLAIMED. 
 
 was permitted to ascend the staircase that led to his apart- 
 ment. And now, in the midst of this overwhelming state 
 of affliction and distress, the blackening tempest of adversity 
 seemed preparing to unstop the last vial of retribution. 
 Private letters from a friend, in the vicinity of the college 
 where George was pursuing studies preparatory to a pro- 
 fession, informed Mr. Dumont that it was resolved to rusti- 
 cate the young gentleman for a time ; — that serious charges 
 of immoral conduct remaining against him, with no prospect 
 of reformation on his part^ they might expect a visit from 
 him, accompanied by such explanatory letters as the Presi- 
 dent might think proper to dictate. This unwelcome news 
 proved the " mingling of the wormwood with the gall." 
 The vital energies of the fond, doating parent, already 
 excited to their utmost tension, seemed for a time palsied 
 by this last fearful stroke. 
 
 George Dumont possessed by nature a truly noble spirit. 
 He still felt the claims of filial and fraternal duty to be 
 strong — almost overpowering. But, alas ! how slight a 
 bias given to the young and tender twig destroys the sym- 
 metry of the tree ! 
 
 What error in the parental path can escape the scrutiny 
 of the child ? and what deviation is more blighting in its 
 effects than partiality ? The seeds of distrust and suspicion, 
 early sown in the mind of young Dumont, had " grown with 
 his growth and strengthened with his strength," thus 
 depriving him of those salutary restraints against vicious 
 indulgences, and, at the same time, weakening all the 
 incentives to virtuous actions usually thrown around the 
 
THE RECLAIMED. 145 
 
 young, by the fostering hand of paiental solicitude and 
 affection. Habits of indulgence in luxurious living were 
 the natural result of his early education ; and, possessing a 
 firm, unyielding temperament, he now resolved to become 
 uncontrolled master of his own actions. Admonition had 
 not been wanting. In vain did the parents conjure him to 
 " ponder the paths of his feet," — in vain did the tender 
 yearnings of a sister's affection implore him, with " tears 
 such as angels weep," to redeem his reputation from the 
 aspersions already accumulating like blight and mildew on 
 the fair fruits of summer. Stung by remorse for his 
 neglect of duty, Mr. Dumont now resolved to try the 
 expedient of addressing him an affectionate letter, inform- 
 ing him of a slight amendment in his brother, but intended 
 chiefly as a medium for such counsel as might exert a salu- 
 tary influence, without betraying any suspicion of the good 
 standing of this wayward son in the Institution. He also 
 desired him to defer coming home a-while, or until sent 
 for, to avoid the danger of a relapse in Augustus' disease, 
 which would inevitably prove fatal. Weeks passed, and 
 nothing was heard from George. What impression would 
 a visit from his father be likely to makel This, and 
 a thousand other expedients, occupied the mind of Mr. 
 Dumont from day to day. Could he be persuaded that 
 his father was his best friend, his wisest counsellor, he 
 would turn away and escape the abyss of destruction, on 
 the brink of which he was now madly sporting. But the 
 crisis in the fate of the eldest prop of the Dumont name 
 detained him at home. 
 
146 THERECLAIMED. 
 
 Augustus was now no more. The struggle was over, and 
 his quiet spirit, in passing, breathed a holy, fervent prayer 
 for the welfare, the reformation of his absent yet beloved 
 brother. After the funeral obsequies, and the last sadly- 
 pleasing tribute of affection was paid to the ashes of the 
 deceased, Mr. Dumont received a letter from his son 
 George, informing him that, for reasons best known to him- 
 self, he had left college soon after the receipt of his letter. 
 He also added, that the wide world was but one vast field 
 for enterprise ; and it was uncertain when his affairs would 
 lead him in the direction of home. The health of Juliette 
 had suffered much from the anxiety and confinement of her 
 brother's sick room ; and it was agreed that change of 
 scene would be the best prescription. 
 
 Her friend, Miss Morton, was also preparing for a trip 
 to the north, where she expected to spend some months 
 with a near relative of her mother. After an absence of a 
 few weeks, Juliette returned to her home, much improved in 
 spirits, and consequently better qualified for the difficult 
 task of beguiling both parents of their hearts' anguish. 
 But what pen can describe, or what imagination conceive, 
 the mingled emotions with which, after an absence of eleven 
 months, the afflicted parents beheld the return of their 
 repentant son ! They stopped not for humiliation on the 
 part of the son ; but, seizing each a hand, hesitated not to 
 give the unerring token of the existence of that principle 
 which is stronger than death. Dropping on one knee, and 
 unable to resist the tide of emotion which naw swelled his 
 heart almost to bursting, he could only falter out, " My 
 
THE RECLAIMED. 147 
 
 father ! my mother !" This reception anmanned the 
 haughty spirit of Dumont, but recovering a moment's com- 
 posure, and hastily dashing aside a tear, he inquired for 
 Juliette, who, that instant approaching with open arms, 
 gave him welcome with a fond sister's embrace. 
 
 He brought nothing with him except a large scroll, which 
 none was permitted to unroll. Intemperance had left 
 visible tokens of an encounter on the countenance of George, 
 which naught but Time's effacing fingers could obliterate. 
 
 Two years after the events above narrated, as Juliette 
 and Louise sat one morning discussing a cup of old Java, 
 in the absence of George, " Tell me, dear sister," said 
 Juliette, in a tone of earnest entreaty, " are you the 
 magician who was the means of reclaiming my i^nfortunate, 
 yet most fortunate brother 1" She hastily exclaimed, 
 " Pardon my vanity if I confess to you I am ; and the 
 circumstances, which are briefly these, need no further con- 
 cealment. We met at a public table, and a single glance 
 told me he was your absent brother. He was surrounded 
 by merry companions, one or two of whom were slightly 
 known to my uncle. Whether he remembered once seeing 
 me at your father's, or whether a look of recognition 
 escaped me, I venture not to say. But two days after, he 
 was introduced into the family of my uncle by one of the 
 gentlemen. At the name of Dumont, I involuntarily 
 extended my hand ; mutual recognition and explanation 
 took place. Subsequent visits gave room for introducing 
 general topics of discussion, and will you not wonder at my 
 temerity in bringing up the subject of temperance ? His 
 
148 THE RECLAIMED. 
 
 sentiments were then the reverse of mine. The day of my 
 departure for home was fixed, and he came to bid farewell. 
 My mind had long been revolving the propriety of forming 
 a female society for the promotion of temperance. The 
 interest I felt in the undertaking induced me to employ 
 what time I could spare in executing a suitable banner for 
 such a society, which was just now completed, and this 
 was the device : on the centre sat a female figure, holding 
 the olive branch in the right hand, while the left was rest- 
 ing across the shoulders of a lamb. The emblem of Con- 
 stancy was hovering above her head ; and it bore the follow- 
 ing inscription : ' Total Abstinence — the passport to the 
 hearts of the Virtuous and the Fair.' As we were about 
 to part, I saw him pencilling something on a slip of paper. 
 He passed it into my hand, and I read the following lines 
 from Moore : 
 
 ' Would we had never, never met ! 
 Or could this heart e'en now forget. 
 How linked, how blest we might have been. 
 Had Fate not frowned so dark between !' 
 
 Instead of returning it, I placed that secret scroll in his 
 hand. The sequel I neei not repeat." 
 
 New York. 
 
l^. -(5) IP rj; 
 
MIRTHARESSA. 149 
 
 imSHi^^lSSA. 
 
 BY J. B. MURPHY. 
 
 [In the i ilowing lines the author has endeavored to embrace the spirit of a 
 Buperstition existing in a certain section of New York State, near the head of the 
 river Delaware. The circumstances, as related to him, were so singular in their 
 detail, and, withal, so beautiful in theory, that, after many years, he has adopted 
 the present form in which to preserve a feeble portion of their interest.] 
 
 When- the summer days were over, ana the waving fields of grain 
 Rolled their golden-crested billows o'er prolific hill and plain ; 
 And enamored breezes revelled 'mid the ripened sweets of earth, 
 And wooed the sober Autumn into joyousness and mirth ; 
 Along the gladsome river, and beside the laughing rill. 
 And above the forest, sleeping in its grandeur 'neath the hill. 
 Fell a mellow shower of sunlight, while a thousand odors sweet 
 Sprang up from opening flow'rets, loosed by touch c f fairy feet ; — 
 
 Strayed a maiden in the sunlight, through the forest, 'neath the hill. 
 And along the gladsome river, and beside the laughing rill ; — 
 Strayed a maiden young and beautiful ; so beautiful, I ween, 
 That hourii in their revels might have welcomed her a queen ! 
 ! her step was light and fearless, as she wandered through the grove. 
 And her features were so peerless, and her eye so full of love. 
 That she seemed a spirit-messenger, to mortals only given 
 As a prototype of beings who are made to people Heaven ! 
 
150 MIRTHARESSA 
 
 Peerless, faithful Mirthakessa, from the morning's early gray, • 
 
 'Till, in golden vestments shrouded, sank to rest the weary day, 
 Did she watch the winding pathway, — mute and tearless did she yearn 
 To catch tlie coming footsteps of the absent one's return ! 
 Peerless, faithful Mirthakessa ! peerless in her spirit's might, 
 Which hoped on through the weary day, and midst the sleepless night — 
 Faithful to a voice which whispered — whispered but to her alone. 
 Coming joys, which echoed ever to the joyous moments flown ! 
 
 Where a mighty oak was towering, like a giant forest king. 
 Near a rock where gushed the waters of a murmuring crystal spring. 
 Came the Maiden Mirtharessa, and the breezes lent their breath 
 To mingle with her warblings in a melody of death ! 
 Never more in life she wandered through the forest 'neath the hill, 
 And her eye no more was beaming, and her voice for aye was still ; 
 For a strange and mystic power bore her spirit from its throne- 
 No voice had answered to her dream — a dream of him alone ! 
 
 n. 
 
 When midnight's ebon shadows o'er the wide cerulean crept. 
 And the silvery moon in sadness from her queenly circuit swept. 
 And the trembling stars looked tearful in their mystic depths profound, 
 And the startled breezes quavered with a lowly mournful sound ; 
 Through the drear and silent arches of an autumn forest, where 
 It bends in lowly grandeur o'er the crystal Delaware ; 
 — Not crystal there^ for fearfully its black and silent way 
 Steals on, while arching branches hide each faint and struggling ray- 
 Through these arches grim and silent, where the wolf unsleeping 
 
 prowled, 
 And unnumbered ghostly phantoms at unnumbered phantoms scowled, 
 By the pale and wanful glimmer of unearthly tapers' light. 
 Gliding — ^flickering slowly onward — o'er the murky plain of night, 
 
M I R T H A R E S S A . 151 
 
 Came a spirit form all beautiful, with queen-like peerless brow, 
 And ber step was proud but noiseless in its measured pace, and slow ; 
 And her eye shone mild and tearful, in the wan and sickly glare 
 Of the pale unearthly tapers, as they glimmered round her there. 
 
 Like the visions of a dreamer — like the poet's wild ideal. 
 That floods the bursting brain with thoughts and images unreal — 
 Came the form of Mirtharessa ! — in the midnight watches there 
 Came the form of Mirtharessa, spirit beautiful and fair — 
 Where a gnarled and dying trunklet, lightning-blasted — tempest- 
 riven — 
 That in its ruin courted still the clouded dome of heaven, 
 Stood in grim-like desolation in the silent murky night — 
 Came the form of Mirtharessa, by unearthly taper's light ! 
 
 While the yellow Autumn lingers o'er the forest and the hill. 
 Along the gladsome river, and beside the laughing rill ; 
 When the curtains of the midnight steal athwart the even's gleam. 
 And the Moon is veiled in sadness, and the Stars all tearful seem ; 
 Through the arches grim and silent, by unearthly taper's light. 
 Moves this Spirit form of beauty through the watches of 
 
 THE night; — 
 In life did Mirtharessa struggle on against despair ; 
 In death she resteth never ^ hoping still to meet him there ! 
 
 Philadelphia, May^ 1851 
 
152 THEWEDDING 
 
 Hi arts, so lately mingled, seem 
 
 Like broken clouds — or like the stream 
 
 That smiling left the mountain's brow, 
 
 As though its waters ne'er could sever, 
 
 Yet, ere it reach the plain below. 
 
 Breaks into floods that part forever. — Lalla Bookh. 
 
 There was a splendid wedding at St. George's, Hanover 
 Square. All the " pride, pomp, and circumstance" of 
 aristocratic life seemed brought together to grace the occa- 
 sion ; and well worthy of all the homage that rank and 
 wealth could pay was the reigning divinity of the day. So 
 fine, so noble, were the face and figure of the bride, — so 
 proudly serene did she appear under the consciousness of 
 the lasting happiness which that day secured to her, that 
 the most careless eye could not but follow her with admira- 
 tion. As she moved along the aisle and down the steps 
 with a stately, measured tread, her dreamy orbs gazed down 
 the long, bright, flowery vista which opened to her mental 
 view, and she saw not the gaping crowds that noted her 
 with such prying curiosity. Gaze on, fair bride ! enjoy thy 
 brilUant day-dream while thou mayst ; — a hideous spectre 
 is about to start ud from amidst the roses, and wither them 
 forever ! 
 
THEWEDDING. 158 
 
 She is in the carriage ; her husband takes his place beside 
 her, a triumphant smile curling his mustachioed lip. The 
 word is given, and away start the mettlesome steeds, as 
 though conscious of their honored freight. But then there 
 was a sudden pulling up, and a wild cry of affright from all 
 the spectators. And there was within the carriage a sensa- 
 tion of the fore wheel passing over some dull object and 
 back again, and then forward again, as the spirited horses 
 reared and plunged. But vigorous and practised hands 
 seized and held them still, and in a few seconds a squalid 
 and ragged woman was dragged from between the wheels, 
 still convulsively holding an infant to her breast. The 
 countenance of this poor creature bore traces of great 
 beauty, though prematurely withered by sorrow and priva- 
 tion, and now sharpened by agony, for it was over her leg 
 that the wheel had passed three times. As they raised her 
 she looked eagerly into the carriage, and her features 
 wreathed into a smile of awful meaning as her eyes met 
 those of the bridegroom. 
 
 " Oh, heaven !" exclaimed the pallid bride, " what a 
 terrific accident to happen on this day!" But then she 
 caught that smile of mysterious import, ^nd turning to her 
 husband for its interpretation, she beheld him cowering 
 down, his face hidden in his hands, and looking as though 
 he would willingly creep beneath the cushions to hide his 
 shame and guilt. 
 
 Under some circumstances, that which a long train of 
 calm argument would fail to prove to the unwilling senses 
 is thrust upon the mind with all the force of a primal 
 
164 THE WEDDING 
 
 truth. So it was with the unhappy lady, — she dared not 
 indulge the luxury of a doubt; her edifice of joy which 
 seemed so strong was based upon a quicksand. Her whole 
 soul, however, was one tissue of lofty and generous feeling. 
 She leaned forward, so as to hide the renegade from the 
 eyes of the crowd, and giving her purse to one of her foot- 
 men, she said, in a firm voice, " Take this — see her to an 
 hospital, and let her child be placed with some suitable per- 
 son. I will be answerable for every expense. See that 
 she has every comfort." 
 
 " My days are numbered I think, lady," said the 
 wounded woman, raising herself on the stretcher which had 
 been brought already, "I'm sure my days are numbered, 
 but the child " 
 
 " Rest perfectly satisfied," returned the broken-hearted 
 bride, " / will never abandon it. It shall never know 
 want. Now drive on.'* 
 
 She leaned back, exhausted by her own feelings. As 
 the carriage moved on, her husband sat upright, glancing 
 at times uneasily towards her. 
 
 " Do not fear reproaches, my lord," said she ; " they 
 would be useless now, and I shall not indulge in them. I 
 am your wife, and, as in duty bound, I shall endeavor to 
 conceal your crime " 
 
 " Crime !" he repeated, in a tone of virtuous indignation; 
 " why, surely, Leonora, you would not stigmatise a little 
 peccadillo as a crime ; whj^, the world does not blame " 
 
 " Stay, stay, my lord," she interrupted, bitterly, " I 
 cannot suppose that you would have me take for my rule of 
 
THEWEDDING. 166 
 
 morals the code prevalent among your club-houses. Make 
 no attempt to justify yourself, and I will say nothing of the 
 pinnacle of trusting happiness from which I have been so 
 rudely dashed." 
 
 " Indeed, my dearest love, it is very shocking that this 
 accident should have happened to-day ; but you cannot 
 imagine that I knew to what destitution that unfortunate 
 woman was reduced " 
 
 " Unfortunate woman !" she interrupted, with kindling 
 cheeks ; how came she to be unfortunate 1 What was she 
 when you first saw her 1 Not the squalid thing she is 
 to-day ; it requires little judgment to be sure of that. And 
 that child, too ; from whence may it date its misfortunes, 
 if not from the commencement of the existence with which 
 you have cursed it 1" 
 
 " But you don't suppose the child " 
 
 " I suppose nothing, sir ; I speak only of that which I am 
 sure of. That poor creature was no common hireling, or 
 her beauty would have saved her from starvation. I entreat 
 you once again, my lord," she added, her eyes flashing with 
 suppressed anger, " not to endeavor to justify yourself by 
 throwing the burden of your guilt upon innocent shoulders. 
 God knows I have already enough to make me wretched, 
 without being compelled to add epithets to grace my hus- 
 band on our wedding-day. If you please, we will both be 
 silent on this subject henceforward." 
 
 He signified his acquiescence by an inclination of the 
 head, and not a word was uttered during the remainder of 
 the drive. 
 
1'66 T H E W E D D I N G 
 
 At breakfast, where only about a hundred of the most 
 intimate friends of the two families were present, the acci- 
 dent which had happened as they left the church was 
 quickly known, and the altered appearance of the bride was 
 attributed to the consequent nervous agitation ; for the 
 bridegroom, as may be easily believed, did not volunteer to 
 enhghten them. 
 
 If the forsaken victims of man's perfidy were always 
 
 thus to make a Juggernaut's car of his wedding equipage, 
 
 how often would the noblest and purest of our high-born 
 
 maidens find that they had placed their stainless hands in 
 
 those of miscreants whose betters often occupy the felon's 
 
 ceU! 
 
 M. A. B. 
 
 ! 'tis the penalty we pay, 
 
 In this frail world of ours, 
 
 To find that hues which soonest fade 
 
 Are born of sweetest flowers ! 
 
 The brightest clouds an ardent eye 
 
 With rapture gazes on. 
 
 Are only seen in evening sky,— 
 
 We look — and they are gone ! 
 
APOLOGY "MO THE LADIES. 157 
 
 lAISHi"! ISllAlf AMlfflS¥ W 
 
 Agreeably to the tenets of our order, the fair sex are 
 excluded from associating with us in our mystic profession ; 
 not because they are deemed unworthy of the secret, " nor 
 because the mechanical tools of the craft are too ponderous 
 for them to wield," but from a consciousness of our own 
 weakness. Should they be permitted to enter the lodge, 
 love would oftentimes enter with them, jealousy would pro- 
 bably rankle in the hearts of the brethren, and fraternal 
 affection be perverted into rivalship. Although the most 
 amiable and lovely part of nature's works are excluded 
 from our meetings, yet our order protects them from the 
 attacks of vicious and unprincipled men. It forbids us to 
 sacrifice the ease and peace of families for a momentary 
 gratification ; and it forbids us to undermine and take away 
 that transcendent happiness from those whose hearts are 
 united by the bond of sincere affection. 
 
 The feelings of women are more exquisitely fine, and 
 their generous sympathy is more easily awakened, by the 
 misfortunes of their fellow-creatures, than the stronger sex. 
 The soft tear of pity bedews their cheeks at the tale of wo, 
 and their gentle bosoms heave with tender emotions at the 
 
168 SPIRITUAL APPRENTICE S SONG. 
 
 sight of human wretchedness. They require not the adven- 
 titious aid of mystic institutions to urge them to acts of 
 charity and benevolence, nor the use of symbols to lead 
 them to virtue. Their own hearts are the lodges in which 
 virtue presides ; and the dictates of her will is their only 
 incentive to action. 
 
 2311 8]?imiI2WAS A®]?ailSI61'S §M®. 
 
 There is a world — the world of mind — 
 By neither time nor space confined ; 
 And when we cease in flesh to dwell, 
 That world will be our heaven or hell. 
 By fallen nature, 'tis, alas ! 
 A rude, chaotic, shapeless mass ; 
 Devoid of goodness, truth, or light. 
 And veiled in blackest shades of night. 
 
 But He who gave creation birth 
 
 Can re-create this mental earth ; 
 
 For this His Spirit, like a dove, 
 
 Broods o'er our secret thoughts in love. 
 
 If we consent to be renewed, 
 
 And wish our evil lusts subdued, 
 
 " Let there he light," He says, and straight 
 
 We see our low disordered state. 
 
 Then do we seek to know the Lord, 
 Keceive instruction from his word ; 
 While He divides the day from night. 
 And we proceed from shade to light. 
 Lord ! let thy Spirit, like a dove, 
 Brood over all our souls in love ; 
 Then give us light, our state to see. 
 And we will give the praise to The© 
 
JOSHUA. 159 
 
 ffiSMWik- • 
 
 And Joshua wrote these words in the book of the law of 
 God, and took a great stone, and set it up there under an 
 oak, that was by the sanctuary of the Lord. And Joshua 
 said unto all the people, " Behold, this stone shall be a wit- 
 ness unto us ; for it hath heard all the words of the Lord 
 which he spake unto us : it shall be, therefore, a witness 
 unto you, lest ye deny your God." 
 
 The stone which the builders refused is become the head- 
 stone of the corner. 
 
 Therefore, thus saith the Lord God, " Behold I lay in 
 Zion, for a foundation, a stone, a tried stone, a precious 
 corner-stone, a sure foundation. He that believeth shall 
 not make haste." 
 
 A new heart also will I give you ; and a new spirit will 
 I put within you : and I will take away the stony heart out 
 of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh. 
 
 Then he brought me back by the way of the gate of the 
 outward sanctuary which looketh toward the east, and it 
 was shut. 
 
 It is for the prince ; the prince, he shall sit in it to eat 
 bread before the Lord ; he shall enter by the way of the 
 porch of that gate, and shall go out by the way of the same. 
 
 And the Lord said unto me, " Son of man, mark well, 
 and behold with thine eyes, and hear with thine ears aU 
 
160 JOSHUA 
 
 that I say unto thee, concerning all the ordinances of the 
 house of the Lord, and all the laws thereof; and mark 
 well the entering in of the house, with every going forth of 
 the sanj^uary." 
 
 And did ye never read in the scriptures, " The stone 
 which the builders rejected, the same is become the head of 
 the corner 1 This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous 
 in our eyes." 
 
 And have ye not read this scripture, " The stone which 
 the builders rejected is become the head of the corner ?" 
 
 This is the stone which was set at nought of you builders, 
 which is become the head of the corner. 
 
 And he beheld them, and said, " What is this then that 
 is written, ' The stone which the builders rejected, the 
 same is become the head of the corner?' " 
 
 He that hath an ear, let him hear : To him that over- 
 cometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will 
 give him a white stojie, and in the stone a new name 
 written, which no man knoweth, saving he that receiveth it. 
 
 The lohite stone, and in the stone a new name written, 
 indicates two ancient customs, to either of which this might 
 allude ; the one is that which was observed by judges, in 
 giving their suffrages by white and black pebbles ; those 
 who gave the former were for absolving the culprit- those 
 who gave the latter were for his condemnation 
 
AN OLD MANUSCRIPT. 161 
 
 AS BM MAirirsiEaiigs. 
 
 [The two following articles we have found in manuscript, bound up in a volume 
 nearly one hundred years old. We copy them -verbatim et literatum. — Ed.] 
 
 THE PORTRAITURE OR CHARACTER OF A TRUE 
 FREE MASON. 
 
 He is to contemplate the Precepts of Religion and Phi- 
 losophy — His moral Conduct is to be correspondent to the 
 most exalted Sentiments of Virtue — By the Aid of the 
 Torch of Truth, which enlightens his Steps, he is to be 
 prudent in all his Actions, temperate in all his Pleasures ; 
 his Fidehty is to be inviolable, and his justice incorruptible 
 — He is to admire Virtue in his Brethren, believe them his 
 Equals because they are Men, share their Pains, partici- 
 pate their Ills and lend a beneficent Hand in Time of 
 Want, to conceal no Impostures in the intricate Mazes of a 
 false Heart, to speak ingenuously, and to act with Candour, 
 Goodness and Afiability seated on his Brow ; to despise all 
 affected Disdain the Offspring of Pride, that would mark 
 out Distinctions among Mankind, to be ready to forgive 
 Injuries, without offending any, to cherish Goodness, and 
 detest nought but Vice ; to be simple in his Manners, easy 
 
162 AN OLD MANUSCRIPT. 
 
 in his Behaviour, aifable in Society, a faithful Subject and 
 a constant Friend, knowing how to temper the Austerity of 
 Wisdom, with chaste Voluptuousness. 
 
 A MASONIC HYMN. 
 Hail, sacred Masonry ! great Source of human Happi- 
 ness and Perfection. Thou art the Power of pleasing 
 Society — Thou makest us to sit down with Kings and 
 Princes — Thou exaltest him that is low, and abasest him 
 that is high. O Continue to animate us thy faithful Chil- 
 dren, with that glorious Ambition which of old inspired thy 
 Votaries, when they reared thy Trophies to the Clouds — 
 Thou peaceful Goddess ! lived with Astraea in the Golden 
 Age of Mankind — let not the Contempt of the Prophane 
 induce thee likewise, to abandon a World unworthy of thy 
 inestimable Mysteries — If we forget thee Masonry ! let 
 our right Hands forget their Cunning — If we do not remem- 
 ber thee, let our Tongues cleave to the Roof of our Mouth ; 
 if we prefer not Masonry above our chief Joy — O thou 
 mysterious Divinity of the Square and Compass ! whether 
 thou delightest in the holy Lodge of St. John, or that of 
 Kilwinnin be thy peculiar Care, thou art worshipped in a 
 Thousand Temples, the W^ork of thy faithful Builders — 
 Thy Kingdom extendeth from the orient Sun, to where he 
 sets in the immense Atlantic — In the Infancy of Time thou 
 arose and coeval with Time shalt thou endure — Hail 
 sacred Masonry ! great Source of human Happiness and 
 Perfection. 
 
 B. Hilton. 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 183 
 
 IN SEVERAL CHARGES, DELIVERED IN REGULAR LODGES, 
 ON VARIOUS OCCASIONS. 
 
 A CHARGE, 
 
 Delivered on the occasion of a Meeting of Freemasons for the 
 Distribution of Charity. 
 
 BY THOMAS DUNCKERLY. 
 
 Brethren : It is with the greatest satisfaction I meet 
 you here in the cause of charity. Charity is the basis of 
 our Order. Lodges are now held on every part of this 
 globe, and charities are collected and sent to the respective 
 grand lodge of each kingdom or state. There the distressed 
 brethren apply and find relief ; nor is any exception made 
 :o difference of country or religion. 
 
 For, as in the sight of God we are all equally his chil- 
 dren, having the same common parent and preserver, so we, 
 in like manner, look on every Freemason as our brother ; 
 nor regard where he was born or educated, provided he is a 
 good man, an honest man, which is " the noblest work of 
 God." 
 
 A laudable custom prevailed among our ancient brethren ; 
 after they had sent their donations to the general charities, 
 
164 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 they considered the distresses of those in particular that 
 resided in their respective neighborhoods, and assisted them 
 with such a sum as could be conveniently spared from the 
 lodge. In humble imitation of this Masonic principle, I 
 recommend the present charity to your consideration ; to 
 which you readily and unanimously consent. The sum is, 
 indeed, but small ; yet, I hope, as the widow's mite was 
 acceptable, this act of ours will be considered, not with 
 respect to the sum, but the principles by which we are 
 influenced. 
 
 I have told you in the lodge, and I repeat it now, that 
 Brotherly Love, Relief and Truth, are the grand principles 
 of Masonry, and as the principal part of the company are 
 unacquainted with the original intention of this society, it 
 may be proper for their information, and your instruction, 
 that I explain those principles by which it is our duty in 
 particular to be actuated. 
 
 By brotherly love we are to understand that generous 
 principle of the soul, which respects the human species as 
 one family, created by an all- wise Being, and placed on this 
 globe for the mutual assistance of each other. It is this 
 attractive principle or power that draws men together and 
 unites them in bodies politic, famiUes, societies, and the 
 various orders and denominations among men. But as 
 most of these are partial, contracted, or confined to a par- 
 ticular country, religion, or opinion, our Order, on the 
 contrary, is calculated to unite mankind as one family; 
 high and low, rich and poor, one with another ; to adore the 
 same God, and observe his law. Every worthy member of 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 166 
 
 this society is free to visit every lodge in the world ; and 
 though he knows not the language of the country, yet by 
 a silent universal language of our own, he will gain admit- 
 tance, and find that true friendship which flows from the 
 brotherly love I am now describing. 
 
 At that peaceable and harmonious meeting he will hear 
 no disputes concerning religion or politics ; no swearing ; 
 no obscene, immoral, or ludicrous discourse ; no other con- 
 tention but who can work best, who can agree best. 
 
 To subdue our passions, and improve in useful scientific 
 knowledge ; to instruct the younger brethren, and initiate 
 the unenlightened, are principal duties in the lodge. Let 
 me travel from east to west, or between north and south, 
 when I meet a true brother I shall find a friend, who will 
 do all in his power to serve me, without having the least 
 view of self-interest. And if I am p®or and in distress, he 
 will relieve me to the utmost of his power, interest and 
 capacity. This is the second grand principle : for relief 
 will follow where there is brotherly love. 
 
 I have already mentioned our general charities as they 
 are at present conducted ; it remains now that I consider 
 particular donations given from private lodges, either to 
 those that are not Masons or to a brother in distress. And 
 first, with respect to a charity like this befcire us ; perhaps 
 it is better to be distributed in small sums, that more may 
 receive the benefit, than to give it in larger sums, which 
 would confine it to few. 
 
 With regard to a brother in distress, who should happen 
 to apply to this lodge, or any particular member, for relief, 
 
166 MASJNIC COUNSEL. 
 
 it is necessary that I inform you in what* manner you are to 
 receive Mm. And here I cannot help regretting, that such 
 is the depravity of the human heart, there is no rehgion or 
 society free from bad professors, or unworthy members, for 
 as it is impossible for us to read the heart of man, the best- 
 regulated societies may be imposed on by the insinuations 
 of the artful, and hypocrisy of the abandoned. It should, 
 therefore, by no means lessen the dignity and excellency of 
 the royal craft, because it is our misfortune to have bad 
 men among us, any more than the purity and holiness of 
 the Christian religion should be doubted because too many 
 of the wicked and profligate approach the holy altar. 
 
 Since, therefore, these things are so, be careful, whenever 
 a brother applies for relief, to examine strictly whether he 
 is worthy of acceptance ; inquire the cause of his misfor- 
 tunes,' and if you are satisfied they are not the result of 
 vice or extravagance, relieve him with such a sum as the 
 lodge shall think proper, and assist him with your interest 
 and recommendation, that he may be employed according to 
 his capacity, and not eat the bread of idleness. This will 
 be acting consistent with Truth, which is the third grand 
 principle of Masonry. 
 
 Truth is a divine attribute, and the foundation of all 
 Masonic virtues. To be good men and true, is part of the 
 first great lesson we are taught ; and, at the commence- 
 ment, we are exhorted to be fervent and zealous in the 
 practice of truth and goodness. It is not suflficient that 
 we walk in the light, unless we do the truth. All hypocrisy 
 and deceit must be banished from us. Sincerity and plain 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 167 
 
 dealing complete the harmony of the brethren, within and 
 witliout the lodge ; and will render us acceptable in the 
 sight of that great Being, unto whom all hearts are open, 
 all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid. 
 There is a charm in truth that draws and attracts the mind 
 continually towards it ; the more we discover, the more we 
 desire, and the great reward is wisdom, virtue and happi- 
 ness. This is an edifice founded upon a rock, which malice 
 cannot shake, or time destroy. What a secret satisfaction 
 do we enjoy, when, in searching for truth, we find the first 
 principles of useful science, still preserved among us, as we 
 received them by oral tradition from the earUest ages ; and 
 we also find this truth corroborated by the testimonies of 
 the best and greatest men the world has produced. But 
 this is not all ; the sacred writings confirm what I assert, 
 the sublime part of our ancient mystery being there to be 
 found ; nor can any Christian brother be a good Mason 
 that does not make the word of God his first and principal 
 study. 
 
 I sincerely congratulate you on the happy establishment 
 of this lodge. Let wisdom direct you to contrive for the 
 best. Strengthen the cause of Masonry, by mutual friend- 
 ship, which is the companion and support of fraternal love, 
 and which will never sufier any misunderstanding to inflame 
 a brother, or cause him to behave unbecoming a member of 
 our peaceable and harmonious society. Let us then resolve 
 to beautify and adorn our Order, by discharging the duties 
 of our respective stations, as good citizens, good parents, 
 good husbands, good masters, and dutiful children ; for b^ 
 
168 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 SO doing, we shall put to silence the reproaches of foolish 
 men. As you know these things, brethren, happy are ye 
 if ye do them. 
 
 Let us consider these poor persons as our brothers and 
 sisters, and be thankful to Almighty God, that he has been 
 pleased to make us his instruments of affording them this 
 small relief ; most humbly supplicating the Grand Archi- 
 tect of the Universe, from whom all holy desires, all good 
 counsels, and all just works do proceed, to bless our under- 
 taking, and grant that we may continue to add some little 
 comfort to the poor. 
 
 Next to the Deity, whom can I so properly address 
 myself to, as the most beautiful part of the creation ? 
 
 You have heard, ladies^ our grand principles explained, 
 with the instructions given to the brethren, and I doubt not 
 but at other times you have heard many disrespectful things 
 said of this society. Envy, malice and all uncharitableness 
 will never be at a loss to decry, find fault, and raise objec- 
 tions to what they do not know. How great then are the 
 obligations you lay on this lodge ! With what superior 
 esteem, respect, and regard, are we to look on every lady 
 present that has done us the honor of her company this 
 evening. To • have the sanction of the fair is our highest 
 ambition, as our greatest care will be to preserve it. The 
 virtues of humanity are peculiar to your sex ; and we flatter 
 ourselves, the most splendid ball could not afford you greater 
 pleasure, than to see the human heart made happy, and the 
 poor and distressed obtain present relief. 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 A CHAHaE, 
 Delivered on the Feast of St. John the Baptist, AX'. 1765. 
 
 BY JOHN WHIT MASH. 
 
 Worthy Brethren : Providence having placed me in 
 such a sphere in life, as to afford me but little time for 
 speculation, I cannot pretend to have made mankind my 
 particular study ; yet this I have observed, that curiosity 
 is one of the most prevailing passions in the human breast. 
 The mind of man is kept in a perpetual thirst after knowl- 
 edge, nor can he bear to be ignorant of what he thinks 
 others know. Anything secret or new immediately excites 
 an uneasy sensation, and becomes the proper fuel of curi- 
 osity, which will be found stronger or weaker in proportion 
 to the time and opportunities that individuals have for 
 indulging it. It is observable further, that when this 
 passion is excited, and not instantly gratified, instead of 
 waiting for better intelligence, and using the proper means 
 of removing the darkness that envelops the object of it, we 
 precipitately form ideas which are generally in the extremes. 
 If the object promotes pleasure or advantage, we then load 
 it with commendations ; if it appears in the opposite view, 
 or if we are ignorant of it, we then absurdly, as well as 
 disingenuously, condemn, and pretend, at least, to despise 
 it. This, my brethren, has been the fate of the most valu- 
 able institution in the world, Christianity excepted: I 
 mean Freemasonry. Those who are acquainted with the 
 
170 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 nature and design of it, cannot, if they have good heartS; 
 but admire and espouse it ; and if those who are in the 
 dark, or whose minds are disposed to evil, should slight or 
 speak disrespectfully of it, it certainly is no disgrace. 
 When order shall produce confusion, when harmony shall 
 give rise to discord, and proportion shall be the source of 
 irregularity, then, and not till then, will Freemasonry be 
 unworthy the patronage of the great, the wise, and good. 
 
 To love as brethren, to be ready to communicate, to 
 •speak truth one to another, are the dictates of reason and 
 revelation; and you know that they are hkewise the 
 foundation, the constituent parts of Freemasonry. 
 
 None, therefore, who believe the divine origmal of the 
 sacred volume, and are influenced by a spirit of humanity, 
 friendship, and benevolence, can with the least propriety 
 object to our ancient and venerable institution. * 
 
 For my own part, ever since I have had the honor to be 
 enrolled in the list of Masons, as I knew it was my duty, so 
 I have made it my business to become acquainted with the 
 principles on which our glorious superstructure is founded. 
 And, like the miner, the further I have advanced the richer 
 has been my discovery ; and the treasure constantly open- 
 ing to my view has proved a full and satisfactory reward 
 of all my labors. 
 
 Every association of men, as well as this of Freemasons, 
 must, for the sake of order and harmony, be regulated by 
 certain laws, and for that purpose proper officers must be 
 appointed, and empowered to carry those laws into execu- 
 tion, to preserve a degree of uniformity, at least to restrain 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 171 
 
 any irregularity that might render such associations incon- 
 sistent. For we may as reasonably suppose an* army may 
 be duly disciplined, well provided, and properly conducted, 
 without generals or other officers, as that a society can be 
 supported without governors and their subalterns, or with- 
 out some form of government to answer the end of the insti- 
 tution. And as such an arrangement must be revered, it 
 becomes a necessary pre-requisite that a temper should be 
 discovered in the several members adapted to the respective 
 stations they are to fill. 
 
 This thought will suggest to you, that those who are 
 qualified to preside as officers in a, lodge will not be elated 
 with that honor, but, losing sight of it, will have only in 
 view the service their office demands. Their reproofs will 
 be dictated by friendship, softened by candor, and enforced 
 with mildness and afiection ; in the whole of their deport- 
 ment they will preserve a degree of dignity tempered with 
 affability and ease. This conduct, while it endears them 
 to others, will not fail to raise their own reputation, and as 
 envy should not be so much as once named among Free- 
 masons, it will effectually prevent the growth of it, should 
 it unfortunately ever appear. 
 
 Such is the nature of our constitution, that as some must 
 of necessity rule and teach, so others must of course learn 
 to obey ; humility, therefore, in both becomes an essential 
 duty, for pride and ambition, like a worm at the root of a 
 tree, will prey on the vitals of our peace, harmony, and 
 brotherly love. 
 
 Had not this excellent temper prevailed, when the foun- 
 
172 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 dation of Solomon's temple was first laid, it is easy to see 
 that glorious edifice would never have rose to a height of 
 splendor which astonished the world. 
 
 Had all employed in this work been masters, or superin- 
 tendants, who must have prepared the timber in the forest, 
 or hewn the stone in the quarry 1 Yet though they were 
 numbered and classed under different denominations, as 
 princes, rulers, provosts, comforters of the people, stone- 
 quarers, sculptors, &c., such was their unanimity, that they 
 seemed actuated by one spirit, influenced by one principle. 
 
 Merit alone then entitled to preferment ; an indisputable 
 instance of which we have in the Deputy Grand Master of 
 that great undertaking, who, without either wealth or 
 power, without any other distinction, than that of being the 
 widow's son, was appointed by the Grand Master and 
 approved by the people for this single reason, because he 
 was a skilful artificer. 
 
 Let these considerations, my worthy brethren, animate 
 us in the pursuits of so noble a science, that we may all be 
 qualified to fill, in rotation, the most distinguished places in 
 the lodge, and keep the honors of the craft (which are the 
 just rewards of our labor) in a regular circulation. 
 
 And as none are less qualified to govern than those who 
 have not learnt to obey, permit me in the warmest manner 
 to recommend to you all a constant attendance at the lodge, 
 a due obedience to the laws of our institution, and a respect- 
 ful submission to the directions of your officers, that you 
 may prove to mankind the propriety of your election, and 
 secure the establishment of this society to latest posterity. 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 178 
 
 ANADDRESS; H 
 
 On the Festival of St. John the Evangelist; A.D. 1768. 
 
 BY J. S. GAUDRY. 
 
 Worthy Brethren : Would every brother consider the 
 advantages he derives, as a man, by being a Freemason, 
 he would readily confess, that the glorious precepts incul- 
 cated in all regular lodges are calculated in the most 
 especial manner to fashion the mind to goodness. In them 
 it is strongly recommended to us to cultivate our several 
 duties to God, our neighbor, and ourselves. To have faith 
 in God, hope in salvation, and charity for all mankind ; 
 and yet it must be confessed there are some, who have been 
 initiated Masons, and who, to their eternal shame, not only 
 disregard our excellent documents, but to all appearance 
 are little inclined to regulate their conduct by them, any 
 longer than they are constrained to do it in a lodge ; 
 when, alas ! the qualifications of a good Mason would deco- 
 rate the crown of the greatest monarch. 
 
 As the rules of this fraternity have a direct tendency to 
 promote moral and social virtue, let us carefully banish 
 from our breasts every inclination and avoid every practice 
 that might obstruct this noble intention, ever being disposed 
 to humane and friendly offices, and particularly to relieve 
 the distresses of indigent brethren. The royal Psalmist 
 Bays, in raptures, " The blessing of him that was ready to 
 perish came upon me, and I caused the widow's heart to 
 
Z74 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 sing for joy." May we therefore rejoice in every oppor- 
 tunity of serving and obliging each other, for in such exer- 
 cise we answer one principal end of our institution. 
 
 It is, and should be, the glory of every member of a lodge, 
 that our well-regulated conduct engages us the esteem of 
 every brother who does us the honor of a visit. We ought 
 never to be wanting in a cheerful performance of those 
 duties which are so conducive to the establishing that good 
 name which we have endeavored to merit. 
 
 For this laudable purpose let me observe that a due 
 attendance at the lodge becomes absolutely requisite. For 
 by frequently assembling together, we shall harmonize in 
 sentiments and grow in affection ; and thus become suffici- 
 ently guarded against the disagreeable effects naturally 
 resulting from a roughness of behavior, a contemptuous car- 
 riage, a censorious disposition, or a contradicting temper, 
 and unity, peace, and pleasure will presif"?. These will be 
 the happy effects of a due attendance on the lodge, and how 
 far that is the duty as well as the interest of every member, 
 regularly admitted, his own heart can sufficiently tell him ; 
 his engagements on his initiation were not so insignificant as 
 to be readily forgot, and w^hen duly considered, will, I hope, 
 appear too important to be trifled with, for the Great 
 Architect of the Universe is our Supreme Grand Master, 
 and he is a searcher of hearts. 
 
 In the next place permit me, worthy brethren, to remind 
 you of that veneration and obedience which is due to the 
 particular officers in the lodge in their respective stations. 
 You well know that the internal, and not the external quail- 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 176 
 
 • 
 
 fications of a man are what Masonry regards, when ho is 
 admitted a member. Let us then be careful to justify our- 
 selves by a behavior, to superiors, submissive ; to equals, 
 courteous and affable ; to inferiors, kind and condescending. 
 
 Masonry is the daughter of Heaven, the patroness of the 
 liberal arts and sciences, which polish and adorn human 
 nature. Thankful ought they to be who have it in their 
 power to embrace her, and happy are those who do. She 
 teaches the way to content, with fervency and zeal unfeigned, 
 as sure of being unchangeable as of ending in felicity. 
 
 Invested as we are with that ancient and noble badge, 
 which yields preference to no honor or order in the universe, 
 let us determine to abhor every act that may lessen the 
 dignity of our profession, which to this hour is the glory of 
 the greatest men on the face of the globe. Let us conform 
 our whole lives to that great light, the Law of God, and let 
 our actions convince the world that Truth, Brotherly liOve, 
 and a desire to afford relief to the distressed, are the grand 
 principles whereon we proceed. So that this life having 
 passed in the discharge of our duties, as men and Free- 
 masons, we may at length be received into the presence of 
 our Supreme Grand Master, and rejoice in hearing him say, 
 " Well done, ye good and faithful servants, enter ye into 
 the joy of your Lord." 
 
176 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 A BRIEF GHARaE, 
 
 Delivered to a Brother, on his being invested and installed 
 Right Worshipful M^^t«r of a Lodge. 
 
 BY WELLINS CALCOTT. 
 
 Right Worshipful Sir : By the unanimous voice of 
 the members of this lodge, you are elected to the Master- 
 ship thereof for the ensuin*^ half year ; and I have the 
 happiness of being deputed to invest you with this ensign of 
 your oflfice. Be it ever in your thoughts, that the ancients 
 particularly held this symbol to be a just, a striking emblem 
 of the Divinity. They said, " The gods, who are the 
 authors of everything established in wisdom, strength, and 
 beauty, were properly represented by this figure." May 
 you, worthy brother, not only consider it as a mark of 
 honor in this assembly, but also, let it ever remind you of 
 your duty both to God and man. And as you profess the 
 sacred volume to be your spiritual tressel board, may you 
 make it your particular care to square your life and conver- 
 sation according to the rules and designs laid down therein. 
 
 What you have seen praiseworthy in others, we doubt 
 not you will imitate ; and what you have seen defective, you 
 will in yourself amend. 
 
 We have the greatest reason to expect you will be con- 
 stant and regular in your attendance on the lodge, faith- 
 ful and diligent in the discharge of your duty. And that 
 you will make the honor of the Supreme Architect of the 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 177 
 
 universe and the good of the craft chief objects of your 
 regard. 
 
 We trust you will pay a punctual attention to the laws 
 and regulations of this society, as more particularly becom- 
 ing your present station ; and that you will at the same 
 time require a due obedience to them from every other 
 member, well knowing that without this the bet,! of laws 
 become useless. 
 
 For a pattern of imitation, consider the great luminary 
 of nature, which, rising in the east, regularly diffuses light 
 and lustre to all within its circle. In like manner it is 
 your province, with due decorum, to spread and communi- 
 cate light and instruction to the brethren in the lodge. 
 
 AN ADDRESS. 
 
 BY WELLINS CALCOTT. 
 
 Worthy Brethren : I flatter myself there is no Mason 
 of my acquaintance insensible of the sincere regard I ever 
 had, and hope ever to retain, for our venerable institution ; 
 certain I am, if this establishment should ever be held in 
 little esteem by the members, it must be owing to the want 
 of a due sense of the excellence of its principles, and the 
 salutary laws and social duties on which it is founded. 
 
 But sometimes mere curiosity, views of self-interest, or a 
 groundless presumption that the principal business of a 
 lodge is mirth and entertainment, have induced men of loose 
 principles and discordant tempers to procure admission into 
 
(78 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 our community ; this, together with an unpardonable inat- 
 tention of those who proposed them to their lives and con- 
 versations, have constantly occasioned great discredit and 
 uneasiness to the craft, such persons being no ways qualified 
 for a society founded upon wisdom, and cemented by 
 morality and Christian love. 
 
 Therefore let it be your peculiar care to pay strict atten- 
 tion to the merit and character of those who, from among 
 the circle of j'our acquaintance, may be desirous of becom- 
 ing members of our society, lest through your inadvertency 
 the unworthy part of mankind should find means to intro- 
 duce themselves among you, whereby you will discourage 
 the reputable and worthy. 
 
 Self-love is a reigning principle in all men ; and there is 
 not a more efiectual method of ingratiating ourselves with 
 each other, than by mutual complaisance and respect ; by 
 agreement with each other in judgment and practice. This 
 makes society pleasing, and friendship durable ; which can 
 never be the case when men's principles and dispositions 
 are opposite, and not adapted for unity. We must be 
 moved by the same passions, governed by the same inclina- 
 tions, and moulded by the same morals, before we can 
 please or be pleased in society. No community or place 
 can make a man happy who is not furnished with a temper 
 of mind to relish felicity. The wise and royal Grand 
 Master, Solomon, tells us, and experience confirms it, that 
 " the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is to behold the 
 sun." Yet for this pleasure we are wholly indebted to that 
 astonishing piece of heavenly workmanship, the eye, and the 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 179 
 
 several organs of sight. Let the eye be distempered, and 
 all objects, which though they remain the same in them- 
 selves, to us lose their beauty and lustre ; let the eye be 
 totally destroyed, then the sense which depends upon it is 
 lost also, and the whole body is full of darkness. So it is 
 with that Mason who has not a frame and temper of mind 
 adapted to our institution, without which the blended allure- 
 ments of pleasure and instruction, to be found in a lodge, 
 must become tasteless, and of none effect. Likewise let his 
 conduct and circumstances in life be such as may not have 
 the least tendency to diminish the credit of the society. 
 And be ye ever disposed to honor good men for their virtues, 
 and wise men for their knowledge : good men for propaga- 
 ting virtue and religion all over the world, and wise men for 
 encouraging arts and sciences, and diffusing them from east 
 to west, and between north and south, rejecting all who are 
 not of good repute, sound morals, ana competent under- 
 standings. Hence you will derive honor and happiness to 
 yourselves, and drink deeply of those streams of felicity 
 which the unenlightened never can be indulged with a taste 
 of. 
 
 For by these means excess and irregularity must be 
 strangers within your walls. On sobriety your pleasure 
 depends — on regularity your reputation, and not your repu- 
 tation only, but the reputation of the whole body. 
 
 These general cautions, if duly attended to, will continu- 
 ally evince your wisdom by their effects ; for I can with 
 confiden3e aver, from experience, that nothing more con- 
 tributes to the dissolution of a lodge than too great a num- 
 
180 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 ber of members indiscriminately made, want of regulation 
 in their expenses, and keeping unseasonable hours. 
 
 To guard against this fatal consequence we shall do well 
 to cultivate the following virtues, viz. : prudence, temper- 
 ance, and frugality. Virtues which are the best and 
 properest supports of every community. 
 
 Prudence is the queen and guide of all other virtues, the 
 ornament of our actions, the square and rule of our affairs. 
 It is the knowledge and choice of those things we must 
 either approve or reject ; and implies to consult and deliber- 
 ate well, to judge and resolve well, to conduct and execute 
 well. 
 
 Temperance consists in the government of our appetites 
 and affections, so as to use the good things of this life as 
 not to abuse them, either by a sordid and ungrateful parsi- 
 mony on the one hand, or a profuse and prodigal indulgence 
 to excess on the other. This virtue has many powerful 
 arguments in its favor ;• for, as we value our health, wealth, 
 reputation, family, and friends, our character, as men, as 
 Christians, as members of society in general, and as Free- 
 masons in particular, all conspire to call on us for the 
 exercise of this virtue : in short, it . comprehends a strict 
 observance of the apostle's exhortation, " Be ye temperate 
 in all things ;" not only avoiding what is in itself improper, 
 but also whatever has the least or most remote appearance 
 of impropriety, that the tongue of the slanderer may be 
 struck dumb, and malevolence disarmed of its sting. 
 
 Frugality, the natural associate of prudence and temper- 
 ance, is what the meanest station necessarily calls for, the 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. l81 
 
 most exalted cannot dispense with. It is absolutely requi- 
 site in all stations. It is highly necessary to the supporting 
 every desirable character, to the establishment of every 
 society, to the interest of every individual in the com- 
 munity. It is a moral, it is a Christian virtue. It 
 implies the strict observation of decorum in the seasons of 
 relaxation, and of every enjoyment, and is that temper of 
 mind which is disposed to employ every acquisition only to 
 the glory of the giver, our own happiness, and that of our 
 fellow-creatures. 
 
 Prudence will discover the absurdity and folly of expect- 
 ing true harmony without due attention to the choice of our 
 members. Temperance will check every appearance of 
 excess, and fix rational limitations to our hours of enjoy- 
 ment ; and frugality will proscribe extravagance, and keep 
 our expenses within proper bounds. 
 
 The Lacedemonians had a law among them, that every 
 one 'should serve the gods with as little expense as he could, 
 herein differing from all other Grecians ; and Lycurgus 
 being asked for what reason he made this institution so 
 disagreeable to the sentiments of all other men, answered, 
 " Lest at any time the service of the gods should be inter- 
 mitted ; for he feared, if religion should be as expensive 
 there as in other pairts of Greece, it might some time or 
 other happen that the divine worship, out of the covetous- 
 ness of some, and the poverty of others, would be neglected." 
 This observation will hold equally good with respect to 
 Masons, and will, I hope, by them be properly applied. 
 
 I would not be understood here to mean, that because 
 
182 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 these three moral virtues are particularly pointed out, as 
 essentially necessary to the good discipline and support of a 
 lodge, nothing more is required ; for social must be united 
 with moral excellencies ; was a man to be merely prudent, 
 temperate and fruga", and yet be unaccustomed to the 
 duties of humanity, sincerity, generosity, &c., he would be 
 at most but a useless, if not a worthless member of society, 
 and a much worse Mason. 
 
 In the next place permit me to remind you, that a due 
 attendance on the lodge for your own improvement, and the 
 reputation of Masonry in general, is absolutely necessary ; 
 for your own improvement, because the advantages natur- 
 ally resulting from the practice or principles therein taught 
 are the highest ornament of human nature ; and for the 
 credit of the community, because it is your indispensable 
 duty to support such a character in life as is there enjoined. 
 The prevalency of good example is great, and no language 
 is so expressive as a consistent life and conversation ; these 
 once forfeited in the Masonic character will diminish a man, 
 not only in the esteem of persons of sense, learning, and 
 probity, but even men of inferior qualities will seldom fail 
 of making a proper distinction. 
 
 You are well acquainted that the envious and censorious 
 are ever disposed to form their judgments of mankind 
 according to their conduct in public life ; so when the mem- 
 bers of our society desert their body, or discover any incon- 
 sistency in their practice with their profession, they con- 
 tribute to bring an odium on a profession which it is the 
 duty of every member highly to honor. Indeed, instances 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 183 
 
 of the conduct here decried I own are very rare, and I 
 might say, as often as they do happen, tend still more to 
 discover the malignity of our adversaries than to reflect on 
 ourselves. For with what ill-nature are such suggestions 
 framed ! How weak must it appear in the eye of discern- 
 ment to condem a whole society for the irregularity of a few 
 individuals ! 
 
 But to return to my argument ; one great cause of 
 absenting ourselves from the lodge I apprehend to be this : 
 The want of that grand fundamental principle, Brotherly 
 Love ! Did we properly cultivate this Christian virtue, we 
 should think ourselves happiest when assembled together. 
 On unity in affection, unity in government subsists ; for 
 whatever draws men into societies, it is that only can 
 cement them. 
 
 Let us recollect that Love is the new and greatest com- 
 mandment ; all the others are summarily comprehended in 
 this. It is the fulfilling of the law, and a necessary quahfi- 
 cation for the celestial lodge, where the Supreme Architect 
 of the universe presides, who is Love. Faith, Hope, and 
 Charity are three principal graces, by which we must be 
 guided thither, of which Charity, or universal Love, is the 
 chief. When Faith shall be swallowed up in vision, and 
 Hope in enjoyment, then true Charity, or Brotherly Love, 
 will shine with the brightest lustre to all eternity ; 
 
 " Shall stand before the host of heaven confest. 
 For ever blessing, and for ever blest." 
 
 On the other hand, envy, pride, censoriousness, malice, 
 
184 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 revenge, and discord, are the productions of a diabolical 
 disposition. These are epidemical disorders of the mind, 
 and if not seasonably corrected and suppressed, will prove 
 very pernicious to particular communities, and more especi- 
 ally to such an establishment as ours. 
 
 Now there is nothing so diametrically opposite to them, 
 and so powerful an antidote against them as Charity, or 
 true Brotherly Love ; for instance, are we tempted to envy, 
 Charity guards the mind against it — Charity envieth not. 
 Are we tempted by pride. Charity vaunteth not itself, is not 
 puffed up. Where this virtue is predominant, humility is 
 both its companion and its delight ; for the charitable man 
 puts on bowels of mercy, kindness, lowliness of mind. It 
 is a certain remedy likewise against all censor iousness. 
 Charity thinketh no evil, but believeth all things, hopeth all 
 things, will ever incline us to believe and hope the best, 
 especially of a Brother. 
 
 Therefore let a constant exercise of this Christian virtue, 
 so essential to our present and future happiness, prove our 
 great esteem for it, and by its influence upon our lives and 
 actions, testify to the world the cultivation of it amongst us, 
 that they who think or speak evil of us may be thereby 
 confounded and put to open shame. And as it was a pro- 
 verbial expression among the enemies of Christianity in its 
 infancy, " See how these Christians love one another," 
 may the same with equal propriety be said of Freemasons. 
 This will convince the scoffer and slanderer that we are kvers 
 of Him who said, " If ye love me, keep my commandments ; 
 and, this is my commandment, that ye love one another, as 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 185 
 
 I haye loved you." This will prove to our enemies that a 
 good Mason is a good man and a good Christian, and afford 
 ourselves the greatest comfjrt here by giving us a well- 
 grounded hope of admittance into a lodge of everlasting 
 felicity hereafter. Thus shall our institution be enabled to 
 repel the destructive power of time, the strongest arm of 
 calumny, and the severest strokes of reproach, till that great 
 and important day when the commissioned archangel shall 
 pronounce this awful sentence, — 
 
 ** Earth, be dissolved, with all the worlds on high. 
 And time be lost in vast eternity." 
 
 A OHAHaE; 
 Delivered to the Members of the Union Lodge. 
 
 BY ALEXANDER SHEDDEN. 
 
 My Worthy Brethren : This being our second quar- 
 terly meeting since I had the honor to sit in this chair, I 
 embrace the opportunity again to return you my sincere 
 thanks for that honor, and to assure you I am determined, 
 to the utmost of my power, to execute the great trust which 
 you continue to repose in me, with freedom, fervency and 
 zeal. That I may be enabled so to do, let us unanimously 
 concur in cultivating peace, harmony, and perfect friend- 
 ship, striving who shall excel in Brotherly Love and benig- 
 nity ; then I doubt not, but with the assistance of my 
 
186 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 brother officers, I may be enabled to conduct the business 
 of the lodge, and discharge my duty to your satisfaction. 
 
 To accomplish these desirable ends, let me, in the first 
 place, intreat your strict attention to our by-laws, ever 
 keeping in view the general regulations, constitution, and 
 orders of our ancient and honorable society. Let due 
 regard be paid to youi officers in their respective stations, 
 whose duty it is to regulate the proceedings of the lodge, and 
 to carry the laws into execution ; and may the only conten- 
 tion amongst us be, a laudable emulation in cultivating the 
 royal art, and endeavoring to excel each other in whatever 
 is good and great. The moral and social duties of life we 
 should make a principal subject of contemplation, for there- 
 by we shall be enabled to subdue our passions, and cultivate 
 fraternal affection, the glory and cement of this institution, 
 laying aside all malice, and all guile and hypocrisies, and 
 envies, and all evil speakings ; manifesting our love one to 
 another, for " Love is of God ; and he that loveth God, 
 loveth his brother also. And he that saith he is in the 
 light, and hateth his brother, is in darkness until now." 
 
 Suffer not to be heard within the sacred walls of this 
 lodge but the heavenly sounds of truth, peace and concord, 
 with a cheerful harmony of social and innocent mirth ; and 
 "be ye like-minded, having the same love, being of one 
 accord and of one mind ; let nothing be done through strife 
 or vainglory, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem other 
 better than themselves." Never give cause for it to be 
 said, that we who are solemnly connected by the strictest 
 laws of amity should ever omit the practice of forbearance, 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 187 
 
 and allow our passions to control us, when one great end 
 proposed by our meeting here is to subdue them. Let us 
 not sit down contented with the name only of a Mason, but 
 walk worthy of that glorious profession, in constant con- 
 formity to its duties. To become brethren worthy of our 
 most ancient and honorable institution, we must devote our- 
 selves to the study and discharge of the following duties, 
 which are more or less within the reach of every capacity 
 viz. : a knowledge of the mysterious problems, hieroglyph- 
 ics, and symbolical customs and ceremonies of the royal 
 art, together with the origin, nature, and design of the insti- 
 tution, its signs, tokens, &c., whereby Masons are univer- 
 sally known to and can converse with each other, though 
 born and bred in different countries and languages. 
 
 A Freemason must likewise be a good njan, one who duly 
 fears, loves, and serves his heavenly Master, and in imi- 
 tation of the operative mason, who erects a temporal build- 
 ing according to the rules and designs laid down for him, by 
 the master mason, on his tressel-board, raise a spiritual 
 building, according to the laws and injunctions laid down by 
 the supreme Architect of the universe in the book of life, 
 which may justly be considered in this light as a spiritual 
 tressel-board. He must honor the government, be subordi- 
 nate to his superiors, and ever ready to promote the deserv- 
 ing brother in all his lawful employments and concerns. 
 These, my brethren, are qualifications of a good Mason, 
 wherefore they merit our peculiar attention ; and, as it is 
 our duty, we should make it our pleasure to practice them ; 
 by so doing we shall let our light shine before men, and 
 
188 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 prove ourselves worthy members of that institution which 
 ennobles all who conform to its most glorious precepts. 
 
 Finally, let me advise you to be very circumspect and 
 well guarded against the base attempts of pretenders, 
 always setting a watch before your mouth. And with 
 respect to any who may call themselves Masons, but (pos- 
 sessing refractory spirits) are at the same time enemies to 
 all order, decency, and decorum, speaking and acting as 
 rebels to the constitution of Masons, let me exhort you to 
 have no connection with them, but according to the advice 
 of St. Paul to the Thessalonians, " withdraw yourselves 
 from every brother that walketh disorderly," leaving such 
 to the natural consequence of their own bad conduct ; being 
 well assured that the vain fabric which they mean to erect, 
 having no other support than their own ignorance, debility, 
 and deformity, will of itself soon tumble to the ground, with 
 shame and ruin on the builders' heads. On the other 
 hand, let us live in strict amity and fraternal love with all 
 just and upright brethren, that we may say, with the royal 
 Psalmist, " Behold how good and how pleasant it is for 
 brethren to dwell together in unity." 
 
 Let God's holy word be the guide of our faith, and 
 justice, charity, love and mercy, our characteristics ; then 
 we may reasonably hope to attain the celestial pass word, 
 and gain admittance into the lodge of our Supreme Grand 
 Master, where pleasures flow for evermore. This is the 
 fervent prayer of him who glories in the name of a faithful 
 Mason, and has the honor to be Master of this Right 
 Worshipful Lodge. 
 
MA SONIC COUNSEL 
 
 AN ADDRESS. 
 by rev. henry chalmers. 
 
 Right Worshipful Master and worthy Brethren: 
 A desire to entertain each other with social, virtuous, and 
 cheerful sentiments, is the duty as well as the happiness of 
 every member of our ancient and honorable society. 
 
 Knowledge (which is attained by diligence) must precede 
 practice, and till we know a duty, it is impossible for us to 
 discharge it. The lodge is the properest school wherein we 
 can expect to arrive at any proficiency in our noble science, 
 and by a constant md regular attendance there, we may 
 hope to become Masters of the royal art ; whereas the 
 neglect of this duty can produce nought but ignorance and 
 error. Indeed, were these the only consequences of a wil- 
 ful or indolent absence, the craft might not suffer much by 
 such lukewarm brethren ; but I am sorry to say this is not 
 all ; the eye of the censurer is ever upon us, and the lips 
 of the stammerer speak plainly against us ; and when the 
 members of our society desert the body, the unenlightened 
 are ever ready to impeach the harmony and improvement 
 which we profess and know to be the inseparable com- 
 panions of every well-regulated lodge, where virtue finds a 
 real pleasure, and vice a just abhorrence. 
 
 Let us, therefore, be ever vigilant in the discharge of our 
 duty, and particularly assiduous in cultivating those grand 
 essentials of our constitution, Brotherly Love, Beneficence, 
 
190 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 and Truth. Thus we shall be always happy in assembling 
 together. Thus will our lodge shine with undiminished 
 lustre, even as long as the radiant sun shall rise in the east 
 to gild our days, and the pale moon appear to illuminate 
 our nights. Thus supported by Wisdom, Strength, and 
 Beauty ; adorned with peace, plenty, and harmony ; cement- 
 ed by secrecy, morality, and good-fellowship, what has it 
 to fear ? Let the tides of time and chance beat against its 
 walls ; the gusts of malice assault its towering height ; it is 
 all in vain ! Still shall the noble structure firmly stand, 
 and only be dissolved when the pillars of the universe shall 
 be shaken, and " the great globe itself, yea, all which it 
 inherit, shall, like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not 
 a wreck behind." 
 
 AN ADDRESS 
 
 Delivered in a Lodge of Free and Accepted Masons, immediately 
 after the Expulsion of a Member who had been repeatedly, but 
 in vain, admonished for the illiberal practice of backbiting and 
 slandering his Brethren.* 
 
 Brethren : As in all numerous bodies and societies of 
 men, some unworthy will ever be found, it can be no wonder 
 that, notwithstanding the excellent principles and valuable 
 
 * This admirable Address should be printed in " letter, of gold." If it could be 
 impressed in words of fire on the hearts and consciences of men— whether 
 Masons or not— it might, perhaps, bui-n out the damnable tongue of slander. May 
 God blast that tongue ! — v. d. 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 191 
 
 precepts laid down and inculcated by our venerable insti- 
 tution, we have such amongst us ; men who, instead of 
 being ornaments or useful members of our body, I am 
 sorry to say, are a shame and disgrace to it. 
 
 These are sufficiently characterized by a natural pro 
 pensity to backbite and slander their brethren, vices truly 
 detestable in all men, and more peculiarly so in Free- 
 masons, who, by the regulations of their institution, are 
 specially exhorted and enjoined " to speak as well of a 
 brother if absent as present ; to defend his honor and repu- 
 tation wherever attacked, as far as truth and justice will 
 permit ; and where they cannot reasonably vindicate him, 
 at least to refrain from contributing to condemn him." 
 
 But alas ! regardless of their duty in general, and of these 
 laudable injunctions in particular, we frequently find such 
 men assiduously employed in traducing the characters of 
 their brethren ; and instead of rejoicing at their good for- 
 tune, pitying their misfortunes, and apologizing for their 
 weaknesses and errors, envying their prosperity, and, unaf- 
 fected by their adversity, with a secret and malicious plea- 
 sure, exploring and publishing their defects and failings ; 
 like trading vessels they pass from place to place, receiving 
 and discharging whatever calumny they can procure from 
 others or invent themselves. 
 
 As we have just now had a mortifying instance of the 
 necessary consequence of such base conduct, in the expul- 
 sion of one of our own members, permit me to deliver to you 
 some sentiments of the great Archbishop Tillottson on the 
 subject. He assigns various causes of this evil, and also 
 
192 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 furnishes directions, which if adhered to, will greatly con- 
 tribute to prevent and remedy it. 
 
 " If we consider the causes of this evil practice, we shall 
 find one of the most common is ill-nature; and by a gen- 
 eral mistake, ill-nature passeth for wit, as cunning doth for 
 wisdom ; though in truth they are as different as vice and 
 virtue. 
 
 " There is no greater evidence of the bad temper of man- 
 kind, than their proneness to evil-speaking. 'For as our 
 Saviour saith, ' Out of the abundance of the heart the 
 mouth speaketh,' and therefore we commonly incline to the 
 censorious and uncharitable side. 
 
 " The good spoken of others we easily forget, or seldom 
 mention, but the evil lies uppermost in our memories, and 
 is ready to be published upon all occasions ; nay, what is 
 more ill-natured and unjust, though many times we do not 
 believe it ourselves, we tell it to others, and venture it to be 
 believed according to the charity of those to whom it is told. 
 
 " Another cause of the frequency of this vice is, that 
 many are so bad themselves. For to think and speak ill 
 of others is not only a bad thing, but a sign of a bad man. 
 When men are bad themselves they are glad of any oppor- 
 tunity to censure others, and endeavor to bring things to a 
 level, hoping it will be some justification of their own faults 
 if they can but make others appear equally guilty. 
 
 " A third cause of evil-speaking is malice and revenge. 
 When we are blinded by our passions we do not consider 
 what is true, but what is mischievous ; we care not whether 
 the evil we speak be true or not ; nay, many aie so base as 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 198 
 
 to invent and raise false reports, on purpose to blast the 
 reputations of those by whom they think themselves injured. 
 This is a diabolical temper ; and therefore St. James tells 
 us, that the slanderer's tongue is set on fire of hell. 
 
 " A fourth cause of this vice is envy. Men look with an 
 evil eye upon the good that is in others, and do what they 
 can to discredit their commendable qualities ; thinking their 
 own characters lessened by them, they greedily entertain, 
 and industriously publish, what may raise themselves upon 
 the ruins of other men's reputation. 
 
 " A fifth cause of evil- speaking is iriipertinence and curi- 
 osity ; an itch of talking of affairs which do not concern us. 
 Some love to mingle themselves in all business, and are loth 
 to seem ignorant of such important news as the faults and 
 follies of men ; therefore with great care they pick up ill 
 stories to entertain the next company they meet, not per- 
 haps out of malice, but for want of something better to talk 
 of. 
 
 " Lastly, many do this out of wantonness and for diver- 
 sion ; so little do they consider a man's reputation is too 
 great and tender a concern to be jested with, and that a 
 slanderous tongue bites like a serpent, and cuts like a 
 sword. What can be so barbaious, next to sporting with a 
 man's life, as to play with his honor and good name, which 
 to some is better than life V 
 
 Such, and so bad, are the causes of this vice. 
 
 " If we consider its pernicious effects, we shall find that 
 to such as are slandered it is a great injury, commonly a 
 high provocation, but always matter of grief. 
 
194 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 " It is certainly a great injury, and if the evil which wo 
 say of them be not true, it is an injury beyond repara- 
 tion. It is an injury that descends to a man's children ; 
 because the good or ill name of the father is derived down 
 to them ; and many times the best thing he has to leave them 
 is an unblemished virtue. And do we make no conscience 
 to rob his innocent children of the best part of this small 
 patrimony, and of all the kindness that would have been 
 done them for their father's sake, if his reputation had not 
 been so undeservedly stained? Is it no crime by the 
 breath of our mouth at once to blast a man's reputation, 
 and to ruin his children perhaps to all posterity 1 Can we 
 jest with so serious a matter 1 an injury so very hard to 
 be repented of as it ought ? because, in such a case, no 
 repentance will be acceptable without restitution, if in our 
 power. 
 
 *' Even suppose the matter of the slander true, yet no 
 man's reputation is considerably stained, though never so 
 deservedly, without great hurt to him ; and it is odds but 
 the charge, by passing through several hands, is aggravated 
 beyond truth, every one being apt to add something to it. 
 
 " Besides the injury, it is commonly a high provocation, 
 the consequences of which may be dangerous and desperate 
 quarrels. One way or other the injured person will hear 
 of it, and will take the first opportunity to revenge it. 
 
 " At best, it is always matter of grief to the person that 
 is defamed, and Christianity, which is the best-natured 
 institution in the world, forbids us to do those things where- 
 by we may grieve one another." 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 195 
 
 A man's character is a tender thing, and a wound there 
 sinks deep into the spirit even of a wise and a good man ; 
 and the more innocent any man is in this respect, the more 
 sensible he is of this uncharitable treatment ; because he 
 never treats others so, nor is he conscious to himself that 
 he hath deserved it. 
 
 " To ourselves the consequences of this vice are as bad or 
 worse. He that accustoms himself to speak evil of others, 
 gives a bad character to himself, even to those whom he 
 desires to please, who, if they be wise, will conclude that 
 he speaks of them to others as he does of others to them. 
 
 " And this practice of evil-speaking may be inconvenient 
 many other ways. For who knows, in the chance of things, 
 and the mutabiUty of human affairs, whose kindness he may 
 stand in need of before he dies ? So, that did a man only 
 consult his own safety and quiet, he ought to refrain from 
 evil-speaking. 
 
 " How cheap a kindness is it to speak well, at least not 
 ■to speak ill of others ! A good word is an easy obligation, 
 but not to speak ill requires only our silence. Some 
 instances of charity are chargeable ; but were a man ever 
 so covetous, he might afford another his good word ; at least 
 he might refrain from speaking ill of him, especially if it 
 be considered how dear many have paid for a slanderous 
 and reproachful word. 
 
 " No quality ordinarily recommends one more to the 
 favor of men, than to be free from this vice. Such a man's 
 friendship every one desires ; and, next to piety and 
 righteousness, nothing is thought a greater commendation 
 
196 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 than that he was never, or very rarely, heard to speak ill 
 of any. 
 
 " Let every man lay his hand upon his heart, and con- 
 sider how himself is apt to be affected with this usage. 
 Nothing sure is more equal and reasonable than that known 
 rule. What thou wouldst have no man do to thee, that do 
 thou to no man. 
 
 " The following directions, if duly observed, will greatly 
 contribute to the prevention and cure of this great evil. 
 
 " Never say any evil of another but what you certainly 
 know. 
 
 " Whenever you positively accuse a man of any crime, 
 though it be in private and among friends, speak as if you 
 were upon your oath, because God sees and hears you. 
 This not only charity but justice demands of us. He that 
 easily credits a false report is almost as culpable as the 
 first inventor of it. Therefore never speak evil of any upon 
 common fame, which for the most part is false, but almost 
 always uncertain. 
 
 " Before you speak evil of another, consider whether he 
 hath not obliged you by some real kindness, and then it is a 
 bad turn to speak ill of him who hath done you good. Con- 
 sider, also, whether you may not come hereafter to be 
 acquainted with him, related to him, or in want of his favor, 
 whom you have thus injured ? And whether it may not be 
 in his power to revenge a spiteful and needless word by a 
 shrewd turn. So that if a man made no conscience of hurt- 
 ing others, yet he should in prudence have some considera- 
 tion of himself. 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL 
 
 19^ 
 
 " Let us accustom ourselves to be truly sorry for the 
 faults of men, and then we shall take no pleasure in 
 publishing them. Common humanity requires this of us, 
 considering the great infirmities of our nature, and that 
 we also are liable to be tempted ; considering likewise how 
 severe a punishment every crime is to itself, how terribly 
 it exposeth a man to the wrath of God, both here and here- 
 after. 
 
 " Whenever we hear any man evil spoken of, if we have 
 heard any good of him, let us say that. It is always more 
 humane and more honorable to vindicate others than to 
 accuse them. Were it necessary that a man should be evil 
 spoken of, his good and bad quahties should be represented 
 together, otherwise he may be strangely misrepresented, 
 and an indifferent man may be made a monster. 
 
 " They that will observe nothing in a wise man but his 
 oversights and follies, nothing in a good, but his failings 
 and infirmities, may render both despicable. Should we 
 heap together all the passionate speeches, all the imprudent 
 actions of the best man, and present them all at one view, 
 concealing his virtues, he, in this disguise, would look like 
 a madman or fury ; and yet, if his life were fairly repre- 
 sented in the manner it was led, he would appear to all the 
 world to be an admirable and excellent person. But how 
 numerous soever any man's ill qualities are, it is but just 
 that he should have due praise of his few real virtues. 
 
 " That you may not speak ill, do not delight in hearing 
 it of any. Give no countenance to busy-bodies ; if you 
 cannot decently reprove them, because of their quality, 
 
198 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 divert the discourse some other way ; or by seeming not to 
 mind it, signify that you do not like it. 
 
 " Let every man mind his own duty and concern. Do 
 but endeavor, in good earnest, to mend yourself, and it will 
 be work enough, and leave you little time to talk of others." 
 
 In the foregoing sentiments, the Backbiter and Slanderer 
 may see himself fully represented as in a true mirror ; and 
 detestable as the spectacle naturally appears, much more so 
 does it seem when Masonically examined. May all such 
 therefore contemplate the nature and consequences of this 
 abominable vice; and that they may still become worthy 
 men and Masons, let them constantly pray, with the royal 
 Psalmist, " Set a watch, Lord, before my mouth, keep 
 thou the door of my lips ;" being assured of their encour- 
 agement, that " he who backbiteth not with his tongue, 
 nor doeth evil to his neighbor, nor taketh up a reproach 
 against his neighbor, shall abide in the tabernacle of the 
 Lord, and shall dwell in his holy hill." 
 
 A CHARG-E TO NEWLY-ADMITTED BRETHREN. 
 
 You are now admitted, by the unanimous consent of our 
 lodge, a fellow of our most ancient and honorable society ; 
 ancient, as having subsisted from time immemorial, and 
 honorable, as tending in every particular to render a man 
 80, that will be but conformable to its glorious precepts. 
 The greatest monarchs in all ages, as well of Asia and 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 190 
 
 Africa as of Europe, have been encouragers of the royal 
 art, and many of them have presided as Grand Masters 
 over the Masons in their respective dominions ; not think- 
 ing it any diminution of their imperial dignities to level 
 themselves with their brethren in Masonry, and to act as 
 they did. The world's great Architect is our Supreme 
 Master, and the unerring rule he b*is given us is that by 
 which we work. Religious disputes are never suffered in 
 the lodge, for, as Freemasons, we only pursue the universal 
 religion of nature. This is the cement which unites men 
 of the most different principles in one sacred band, and 
 brings together those who were the most distant from one 
 another. 
 
 There are three general heads of duty, whic'i Masons 
 ought always to inculcate, viz. : to God, our neighbors, and 
 ourselves. To God, in never mentioning his name but with 
 that reverential awe which becomes a creature to bear to 
 his Creator ; and to look upon him always as the summum 
 honum which we came into the world to enjoy. And 
 according to that view to regulate all our pursuits. To our 
 neighbors, in acting upon the square, or doing as we would 
 be done by. To ourselves, in avoiding all intemperances 
 and excesses, whereby we may be led into a behavior 
 unbecoming our laudable profession. 
 
 In the state, a Mason is to act as a peaceable and duti- 
 ful subject, conforming cheerfully to the government under 
 which he lives; he is to pay a due deference to his 
 superiors, and from his inferiors he is rather to receive 
 honor with some reluctance than to extort it : he is to be 9, 
 
200 MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 man of benevolence and charity, not sitting down contented 
 while his fellow-creatures (but much more his brethren) are 
 in want, and it is in his power, without prejudicing himself 
 or family, to relieve them. In the lodge he is to behave with 
 all due decorum, lest the beauty and harmony thereof 
 should be disturbed and broke. He is to be obedient to the 
 Master and presiding oflScers, and to apply himself closely 
 to the business of Masonry, that he may sooner become a 
 proficient therein, both for his own credit and that of the 
 lodge. He is not to neglect his necessary avocations for 
 the sake of Masonry, nor to involve himself in quarrels with 
 those who, through ignorance, may speak evil of, or ridicule 
 it. He is to be a lover of the arts and sciences, and to 
 take all opportunities of improving himself therein. If he 
 recommends a friend to be made a Mason, he must vouch 
 him to be such as he really believes will conform to the 
 aforesaid duties ; lest by his misconduct at any time the 
 lodge should pass under some evil imputations. Nothing 
 can prove more shocking to all faithful Masons than to see 
 any of their brethren profane or break through the sacred 
 rules of their order ; and such as can do it, they wish had 
 never been admitted.* 
 
 * ''.Ve have an impression that this ancient charge wiU be scinewhat familiar to 
 Odrf Fellows.— Ed. 
 
M 
 
 ^' 
 
 4 
 
 'S [K! [^ [^ rr -^Tf . 
 
MASOW-C COUNSEL. 201 
 
 A CIIARG-E AT THE INITIATION OF A FREEMASON. 
 
 BY THOMAS FRENCH. 
 
 Brother : Being now regularly initiated into this society, 
 permit me to ofifer to your serious consideration those virtues 
 that will always distinguish you among men, especially 
 Masons. 
 
 The Holy Scriptures, the standard of truth, and the 
 unerring dictates of an unerring Being, I would recommend 
 as the primary object of your attention. 
 
 Next a general an unlimited regard for men of virtue, 
 honor and integrity, howsoever distinguished by private 
 persuasion ; Masonry wisely removes such distinctions, and 
 by uniting all countries, sects and principles into one 
 inseparable band of affection, conciliates true friendship, 
 and effectuates the noble purpose of making each other 
 happy, and rejoicing in each other's felicity. 
 
 Hence disputes on religion and politics are never suffered 
 to interrupt the friendly intercourse of our regular assem- 
 blies. These are designed to improve the mind, correct the 
 morals, and reform the judgment. 
 
 Your experience in life has no doubt made familiar to 
 you the three great duties of morality ; to God, your 
 neighbor, and yourself ; which I hope your new character, 
 as a Freemason, will still more deeply imprint upon your 
 mind, and render your conduct not only regular and uni- 
 form, but in every other respect agreeable to the dignity of 
 this laudable profession . 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 
 
 As a Mason, you are cheerfully to conform to the govern- 
 ment under which you live ; to consider the interest of the 
 community as your own ; and be ready on all occasions to 
 give proofs of loyalty and affection to your country. 
 
 Benevolence and charity, being the renowned character- 
 istics of Masonry, you are to cherish and promote ; and 
 though you ought ever liberally to contribute to alleviate the 
 miseries of the wretched, yet you are more particularly to 
 extend your pity to a poor brother, whose unhappy circum- 
 stances may oblige him to solicit your friendly assistance ; 
 ever remembering that period of your life when you were 
 introduced into Masonry, ***** on which, if you but for 
 a moment reflect, it cannot fail making you so far benevolent 
 as never to shut your ear unkindly to the complaints of the 
 wretched. But when a poor brother is oppressed by want, 
 you will, in a particular manner, listen to his sufferings with 
 attention, in consequence of which pity will flow from your 
 breast, and relief according to your capacity. 
 
 The solemnity of our ceremonies will ever require from 
 you a serious deportment, and strict attention to the eluci- 
 dating of those emblems and hieroglyphics under which our 
 mysteries are couched. 
 
 And as order and regularity cannot fail to render per- 
 manent the harmony of this lodge, it is expected you will 
 be obedient to the Master and presiding ofiicers, and be 
 particularly careful never to introduce any discourse that 
 may tend to violate your character as a gentleman or a 
 Mason, or to depreciate those virtues that always adorn an 
 honest mind. 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 203 
 
 If, therefore, from among your friends or acquaintance, 
 you should hereafter propose a candidate for our mysteries, 
 I would earnestly recommend that you know him to be 
 worthy ; and never from a pecuniary or ungenerous motive 
 endeavor to introduce any but a m*an of honor and integrity, 
 whose character as well as principle justly entitles him to 
 the privileges of this fraternity. 
 
 To expatiate on the necessity of a close application to the 
 duties of Masonry will, I presume, be needless, as I doubt 
 not but your own experience will soon evince the real value 
 and utility of this science, and the excellency of its pre- 
 cepts. 
 
 I shall therefore conclude this address, in a sure expecta- 
 tion of your implicit obedience to the foregoing circum- 
 stances, as well for your own honor as the credit of this 
 lodge, and that you will cheerfully conform to all those 
 salutary laws which are, and ever have been, the established 
 basis «J)d support of the royal art. 
 
204 MASONIC COUNSEL, 
 
 A PEAYER TO BS USED AT THE ADMISSION OF A 
 BROTHER. 
 
 MOST glorious and -eternal God, who art the Chief 
 Architect of the ^created universe, grant unto us, thy ser- 
 vants, who have already entered ourselves into this most 
 noble, ancient, and honorable fraternity, that we may be 
 solid and thoughtful, and always have a remembrance of 
 those sacred and holy things we have taken on us, and 
 endeavor to instruct and inform each other in secrecy, that 
 nothing may be unlawfully or illegally obtained ; and that 
 this person, who is now to be made a Mason, may be a 
 worthy member ; and may he, and all of us, hve as men, 
 considering the great end for which thy goodness has 
 created us ; and do thou, God, give us wisdom to con- 
 trive in all our doings, strength to support in all difficulties, 
 and beauty to adorn those heavenly mansions where thy 
 honor dwells; and grant, O Lord, that we may agree 
 together in Brotherly Love and Charity one towards 
 another, and in all our deahngs in the world do justice to 
 all men, love mercy, and walk humbly with thee,, our God ; 
 and, at last, may an abundant entrance be administered 
 unto us into thy kingdom, O great Jehovah. Now unto 
 the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be 
 kingdom, power, and glory, for ever and ever. Amen. 
 
MASONIC COUNSEL. 206 
 
 ANOTHER PRAYER. 
 
 Mc ST holy and glorious Lord God, thou Architect of 
 heaven and earth, who art the giver of all good graces, and 
 hath promised that where two or three are gathered 
 together in thy name, thou wilt be in the midst of them ; 
 in thy name we assemble and meet together, most humbly 
 beseeching thee to bless us in all our undertakings, to give 
 us thy Holy Spirit, to enlighten our minds with wisdom and 
 understanding, that we may know and serve thee aright, 
 that all our doings may tend to thy glory and to the salva- 
 tion of our souls : and we beseech thee, Lord God, to 
 bless this our present undertaking, and to grant that this 
 our Brother may dedicate his life to thy service, and be a 
 true and faithful Brother among us : endue him with 
 divine wisdom, that he may, with the secrets of Masonry, 
 be able to unfold the mysteries of Godhness and Christi- 
 anity. Amen. 
 
 A PRAYER AT THE EMPOINTING- OF A BROTHER, 
 Used in the Reign of Edward IV. 
 
 The mighty God and Father of heaven, with the wisdom 
 of his glorious Son, through the goodness of the Holy Ghost, 
 that hath been three persons in one Godhead, be with us at 
 our beginning, give us grace to govern in our living here, 
 that we may come to his bliss that shall never have an 
 end. 
 
406 MASONRY A UNIVERSAL RELIGION 
 
 That Masonry is an universal religion, known to all 
 nations by the same symbols or language, is a common re- 
 mark which many of us have seen exemplified. I have seen 
 the Turk or Algerine known, protected, and escorted through 
 our country as brethren. I have seen the African captive 
 released from prison and maintained at liberty, on his 
 Masonic parole, because he was an entered apprentice only ! 
 I know a sea-captain who was impressed from his vessel, 
 and compelled to defend a fort expected hourly to be at- 
 tacked by storm, in which case he was sure of double ven- 
 geance for fighting against a people with whom the United 
 States were at peace. Aware of hig peril, he tried the 
 efiect of Masonry, until his language was understood by an 
 officer of the garrison, who framed a pretext for taking 
 him from his post, and led him at the dusk of evening to 
 the shore, and left him to escape to his vessel, where he 
 was successfully concealed from daily search till the danger 
 was over. 
 
 I remember, too, the story of two brothers, related by 
 their father. The eldest was a Mason, and master of a 
 vessel. The youngest being about to sail with him, he ad- 
 vised him to be initiated into the arcana of Freemasonry, 
 as useful to him in cases that might oocur while abroad and 
 
MASCNRY A UNIVERSAL RELIGION. 207 
 
 among strangers. The young man, however, declined the 
 matter, as of no consequence. On their passage to the 
 West Indies, they were taken by a French privateer, and 
 their vessel sent into Guadaloupe. Being brought on board 
 the privateer, the eldest endeavored to make himself known 
 as a Mason to the captain, who affected to consider his 
 attempts as intended to excite the crew to mutiny, and put 
 him in irons for his pains, and carried him into port in that 
 condition. On arriving at Guadaloupe, he was thrust into 
 the common filthy prison, among a crowd of felons of all 
 colors and descriptions. "So much," said the younger, 
 " for being a Freemason ! Do you now think I was a fool 
 for not joining your lodge 1 " The next day, however, the 
 elder, by narrowly watching at a little window of the prison, 
 and inquiring by the silent aid of Masonry of the passers- 
 by and spectators, was perceived by a brother ; and in less 
 than an hour taken out of the jail, by order of Victor 
 Hughes, and placed at a hotel on a liberal allowance ; while 
 his young companion remained in confinement upon the 
 scanty and damaged rations of. common prisoners, until 
 released in a short time at the solicitation of his initiated 
 brother. It is hardly necessary to add, that the young 
 man, on his return to Connecticut, took care to be made a 
 Mason before he went to sea again. 
 
 I saw two men in a quarrel — reasor religion, and every 
 other motive was urged in vain : one of the parties, a naval 
 officer from the South, who had challenged his Eastern ad- 
 versary and been refused, was perfectly intoxicated with 
 rage, and struck about him like a fury, until a Masonic 
 
208 MASONRY A UNIVERSAL RELIGION. 
 
 finger from the little object of his vengeance, like the 
 talismanic wand of a magician, or a shock of electricity, 
 hushed him to peace, And soon restored him to friendship. 
 Not then being one of the fraternity myself, I believed 
 Masonry, from its effects, to be a good thing ; and I have 
 since been enabled by experience to say Prohatum est. 
 
 Between the years 1740 and 1750 the Freemasons were 
 subject to great persecutions in Portugal. A jeweller of 
 the name of Moutou was seized and confined in the prison 
 of the Inquisition ; and a friend of his, John Coustos, a 
 native of Switzerland, was also arrested. The fact was, 
 that these two persons were the leading Freemasons in 
 Lisbon, which constituted their crime. Coustos was con- 
 fined in a lonely dungeon, whose horrors were heightened 
 by the complaints, the dismal cries, and hollow groans, of 
 several other prisoners in the adjoining cells. He was fre- 
 quently brought before the inquisitors, who were anxious to 
 extort from him the secrets of Masonry ; but refusing to 
 give any information, he was confined in a still deeper and 
 more horrible dungeon. Finding threats, entreaties, and 
 remonstrances in vain, Coustos was condemned to the tor- 
 tures of the holy office. 
 
 He was, thereupon, conveyed to the torture-room, where 
 no light appeared but what two candles gave . First they 
 put round his neck an iron collar, which was fastened to 
 the scaffold ; they then fixed a ring to each foot ; and this 
 being done, they stretched his limbs with all their might. 
 They next tied two ropes round each arm, and two round 
 each thigh ; which ropes passed under the scaffold, through 
 
MASONRY A UNIVERSAL RELIGION. 209 
 
 holes made for that purpose. These ropes, which were of 
 the size of one's little finger, pierced through his flesh quite 
 to the bone, making the blood gush out at eight different 
 places that were so bound. 
 
 Finding that the tortures above described could not extort 
 any discovery from him, they were so inhuman, six weeks 
 after, as to expose him to another kind of torture, more 
 grievous, if possible, than the former. They made him 
 stretch his arms in such a manner, that the palms of his 
 hands were turned outward ; when by the help of a rope 
 that fastened them together at the wrist, and which they 
 turned by an engine, they drew them nearer to one another 
 behind in such a manner, that the back of each hand 
 touched, and stood exactly parallel one on the other ; where- 
 by both his shoulders were dislocated, and a quantity of 
 blood issued from his mouth. This torture was repeated 
 thrice ; after which he was again sent to his dungeon, and 
 put into the hands of physicians and surgeons, who, in set- 
 ting his bones, put him to exquisite pain. 
 
 In the year 1748, Monsieur Preverot, a gentleman in the 
 navy, was shipwrecked on an island, whose viceroy was a 
 Freemason. In his destitute condition, he presented him- 
 self to the viceroy, and related his misfortunes in a manner 
 which completely proved that he was no impostor. The 
 viceroy made the Masonic signs, which being instantly re- 
 turned by the Frenchman, they recognised and embraced 
 each other as brethren of the same order. The viceroy 
 loaded him with presents, and gave him as much money as 
 was necessary for carrying him into his native country. 
 
210 MASONRY A UNITERSAL RELIGION. 
 
 In the battle of Dettingen, in 1743, one of the king's 
 guards having his horse killed under him, was so entangled 
 among its limbs that he was unable to extricate himself. 
 While he was in this situation, an English dragoon gal- 
 loped up to him, and, with his uplifted sabre, was about to 
 deprive him of life. The French soldier having, with much 
 difficulty, made the signs of Masonry, the dragoon recog- 
 nized him as a brother, and not only saved his life, but freed 
 him from his dangerous situation. 
 
 A Scottish gentleman, in the Prussian service, was taken 
 prisoner at the battle of Lutzen, and was conveyed to 
 Prague, along with four hundred of his companions in arms. 
 As soon as it was known that he was a Mason, he was re- 
 leased from confinement ; he was invited to 'the tables of 
 the most distinguished citizens, and requested to consider 
 himself as a Freemason, and not as a prisoner of war. 
 
 During the American revolution, a citizen on board a 
 privateer was captured by the British, and the whole crew 
 imprisoned at Edinburgh. The following night after their 
 imprisonment a lodge held its communication near the 
 prison. During the time of refreshment, some of the 
 brethren visited the prisoners. This American manifested 
 himself to be a Mason, and was recognized as such. Dur- 
 ing the same evening he was permitted to visit the lodge, 
 and associate with the craft. By the friendly aid of the 
 brethren he was liberated from confinement, had the free- 
 dom of the city, and shortly after was sent back to his 
 country and family. 
 
 A Masonic brother, wlio escaped from Ireland during 
 
MASONRY A UNIVERSAL RELIGON. 211 
 
 their last national difficulties, protected the whole crew 
 from a pirate, by his knowledge of Masonry. 
 
 An American was on board a British vessel on a passage 
 to Europe. The vessel was captured and taken to Brest. 
 This was at the time when Bonaparte was in possession of 
 Egypt. The crew, therefore, was sent to Alexandria, and 
 put into close confinement. A man was seen to pass the 
 street by the prison, wearing a sash of many colors. The 
 American, believing it to be a Masonic badge, wanted 
 nothing but an opportunity to make himself known as a 
 Mason. Soon, however, it happened the same person, 
 wearing the same sash, came to the prison. This person 
 proved to be the principal officer of the city, and recog- 
 nizing the American as a Mason, took him to his own house, 
 paid his passage in the first vessel, gave him sixty crowns, 
 and dismissed him. Who would not wish, for humanity's 
 sake, principles which produce such an effect might be 
 more generally understood 1 
 
 God suffers men to partake of unlimited and eternal hap- 
 piness. Strive to resemble this divine original, by making 
 all mankind as happy as thou canst ; nothing good can be 
 imagined, which ought not to be an object of thy activity. 
 Let effectual and universal benevolence be the plumbline 
 of thy actions. Anticipate the cries of the miserable, or^ 
 at least, do not remain insensible to them. 
 
212 SHIBBOLETH. 
 
 (See Judges xii, 4-6.) 
 
 Then Jephthah gathered together all the men of Gilead, 
 and fought with Ephraim : and the men of Gilead smote 
 Ephraim, because they said, " Ye Gileadites are fugitives 
 of Ephraim among the Ephraimites, and among the Ma- 
 nassites." 
 
 And the Gileadites took the passages of Jordan before 
 the Ephraimites : and it was so, that when those Ephraim- 
 ites which were escaped said, " Let me go over ;" that the 
 men of Gilead said unto him, " Art thou an Ephraimite 1" 
 If he said, "Nay?" 
 
 Then said they unto him, " Say now Shibboleth ;" and 
 he said " Sibboleth :" for he could not frame to pronounce 
 it right. Then they took him and slew him at the pas- 
 sages of Jordan. And there fell at that time of the 
 Ephraimites forty and two thousand. 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 218 
 
 A ROMANCE IN MINIATURE. 
 
 BY JAMES ADAIR. 
 VOLUME I . 
 
 The setting sun of a beautiful summer evening had 
 withdrawn its last golden rays from the western lattices 
 of a small castlleated mansion, whose broken defences, and 
 otherwise dilapidated appearance, told too plainly that the 
 rank of its inhabitants had survived their fortunes; and 
 that, in their case, pride, with its wonted tenacity, was 
 still clinging to certain attributes of greatness which pru- 
 dence would have long since abandoned. And this im- 
 pression was confirmed rather than dissipated, by a glance 
 at those, who, at the moment, occupied its principal apart- 
 ment, '^liese consisted only of one gentleman and lady, 
 and a very aged female domestic ; that is, if we do not 
 choose to extend the limited circle by mentioning two 
 
 * This entertaining and exceedingly well-written Tale has been kindly fur- 
 nished us by an old and valued friend. We do not know that such announcement, 
 on our part, will be of any great interest to the public ; but we make it with Iho 
 hope that our readers may take some pains to become also, in a literary sense at 
 least, acquainted with our friend. A gentlemen with his genius and talents 
 should not be neglected ; and we are sure, that, if he would appear before the 
 public oftener, he would be appreciated in a manner both creditable to that 
 public and pecuniarily profitable to himself. p. p 
 
214 CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 
 
 large and beautiful specimens of the Irish wolf-dog. The 
 gentleman was apparently upwards of fifty^ but still 
 straight and soldier-like; and though his costume was 
 soiled, overworn, and apparently neglected, yet no ojhj 
 could regard him even for a moment, and doubt that he 
 stood in the presence of a gentleman born and bred. The 
 lady appeared to be about seven years younger, and 
 changed and faded though she was, enough still remained 
 to convince the beholder, that, at an earlier period of life, 
 she must have been very beautiful. At present, however, 
 her face was chiefly remarkable for an expression of deep 
 and fixed melancholy, perchance the legacy of wounded 
 pride or deep domestic affliction. 
 
 At some brief remark of her companion's, she turned 
 from the window, whence she had probably been watching 
 the setting sun, and notwithstanding an effort to conceal 
 the circumstance, it became evident that she had been in 
 tears. 
 
 " Weeping again, Kathleen?" exclaimed the gentleman, 
 in a tone of somewhat bitter reproof. " Methinks that 
 even a regard for my feelings, knowing them as you do, 
 might prevent your indulging this unavailing despondency." 
 
 The tears which had been put under momentary restraint 
 now flowed free and copiously. " I am deeply sensible," 
 she replied, " how much I deserve your censure. You, at 
 least, should be exempted from any mortification through 
 my unhappy melancholy — you, who never once gave me 
 cause to shed a tear, unless it were those of admiration and 
 gratitude ; yet, my dear Constantino, yourself will admit 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 216 
 
 that I have had some cause for weeping. And when I 
 remind you (that is, if you can have forgotten it,) that this 
 is the twenty-ninth of June, by a mysterious coincidence 
 at once the anniversary of the most blissful and most 
 sorrowful events in my deeply-checkered existence, you 
 will, I am sure, forgive my present agitation. On this day, 
 twenty-five years ago, and just about this very hour, I gave 
 my hand to the dear object of my young heart's choice, 
 amid the congratulations of powerful friends and the 
 plaudits of faithful and numerous retainers : on the first 
 anniversary of that auspicious event, the first dear pledge 
 of our deep and mutual affection came upon this wicked 
 and inconstant world : and on the self-same, to us, eventful 
 twenty-ninth of June, her seventeenth birth-day, did — 
 did—" 
 
 " Did that most wretched and unfortunate offspring fly a 
 rebellious and ungrateful fugitive from her father's roof; 
 and on the same fatal anniversary has she returned to ask 
 forgiveness — and to die /" 
 
 The latter portion of the foregoing detail was supplied 
 by an apparition whose appearance, even among more 
 indifferent spectators, must have been peculiarly affecting. 
 It was a female still young and beautiful, though much 
 wasted and travel-worn, who, with hair loose and dishev- 
 elled, eyes streaming and upturned, and dragging by the 
 hand a fair but terrified boy of about six years old, now 
 rushed into the apartment, and flung herself at the lady's 
 feet. 
 
 " Mother ! mother !" she continued, passionately clasping 
 
216 CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 
 
 the knees of her before whom she had prostrated herself, 
 *' have I then indeed lived to hear again that beloved voice, 
 or is it but a dream, like those that used to mock my 
 frenzy in the far and pestilential lands !" 
 
 The appeal of the distracted suppliant was not made in 
 vain. The joy as well as the forgiveness of the heart- 
 broken mother was fully and unequivocally expressed in 
 the simple but eloquent, and oft-repeated exclamation — 
 " My beloved child !" 
 
 The reconciliation, however, was still solely confined to 
 the mother and the daughter, as the sterner father had not 
 as yet either changed his position or spoken a single word ; 
 and the child, so soon as he had been released from the hold 
 of his mother, retreated towards the door, and assuming his 
 full height, witnessed the entire scene with an expression 
 of countenance which told plainly enough that he, at least, 
 was not a willing intruder : and this line of conduct on his 
 part exercised, in all probability, a more powerful effect on 
 the feelings of his haughty relative than even the distracted 
 repentance of an unfortunate daughter ; as, after surveying 
 him a moment, he told him to come forward, and not to be 
 afraid. 
 
 " I am not afraid," said the noble boy, proudly, " but I 
 want my mother to come away." 
 
 " It is now too late, my poor child, to journey farther : 
 come forward and tell me your name." 
 
 " Father ! dear father !" interposed the wretched peni 
 tent, hastily disengaging herself from the tenacious 
 embraces of her mother, and casting herself at the feet of 
 
CONSTANTINE TiLBOT. 217 
 
 him whom she addressed, " do not ask him his name, for I 
 dare not suffer him to tell it. He was born and baptized in 
 a foreign land — and I never thought he would see your 
 face — and you know how dearly I always loved you — and 
 in short, I could not help it — and I never wish — " 
 
 " She named the child after its father," interrupted the 
 mother. " It was at least natural — " 
 
 " No, no, mother ! — not after its father, but after my 
 own ! And, my dear parents, you need not shrink from 
 him under the impression that there was dishonor on his 
 birth. Your daughter might be weak^ but not infamous. 
 She left her father^ s house ^ a lawfully wedded wife.^^ 
 
 This only was wanting to render the joyful surprise com- 
 plete. The lost one had not only been found, but with her 
 had returned the honor of a proud though decayed house. 
 Never was the fatted calf more cheerfully sacrificed, nor 
 ever did a few wasted retainers more heartily respond to 
 the feudal summons that bade them rejoice and make merry 
 with their lord. 
 
 The story of the wanderer was soon told, though it 
 differed essentially from that of the thousands who, listening 
 to the importunities of passion and the protestations of the 
 stranger, rush from the sanctuary of the parental roof, 
 without the parental consent, or the parental blessing. 
 Though she had, with the characteristic waywardness of 
 her years and sex, given her heart to the Saxon stranger, 
 the avowed enemy of her kindred and of her country, yet 
 did her history lack the usual staple, of love cloyed by pos- 
 session, and of a change of deportment accompanying a 
 
218 CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 
 
 change of place. On the contrary, so far as a clandestine 
 connexion could be so designated, theirs throughout had 
 been a pecuharly honorable one. They had been married 
 by a clergyman of her own communion some time before 
 their elopement, and the vows then pronounced and 
 registered appeared to have been faithfully and cheerfully 
 observed. And their premature dissolution, by the sudden 
 and violent death of one of the parties, had been humbly, 
 and perhaps justly, attributed by the bereaved survivor, to 
 her own heartless abandonment of those to whom she not 
 only owed her existence, but an incalculable amount of the 
 most gcvierous indulgence and the most devoted love. 
 
 Immediately after the death of her husband she had 
 given birth to a daughter ; but on her own unexpected 
 recovery from a dreadful and protracted illness which 
 succeeded that event, she learned that the little innocent 
 had gone to a better world. 
 
 Her husband, like herself, had been an outcast from his 
 family, and for the self-same cause ; and being, therefore, 
 solely dependant on the limited emolument of a subaltern's 
 commission, had, of course, died poor. His widow, how- 
 ever, had been prudent ; and after defraying the expenses 
 of her long illness, had still means sufficient to procure a 
 passage for herself and child to her native country. 
 
 The narrative, of which the foregoing is an outline, 
 occupied some hours in the recital, and when it was con- 
 cluded, had it not been for the presence of the rosy boy, 
 the whole might have seemed, even to the principal actor, 
 ^e fiction of a sennachie or the delusion of a wild and 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 219 
 
 feverish dream. For there was she again in the home of 
 her youth and infancy, and surrounded by the same faces 
 that had been dear and familiar through both. On the 
 whole, both to the long-bereaved parents and the long-lost 
 child, it was a "night of almost unmixed happiness, and as 
 if some benign influence had resolved that it should be 
 really such, at a late hour, and wholly unexpected, Gerald, 
 the only son and brother, who was page of honor in the 
 household of the great Earl of Tyrone, presented himself 
 in their midst. 
 
 The scenes that marked the earlier part of the evening 
 were again briefly reacted. The youthful soldier, so soon 
 as he was satisfied that there had been no sacrifice of honor 
 or of pride, received the caresses of his long-lost sister, and 
 the playmate of his childhood, with unfeigned delight ; and 
 those who beheld the high animation of his sunny counte- 
 nance, illumined, as it was, by the joyous sparkle of his 
 bright blue eye, little dreamed that he came the messenger 
 of evil tidings, though such unhappily was the case. 
 
 The party, with, of course, the one exception, broke up, 
 in joy, in confidence, and in peace : but it broke up never 
 to re-assemble. Long before the first ray of the morning 
 had kissed the Dalriadian mountains, the father and son 
 were already on their way into foreign exile, from which 
 neither the one nor the other was ever destined to return. 
 
 Thus will the sun, sometimes, at the close of a gloomy 
 day, gladden with a brief smile the landscape which his 
 obscurity had already made bleak and desolate, and which 
 he is now about to abandon to total darkness ; and Fortune 
 
220 CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 
 
 also mock, with a brief and treacherous smile, the victims 
 whom she had long persecuted, and whose last hope she is 
 iust about to extinguish forever. 
 
 VOLUME II. 
 
 Those of our readers who are acquainted with the 
 history of the British Islands, need not be informed that, in 
 the latter part of the twelfth century, Ireland was partially 
 subjugated by a band of those Norman, or rather Anglo- 
 Norman adventurers whose ancestors had, some time before, 
 usurped the sovereignty of England. They are also aware 
 that, notwithstanding the brilliant exploits of the warlike 
 invaders, powerfully aided as they were by the celebrated 
 King of Leinster, and other faithless chiefs, the greater 
 portion of the island remained still unconquered, and the 
 Anglo-Irish colony, or territory maintained by the invaders, 
 was chiefly confined to Leinster and that part of the 
 southern province that lies upon the eastern coast. 
 
 The limits of this territory, which was politically de- 
 signated the English Pale, were far from being either sta- 
 tionary or well-defined, but, on the contrary, were constantly 
 extending or contracting, according to the preponderance 
 of the power and prowess of the Irish chiefs and English 
 barons that successively inhabited the stormy frontier. 
 And the uncertainty of this tenure is made pretty evident 
 by the fact, that the latter were at times sufficiently 
 powerful to carry fire and sword into the interior recesses 
 of Ulster and Connaught, and at others, reduced to the 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 221 
 
 degrading necessity of paying tribute, or as it is now called, 
 black-mail, to the princes, or mighty men of those pro- 
 vinces, for forbearance and protection. And this state 
 of things existed, with but little variation, throughout a 
 succession of centuries, and a series of dynasties, extending 
 from the p^od when England was ruled by the Norman 
 Plantagenet till the time that her sovereignty devolved 
 upon the Scottish Stuart. 
 
 During the reign of the first sovereign of the last-men- 
 tioned race, and after the downfall of that first and last 
 hope of his country, Hugh, Earl of Tyrone, Ulster for the 
 first time was forced to acknowledge English sovereignty, 
 and to submit to the government, or rather misgovernment, 
 vouchsafed by her new rulers under the imposing designa- 
 tion of " British law." Yet the fact of the existence, for 
 almost five centuries, within the compass of a small island, 
 of two distinct races, difiering in every habit and feeling, 
 except reckless valor and mutual hostility, though of itself 
 sufficiently pregnant with the seeds of discord and devasta- 
 tion, will be found, upon investigation, neither to have been 
 the sole, nor indeed the principal cause of the unparalleled 
 amount of evil that accumulated in the unhappy country 
 through that long period. And those evils would be 
 attributed with equal injustice, either to the heartless 
 tyranny of the English Kings, or the reckless turbulence 
 of the Irish People ; but their extent, and more especially 
 their continuance, will be found in the simple fact, that 
 those who were successively entrusted with the task of 
 extending and consolidating British dominion in Ireland 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT 
 
 had a direct and powerful interest in disobeying their 
 orders. They were well enough aware that the interests 
 both of their king and country were best secured by peace, 
 but they were equally well aware, that their " ain poor 
 peculiar," as old Twintippet says, throve best in times 
 of commotion. Persons of much less sagacit^could easily 
 foresee that if the Irish chieftains remained at peace there 
 would be no further pretext for plundering them, and it was 
 therefore no uncommon circumstance for the representative 
 of English royalty, who had himself been especially deputed 
 by his sovereign to offer conciliation and accept submission, 
 to be found among the most active fomenters of rebellion. 
 
 Among the numerous victims of this nefarious system, 
 the most prominent and important was the forementioned 
 Earl of Tyrone ; an individual accidentally uniting in his 
 own person both the feudal privileges of an English noble 
 and the hereditary honors and influence of an Irish prince. 
 
 He had been educated in England ; had served in the 
 royal army ; and by his gallantry and accomplishments, had 
 found such favor in the eyes of Elizabeth as induced her 
 to restore him to the honors and estates of his family, which 
 had been confiscated through the turbulence of his warlike 
 uncle, Shane Dymas. He was afterwards forced into an 
 unwilling rebellion by the calumny and insult of the local 
 authorities, and after having repeatedly proved himself 
 more than a match for England's best and bravest, he was 
 eventually reduced to submission, not, however, by the 
 swords of his enemies, but by the combined and powerful 
 influence of famine and treachery among his friends. 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 
 
 As his name was still formidable, and his talents well 
 known, he easily obtained a reconciUation with the new 
 sovereign, who had just then ascended the throne. But 
 neither the favor of the monarch nor his own prudent and 
 peaceful resolutions could protect him against the machina- 
 tions of those who had long before marked him for sacrifice. 
 A paper was found in the council chamber, in the Castle 
 of Dublin, covertly accusing him and others of a con- 
 spiracy against the state ; and as the devoted nobleman 
 now saw that his ruin was not only contemplated, but 
 compassed, he fled precipitately to the continent, leaving 
 the country, that he had so long and so gallantly defended, 
 at the mercy of a combination of the most crafty and cruel 
 despoiters that the world ever beheld. 
 
 The somewhat mysterious conclusion of the previous 
 volume is now easily accounted for. The parties there 
 introduced had, both of necessity and choice, concluded to 
 share the exile of their gallant chief. 
 
 VOL UME III 
 
 It was again a beautiful evening in summer, nay it was 
 even the eventful twenty-ninth of June : but the scene was 
 no longer that of grandeur, whether in flourish or decay, 
 nor did its inhabitants retain the slightest vestige of even 
 fallen rank. Yet their appearance was not exactly that 
 of the common vulgar, nor their residence altogether the 
 ordinary home of the mountain peasant ; but, on the 
 contrary, the appearance of both possessed that sort 
 
224 CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 
 
 of nondescript character, neither pertaining to the high, 
 the low, nor the middle ranks of society. They agreed, 
 however, with the party firsjt introduced to the reader, both 
 as to number and that air of settled dejection that generally 
 indicates the breaking heart. 
 
 But although these circumstances might, at any time, be 
 sufficient to excite a painful curiosity as to their history 
 and situation, yet at no other period than the present, 
 would the beholder have ever dreamed of discovering, in the 
 wild and wo-begone wretches before him, the proud and 
 high-born acquaintance of a former period. But ten years 
 of unparalleled sorrow and suffering had since passed over 
 the devoted country and her crushed and expatriated 
 inhabitants, producing such a scene of promiscuous desola- 
 tion as had, to use a singular expression, actually rendered 
 wonders no longer wonderful. But however the recollection 
 of these circumstances might reconcile us to the identity 
 of the two wretched females with the mother and daughter 
 introduced at the commencement of our little history, yet 
 who could ever recognise in the gaunt and sb'.ggy young 
 mountaineer, their companion, the gentle and losy boy 
 whose pride, beauty, and high bearmg, had so quickly 
 melted the heart of his haughty and deter&unod grand- 
 father ! But as 
 
 " Summer months bring mlding shoot. 
 From bud to bloom, from bloom to fruit. 
 And years draw on our human span. 
 From child to boy, from boy to man..'* 
 
 the period that had since elapsed must have wrought » 
 
CONSTANTINE TA.LBOT. 226 
 
 change in his stature, under any circumstances^ and the 
 same trials and privations that had so deeply set their seal 
 upon his unfortunate relatives, could scarcely be supposed 
 to have left him scathless : — At all events, it was he ! 
 
 We have said that it was again the twenty-ninth of 
 June, and strange to tell, on this occasion, as on so many 
 others, this eventful day had brought to the wasted rem- 
 nant of this unfortunate family, another scene of perplexity 
 and excitement. With a somewhat singular fatality it had 
 been the birthday of the son as well as of the unhappy 
 mother, and now on its sixteenth anniversary, this child 
 of so much sorrow, the only surviving pledge of her unfor- 
 tunate marriage, and the first offspring of her early love, 
 was about to sever the last tie that bound his unhappy 
 parent to a miserable existence, by quitting her presence 
 and protection for the purpose of trying his fortune in a 
 world that had been so uniformly cruel to his family. 
 
 With the martial spirit of his warlike ancestry, he pre- 
 ferred the profession of a soldier to that of a shepherd, for 
 he had no other choice, and in the prosecution of that 
 resolve, it was a matter still to be decided whether he 
 should offer his services to a government that he had too 
 good reason to regard as the cause of his own distress, and 
 that of his nearest and dearest, or join the band of a des- 
 perate outlaw, who, since the fall of the celebrated Sir 
 Caher Roe 0' Dougherty, had maintained himself in the 
 neighboring mountains against all the force that the govern- 
 ment could send against him. The mother favored the 
 former idea as being the more safe, or at least the less 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT 
 
 desperate, but the feelings of the youth himself were 
 decidedly disposed towards the latter, probably because 
 of its affordhig a wider and wilder field for the exercise 
 of his naturally reckless and romantic daring, or it might 
 be on account of its promising the shortest way to the ful- 
 filment of some long-cherished and desperate purpose of 
 revenge. For although the son of an English soldier, nay, 
 even himself having been born in a British camp, and 
 though still perfectly aware of the circumstance, he had no 
 longer any sympathy with the land of his nativity, but was 
 now, to use the language applied to others of his " degene- 
 rate" countrymen, in his every feeling and sympathy, even 
 "more Irish than the Irish themselves." But on this 
 subject we will permit the youth to speak a few words for 
 himself. 
 
 " How can you," he exclaimed, in answer to the solicita- 
 tions of his weeping mother, and in a tone of impatience 
 amounting almost to asperity, " recommend me, the last 
 of your race, to draw the sword of my ancestors in support 
 of that accursed government which is neither more nor less 
 than the instrument of God's vengeance against this 
 devoted country 1 How, I repeat, can you, whose family 
 those miscreants have brought from the rank of princes to 
 herd and shelter with the wolves and ravens of the moun- 
 tain, and whose noble father and brave brother they have ^ 
 hunted into foreign graves, ask your only child to con- 
 summate ruin with disgrace, and lick the hands that are 
 still red with the blood of his and your kindred 1 Mother, 
 I have always loved you with tenderness, and obeyed you 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 227 
 
 •with deference, and least of all at this moment would I part 
 from you in displeasure or disobedience ; but do not, I 
 conjure you, put my love and respect for you to such a test 
 as this !" 
 
 But the perseverance of the woman and the anxiety of 
 the mother were proof against even this passionate appeal. 
 She knew her influence, and she exerted it. To what pur- 
 pose may be learned from the following singular proposition, 
 evidently extorted from him upon whom that influence had 
 been so powerfully brought to bear. 
 
 " Hear me, then," he exclaimed, passionately ; " for 
 ^our sake, and the sake of your parting blessing, I will 
 ofier a compromise : I will leave the issue of this unhappy 
 controversy to the decision of fate. This is my birthday, 
 and moreover, it is that day of the year which my poor 
 grandmother says is so mysteriously connected with the 
 history of our hapless family; and here is my father's 
 sword. You have often told me, that although an Enghsh- 
 man, he was a brave, generous, and true-hearted soldier, 
 and his sword (all that remains which was his,) would not 
 point out to his only son the path of dishonor. I will now 
 twirl it high in the air, and if, when fallen, it points to the 
 east, I will proceed forthwith to the camp of the stranger, 
 but if to the w^est, I will as assuredly seek out the strong- 
 hold of the " Red Tanist." At the first trial, the point 
 of the weapon sunk deep in the soft earth, but at the 
 second and third, it pointed directly to the Saxon camp. 
 
128 CONSTANTINE TA. BOT. 
 
 VOLUME IV. 
 
 The very circumscribed limits of our fragmentary nar- 
 rative compel us to cast to the winds a considerable portion 
 of our materials at almost every resting-place. We must, 
 therefore, now pass on to a period when the fierce and 
 uncouth stripling, of whom we took leave at the end of the 
 last volume, had become a famous and accomplished 
 soldier, and stood high in the favor and confidence of his 
 commander-in-chief. But unfortunately, perhaps, for all 
 the parties concerned, the same romantic deed of daring 
 which had so suddenly elevated the young soldier to this 
 enviable position, had also obtained for him the more 
 dangerous, if not less enviable, distinction of holding a high 
 place in the affections of his lordly patron's heiress and 
 only child. And certainly our youthful acquaintance was 
 not of a temperament the most likely to induce its owner to 
 tamely abandon a lofty and tempting enterprize merely on 
 account of the difficulties, or even dangers, that might 
 chance to stand in the way. An office of high trust and 
 importance in the household, and about the person of the 
 father, included, or, at least, was made to include, occa- 
 sional attendance upon the daughter also : and we believe 
 it no imputation upon his official fidelity, and but in strict 
 accordance with the characteristic gallantry of his age, his 
 country, and his profession, to presume that this latter por- 
 tion of his duty was neither the most irksome nor the least 
 vigilantly discharged. But pleasant or otherwise as his 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 229 
 
 attendance on the fair and highborn maiden might be, it 
 was now destined to be at least suspended, for a period 
 which circumstances might render somewhat indefinite. 
 
 The safety and permanence of the English interest in 
 Ireland, never fully secure, even in the estimation of its 
 most haughty and redoubtable supporters, required, at this 
 particular period, that the Governor of Castle- Cormack, 
 who was the guardian of the aforesaid interest in the 
 North-west, should send a strong detachment to the 
 South of Donegal, to observe, and if possible counteract, 
 certain ominous manifestations in that locality and the 
 adjacent border of Connaught : and the important trust 
 of commanding such detachment was confided to young 
 Talbot. 
 
 It was some months after the departure of the expedition 
 referred to, that the old veteran of Castle-Cormack, proba- 
 bly from the eifects of having supped either more lightly or 
 heavily than usual, did not fall into his wonted repose. 
 The time was, by no means, the most peaceful, nor the 
 locality the most secure. Cormac Roe O'Donnell, or the 
 " Red Tanist," whom we have already had occasion to 
 mention, was still supposed to be in the neighboring moun- 
 tains, and he had honored Castle-Cormack with a rather 
 unexpected visit not long before. This circumstance, in 
 itself, had Httle remarkable, as the Castle had, at one time, 
 belonged to himself, and still bore his name. But on the 
 occasion referred to, he had, after the manner of the cele- 
 brated James of Douglass, while visiting the homestead 
 under similar circumstances, paid a less delicate regard t(? 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 
 
 the laws of hospitality than might have been expected from 
 the " son of an Irish King ;" he having, at his departure, 
 carried off, under his mantle, incomparably the most pre- 
 cious jewel that the Castle contained. And although the 
 treasure had been almost miraculously recovered, the 
 circumstance could not so soon have escaped the owner's 
 recollection. And, at all events, as Dame Nature seldom 
 fails to exact satisfaction, in one shape or other, for any 
 infraction of her established laws, the hours which she has 
 set apart for sleep, are seldom passed, at least alone, in 
 very agreeable waking. And that the old soldier, on the 
 night in question, was experiencing, in some degree, the 
 effects of this dispensation, may not unreasonably be 
 inferred from the fact of his fancying that he heard a foot- 
 step passing along a corridor in which he did not recollect 
 having posted a sentinel ; and from the impression of its 
 truth being so strong as to induce him to rise and follow. — 
 Follow what 1 Why the Delusion, to be sure ; what else 1 
 But stop, most incredulous and unsuperstitious reader, not 
 quite so fast ; for notwithstanding both your sagacity and 
 our own philosophy, it was no delusion after all ! For 
 on approaching the chamber of his daughter, in which a 
 light was still burning, what was the old man's horror to 
 behold his distracted child helplessly struggling in the 
 ruthless embrace of the " Red Tanist" himself ! The 
 governor, though stricken in years, was still brave as a lion, 
 and he had also taken the precaution to bring his sword : 
 but if it can, let his astonishment be conjectured, when on 
 iushing to the rescue, the lady herself was the first tc 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 231 
 
 arrest his progess, by throwing herself imploringly between 
 him and the object of his attack, and declaring at the same 
 time, with the most impassioned earnestness, that the fault 
 was wholly and exclusively her own ! 
 
 The incensed and astonished father would have probably 
 concluded that excess of terror must have driven away his 
 daughter's senses, had he not, on fairly confronting the 
 audacious intruder, at once discovered that he was not the 
 Red Tanist at all, but his own young favorite Lieutenant 
 Talbot, who, since our first or rather second acquaintance 
 with him, had so far gotten over his dislike of every thing 
 English, as to have been (until interrupted in the manner 
 we have witnessed,) enjoying himself, with much apparent 
 relish, in the fond and innocent embrace of a very pretty 
 English maiden, which the Governor's daughter undoubt- 
 edly was. 
 
 Now although the haughty and unsuspicious old veteran 
 was perhaps still as much astonished at discovering young 
 Talbot in the circumstances described as if the latter had 
 been in reality what he at first supposed him, namely, the 
 Red Tanist himself, yet there was not in reality so much 
 mystery in the matter. The young soldier had, as we have 
 already intimated, been some months absent on a distant 
 and dangerous expedition, from which he had just then 
 returned ; and no doubt believing that it was too late to 
 intrude upon his aged, and somewhat stately and ceremoni- 
 ous patron, he had, like a faithful and considerate vassal, 
 hastened to pay his respects and report progress to that 
 patron's natural and legal representative. And the young 
 
282 CONSTAN^INE TALBOT. 
 
 lady had, as was natural, been really very glad to see him, 
 and no doubt still gladder to hear of another distinguished 
 triumph of British arms, the tidings of which he bore : and 
 most likely, with the purpose of still further attaching the 
 brave young soldier to a service which he had, at first, been 
 so unwilling to enter, she had, at the time of her father's 
 entrance, been rewarding his valor in the way that her tact 
 as a woman taught her would be most agreeable to the gal- 
 lant recipient. 
 
 But the testy old veteran, probably in consequence of 
 that pettishness which not unfrequently accompanies the 
 loss or want of sleep, took the matter in high dudgeon, and 
 would not listen to the foregoing explanation, that is, if 
 ever it was indeed attempted ; but told his young friend, 
 and that, too, in a very peremptory manner, to take a final 
 leave of Castle-Cormack at that very hour ; adding that he 
 only spared his life on account of his having once placed it 
 in imminent peril to rescue her of whose gratitude he had 
 now taken such mean advantage, from the power of the 
 Red Tanist ; a declaration which will enable the reader 
 to understand that the jewel which that celebrated indi- 
 vidual is, in another place, represented to have stolen, was 
 nothing less than the fair lady of the Castle ; and the said 
 reader will here also please to understand, if, indeed, his 
 own sagacity has not already anticipated the information, 
 that her rescue was the service, before only hinted at, 
 which had elevated Talbot to the position from which we 
 have just seen him so suddenly and so unceremoniously 
 hurled The lady and her hapless deliverer had just time 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT 
 
 for one last look, and there is scarcely room to doubt that 
 it was a melancholy one. 
 
 Talbot was some miles from the Castle before the stupe- 
 faction produced by the scene in which he had so deeply 
 participated, permitted him fully to comprehend the nature 
 and extent of the evil that had occurred ; but a very brief 
 period of reflection sufficed to put him in full possession 
 of it all. An hour before his heart had been glowing with 
 the proud consciousness of being deservedly famous, and 
 
 deeply and devotedly beloved ; and now- But we will 
 
 not dwell on the contrast. The blight of his prospects, 
 sudden and total as it had been, he could have borne ; for 
 he had already studied in the school of Adversity, and had 
 besides a naturally powerful and high-toned mind. But the 
 wound so suddenly and so rudely inflicted on his Pride was 
 paining him to absolute madness. His late successes, both 
 " in love and war," as Monsoon would say, aided by the 
 consciousness of gentle birth and commanding talents, had 
 actually made him forget the distance which, according to 
 conventional admeasurement, still separated him from the 
 daughter and heiress of his lordly patron ; but the occur- 
 rences of less than a single minute had amply sufficed to 
 undeceive him, and in so doing to inflict that perhaps bit- 
 terest, because most humiliating, pang to which the sensi- 
 tive and wounded heart is exposed — the conviction of 
 having foolishly overrated one's self. 
 
 His first resolve, as to his future conduct, was, at once, 
 to join the oft-mentioned Cormac Roe O'Donnell, and to 
 prompt that daring leader to deeds of still greater reckless- 
 
284 
 
 CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 
 
 ness and revenge : his second, to pass over to the Continent, 
 and seek the fate which its incessant wars had so often and 
 so opportunely afforded to so many others of his heart- 
 broken and expatriated countrymen. We say countrymen^ 
 for although serving in the armies of England, and having 
 been born in a foreign land, Talbot never ceased to regard 
 himself as being essentially an Irishman. 
 
 In the meantime he had reached a sort of caravansary, 
 or place of public entertainment, and the night, or rather 
 morning, being still dark and stormy, he resolved to seek, 
 both for himself and the jaded steed, which was henceforth 
 to be the sole companion of his pilgrimage, a few hours of 
 rest and shelter within its walls ; and having obtained 
 such accommodation as the place afforded, he was soor 
 enjoying the luxury of at least a temporary forge tfulness. 
 His sleep, however, was brief and troubled, and with a 
 start of agony he awoke. But short and unsettled as had 
 been his slumber, it had sufficed for one of the most sin- 
 gular and vividly impressive dreams with which the sleeper 
 had ever been visited. Scarcely had his eyelids closed, 
 when he thought that the outlawed chieftain, so frequently 
 referred to in these pages, stood at his bedside. His face 
 was pale, and his dress disordered, and apparently spotted 
 with blood : but his bearing lacked nothing of its usual 
 pride, nor his blue eye aught of its wonted brightness. He 
 bent down his head to the ear of his prostrate auditor, and 
 in a low but deep and impressive tone, uttered the words 
 that follow : — " Young man," said he, " although thou hast 
 already more than once crossed both my path and my pur 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT. 288 
 
 pose, thou art, nevertheless, still my kinsman ; for if bear- 
 ing the hated name of the Saxon Invader, doth not the 
 pure and kindly blood of the invincible Baldhearg still 
 course proudly within thy veins 1 I know thy present dis- 
 tresses, and am here to extricate thee : hearken to my 
 words. The miserable traitor who, at this moment, is thy 
 fellow-lodger in this room, has, by means which it is use- 
 less to mention, possessed himself of the title-deed of all 
 my estates, and it is at this moment concealed in a bundle 
 beneath his pillow. Rise immediately and possess thyself 
 of it. It is no longer of any importance to me, as I am 
 about to take leave of this unfortunate country forever. 
 And now, farewell ! " With these words he wrung the 
 hand of the sleeper with so strong and passionate a grasp, 
 that when the latter, in an agony of pain and terror, awoke, 
 he discovered, with additional horror, that the blood was 
 oozing from beneath the finger-nails of his right hand. But 
 his curiosity had partaken of too powerful a stimulant to 
 permit its possessor to rest satisfied even with this pretty 
 unequivocal evidence of the extraordinary character of his 
 dream. Neither was it, in this instance, destined to dis- 
 appointment. The title-deed, also, was sought for, and 
 found exactly in the situation indicated. But although it 
 was an instrument which, at present, might be regarded as 
 of a singular, if not of a shocking character, it was an in- 
 strument in perfect keeping with the character of the 
 period and country in which it figured, and was, moreover, 
 a perfectly valid one. It was jthe bloody a,nd newly-severed 
 head of the Red Tanist himself, and was at the moment, 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT 
 
 as the newly-ejected spirit of its late owner had denomin- 
 ated it, a legal and bona fide "title-deed" of all Lis 
 estates; for a vice-regal proclamation had constituted it 
 such, by declaring, that whoever should bring in and pre- 
 sent at Dublin Castle the head of the above-named arch- 
 rebel and traitor, " either alive or dead," would be re- 
 warded with a right in perpetuity to all his confiscated 
 estates. 
 
 Talbot, on discovering so shocking a spectacle, naturally 
 regarded it with a mixture of amazement and horror ; but 
 he foresaw that if he did not avail himself of the chance 
 so mysteriously thrown in his way, the spoils of his victim 
 would go to the cold-blooded and treacherous murderer 
 before him, a dispensation which, it would appear, even the 
 disembodied spirit of the aforesaid victim was anxious to 
 
 avert. 
 
 * * * * * 
 
 Exactly four weeks after his expulsion, Talbot returned 
 to Castle-Cormack. But he returned to it, not as an 
 humbled or repentant suppliant, but as its legal^ and so 
 far, it would seem, as the will of the original proprietor was 
 concerned, its rightful and undoublted heir. The father of 
 Cormac Roe had been, what was somewhat rare in his 
 family, a " Queen's O'Donnell," and Castle-Cormack had, 
 therefore, escaped the general confiscation that, throughout 
 almost the entire of Ulster, followed the departure of " the 
 O'Donnell" and the once invincible Tyrone. But its 
 escape was but momentary, for the larger patriotism and 
 smaller prudence of his immediate successor soon furnished 
 
CONSTANTINE TALBOT 237 
 
 the confiscators with the pretext of which he had so long 
 and so artfully deprived them, and Castle -Cormack " went 
 the way of all" Irish castles of the period. Since that 
 event it had been held merely as a royal fortress, and now 
 passed, with all the territory appertaining to it, into the 
 hands of the new and singularly-constituted proprietor. 
 Nor were the confiscated castle and lands of the unfortunate 
 Red Tanist the only treasure which, at that auspicious 
 moment, came into the possession of our fortunate hero ; 
 for either impressed with the folly of attempting to thwart 
 the inclinations of one to whom the " spirits of air" seemed 
 willing and ready to minister, or else convinced that the 
 future happiness of his only child depended on his com- 
 pliance, the late governor of Castle-Cormack, now created 
 Lord Saxonstall, so far overcame his former indignation as 
 to give £C gracious reply to the^formal demand of Talbot for 
 the hand of his beautiful and high-born daughter ; and by 
 what must be regarded as at least a singular coincidence, 
 this last and crowning consummation of his ambition and 
 hopes chanced, without any previous concert, to occur on 
 the anniversary of his birth — the, to him and his, eventful 
 twenty-ninth of June ! 
 
 In the very natural excitement produced by the rapid 
 succession of so many deeply-interesting events, the circum- 
 stance had escaped Talbot's own observation, but he was 
 reminded of it by a very old, and, now that she was 
 restored to her former position, a very elegant lady, who 
 shared with the father of the bride and the mother of the 
 bridegroom, the post of distinction a: the wedding feast. 
 
238 MASONRY :N seventy-six. 
 
 SIASOKl? IS 111®. 
 
 BYJOHND.HOYT. 
 
 Towards the close of an afternoon in the middle of 
 April, 1776, the quiet village of (Esopus was roused from 
 its drowsiness by the shrill notes of the fife, accompanied 
 by the measured beat of the drum. The old men hastened 
 to the doors, the boys to the street, while the matrons, with 
 their timid daughters, sought to solve the mystery of the 
 uproar by what intelhgence could be gained in peering 
 through the curtained windows. 
 
 The village tavern was emptied of its visitors, who 
 thronged its piazza to review a company of Liberty Boys, 
 on their way to the place of general rendezvous. They 
 were not exactly uniform in their dress or equipments, yet 
 the most casual observer could not fail to discover a one- 
 ness of purpose in the lineaments of every face. 
 
 " Well, doctor, what do you think of that 1 " said the 
 host of the tavern (as the last straggler of the company 
 filed past the door), addressing himself to one whose black 
 dress, silver shoe and knee-buckles, with his ruffled wrist- 
 bands, spoke him at once but a visitor of the place ; while 
 the small sword, more for ornament than use, that dangled 
 at his side, gave him a semi-military appearance. 
 
MASONRY IN SEVENTY-SIX. 
 
 " Think ! " said he, " think ! why I would rather physic 
 them for a month than see them hung for an hour." 
 
 " Generous — very ! " replied the interrogator ; " but 
 come, doctor, why not join us then 1 " 
 
 A cloud of seriousness played over the doctor's features, 
 like the shadow of the moth flitting around a candle, as he 
 replied, 
 
 " No, no — that cannot be now ; whatever might have 
 been, cannot be now. What might have been rebellion, 
 would now be treason ; and what might have been a resig- 
 nation, would now be desertion;" and then resuming his 
 usual jocose manner, he continued, " and, beside, what will 
 become of your ragged regiment when they get into Sir 
 Henry's hands 1 They will all die of the rot, if they have 
 no doctor ; and then, you know, what can a man be without 
 a clean shirt and a guinea? for your Congress are not 
 worth enough to buy a dose of jalap. So I must be ofi" in 
 the morning." 
 
 " Not so soon, sir," said one of several new comers 
 among the group ; " your company is too good to be lost so 
 soon." 
 
 The doctor turned himself to the speaker, who was 
 dressed in the full uniform of a Continental captain, and 
 giving him a familiar nod, replied, 
 
 " So, so, captain ! got the first lesson by heart already — 
 know where there is good quarters. Well, I think you had 
 better stay here and enjoy it." 
 
 " Indeed, so ! we calculate to stay here for a while, till 
 we hear from Boston or New York, and we calculate to 
 
240 MASONRY IN SEVENTY-SIX. 
 
 have the doctor's company, though we don't care about his 
 physic. As to the guinea a-day, King George can furnish 
 that, as we don't mean to stop either the doctor's grog or 
 pay." 
 
 " Can't stay, captain ; can't stay," replied the doctor ; 
 " must be off in the morning : but, for old acquaintance 
 sake, come and quarter here to-night, and we'll have a 
 rousing bowl of punch, without politics — eh 1 " 
 
 " Dr. Betts," said the captain, in a solemn tone, that 
 made the physician look a little more serious than was his 
 wont, " a truce to jokes ! I conceive it my duty, according 
 to general instructions, to say to you that you are my 
 prisoner." 
 
 A thunder-storm gathered over the doctor's features, and 
 his hand mechanically sought the hilt of his sword ; but 
 the captain continued, " It must be either your parole or 
 the jail." 
 
 " Prisoner ! jail ! " echoed the doctor, as a half-dozen 
 bayonets gathered around him, while his hand still rested 
 on his weaponless weapon, as the small sword at his side 
 might be justly styled ; and fixing his eyes on the captain, 
 who met their angry flash with a half smile, he continued, 
 " What do you mean, sir 1 Is it not enough for you, and 
 the like of you, to be turning the country upside down with 
 your rebellious clamor ; but must you bring your ragged 
 regiment here to stop the king's officer 1 " 
 
 " Well, well, doctor," replied the captain, " it is not 
 worth while to bandy words about it at this time of day, 
 you know. Rebels or no rebels, you know what a soldier's 
 
MASONRY IN SEVENTY-SIX. 241 
 
 word is, and I am willing to risk it, coming from you. So 
 you may take your choice ; either to mess here with us, like 
 a gentleman, or mess by yourself yonder ;" and he pointed 
 to the Court-house a little distance off. " If you choose the 
 former, we'll have the punch." 
 
 The light and shade that played over the doctor's face 
 showed his irresolution, as he muttered, " Parole or jail ! " 
 then, raising his hand, and pushing aside a bayonet that 
 was ambitiously protruded beyond its fellows, he remarked, 
 " That's rather a rusty joke." 
 
 " Yes," said the owner, " but it is somewhat pointed,^^ 
 
 This retort caused a smile of good-humor, that was soon 
 followed by three hearty cheers, as the doctor extended his 
 hand to the captain, saying, " Well, captain, then you have 
 my word ! I am yours till exchanged, or honorably dis- 
 charged, or recaptured, which I should not like to be ; for 
 they might judge me by the company I am in. So, let's 
 have the punch : because we have broke jail, it is no reason 
 why we should stay out doors all the time." 
 
 So saying, .the party withdrew, and soon were busy with 
 their wit and cups ; which, according to the doctor's theory, 
 was much better for the head than plumbago pills. 
 
 The city of New York, at the time we write of, was not 
 what it is at the time we write. Then its longest shadow 
 to the east could not extend to what is now known as 
 Chatham-square. Pearl-street was the eastern boundary. 
 
242 MASONRY IN SEVENTY-SIX. 
 
 and Chatham-street, then the Bowery Road, was a defile 
 through hills and meadows. On the northern side was 
 a hill, commencing at or near the Fields, now the Park, 
 and gaining its highest altitude a little east of Duane- 
 street ; thence slopingr off to the Collect, its summit 
 was graced by a seat of learning, where A^ by itself 
 a, was "licked" into the young idea with a yard or 
 two of birch, more plentiful in those days than school- 
 books. On the opposite side were a few scattered country 
 houses, with gardens stretching away up the hill-side, 
 towards Rose-street. On the corner of the road, towards 
 Duane-street, then a mere narrow way for convenience, 
 was a suburban house, with brick front, a little loftier in 
 appearance than its neighbors, although its occupants were 
 as well known to the poor as the rich ; but few, even of the 
 most inveterate grumblers, would venture on a remark 
 against the well-known generosity and kindness of Dr. 
 Betts or his family. 
 
 A few "days after the transactions at CEsopus, the Doc- 
 tor's wife was plying her needle in a way known to but few, 
 if any, of the ladies of the present day, when idleness is 
 considered a mark of gentility, and a knowledge of the 
 modus operandi of making a shirt is decidedly vulgar. 
 Beside her was sitting a little girl of some seven years, 
 taking from her mother the first lessons for the ball 
 of yarn, which was soon to come off in the shape of a 
 stocking. 
 
 " Come, Sarah, don't be looking toward the window so 
 much^ or I shall think you want to go to school, instead of 
 
MASONRY IN SEVENTY-SIX. 243 
 
 learning to knit," said the mother, addressing herself to 
 her daughter. 
 
 " No, mother, no ' I would rather knit all day than go 
 to Mr. Shankland." 
 
 " And why do you not like Mr. Shankland'?" 
 
 The child looked for a moment into her mother's face, 
 and replied, " He is such a tory /" 
 
 A smile from her mother was the only answer ; for a 
 strain of martial music put an end to the conversation, and 
 brought Sarah to her feet and the window, with the excla- 
 mation, " Hannah Jones told me they were coming to-day !" 
 
 Nearer and nearer came the sound, and a few minutes 
 brought the head of the column to Sarah's view, when clap- 
 ping her tiny hands, she exclaimed, " Here they come ! 
 here they come ! mother ! mother ! do come to the win- 
 dow ! — none of them have got red coats on, mother— do 
 come and see — aint this General Washington, mother? 
 Hannah said he was coming to-day." 
 
 "Sarah! Sarah!" replied her mother, "do cease your 
 noise ! You will waken your brother, and you know your 
 father is not there." 
 
 And the good wife applied her foot to the cradle by her 
 side, and commenced humming a lullaby to the waking 
 child, while Sarah amused herself by muttering, " Yes, 
 they are the whigs — they are the whigs !" 
 
 The last notes of the bugle had died away, the last 
 straggler had disappeared, and Sarah had resumed her yarn, 
 while the sights she had seen furnished an endless theme 
 for her childish prattle, when a rap at the hall door an- 
 
244 MASONRY IN SEVENTY-SIX. 
 
 nounced a stranger ; who, preceded by the colored house- 
 maid, entered the room with no other ceremc^jy than the 
 mihtary one of touching his chapeau to the mistress^ which 
 he did as Martha finished the sentence of " A gentleman 
 wishes to see you, ma'am." He was booted and spurred, 
 with the dusty appearance of a long ride. Addressing him- 
 self to the mistress, who stood before him, he coolly re- 
 marked, " The location and appearance of your house, 
 madam, makes it necessary and convenient for my quarters 
 while the army shall remain in the city. It is the fortune 
 of war, and necessity knows no law. I will retire for a 
 couple of hours, that you may make what arrangements you 
 see fit." 
 
 During the delivery of this short speech his eye was met 
 more than once by a look as proud and unflinching as ever 
 bid defiance to oppression. Touching his hat again, with a 
 slight inclination of the head, which was coldly returned, he 
 left, and as the door closed on his retreating steps, the tears 
 rushed to her eyes, as Mrs. Betts exclaimed, " Where is 
 your father 1" One arm of Sarah was round her mother's 
 neck, while the other hand was busy with the corner of her 
 apron, wiping the tears that coursed each other .down the 
 parent's cheek, at the same time running over a catalogue 
 of places where they might go in this emergency. Another 
 summons at the door soon removed each wrinkle of com- 
 plaint, and Martha again entered, with " a letter for you, 
 ma'am." It was eagerly siezed and soon read. A slight pal- 
 lor was observable, as the wife exclaimed, " I wonder where 
 this war will end? — but there is no use of moping away our 
 
MASONHY IN SEVENTY-SIX. 246 
 
 time. Martha," she continuedj addressing herself to the 
 servant, " the Doctor is a prisoner of war ; we must do the 
 best we can ; we will pack up first, and look for a shelter 
 afterwards." 
 
 But little time elapsed ere the neatly-furnished parlor 
 became strewed with papers, crockery, and clothing ; and 
 what an hour before seemed the abode of peace and quiet- 
 ness, now resembled the rendezvous of disorder. While 
 thus engaged, the author of all this confusion again entered, 
 and was met by the exclamation, " The time is not yet up, 
 sir !" spoken in a manner that none but a woman who feels 
 her rights invaded can speak. 
 
 "It is not," was the cool reply ; then, glancing around 
 the cheerless apartment, the intruder took up a paper from 
 the floor, that had attracted his attention, and turning to 
 the woman, he asked, " Is that your husband's?" 
 
 A new idea flashed across her mind, and might have been 
 read in her eye, as she promptly answered, " It is." 
 
 It was a Masonic notice, signed by her husband. 
 
 "Where is he now?" asked the intruder. The open 
 letter that lay upon the table was placed in his hands ; and 
 he read as follows : — 
 
 Dear Molly : — The boys are up and doing, and have canght the 
 doctor to begin with. In other words, I am a prisoner on parole. 
 Give yourself no uneasiness about me, as I am well cared for. The 
 only draw-back is being away from you and the children. Ascertain 
 who and where the nearest general officer is, and I will report to him, 
 so as to be exchanged as soon as possible. Should any of the Lodge 
 ask for me, you can tell them how I am situated. You are so far out 
 
246 MASONRY IN SEVENTY-SIX. 
 
 of town as to escape from the uproar of WasMngton's army when he 
 comes to New York ; but if they are all like the specimen I am with, 
 they are a jolly fine set. 
 
 In haste, yours truly, J. B. 
 
 GEsopus, 16th April, 1776. 
 
 Placing the letter on the table, the soldier made a memo- 
 randum on the notice with his pencil, and turning to Mrs. B. 
 he said, " War at the best is a great misfortune, madam ; 
 and though some may win, it is a curse to others. Were 
 it not that some high power occasionally turned its shafts, 
 its horrors could scarce be borne. I am sorry for the 
 trouble I have given, occasioned in some measure by the 
 meddlesomeness of others. You may make yourself easy 
 where you are, and I will try and make amends for the 
 evils that may have been committed." 
 
 Thus saying, he left the room, to which the energies of 
 a light heart soon gave its wonted appearance, while Sarah 
 insisted upon it that the whigs were not such bad men, 
 after all. 
 
 A week had elapsed. The arrival and departure of 
 troops, the active preparations for defending the city, and 
 the nightly meetings of the citizens, who were cooper- 
 ating with the military authorities, seemed to absorb and 
 swallow up every other interest. Even " the church-going 
 bell" could scarce be heard amid the din of " the drum 
 and trumpet's warlike sound." It was afternoon. A single 
 horseman, dusty and travel-worn, came dashing through 
 the Bowery Road. The signs of military occupation that 
 met his practiced eye put new energy to his heel, as he 
 
% 
 
 MASONRY IN SEVENTY SIX. 247 
 
 pliod the spur to his evidently jaded steed, who, taking the 
 hint, acceded to his rider's wishes, and gave evidence of his 
 mettle by the speed with which he neared the city, the sub- 
 urbs of which were soon gained. A sudden check brought 
 him to a full stop, and the doctor leaped from his back, and 
 was met at the threshold by wife, children, and servant, 
 each eye brilliant with tears of joy. His story was soon 
 told. An order had been received by the captain in whose 
 custody he had remained, to allow him forthwith to return 
 to the city on his parole, and request him to report on his 
 arrival to Col. . But few prehminaries were neces- 
 sary on the receipt and announcement of this order. The 
 saddle-bags were soon filled, the parting bumper soon 
 drank, and with the aid of a good horse, urged by a hus- 
 band's and father's feelings, the loved ones were speedily 
 gained ; — the result of a notice, carelessly thrown on the 
 floor, and picked up by the Colonel, who was a Mason true 
 to his pledge. And this was but one of many instances 
 where the shield of Brotherhood had prcved too strong for 
 the shafts of envy and the missives of war. 
 
248 THE master's SONG 
 
 Sm MASf l^'S SOM(g. 
 
 BY DR A.NDERSON. 
 
 We sing of Masons' ancient fame ! 
 
 Lo, eighty thousand craftsmen rise 
 Under the masters of great name ; 
 
 More than three thousand just and wise» 
 Employ'd by Solomon, the Sire, 
 
 And general Master Mason too. 
 As Hiram was in stately Tyre, 
 
 Like Salem built by Masons true. 
 
 The royal art was then divine, 
 
 The craftsmen counsell'd from above. 
 The temple was the grand design 
 
 The wond'ring world did all approve. 
 Ingenious men from every place 
 
 Came to survey the glorious pile ; 
 And, when return'd, began to trace 
 
 And imitate its lofty style. 
 
 At length the Grecians came to know 
 
 Geometry, and learn'd the art 
 Pythagoras was rais'd to show* 
 
 And glorious Euclid to impart : 
 Great Archimedes too appear'd, 
 
 And Carthagenian masters bright ; 
 Till Roman citizens uprear'd 
 
 The art, with wisdom and delight. 
 
THE MASTER'S SONG 
 
 But when proud Asia they had quell'd, 
 
 And Greece and Egypt overcome, 
 In architecture they excell'd. 
 
 And brought the learning all to Rome ; 
 Where wise Vitruvius, warden prime 
 
 Of architects, the art improv'd 
 In great Augustus' peaceful time. 
 
 When arts and artists were belov'd. 
 
 They brought the knowledge from the east. 
 
 And as they made the nations yield. 
 They spread it through the north and west. 
 
 And taught the world the art to build. 
 Witness their citadels and tow'rs. 
 
 To fortify their legions fine. 
 Their temples, palaces, and bow'rs. 
 
 That spoke the Masons' grand design 
 
 Thus mighty eastern Kings, and some 
 
 Of Abraham's race, and Monarchs good 
 Of Egypt, Syria, Greece, and Rome, 
 
 True architecture understood. 
 No wonder then if Masons join 
 
 To celebrate those Mason-kings, 
 With solemn note and flowing wine. 
 
 Whilst every brother jointly sings : 
 
 Chorus. 
 Who can unfold the royal art. 
 
 Or show its secrets in a song ? 
 They're safely kept in Masons' heart. 
 
 And to the ancient lodge belong ! 
 
250 THE FOUR CARDINAL VIRTUES 
 
 TEMPERANCE. 
 
 Temperance implies a restraint of the passions, which 
 reduces the animal body to the power of government and 
 submission to its requirements, and extricates the mind 
 from the manacles of vice. Of course this should be prac- 
 ticed by every Mason ; as it teaches him to avoid excess, 
 licentious and vicious habits — the practice of which might 
 lead him in an unguarded moment to divulge those secrets 
 he has promised never to reveal — the disclosure of which 
 would subject him to the contempt of every good Mason. 
 
 FORTITUDE 
 
 Signifies such a steady purpose of mind as enables us to 
 meet pain, or danger, when deemed prudentially requisite. 
 It is equi-distant from rashness and cowardice ; and should 
 be ever impressed upon the mind of the Mason, as a 
 security against any attack, in order to effect a disclosure of 
 those valuable secrets solemnly intrusted with him and 
 emblematically represented upon his first admission into the 
 Lodge. * * * * 
 
 PRUDENCE 
 
 Is the regulator of our actions and lives, agreeably to the 
 dictates of reaeoii, whereby we judge according to wisdom, 
 
THE FOUR CARDINAL VIRTUES. 261 
 
 and determine upon all things relating to present and 
 future happiness. It should form a prominent feature in 
 the character of every Mason — for the regulation of his 
 conduct in the Lodge as well as abroad in the world. His 
 attention should be given to this virtue in every company — 
 strange, mixed, or otherwise — so that no secret of Masonry 
 may be illegally obtained. * * * * 
 
 JUSTICE 
 
 Is the rendering to every man his just due without dis- 
 tinction. It is alike consistent with divine and human 
 laws, and forms the grand support of all society ; — and as 
 it, to a very great degree, constitutes the good man, it 
 ought invariably to be a rule with every Mason never to 
 deviate from its principles. 
 
 Masonic Maxim. — That innocence should be the pro- 
 fessed principle of a Mason occasions no astonishment, 
 when we consider that the discovery of the Deity whom we 
 serve leads us to the knowledge of those maxims wherewith 
 he may be well pleased ; the very idea of a God is succeeded 
 with the belief that he can approve of nothing that is evil ; 
 and when first our predecessors professed themselves 
 servants of the Great Architect of the world, as an indis- 
 pensable duty they professed innocency, and put on white 
 raiment, as a type and characteristic of their conviction, 
 and of their being devoted to his will. 
 
252 THE FATAL PREDICTION. 
 
 S3ai i^ikSAi ]?]aiii(iii'ii». 
 
 BY J. C. HAGEN. 
 
 The lovely Isabel had charms 
 
 The loftiest queen might prize ; 
 And her father was famed through many lands. 
 
 As a seer old and wise. 
 
 Young Garbaldi was a prince of power, 
 
 His lands were rich and wide ; 
 And he had sworn to fair Isabel 
 
 That she should be his bride. 
 
 But years roll'd by, and his pride grew strong. 
 
 And his youthful love grew cold ; 
 And he left the maid of his early choice 
 
 For one who had lands and gold. 
 
 Fair Isabel, so gay before, 
 
 Ne'er smiled again from that day ; 
 
 And though the blight did not kill her outright. 
 It stole her reason away. 
 
 ** Woe, woe, proud prince," said the seer old, 
 *' On thy bridal morn to thee. 
 For torn from thy side thy queenly bride 
 By a stouter than thou shalt be." 
 
 And the proud prince laugh'd a laugh of scorn, 
 
 At the threat of the seer old. 
 For strong were his towers, and many his slaves. 
 
 And his own heart stout and bold. 
 
THE FATAL PREDICTION. 258 
 
 And "Welcome, welcome, the warrior bold,** 
 
 Said he, " to my queenly bride; 
 Whoever he be on my bridal morn 
 
 Shall tear her away from my side.'* 
 
 0, brightly, brightly is shining the sun, 
 
 On turret, and dome, and tower ; 
 Away to the chapel, ye glitt'ring throng. 
 
 For this is the bridal hour. 
 
 Prince Garbaldi has marshall'd his bands. 
 
 And his banners are streaming gay ; 
 And never before had the oldest eyes 
 
 Beheld such a goodly array. 
 
 And he cast a sneer on the seer old. 
 As he pass'd him by in his pride ; 
 ** Where now," he said, " is the warrior bold» 
 Who shall carry away my bride ?" 
 
 The queenly bride, with her glitt'ring train. 
 
 The prince, with his haughty brow, 
 And the shaven priest, in his solemn garb. 
 
 Are at the altar now. 
 
 But, hark to the crash ! and to the flash 
 
 From the burning mountain nigh ! 
 Pillar and wall are rock'd to their fall ! 
 
 fly while ye yet may fly ! 
 
 Full many a tall and goodly knight. 
 
 And many a lady fair, 
 Who vainly essay'd to escape in flight. 
 
 In death lay buried there. 
 
 But the prince has seized his lady fair. 
 
 And has pass'd the outer gate. 
 And boastingly says, *' I will save her yett 
 
 Though it be from the jaws of fate !'* 
 
264 MASONICSONG. 
 
 Away, away, from the falling towers 
 
 And opening earth he fled ; 
 But when he look'd on the face of his bride. 
 
 He look'd on the face of the dead ! 
 
 Yet not from the earthquake's shock she sank. 
 
 Nor fire, nor falling stone ; 
 But 'mid the terror of that dread hour 
 
 Her fragile life had flown. 
 
 Then the proud prince thought of the seer old 
 He had vainly spurn'd in his pride — 
 
 For Death, grim Death, was the warrior bold 
 Who had stolen away his bride. 
 
 MASOWXe SUMS. 
 
 Whilst thy genius, Masonry, spreads all around, 
 The rays of the halo with which thou art crown'd. 
 Shall the star in thy sky, which now rising appears. 
 Not partake of that light that grows brighter with years ? 
 Shall its portion of fire be left to expire, 
 And leave no bright trace that shall bid us admire ? 
 no ! its mild beams shall be seen from afar. 
 And the child of distress bless the new Rising Star. 
 
 Like the beams of that Star, which of old mark'd the way. 
 And led where of peace the sweet Messenger lay, 
 May its light, still to virtue and Masonry true, 
 Mark the path that with strength Wisdom bids us pursue ; 
 As its beams, unconfined, illumine the mind 
 With pleasure that leaves no sad feeling behind, 
 The jewel of beauty glows bright, and its ray 
 Makes Griefs gloomy night fly from Joy's radiant day 
 
MASONIC HYMN. 265 
 
 Jehovah spake ! wide Chaos heard. 
 And bowing to his sovereign word, 
 
 Confusion — darkness fled ; 
 "While from the deep, the void profound. 
 Celestial splendors shone around. 
 
 And new-born beauties spread. 
 
 Up rose the Sun in cloudless light, 
 And at meridian strength and height 
 
 Beamed from his radiant throne ; 
 The Moon was robed in silver rays. 
 And mild reflecting solar blaze ; 
 
 Bright-gemm'd the starry zone : 
 
 The morning Star, less lucid still. 
 Was orient seen above the hill. 
 
 And led the van of day ; 
 While twice ten thousand worlds of light 
 Wide round the gloom of ancient night 
 
 Shed Wisdom's mildest ray. 
 
 •* Let these be signs !" Jehovah said ; 
 From pole to pole the signs were spread. 
 
 And MORTALS bade them hail ! 
 For Wisdom, Love, and Power snail be 
 Thy signs, God, and lead to Thee, 
 
 Beyond Death's cbudy vale. 
 
256 PATRIOT-MASONS. 
 
 BY BROTHER CALEB ATWATER. 
 
 Who was it, that, quitting the peaceful shades of Ver- 
 non's hill — all the pleasures which wealth could purchase, 
 friendship offer, or domestic felicity afford — placed himself 
 at the head of our armies, at the unanimous call of his 
 countrymen, and contended many a year for our liberties 
 and independence, until victory crowned his efforts with 
 success 1 
 
 It was Washington, who was a Freemason, and 
 delighted to meet his brethren upon the level, and to part 
 with them upon the square. So may we always meet and 
 part, my brethren. 
 
 Who was it, that, quitting the pursuits of private life, 
 a useful, honorable, and lucrative profession, assumed the 
 sword and fell in defence of our liberties on Bunker's hill ? 
 It was Warren, who was our brother, and at the head of 
 our order in his native State, when he fell. 
 
 Who was it that, by his discoveries in electricity, gained 
 a high place as a philosopher in fame's temple? Who, 
 by his indefatigable exertions, raised himself from the 
 humblest walks of life to the highest eminence as a states- 
 
PATRIOT-MASONS. 257 
 
 man'? Who, from poverty, became rich, by his industry, 
 economy, and prudence'? Whose writings are read in 
 every part of the civilized world 1 Who was it, in fine, 
 that " snatched the lightnings from heaven, and the sceptre 
 from tyrants '?" It was Franklin, who was at the head 
 of Freemasonry in Pennsylvania. 
 
 Washington, Warren, and Franklin were Freemasons, 
 whose virtuous labors in public and private life, in the field, 
 and in the cabinet, deserve our esteem, our admiration, and 
 our gratitude. Compared with these brethren, how sink 
 the monarchs of Europe '? Though they despised the gew- 
 gaws of princes, they gloried in wearing our jewels. The 
 simplicity and sublimity of such characters are only esti- 
 mated by the craft, and will be honored and revered by 
 mankind, as long as patriotism, courage, constancy, fidelity, 
 perseverance, and all the amiable and heroic virtues find 
 eulogists and admirers. 
 
 We need not the illustrious examples of other ages and 
 distant countries to excite us to the performance of every 
 duty, to the practice o^ every virtue, while Washington, 
 Warren, and Franklin are remembered. Freemasonry, 
 they were thine! Columbia, they were thy shield, thy 
 boast, and thy glory ! 
 
 Freemasonry ! thy sages, thy philosophers, tny warriors, 
 and thy statesmen of our country, who have fought, and 
 toiled, and bled, and died in our defence, are remembered 
 with gratitude by thy sons ! History has raised a monu- 
 ment to their fame more durable than marble, which shall 
 stand firm, and its inscription continue undefaced, while 
 
258 PATRIOT-MAeONS. 
 
 the world shall stand. Patriots of every country, read the 
 inscription upon this pillar, dedicated to patriotism and to 
 virtue. The patriots of the revolution, guided by the 
 eternal principles of justice, truth, and patriotism, sought 
 to exalt their country, and they succeeded in the attempt. 
 How sickening to the eye of every genuine patriot are the 
 courtiers of this silken age, compared with those who, in 
 an iron age, endured every privation, passed through all 
 manner of perils, toiled, and bled, and died, for their coun- 
 try ! How sink the potent patriots of these days, when 
 compared with those who, during our struggle for inde- 
 pendence, might have been tracked by the blood which at 
 every step distilled in crimson currents from their weary 
 feet ! Their clothes, consisting of " shreds and patches" 
 of every color, barefoot and hungry, they redeemed us from 
 slavery. With soldiers thus accoutred, our brethren, 
 Washington, Montgomery, Warren, Clinton, Gates, Lee, 
 Scammel, La Fayette, and others, conquered the best- 
 appointed armies Britain ever sent into the field. Patriots 
 of every age and country shall repeat the story to their 
 children, while every Freemason shall rejoice that the prin- 
 cipal actors in those days of peril were our brethren. 
 Let us honor the memory of our departed brethren, who, 
 under Heaven, made us a nation by an adherence to their 
 principles ; by practising those virtues, moral and social, 
 pubHc and private, the possession of which rendered them 
 so good, so amiable, so great and illustrious. Thus shall 
 we become blessings to ourselves, our families, our friends, 
 and our country; be an honor to Freemasonry and to 
 
PATRIOT-MASONS. 269 
 
 human nature. Though, from a variety of causes, we can- 
 not equal Warren, Franklin, Washington, and Clinton, in 
 extensive usefulness to our own country and the world at 
 large, yet, hy practising the same virtues, we may be use- 
 ful, honored, and happy. 
 
 Though it fall not to our lot to possess the great mental 
 abilities of Washington and Franklin ; though circum- 
 stances may be such, that we can never have it in our power 
 to cultivate our minds to the extent they did, yet, by a care- 
 ful culture of our hearts, we may raise a character for 
 virtue and goodness, which shall eclipse the most splendid 
 abilities, when unaccompanied by virtue? and, in the circle 
 in which we move, however small its circumference may be, 
 produce a richer harvest of usefulness to mankind. " The 
 memory of the just is blessed," but this happiness does not 
 always fall to the lot of splendid abilities. How many are 
 condemned to everlasting fame, like Arnold, without pos- 
 sessing virtue enough to endear them to a single individual ! 
 Let him, then, who wishes for the friendship of his fellows, 
 practise those virtues which shall command their esteem. 
 The practice of virtue brings its own reward along with it. 
 He who governs not himself is unfit to govern others. 
 Think you, my brethren, that Franklin and Washington 
 would have occupied the high stations which they filled, 
 with so much honor to themselves, so much usefulness to 
 mankind, had they not learned to subdue their passions 1 
 They practised this first lesson taught by Masonry with 
 singular felicity. Temperance, prudence, industry, and 
 economy, lead to long life, to health, to wealth. He who 
 
260 PATRIOT-MASONS. 
 
 trains up his children in the way they should go, will 
 generally have the satisfaction of seeing them, when arrived 
 at maturity, still walking in those ways. He who regards 
 truth, shall be confided in, trusted, and believed. He who 
 is just to others shall himself be treated with justice. The 
 company of the just, the amiable, and the good man, shall be 
 sought after by the just, the amiable, and the good. Con- 
 tentment shall dwell in his breast, light up his countenance 
 with smiles, render his life happy ; his death shall be 
 lamented by others, and peaceful to himself. 
 
 What a vast difiference between such a one and a vicious 
 man ! The very cbuntenance of the latter is stamped with 
 base and disgusting passions. No peace, no mildness, no 
 serenity dwells there, but hatred, avarice, envy, and malice. 
 Nor is the practice of virtue inconsistent, as some vicious 
 men would insinuate, with the possession of the greatest 
 talents, natural and acquired. The greatest and best men 
 who ever lived constantly practised the humblest, as well as 
 the most exalted virtues. On this very account, Washing- 
 ton, Warren, Franklin, Clinton, Green, and a long list of 
 brethren, who are now no more, command our esteem, as 
 well as our respect. We esteem them for their virtues, we 
 admire them for their talents. As far as is in our power, 
 let us imitate the examples they have left behind them. 
 
 My brethren, that Holy Book, which always lies open in 
 our lodge informs us, that " there is another and a better 
 world" beyond the grave, and another lodge eternal in the 
 heavens, to which 7iO one can ever be admitted, who 
 attempts to carry intc it any weapon, offensive or defen- 
 
THE mason's boast. 261 
 
 sive. Those weapons are vices and vicious propensities, of 
 which we must be divested before we can be invested with 
 the true lambskin, as a badge of our innocence. The 
 " theological ladder^^ which Jacob saw in his vision is the 
 only means by which we can ascend to heaven, the three 
 principal rounds of which are Faith, Hope, and Charity. 
 Mounting aloft upon these rounds, may we all ascend, 
 and by the benefit of a pass-word, which is a Saviour's 
 righteousness, be admitted by the grand tyler. Death, into 
 the inner temple above, and at the proper season, after our 
 work is over, be permitted by the Grand Senior Warden of 
 the Celestial Lodge to refresh our weary souls forever. 
 
 Old Time may keep beating, his numbers completing. 
 
 And wear out his wings in the region of years ; 
 But wisdom and beauty shall teach us our duty. 
 
 Until the Grand Master in glory appears. 
 The world may keep gazing, their senses amazing, 
 
 And wreck their inventions to find out our plan , 
 With candor we meet them, and prove as we greet them 
 
 That Masons respect every virtuous man. 
 
 Let envy degrade us, and scribblers invade us. 
 
 And all the black regions of malice combine ; 
 Though demons and furies turn judges and juries. 
 
 With innocent lustre the order will shine. 
 Like rocks in the ocean, we fear not the motion 
 
 Of waves which assail us in foaming career ; 
 With truth and discretion, we still make progression. 
 
 And leave all the envy of fools in the rear. 
 
262 THETEMPLE. 
 
 S>S1 Simi?£I8. 
 
 And he brought me thither, and behold, there was a 
 man, whose appearance was like the appearance of brass, 
 with a line of flax in his hand, and a measuring-reed ; and 
 he stood in the gate. 
 
 And the man said unto me, Son of man, behold with thine 
 eyes, and hear with thine ears, and set thine heart upon all 
 that I shall shew thee ; for to the intent that I might shew 
 them unto thee art thou brought hither : declare all that 
 thou seest to the house of Israel. 
 
 Then came he unto the gate which looketh towards the 
 east, and went up the stairs thereof, and measured the 
 threshold of the gate, which was one reed broad ; and the 
 other threshold of the gate, which was one reed broad. 
 
 He measured also the porch of the gate within, one reed. 
 
 And there were seven steps to go up to it, and the arches 
 thereof were before them : and it had palm-trees, one on 
 this side, and another on that side, upon the posts thereof. 
 
 And he brought me into the inner court towards the 
 east : and he measured the gate according to these mea- 
 sures. 
 
 The length of the porch was twenty cubits, and the 
 breadth eleven cubits ; and he brought me by the steps 
 whereby they went up to it : and there were pillars hj the 
 posts, one on this side, and another on that side. 
 
THETEMPLE. 263 
 
 And Solomon made all the vessels that pertained unto the 
 house of the Lord : the altar of gold, and the table of gold, 
 whereupon the shew-bread was ; and the candlesticks of 
 pure gold; five on the right side, and five on the left, 
 before the oracle ; with the flowers, and the lamps, and the 
 tongs of gold ; and the bowls, and the snuffers, and the 
 basons, and the spoons, and the censers of pure gold ; and 
 the hinges of gold, both for the doors of the inner house, the 
 most holy place, and for the doors of the house, to wit, of 
 the temple. So Hiram made an end of doing all the work 
 that he had made king Solomon for the house of the Lord. 
 
 And he set the cherubims within the inner house; and 
 they stretched forth the wings of the cherubims, so that the 
 wing of the one touched the one wall, and the wing of the 
 other cherub touched the other wall ; and their wings 
 touched one another in the midst of the house. 
 
 Masonry. — Enter the door of Masonry, and you will 
 there find an Order whose object it is to curb intemperate 
 passions, to restrain the spirit of ambition, and to teach 
 charity and forbearance to individuals, justice and integrity 
 to governments, humanity and benevolence to nations : to 
 banish from the world every source of enmity and hostility, 
 and to introduce those social feelings on which depend, in a 
 high degree, the peace and order of society. 
 
/