Note:  This material was scanned into text files for the sole purpose of convenient electronic research. This material is NOT intended as a reproduction of the original volumes. However close the material is to becoming a reproduced work, it should ONLY be regarded as a textual reference.  Scanned at Phoenixmasonry by Ralph W. Omholt, PM in June 2007.

 

LIGHTS AND SHADOWS FREE MASONRY.

 

CONSISTING OF MASONIC TALES, SONGS, AND SKETCHES,

 

BY ROB. MORRIS, K. T.,

 

LECTURER ON THE LANDMARKS AND WORK OF FREEMASONS

 

LOUISVILLE, KY.,

 

PUBLISHED BY J. F. BRENNAN, FOR THE AUTHOR. 1852.

 

PREFACE

 

To the Masonic Reader.

 

                THIS attempt, the first one ever made upon an extended scale, to illustrate the principles, by exhibiting the effects of Freemasonry, is respectfully offered to the craft, wheresoever dispersed. In it I have endeavored to avoid romantic incidents. I have not introduced unnatural or improbable embellishments.

 

                But, from a large collection of facts, gathered in my travels through almost every section of the United States, I have prepared, in a plain style, the following sketches. It has been the desire of my heart, even from the night when I was made a Mason, to return something to an institution that then promised so much, that has since done so much, for me. To this end I early adopted the practice of jotting down, from the mouth of both friend and foe, every fact and opinion that related to Freemasonry. Having been practiced, from my boyhood, to wield the pen for the public press, I composed, several years since, from these memoranda, various Masonic tales, and published them in the Magazines of the Order. So extensively were these crude and imperfect productions copied by the newspapers of the day, that while my own estimate of their merits was vastly increased, I became convinced that there was a demand for a volume of such pieces, maturely considered, and carefully written, and that it would be acceptable to the craft. That volume, the result of my Masonic life, is now offered. In the preparation of these sketches, I have had three principal ideas in view: First. To introduce nothing of an important nature, but what is literally true. Second. To introduce incidents enough to bear either directly or indirectly upon every section of Masonic obligation and privilege. Third. To introduce the technical language of Masonry, so far as good authority is afforded me, by standard works. To understand Masonic land‑marks, and upon them to frame a true system of Masonic work, has ever been my earnest desire and study; to avoid a disclosure of Masonic secrets, in this publication, was my principal care. The former I dare not presume entirely to have attained to, the latter I can boldly and fearlessly avow. Should my Masonic brethren meet this more elaborate work with the same kindness with which my former sketches, and my courses of lectures, generally, have been accepted, they will render my pleasure and gratitude complete.

 

                                                                                                                                ROB. MORRIS.

Hickman, Ky., June, 1852.

 

DEATH ON THE SIERRA NEVADA.

 

                THE Indiana wagon‑train had crept up one of the long slopes of the Nevada spurs, its front pointed due westward. As the vanguard reined up their jaded mules on the summit, the level rays of the setting sun reminded them that they were full late for encamping; for by the time the three grand requisites of caravan travel could be secured, (wood, water. and grass,) and their own supper prepared, the full moon would be high in the heavens. All day they had journeyed without delay, tarrying not to look at the drifts of human wrecks, the broken wagons, the putrid carcasses, the rifled boxes, or the wolf‑opened graves of humanity. Such objects were too familiar to excite the curiosity of men twelve hundred miles advanced on the California road, and even had their curiosity been aroused, the necessity of reaching camp by sunset was too obvious to justify the least delay. So when a tottering beast fell from exhaustion he had been hastily stripped of his saddle or harness and left to the wolves. When a wheel gave way, the contents of the stranded wagon were transferred to the others, and the vehicle, whose iron and wood had been fashioned in the best shops of Indiana, was deserted to the Camanches. Much suffering had been experienced since morning. Eyes seared with heat and blinded with dust had looked all day wishfully forward to the Nevada peaks that seemed like some evil enchantment to recede as the caravan advanced. Tongues swollen with thirst and past articulate speech, murmured indistinctly of the gushing waters whose moisture and coolness they so coveted. Death was behind, life and hope before, and every nerve was strained to attain the goal of their attempts. The sun went down as wagon after wagon drew up in its appointed place in the encampment. The animals too weary

 

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DEATH ON THE SIERRA NEVADA.

 

to satisfy any craving of nature save the want of rest, fell in their harness, soon as the sting of the long wagon whips ceased to urge them on, and not a few dropped to rise no more. But water and food were now ready for all. Swollen lips and jaded limbs were soon forgotten. The jest and laugh began to ring merrily through the echoes of the hills. With a ready adaptation to emergencies, the Indiana train that had defied all the toils and dangers of the prairies, and sustained their spirits and the ties of their organization, when other companies had broken up, now seated themselves near the Totem spring, and in the merriment of supper banished all recollections of the day. An hour had passed and the whole train might have been seen, dispersed ill groups reclining upon the matted grass at supper. The commander of the train, whose mess embraced six stalwart fellows, was loudly called for to come and join them. The word was passed from group to group but no response was heard. "Captain Glass! Captain Glass " wax shouted, until his companions, too hungry for further ceremony, filled their huge tin cups with coffee and set themselves voraciously to work. Old Clarke, whose gray head had dodged bullets at Packenham's defeat thirty‑five years before, shook it with a sage air, as he held out his hand for a slice of fat bacon and hazarded the remark: "Reckon he's in the wagon with Tolliver yet; he's been with him most all day." " Yes," responded Tilly Iikes, the mule driver, "he's a blamed sight more particular with that chap than he was with me, when the blasted mule kicked me;" referring to an incident that happened a month back, wherein the brute aforesaid shattered three of Hikes' ribs and changed the native graces of his countenance, so that his own mother would hardly know him should he live to get back to her again. "'T is said they's both Freemasons," suggested Cooney Wackes, the Dutch boy. " Oh dang your masonry on the prairies," pursued Old Clarke, pouring out his second cupful of coffee so strong that shot would almost have floated on the surface, "that thing called masonry may do in the settlements, and they had a heap of it in Jackson's army at the cotton bags, but it's frostbit in a caravan.

 

                It can't blossom here. I knowed a case of a British

 

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DEATH ON THE SIERRA NEVADA.

 

officer that was tuck prisoner and brought into New Orleans arter the fight, with all his legs shot off, and the Masons just spread themselves to‑" "I knows one of the masons' signs," interrupted Dutch Cooney. "I got it from a boat man at Cairo for two dimes. It's this'er way;" ‑ and the squabby little chap went into some pantomimic spasms, so hideous that the whole mess broke into a simultaneous roax at the idea of his paying out his money for what any frog could do. In the midst of their merriment the voice of their commander, Capt. Glass, was heard issuing from a wagon at some distance, "Wackes, Cooney Wackes, a cup of water here, quick! move yourself, you lazy hound. No, not that bring it from the spring;" and as the stupid boy moved along, much too slow for the crisis, the captain jumped down from the wagon, and ran to the ravine in person. The front part of the vehicle was opened towards the west so that the ice‑cooled breezes from that quarter, might fan the sick man's brow. Through the vacancy thus left, there was a view of the splendid colors that reddened the sky long after the sun went down. The unfortunate man already referred to under the name of Tolliver, lay there in the last struggles of life. Poor fellow, he had borne up manfully against the hardships of the journey but the flesh, not the soul, yielded at last. The dreadful fatigues of that long day's march had exhausted his remaining strength. He felt that this encampment was to be his last. His languid eye was fixed vacantly upon the scarlet west and the snowy peaks, but his thoughts went back far toward the east, to the land where wife and babes were patiently enduring his absence and praying for his safe return. Oh the unwritten thoughts of humanity in such an hour as that! Oh the vision,‑the keen pangs of memory, the despairing cries, the agonized prayers. Who shall know them? who shall presume to describe them? The all‑seeing eye that searches man's heart, it alone reads them, and in the day when all secrets shall become known, we shall understand them too. The cool draught which the commander brought fresh from the fountain head, revived the dying man for an hour. He expressed a desire to be taken out of the wagon and to lie on

 

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DEATH ON TIlE SIERRA NEVADA.

 

the bosom of his mother earth once more. It was granted. A dozen strong men united their hands to form a living couch, and he was placed tenderly as the sick child on its mother's breast, upon a pile of blankets beneath a thorntree hard by. The word had gone around the encampment that Tolliver was dying, and immediately each brother in the fraternity of Masons came up to render him the last kind offices. These kind offices of Masonry had been freely dispensed to him ever since his sickness, now of more than a week's duration. The gourd had never been quite emptied by any, for poor Tolliver must have a drink, though others remained thirsty. The strongest mules must be hitched to his wagon, (the one with the square and compass painted upon the canvas covering,) even if other wagons dropped out of line and were loft. The care of the company was left much to the lieutenant, so that Capt. Glass might remain by his side to support his languid frame and to hinder him from inflicting any self‑injury while under the influence of delirium. And there was good cause for all this; for Laban Tolliver had been one who in his days of prosperity had brightly exemplified the work and lectures of Masonry by good deeds. The various lodges in his district owed many of them their existence, all of them their illumination to his self‑sacrificing efforts. Upon the rolls of the Grand Lodge his name was honorably recorded. Upon the memory of the widow and fatherless, the distressed brother, and the neglected orphan, it was indelibly engraved. But misfortune had come in the end. The evil day arrived: the checkered pavement had its squares of gloom. False friends, in whose affairs he had interested himself, for whose pecuniary stability he had become guarantee, made business failures of such a character that while their own property was selfishly secured, the pledge of their endorser was sacrificed. A tornado destroyed a valuable mill upon which he had expended tens of thousands. A boat‑load of produce that he had shipped to New Orleans was lost, while running the gauntlet of that river of wrecks. The four messengers, who in one day brought to Job the intelligence of Satan's dealings in the loss of his cattle, his sheep, tis camnels, and his children, had their

 

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DEATH ON THE SIERRA NEVADA.

 

counterparts in the hard experience of Laban Tolliver; and when as he sat amidst his beloved family, a letter came to his hand, that the Bank in which he was a Director, had failed and involved him to the amount of thousands beyond his remaining means, it was to the Masonic credit of the man that he too could say with the patriarch," the Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away, and blessed be the name of the Lord." Well, everything was at once given up. Houses, lands, furniture, even the wardrobe of his family were resigned to his insatiable creditors. All was done that time and talents and experience permitted, to raise money and pay off the balance; for Laban Tolliver felt that indolence at such a time would be in God's judgment a high misdemeanor. But when three years had elapsed, and he found that hard toil and anxious scheming scarcely sufficed to pay the interest on the debt, while his family was neglected, and his children were growing up without education, a sense of duty prompted him to engage in something more promising, even though considerable hazard were attached to it. It was the time of golden dreams relating to California. One of those wild epidemics that statedly pervade our country, had fevered every mind, and a company of his neighbors was organizing to glean in the golden harvest. Mr. Tolliver offered himself as a volunteer, and the proposal was eagerly accepted. His wife, resigning herself with woman's patience to necessity's stern decree, set herself at once to prepare for him the most comfortable outfit in her power. His friends came nobly forward and advanced the necessary funds, not by way of loan, but gift, and so privately, that he could not discover the names of the donors. But they are known in heaven, and a bounteous usury shall be awarded them there.

 

                The last word‑the last embrace‑the last look‑oh! that they should be the last! And here, on Sierra Nevada, lay Laban Tolliver‑the point within a circle‑the point a dying mason‑the circle a sun‑burnt company, whose hands had not unfrequently pressed his, in the distant Indiana Lodges, with fraternal grips.

 

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DEATH ON THE SERRA NEVADA.

 

As death approached, his soul brightened. His speech, which had been quite indistinct for several days, was suddenly restored. Many a thankful word did he say to each of those who had made him their debtor in his past week's illness. Many a good wish was uttered for their prosperous journey; for a full realization of their hopes; for a safe return to their friends. Many a little token of remembrance was distributed amongst them. Then came the farewell. It was in silence; not a word expressed it: but by the grip‑emblem of the Christian's hope in the resurrection of the body, and the immortality of the soul‑by the strong grip, known and valued by all enlightened Masons, the dying man said more than tongue could say, of the comfort that filled his heart that hour. And now a word to Brother Glass, the patient, the indefatigable, the true brother Mason, who, day and night, had watched over him as the nurse attends her helpless charge. It was a brief word, but quite enough; for the strong man suddenly bowed himself; big sighs shook his whole frame; a shower of womanish tears bathed his cheeks, and he could only beseech, " No more, Brother Tolliver, not a word more! I am more than repaid!"The world recedes; it disappears: heaven opens on his eyes: his ears with sounds seraphie ring. He is done with time. He is shaking off the remembrances of earth, even while he casts off the well‑worn garment, his body. His treasure was in an earthen vessel, which is about to be broken, and then he will be free to employ it. A thought of his absent family, never more to hear his returning steps‑oh! nothing but that could convulse his face with such an expression of grief! It is over now. Doubtless he has commended the widow and the fatherless to God. Or may be, the solemn pledge made to him by every member in that circle, "to consider his family as their own," has had a soothing influence. For now, all is calm again, and the clay shall be no more convulsed. His eyes turn inward. A few sentences, incoherent, but hopeful, can be heard by those around: "Blessed are they that dwell in thy house: thou

 

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DEATH ON THE SIERRA NEVADA.

 

hast covered all their sin: the emblem of Providence is fixed in the center; the symbol of Deity in the east; the Messiah taught the doctrine of a resurrection from the dead: arise and call on the name of the Lord: having done all, to stand come and let us build up the wall of Jerusalem, that we be no more a reproach: though I pass through the valley of the shadow of death: but Masonry shines: hand to back Father, into thy hand I commit my spirit: *' * this body * * again * * the tribe of Judah" * * * * Midnight arrived. All in the encampment were buried in profound sleep, despite the howling of the wolves, who had gathered that night in immense bands, as if the demon whom they served, had notified them of a corpse in the camp. All were asleep, save the brotherhood, who were engaged at this solemn hour in the burial of their dead. One had decently sewed a shroud, his own best garments forming the materials, and enwrapped the body therein. One had made a headboard, the gate of his wagon furnishing him with a proper plank, and by the light of his last candle, had neatly engraved the name, and age, and Masonic character of the deceased, resting not his hand until it had also executed a striking copy of that Masonic symbol which should mark the resting‑place of every Mason. A grave had been dug, east and west, deep enough to bury the remains far beneath the eye of mortal man. A procession was then formed. Two by two the wearied brothers interlocked their arms, and walked slowly to the grave. The bright moonlight glittered on their fronts, and revealed the Masonic jewels, and the regalia, worn in honor of LABAN TOLLIVER, as they had often before worn them in funeral processions at home. The body was lowered with fitting reverence. A roll, containing the name of the deceased, was cast upon it; then the apron he had so often worn; then the sprigs of evergreen, plucked from the shrubbery which abundantly adorns the ranges of the Sierra Nevada. Heavy flat stones were next laid upon the corpse, that the ravening wolves might be disappointed of their death feast. And now, the solemn words of a Mason‑prayer. broke the midnight silence. Never will a member of that

 

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DEATH ON THE SIERRA NEVADA.

 

funeral group forget the thrilling sentences read that hour above the remains of their Brother. For, at this instant, a band of Indians, who had dogged them all the day, broke out in a yell that curdled the blood of each hearer, and a spiteful volley of arrows was fired upon them from a neighboring hill. And then the wolves, with their glittering eyes fixed upon the clear moon, howled louder than before, while far above them in the west, could be seen the snow peaks of Sierra Nevada, as she looked down upon the unaccustomed rites. "Unto the grave we resign the body of our deceased friend, there to remain until the general resurrection, in favorable expectation that his immortal soul may then partake of joys which have been prepared for the righteous from the beginning of the world And may Almighty God, of his infinite goodness, at the grand tribunal of unbiased justice, extend his mercy toward him, and all of us, and crown our hope with everlasting bliss in the expanded realms of a boundless eternity This we beg for the honor of his His name, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen." And from each fill heart there went up the solemn response ‑ So MOTE IT BE.

 

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THE MASONIC BREASTPIN; A TALE OF INDIAN TIMES IN TWO CHA PTERS.

 

"The Moor, the Hindoo, the wandering Ishmaelite, nay, even the Red man of the forest, has knelt humbly at our altars, and acknowledged the humanizing influences of Freemasonry."‑[Extract from a Masonic Address.]

 

CHAPTER FIRST.

 

                THERE were hurry and disorder in the public square of Catesby, confusion and terror in its dwellings. The morning meal was either unprepared, in the confusion of the hour, or if spread, was untasted by those who had mingled with the multitude around the court house. Women with dishevelled hair and garments all disarranged, men half clad, barefoot and laden heavily with the weight of children, children snatched from their little beds and screaming at the top of their voices at the unaccustomed bustle‑such were the objects that filled the western roads to Catesby and spread consternation, right and left, as they came.

 

                Every few minutes some horseman would dash furiously by, scattering the mud in the faces of pedestrians, and almost breaking his heart with shouts of Indians, Indians, as he came to the suburbs of the town. The great bell in the Presbyterian church was rolling and plunging, and rocking about in a most unheard‑of manner, confounding all its voices into one stunning din of alarm. The old Sexton, Waifer, whose soul had been buried for many long years in the concavity of that bell, and whose boast it was that it made no signals without a rational explanation (he was tyler of the masons' lodge in Catesby, which fully accounts for his stubbornness in this particular) had just been carried home a cripple for life, from a fall got by holding on spasmodically to the big rope, as the heavy bell made a sudden gyration. Evidences of terror and the effects of fright, in many instances ludicrous enough, were

 

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THE MASONIC BREASTPIN.

 

visible all around. The bank clerk, Mr. Shaw, had left his desk with untold bills lying within the vault, and the vault unlocked. The county recorder, Esq. Williams, whose book cases contained the land titles of the whole county, and whose boast it was that he lived, ate, slept and would die in the apartment which contained them, ran thoughtlessly out, the room all unfastened and the records exposed. Boyett, whose livery stable was the pride of the place, permitted his horses to gnaw the manger, unprecedented neglect, and to whinney unnoticed for better food, while he the negligent, stood with open mouth drinking in the frightful news as water. And truly the news were frightful, sufficiently so to justify any amount of consternation.

 

                For the Indians, who were in pay of those liberal employers, the British, had made a sudden foray across the river the night before, and not only captured much valuable property and destroyed much more, but left fearful evidences of their blood‑thirst in the show of eleven corpses, parents, grand parents, and seven children of the Colter family, all slain and scalped by their infernal hands. And all this had happened since the going‑down of yesterday's sun, and within five miles of the town of Catesby! Various reports, some of them highly exaggerated and absurd, were brought in by the country people. Those who lived farthest from the scene of action, and consequently knew the least of the matter, made up in ingenuity what they wanted in fact. The most reliable information was from old widow Bruson, (commonly called styled Granny Grunt) who, living near neighbor to the Colters, was the first to discover the savages, and to look at this display of their ferocity. She described it as a piteous spectacle. "The allduman (old woman) had never crawled out of her bed for seven long year with the roomatty (rheumatism,)" she said, "and the tarnal fants (phantoms) had skulped her as she lay, arter they'd knocked the leetle sense the poor creetur had all outener (out of her). Miss (Mrs.) Coulter had fout the devils like a she painter (panther) twell (until) all the meat was hacked offen her arms. The broom she'd cotched up was whopped in two with their cussed tomahawks. The old man

 

 

THE MASONIC BREASTPIN.

 

lay outen (outside) the door with his head clean off. They'd called him outen his bed, seems like, and when he poked his head out to see who was there, they tuck it smack off at the neck. But the most dismallest thing ever you seen, since the Lord made you, was the childer, (children). Seven sweet, precious‑" Here the old lady's withered cheeks were bathed in a torrent of tears, answered by hundreds of those who stood around. "Seven sweet, precious babies, who'd come to my cabin only yesterday, to bring poor old granny a gourd of milk‑all of'em dead in a row‑close by the fire‑place‑scalped ?little Mary's arms round her twin brother's neck." Such a tale as this, told in the public square of Catesby to five hundred people, was no everyday affair. But now a more cheerful cry was heard, "Major Hiodges is coming," and upon the back of it, the noise of bugle and drum and the clattering of a troop of horse gave stirring token that something beyond groans and tears might be anticipated. The doughty Major had received intelligence of the massacre a little after sunrise, and so quick were his movements that within two hours, he had collected about thirty of his neighbors, mounted them, called out the drummer and bugler of his regiment and was here at Catesby, equipped and provisioned for marching against the savages. A tremendous shout from the crowd acknowledged his alacrity, and his zeal that morning was remembered afterwards at the polls when the Major changed the color of his feather and donned a general's uniform. In war time, and especially upon the frontiers, no man waits for orders or a commission. A very short period sufficed for the Major to open a rendezvous for volunteers and to arrange a plan by which four scouting parties of twentyfive men each should follow up the Indian trail. The Major himself headed one of the parties and the number of his mess was soon filled up. Archimedes Dobrot the town tailor, a famous Indian fighter who had been at the River Raisin, and nearly lost his scalp

 

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THE MASONIC BREASTPIN.

 

with the rest, headed the second; and he too was fortunate enough to fill the ranks without difficulty. The third and fourth companies were not so successful, although an abundance of patriotic speeches were made, enough one would have thought to put the war spirit into a snail. Kruptos, the attorney, a splendid speaker, a ten hour man, mounted the stump in person and was fast inclining public opinion towards the volunteering point, when his eloquence was suddenly checked by the proposition of an impertinent fellow in the crowd, an enemy of his, who offered to go as volunteer and take his three sons with him, if he, Kruptos, would go too. This disgusting proposal was unworthy of reply, and Kruptos retired amidst the jeers, it must be confessed, of the whole square. The first and second parties got off shortly after noon. The third contrived to fill its ranks by help of certain spirituous stimuli well known to all recruiting sergeants, and that also dashed off in the direction of the river anxious to compensate for the delay. The fourth company had scarcely a half a dozen members by sundown, and so much coolness in volunteering was evident, that there was even a talk of desisting from farther trial. But this was not so to be. The cowardly determination was changed by the timely arrival of Robert Carnarson who had heard, late in the day, of the danger, and hastened to town on the wings of the intelligence. This young gentleman was familiar with everybody in Catesby, as appeared by his shaking hands with one half the crowd, and calling the others by name. He was a stout, well‑built individual, of some five and twenty years of age, possessing a bland look and one of those fortunate voices, that, without being absolutely musical, pleases every ear, and makes its possessor popular, if only for his tongue's sake. He was well‑bred, and moved amongst the crowd as first among his equals, using such language as betokened a polished education, although not untinctured with the localisms of the borders. His dress like his manners was gentlemanly but not finical; the material being costly, while the make was countryfied and plain. He was furnished with an elegant

 

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TIE MASONIC BREAST PIN.

 

sword, holster pistols, and gun, and rode the best horse ‑ so said Boyett, and he ought to know for he had owned him three times ‑ the best horse in the country, by twenty dollars. That he had come fully bent upon volunteering, could be known by his preparations, and the first words he uttered, "Keep a vacancy for me, Captain Webster. for I am going with you, if you will take me." Accompanying him were two others, Mr. Socrates Ely and Tim, whose surname no mortal being knew. The former had graduated in the same college class with Robert Carnarson, and being disposed to literary pursuits had gone west and offered his services in various quarters as a school teacher. Strange to say, he had failed in every application, and always on account of the same cause, his hand‑writing. It must be confessed that his pen‑marks were mysterious ones, and might, some of them, have puzzled Champollion himself, had it been in his day, to solve them. But it certainly argued a poor appreciation of literary valor, on the part of school trustees, to reject a polished scholar, (a curiously wrought stone) and an estimable gentleman, merely on the account of his penmanship. But so they did, and Socrates Ely, A. M., after spending all his loose change in a vain search for employment, gladly accepted Robert's invitation to come and live with him, and there he had remained ever since, studying Euclid by day, and Homer by night, and laying a thousand plans for immortality. Mr. Ely had volunteered merely to accompany his college chum, and knowing so little of sword and gun, he might as well have brought a deacon's rod from the Lodge room, as the old Queen's arm musket that he had balanced painfully upon his shoulder, to the great detriment of his overcoat. Tim, the nameless, was a block altogether of a different pattern, being to trades and callings what Socrates Ely, A. M., was to science ?a universal adept. It was said, that he became a Freemason to find out something about Hiram, the widow's son, who, the Bible informs us, was a goldsmith, silversmith, iron founder, brass founder, stone mason, carpenter, spinner, weaver, dyer, tailor, and last of

 

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THE MASONIC BREASTPIN.

 

all, engraver. Tim was born with a jack‑knife in his hand, He had served apprentice to nine trades (three months to each), and in every instance, excelled his master in practical skill before his time was out. He had made a fiddle at twelve years old; a copper bugle at fifteen: a wagon, out and out, wood and iron, at twenty; taken out eleven patents; dug wells; built chimneys; erected houses; soldered tin ware; shod horses; mended clocks; painted signs, and baked confectionery. He had shaped a perfect model of king Solomon's temple, according to the best authorities and presented it to De Witt Clinton, who pronounced it the most ingenious work of art he had ever seen. Tim had enlisted in the present call for volunteers merely because he had never helped to kill a man, and he felt that his education would not be completed until he did. The accession of these three, and the spirit‑stirring oration made by Mr. Carnarson, from the court house steps, soon revived the spirit of patriotism, and filled up the quarter hundred by dusk. As it had become so late in the day, it was agreed upon, by all hands, that the company should now separate, to meet again promptly at sunrise, armed and equipped for marching: and so the multitude broke up, exhausted by the day's excitement Let us follow Robert Carnarson, whom we have installed as the hero of our tale. After a supper hastily eaten at the public inn, he might have been seen immediately afterward, wending his way to the well‑known residence of Mr. Baldridge, father of Miss Josephine Baldridge, whose hand Robert had bespoken for the dance of life some months before. This announcement will convince our readers, at the very outset, that we have no love tale for their amusement; the love scenes, the tender question, the blushing reply, the extatic thanks, the sighs, the smiles, and the grips ?‑all these time‑honored landmarks in love's Freemasonry, had been carefully preserved, and the parties had made suitable proficiency in this first degree of the mysteries preparatory to that of the second, or the marrying degree. Among that cool and deliberate portion

 

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of our population that live nearest the North pole, it is maintained, that at least six months ought to elapse between these two degrees; nature herself has pointed out the interval to the third. The love affair, then, between Robert and Josephine, will not detain us long in the recital. The former, after a rapid walk to Mr.

 

                Baldridge's dwelling ‑ if the reader ever visits Catesby, he will recognize it by the green posts in the portico‑rapped at the door with love's own signal, the latter kindly acting as his conductor, answered it, and admitted him; a certain ceremony of reception was gone through with, only understood by the initiated, and they never, never reveal it; and then the applicant was led to the very sanctum of the dwelling‑the parlor‑and into the presence of the family. When Mr. Carnarson stated the object of his visit to Catesby, there was, at first, a profound silence. Josephine turned pale, and looked as though she would like to dissuade her lover from his warlike purpose. If this were her intention, however, it was forestalled by an encouraging remark from her father, who congratulated Robert on his intention. "It was the duty of every young man," he said, "to come forward at such a crisis as this. Had his knee suffered him to mount a horse, the cowardly youngsters who filled the square today, might have clung to their mothers' petticoats, and he would have volunteered himself. He would have been half‑way to the river with that brave Major Hodges. The trashy boys, the chuckle‑headed babies "‑and here a sudden cough intervened to close the sentence. Much judicious advice was then added, as to the best course for a scouting party to pursue; for the old gentleman had been a volunteer under Mad Anthony Wayne, and he knew all about it: and then the family retired, leaving Josephine and her lover to the uninterrupted use of the parlor.

 

                A lover's lodge, in the first degree, was opened forthwith. But it is improper to make a written record of the proceedings. It is enough for the reader to know that these two lovers had been well instructed to keep the

 

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  THE MASONIC BREASTPIN.

 

work of each degree to itself, and they governed themselves accordingly. Being about to part, the young lady, with many a sigh, and tear, presented a token to her lover, and bade him wear it for her sake. She said: "It was the property of poor Aleck (her deceased brother), and was taken from his body after that horrid accident. I know that you were members of the same Lodge, and I feel that this circumstance will impart to it a double value in your eyes. You are going upon a dangerous service, dear Robert, and must take good care of yourself on my account. Remember, you are not your own, for I have accepted you‑a poor bargain, I am sure:" ‑ the young lady was making a hysteric attempt at wit?"a poor bargain‑and‑and‑but never mind my nonsense, dear Robert, only take good care of yourself, for you are all‑all"‑here the prepositions and conjunctions were strangely neglected. "I shall expect to see you back in a week or two; and whenever you look at poor Aleck's breastpin, think of‑think of‑no matter for the rest." The breastpin was simply a golden square and compass, manufactured by that Tubal Cain of a fellow, Tim, who had made it for Alexander Baldridge, while the latter was Worshipful Master of the Catesby Lodge. To his hotel, Robert now returned, to find Mr. Socrates Ely still sitting up, poring over his Homer, although the hour was the very earliest in the morning, and Tim, who had just finished a handsome lion‑headed riding whip, expressly for the campaign. Promptly at sunrise, the cavalcade assembled and set forth. The day's hard riding took them more than forty miles from Catesby, and to the camp of Major Hodges' party, who had preceded them on the march the day before. Here they learned that the Indians, under a noted chief, had crossed the river in much greater force than had been at first supposed, and had done immense mischief in various settlements on the route. Many parties of the whites had been formed to reconnoiter, and, if prudent, to attack them; and nearly half the regiment of the Blues was out endeavor

 

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ing to intercept them in their return route. The news were stirring, indeed; and the Catesby companies joined camps together that night, fully anticipating, before another, to meet the savages in battle. It is a thrilling scene‑one of these military encampments. The large fires, whose scarlet hue contrasts forcibly with the thick shade of the forest, rendering it even more profoundly black in the comparison, presents one of the most brilliant displays of coloring imaginable. The cheerful jest, unrestrained by the presence of stranger, or woman; the broad opening of heart to heart, by the social influences of the occasion; the symbolic groupings of stars over head; the mysterious voices of the night around; nothing in life's memory dwells longer on the mind of a child than an encampment scene; nothing is so pleasantly recalled to memory, by the retired soldier, as his bivouac in the forest, when comrades were cheerful, and good cheer abundant. The mess which Robert Carnarson had formed for his own‑special accommodation, consisted of Tim, the artificer, Ely, his old college comrade, and the two brothers, Ellison, his neighbors, sons of a widow woman‑widowed by the pestilence of intemperance. These five had built a fire at a little distance from the rest, or rather, Tim had built it, while the others looked on his handy way with stares of admiration; had oooked a bountiful supper, or rather, Tim had cooked it, while they assisted him with epithets commendatory; and they were now cosily sitting upon some seats that ingenious Tim had fabricated out of the limbs of the oaks that were melting into ashes before them. The conversation started with a jocular remark from one of the Ellisons, who had observed the square and compass on Robert's bosom. He thought that Bob was determinated that folks should know he was a Mason anyhow, for he carried his jewel on his breast. "And where else would you have a jewel worn?" responded the indefatigable Tim, who was fitting a spare spring into the lock of Ely's musket‑that essential portion of the mechanism having been abstracted from it years

 

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THE MASONIC BREASTPIN.

 

before. "Where else but on his breast should a Freemason wear his jewels? Next to the heart is the place, and if I aint mistaken, that's the very jewel that Aleck Baldridge had in his shirt bosom at the time the coach load of passengers was drowned in Secon's river. I ought to know that jewel, seeing as how I made it; and if you'll press the lower part of the square hard, you'll learn something about it, Bob, that Josephine herself didn't know of when she gave it to you." His directions were followed by Robert, the others crowding around to see the result; and, to the astonishment of everybody, the square flew apart, and was transformed into a perfect double triangle, on one side of which was engraved, in microscopic characters, the name, age, and Masonic standing of the owner, and this passage of Scripture from 2 Chronicles ii. 14: " To find out every device which shall be put to him." On the other side, a number of Masonic symbols, exquisitely executed; the most prominent of which, was the Mark Master's mark of the fabricator. "Yes," pursued Tim, when the murmurs of surprise were hushed, "I made that breast‑pin and intended it for Dewitt Clinton, but when Aleck waited on me day and night, time I broke my arm, I gave it to him and fixed one up afterwards for Clinton of another pattern. Aleck never knew of that secret spring at all, for I meant to have my own fun out of him some day about it. But poor fellow, he was hurried away to his last account without a moment's warning. We discovered the bodies of the seven passengers in a drift below the ford, more than two weeks after the accident. You couldn't have told your father from your mother, the bodies were so decayed. But I pointed out Aleck's from the rest, for on his breast was this jewel, and I knew it to be the jewel which I had given him as a token of gratitude." "Tell us, Bob," inquired one of the Ellisons," what's the rule for trying men who want to be Masons? Father used to say before he took to drink, that the Masons rejected him because he was one‑legged." "Ha,ha, ha," roared Tim," a one legged man a Mason! why how on earth could he ‑ ha,

 

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ha, ha, ‑ how could such a man‑ that's too good a joke! ha, ha, ha! I think I see him " "Every person desiring admission," said Ely, quoting from memory out of the ancient constitution of Masonry, "every person desiring admission must be upright in body, not deformed or dismembered at the time of making, but of hale and entire limbs, as a man ought to be." " If you really wish to know our rule," replied Robert, "our published books give it clearly enough. The ancient writer who spoke of a sound mind in a sound body, gave our Masonic model with great exactness. Many a fine house has a despicable tenant, while many a noble soul dwells in a hovel. Now, while Masonry is too much of the building art to endure the shabby cabin for a dwelling, she is quite too nice to accept the finest temple unless the god therein dwells." "Fact," pursued Tim, speaking with his mouth full of gun screws,'‑ fact, I knowed a man once down on the Olean who was said to have been rejected nine times because he had such a bit of a temper. The Masons didn't believe they could control him and yet he was the richest man in the place. I'm told he swore he'd get up a political party some day a purpose to break down Masonry and have his revenge; but he can no more injure it than this rotten old lock can injure my new spring." At the word snap went the steel, affording a most unfortunate point to his illustration and occupying all his attention for the remainder of the sitting to remedy it.' In another hour all was still in the soldiers' camp. The sentinels walked drowsily to and fro in the paths or paused to lean against some favoring tree, and snatched a hasty doze. The sky began to change. Mutterings of distant thunder might have been heard in the region of the south. The wind arose. The voices of the night were all absorbed in the roarings of the blast that portended a storm. The sentinels, widely wakened by the disagreeable prospect, roused up the whole 'This anecdote and Tim's prophetic omen will recall to the mind of the in-formed reader the circumstances that led to the anti-masonic warfare of 1826‑33. Many a threat of extermination preceded the baleful attack.

 

21

 

THE MASONIC BREASTPIN.

 

camp to prepare for it. There were no tents, it being a cavalry scout, and the only thing that could be done was to stake down the blankets in the best position to afford a shelter, heap heavy wood on the fires, and await the result. But this preparation was in vain. The gusts increased in violence, tearing away the frail shelters and bearing them far above the tree‑tops, and scattering the fire brands as chaff. Then the heavy fall of decaying trunks shook the ground, and the volunteers felt that a hurricane was approaching them dry shod. All around was as the darkness of the land of Egypt, a thick darkness that might be felt. The pitying stars had withdrawn their rays, unwilling to look down upon such a scene of devastation. The weaker branches from the forest trees fell thickly on every side, threatening both limb and life. A minute longer, and the tempest broke in its fury.

 

                Fortunately for the safety of the encampment, the centre of the gale passed a few hundred yards below them, but the elemental force on the edge of the current was a fearful index to the whole. Those who had not taken the precaution to shelter themselves behind the larger trees, were dashed violently to the ground and grievously stunned. The horses suffered severely from the fall of boughs, and several were so mangled that their owners in mercy dispatched them. Major Hodges had a leg broken, others were hurt but in a lesser degree. The duration of a hurricane on land is rarely long. In another hour the frightened party had collected again to compare their losses and as far as possible repair damages. Tim, who amidst his other amusements had practiced surgery, proceeded briskly to set the broken bones, and then manufactured for himself a blanket cap in place of a hat blown clear away. Fires were rekindled, wet garments dried, and by daylight the encampment was again lost in sleep.

 

22

 

THE MASONIC BREASTPIN.

 

CHAPTER SECOND.

 

                A CAMP of volunteers presents many queer scenes, and they have been worthily described by various pens.* There is a bouyancy of spirits that exhibits itself when the restraints of society are first taken off, that runs out into pranks and humors of all sorts. No where is the gift of a jester so well appreciated as in a camp. No where do broad jokes meet such immediate and ample reward. Although in the process of time this becomes sufficiently wearisome, and camp life tedious and even disgusting, yet it must be confessed that at the outset there is a sparkle in the cup enchanting to the novice. A few days brought together the four scouting parties that had gone out from Catesby, together with many other companies of volunteers, and a regular officer to command them in the person of Colonel Allings. A skirmish or two had occurred in which the savages had been defeated, and so completely were they interrupted on their return route, as to lose all their plunder and turn them near a hundred miles down the river in their endeavors to cross. The plan of campaign announced by Col. Allings was a bold one and like that of Jephthah, Judge of Israel, against the Ephramites, contemplated the extermination of the marauding party. Boats had been procured in abundance which he had loaded with the best of his men, and sent down to guard the more usual crossing places (as the fords on the river Jordan were guarded by Jephthah's picked men,) and one party of the most experienced volunteers was now to be stationed on the opposite side in the enemy's country. In this latter enterprise, by far the most dangerous, our five friends were placed. Col. Allings had been a staunch friend of Mr. Carnarson, the father of Robert, and being rejoiced to see his promising son in the campaign, at once made him commander 'By none more worthily than by Bro. Geo. C. Furber, late of Germantown, Tenn., now of California, in his excellent work, "The Twelve Months' Voluteer."

 

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of this detachment. Being authorized to select his own men, out of the whole body of volunteers, now increased to a thousand, Robert invited all the members of his own mess, and such others of his acquaintance as he thought best qualified for the duty.

 

                It must be acknowledged, however, that such a man as Socrates Ely, A.

 

                M., who had never fired a gun in his life, was not the most judicious selection for Indian fighting, and so Col. Allings observed when introduced to him; But Robert felt unwilling to leave him among strangers, especially as he had deserted his books and volunteered at the first, purely for old friendship's sake. So he took him along, Homer, Euclid and all. A safe and speedy run down the current brought the detachment to the place designated. Here they carefully scrutinized the banks on their own side of the river, searching for any trails that would indicate that the savages had already crossed, but they found none. In a little creek, a few hundred yards from the main stream, they discovered a large number of Indian canoes, carefully concealed, to be ready no doubt against the arrival of the marauders. These Capt. Carnarson ordered to be left untouched, and then his party crossed to the enemy's side, hid their own boats and awaited the coming of the foe.

 

                The solitude around them was perfect, save when broken by the wing of some stray bird, or by an occasional step from a deer that, stealing out of the adjacent thickets, would walk timidly to the water's edge to drink. The position occupied by the rangers was on a group of small hills that overlooked the river for several miles in either direction.

 

                Down one of the slopes to the river ran a war‑trail well marked, that struck out towards the body of Indian settlements and gave evidences of active use in the present campaign. Opposite, on the southern side of the river, was a peninsula around which the river curved in one of those graceful figures which might have given rise to the first Masonic idea of the Arch: it was on the upper side of this peninsula that the small creek emptied, amidst whose long flags were concealed the canoes for the war party.

 

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For several hours the eyes of the most experienced borderers failed to detect any signals that would imply the presence of man; but a few minutes before sunset a smoke was observed on an eminence nearly opposite, (Jeremiah 4,,) and one of the party, old Mike Havers, instantly declared, "they'se comin' boys, ‑ we'll have 'em here afore midnight!" As there was doubtless some communication by means of the signal between the warriors opposite, and their friends at home, prudence dictated that the rear of the volunteers should be guarded lest an attack from that quarter should confuse all their own plans and the spider be caught in his own toils. This duty was committed to old Mike, who with some ten others, was ordered to station himself at such points on the hills around, that no savage could possibly approach the main body without being discovered. We shall presently see how this important duty was performed. Provisions were now paraded, which the party ate cold and hastily. The boats that had brought the whites down the river, while they were now still more carefully concealed, were likewise placed under vigilant guard. As soon as it was dusk, the whole company, save the two detached parties already mentioned, came down to the bank and stationing themselves, some behind trees, some flat upon the ground, they awaited the coming of the foe. They were not long held in suspense. About nine at night a plashing of paddles was heard from the middle of the river, and then as if by enchantment, the whole fleet of canoes, some ten in number, came out into the soft starlight about fifty yards from shore. The plan of surprise developed by Capt.

 

                Carnarson was simple, yet promised success. The whole party of savages was to be permitted to land and to draw up their canoes on the shore, before a movement was to be made on the part of the whites. Then a general volley, announced by the firing of his own pistol, was to be the signal for a chosen party of twenty to rush upon their canoes and secure them. Another party would likewise be in readiness to spring down at the same moment, and attack the Indians with tomahawks, in the use of which they were equally expert with the

 

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THE MASONIC BREASTPIN.

 

savages themselves, while the remainder continued on the bank to prevent the enemy from passing into the interior. All this was to prove the shibboleth of their destruction. The fleet, laden heavily with the Indians, had got within a short distance of the shore, so near that the forms of the men who wielded the paddles could be distinguished, when suddenly a pause was made, and at one impulse every canoe shot back into the darkness. It appeared that some alarm was suddenly conceived by the savages and they halted in the river and consulted together in low tones as to the cause. As this moment one of Carnarson's party, without any orders from his superior, made a loud noise imitating the snort of a buck when suddenly disturbed. The Indians were re‑assured by this expedient and a general laugh went through the canoes, excited as much at the comicality of their fright as at the near prospect of a return to home and safety. Nothing further occurred to alarm them, for they landed, drew their canoes upon the bank as had been anticipated, and began to mount the acclivity. But now the deadly signal was given by Capt. Carnarson, and answered with a roar of firearms. More than fifty guns were discharged as a single piece. In the height of this consternation the poor savages found a score of white men amongst them, hacking them down on every side without mercy, while others jumped into their canoes and paddled them off, thus destroying every chance of escape. Vainly they endeavored to defend themselves. Too greatly outmatched by numbers even had they not been worn down by the fatigues of the campaign, and their nerves unstrung by surprise, they melted away as snow. Vainly they endeavored to ascend the bank and escape. Showers of balls were rained upon them from above, swords and hatchets clove asunder the skulls of those who succeeded in mounting up the first bank, while loud cries of scorn and hatred from the whites showed them that their enemies were numerous and unrelenting. The party which at the landing consisted of seventy or more, was fast falling, and yet no serious loss had occurred to the whites, when suddenly the tables were turned

 

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and a new feature added to the bloody picture.

 

                Old Mike Havers, who, as the reader has already learned, had been ordered to guard against an attack from the rear, had posted his men most judiciously, and for several hours had remained, according to orders, silently listening for tokens of the Indians' approach. Becoming weary of such dull work at last, he had borrowed a canteen from one of his detachment and, the old man having a confirmed appetite for strong drink, and having never learned the speculative use of the compasses (although he was a carpenter by trade,) had indulged quite too freely in the ardent draught. The effect of this had been to put him first into a drowsy fit which caused a shameful intermission of his vigilance, then into profound sleep. The party seeing nothing of their com mander, who had lain down under a thick bush, supposed he was gone in towards the river, and when the firing commenced, having no person to restrain them, each left his post and hurried to the scene of action. This disobedience of orders proved highly disastrous. A large party of Indians answering the signal of smoke from the other side, had left their village to meet their returning comrades and welcome them home. They had discovered the scouts under charge of Mike Havers, and as it were intuitively comprehended the whole plan of ambuscade. It was too late for them to remedy it, for just as the chiefs were consulting how they should warn their comrades of the impending danger, the noises at the river side announced that the attack had been made. But now the faithless scouts ran in to share the battle, and the whole Indian party followed close behind. So it happened in the very height of the confusion while the attention of the whites was turned towards the river, more than two hundred Indians charged upon them in the rear. An attack of this sort is doubly dangerous to the attacked party. None are so overwhelmingly surprised as those who are engaged in surprising others. Therefore when the savages, with yells infernal as those of fiends, and with all the desperation of vengeance hurled themselves into the strife, the first impulse of the rangers was to rush to the boats, regardless

 

27

 

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of honor or commands. The company sent to secure the Indian canoes behaved manfully enough. They had not shared the consternation of their friends upon the shore, and they busied themselves in picking up those who had jumped into the river and saved many from drowning. But of the larger number, who ran like cowards to the boats, many were overtaken and killed; the rest pushed off from shore nor stopped to enquire as to the issue of the battle until they reached the opposite side. Capt. Carnarson who had exerted himself to stay the dastards, remained with three or four others, bravely contending against a hundred of the foe. But the strife was too unequal.

 

                Their weapons were dashed from their hands and all of them made prisoners. Within twenty minutes after this catastrophe, all was over.

 

                The wounded whites had been killed and scalped, and their corpses thrown into the river. The bodies of the Indians both living and dead, were placed upon litters made of the sapling trees and carried inland. A faint sound from the other side met +,he ears of the despairing captives as they were driven along that warpath with their arms bound painfully behind them, to meet a certain death. The various scenes connected with Indian life have been too frequently described in history and fiction to call for the aid of our pen. It is known that only one door of escape was ever opened to a prisoner, that was the possibility of his being selected by some parent who had lost a son in battle and who claimed to adopt him in the place of the dead. But no such door was opened to any one of the four who stood bound to stakes at sunrise the next morning, awaiting the signal to die. In the center stood Robert Carnarson. The loss of blood from severe cuts, the loss of sleep, and the inexpressible horrors of his condition had made deep marks upon his youthful countenance through the lingering hours of the past night; but his heart was yet strong and he felt that he could even die as became a man who professed fortitude to be one of his cardinal virtues. his thoughts were not there in that Indian village though

 

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hundreds yelled around him, and burned to feast their eyes with his dying agonies. They were with her whose soft hand had thrilled in his; whose pure kiss of betrothal had blessed his lip; who was even then anticipating his speedy return. Then they comprehended her, the aged mother‑for he was the only son of his mother and she a widow,‑and he felt as he recollected her motherly trust that her pillar of strength was about to be broken, and that her gray hairs would soon go down with sorrow to the grave. On his right hand stood the unwearied, faithful, ingenious Tim. He had lost his good right arm, skilled in all the mechanism of man's hand, by the stroke of the tomahawk, and the great flow of blood therefiom had enfeebled him and left his countenance pale as the lambskin. But his spirits were buoyant, his voice was steady and he made his remarks upon the scenes and circumstances around him with as much unconcern as though he was but a visiter to the awful drama about to be acted. The manner in which the Indians kindled their fire by rubbing pieces of wood together; the complicated knots tied in the hickory bark that fastened him to the stake; the symbolic representations made by paint streaks on their naked bodies; the songs,‑these and many other things aroused his curiosity and afforded him a fund of improvement. The other two captives were strong men, and had been engaged in many a dangerous combat, but they were totally unmanned now. They could have met death at the rifle's mouth unflinchingly; nay even the disgraceful cord would not have presented overwhelming terrors to them, but the burning, the burning alive, and the untold tortues that were to precede even the first application of fire‑these were the things that shook them, and big tears fell upon the ground at their feet as they shudderingly contemplated their fate. The large number of scalps gained in the campaign and those won on the preceding night, were now brought forward suspended upon cedar boughs, and were shaken triumphantly in the faces of the prisoners. They were of all sizes, of both sexes of all hues, from the scanty golden hairs of the precious one torn from its mother's breast, to the frosty locks that had

 

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flowed honorably over the brows of age. This cruel act elicited fresh groans from the two mourners, a severe look from Robert, and a remark from Tim that "the bloody things were villainously mangled in the scalping." A dance was now performed, such as might fitly have accompanied the vile orgies of Baal Peor, during which every sentiment of native ferocity, obscenity, and hatred that the heart of man can express by words and gestures, was introduced. And now the tortures commenced. We will not harrow up sensitive feelings by relating them. When a mere boy we expressed our opinion that such details are only calculated to harden readers' hearts, and the observation of maturer years but confirms us in the belief. Let it suffice to say that the two strong men whose tears and terrors pointed them out to the delighted savages as proper objects for an ingenuity of torture, died at last. They died, after every imagined means of inflicting pain had been exhausted; after the sensitiveness of human nerves had been so blunted by knife, pincers, and fire, that the victim could stand up and look calmly on and see his own frame dissected limb by limb as a piece of machinery in which he felt no longer an interest.

 

                They died; and now the unwearied savages turned to the other two. "Sure enough, Bob, it's our turn now and no mistake," observed Tim, to his companion. " Now's the time to brace up, for the storm's coming. This fire is like to be as bad on us as the Great Limekiln was to the Jews.

 

                You see a man can bear anything when he has got to. Them fellows who took it so hard at first found they could stand it. Let's take it, Bob, just like a dose of medicine. Death has been grappled with before, and you and I know that we must all die some time." "Yes, my dear brother," responded his friend, this is no new lesson to us, but don't forget, Tim, the assurances we also have, that these bodies shall live again.

 

                The savages may torture us and they may dismember us as they have done I Tle great limekiln refers to the conflagration of King Solomon's Temple which was composed in part of marble or limestone.

 

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these poor fellows, and our ashes may be scattered to the four winds, but the All‑Seeing Eye shall behold them, the power of God shall collect them together again, and the Lion of the tribe of Judah shall prevail to raise them from the dead in a more perfect pattern than now." "Bob," enquired Tim with an anxious look, "do you really think those painted devils have the same expectations of a future state that we have? Can it be that the great Archi tect of the Universe, whose workmanship is here displaying such miserable evidences of an immortal soul within them, can it be that he will admit them into the grand lodge above. Where and when are they to be prepared in heart? Fact is, Bob, I am getting dismal. My arm pains me so that I can hardly stand. I shall turn coward if I don't do something to strengthen my nerves. Let's sing a funeral song such as we last chimed around poor Aleck Baldridge. These Indians will give us some credit for it at all events. Join me, Bob," and then the brave fellow led off in in a bold manly voice the funeral hymn so often sung by the Masons at Catesby, and Robert Carnarson added a cheerful voice to the words. MASONIC FUNERAL SONG.* Wreath the mourning badge aroundBrothers pause! a funeral sound! Where the parted had his home, Meet and bear him to the tomb. While they journey, weeping, slow, Silent, thoughtful let us go: Silent‑life to him is sealed: Thoughtful‑death to him's revealed. How his life‑path has been trod, Brothers, leave we unto God! Friendship's mantle, love and faith, Lend sweet fragrance e'en to death Here amidst the things that sleep, Let him rest,‑his grave is deep; 'AIR, PIleyd's Hymn."‑MASsoIc LYRICs No. 4, by the author.

 

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Death has triumphed; loving hands, Cannot raise him from his bands. But the emblems that we shower, Tell us there's a mightier power, O'er the strength of death and hell, Judah's Lion shall prevail. Dust to dust, the dark decreeSoul to God, the soul is free: Leave him with the lowly slainBrothers, we shall meet again! While these notes of mortality were ringing through the forests and comforting the death‑doomed by their symbolic cheer, the Indians stood by in profound silence, neither interrupting or seemingly impatient for the end. On the contrary their ferocious looks assumed an expression of delighted astonishment, and when the song was finished a murmur of approval went through the crowd. The white man's deathsong, albeit the words were not understood, was supposed by the savages to contain a synopsis of the events of his life and the hopes connected with his future state. Such are the leading sentiments in the death‑song of an Indian warrior. One of the tormentors, the burly savage who had been the most active in torturing the two prisoners just deceased, now stepped up to Tim, laid his tomahawk on the top of his head, shook him warmly by his remaining hand, uttered some words that seemed to express approbation of his heroism, and then brained him at single blow. The act, though unexpected and horrible in itself, was nevertheless done in kindness as a mark of the popular sentiment in his favor. A short time was spent in mangling the remains of the poor fellow, and then the whole group closed around Robert Carnarson, the last of the doomed. One silent prayer for strength; one sigh for the absent, a pledge of love and duty; one hopeful thought of sins forgiven and a better world soon to be opened to him by faith in the Redeemer, and Robert resigned himself to death. It hadl been resdyved upon by his tormentors that he should s‑ffer only by fire. Latrge piles of brushwood, both green and

 

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dry, were therefore collected and heaped around him. The ends of dry stakes were sharpened and thrust among the coals to be used as brands for the burning. The clothing was torn off from his lower limbs, that his flesh might be exposed to every degree of heat, and the last act of the drama commenced. Already the flames were scorching his feet; his breath was already drawing fast and hard in the rarified atmosphere; a roaring sound produced by a flow of blood to the head was in his ears, and like the Saviour amidst the fever of the Cross, the poor captive moaned, I thirst. Death impended, and the soul was pluming itself to wing its flight amidst savage yells and crackling flames, when a loud shout from the whole bodS of Indians and the removal of the burning brushwood, an nounced some change of plan on the part of the foe. The rush of cooler air revived Robert; he breathed more freely and opened his eyes. Before him stood an Indian chief. He was dressed in all the gaudy tinselry of barbarian taste, while streaks of paint inelegantly arranged, made his countenance both hideous and ludicrous.

 

                Upon his broad chest was suspended by a leather thong, a massive gold medal, from which gazed out the gross unmeaning features of one of the Georges, King of England. There was an expression in his eye and a dignity in his bearing and royal voice that spoke of a man born to rule.

 

                The chief gazed into the eye of Robert Carnarson, and as the pinioned white man returned him unffinchingly, glance for glance, he nodded kindly to him, and called out in broken English, "Good, good, white man brave‑white man burn!" Then turning off, he signed to the tormentors to proceed with their task. But ere he had withdrawn, the light of the blazing furze which had been brought up to rekindle the pile, glanced full upon the breastpin before spoken of, which Robert had worn in his bosom. The jewel had been hidden in the arrangement of his garments until that instant, so that the savages had altogether overlooked it.

 

                But as soon as the chief beheld it he turned back with an air of curiosity and laid his hand on it. What 4)

 

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Page 34   ‑0034>   THE MASONIC BREASTPIN.

 

was the surprise of Robert to see him as he beheld the symboli6 square and compass, suddenly change his proud fierce look to that of a gentle smile; and then, strangest of all, to make a sign known only to those who have received the intellectual treasures of Freemasonry.* Fettered as he was by his bonds, Robert could only respond to his fraternal salutation by words, ‑by words well understood however to him who heard them. Ordering the other savages to a respectful distance, the chief then proceeded to unclasp the breastpin and examine it more closely. New hopes of life now filled the heart of the doomed man, and reaching out his hand as well as his condition permitted him, he took the jewel from the savage, pressed the concealed spring and exhibited the double triangle, emblem of the Royal Arch degree. That also was understood and a new tie was established between the parties.

 

                It was but the work of a moment now to cut the green withes that had bound Robert to the stake, and then right through the center of the tribe passed the chieftain with his brother Mason, while a low murmur of broder, broder, was heard from the crowd. This release, however it might have diappointed the savages, was received with perfect deference to the will of their chief, and so the life of Robert Carnarson was preserved.

 

                In a retired wigwam the two Masons sat, unable to speak the language of each other, but each expert in that universal language which clearly conveys the sentiments of Brotherly Love, Relief, and Truth, and teaches the primary virtues of Temperance, Fortitude, Prudence, and Justice; and there they remained together without intrusion until the sun went down.

 

                But what was said, and what was promised, and what was done, is it not recorded on the pages of Masons' hearts! The last rays of the setting luminary glittered on that Masonic breastpin, as Robert clasped it in the chieftain's mantle, and left it there as a pledge to be redeemed some future day. About dusk a tremendous shout was heard in the camp, a *It is well known that many of the Indian chiefs in the pay of Great Britain were made Masons in the military lodges connected with the English regiments.

 

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Page 35   ‑0035>   THE MASONIC DIREASTPIN

 

.. Ash was made by old and young to the torturing post, and another prisoner was announced. This was no other than Soc rates Ely, A. M., who had escaped the night before by creeping into a hollow log, where he might easily have remained undis covered, but for want of discretion in concealing his legs, and in controlling a remarkably loud snore which he indulged in while asleep. Around his neck the savages had tied his beloved Homer, companion in all his misfortunes. Ely was bound hurriedly to the stake, and the pincers, and the sharp instruments, and the blistering flames were all made ready for his torture, when a communication between those Mason‑brothers led to his release. Then the rude wigwam‑' witnessed a reunion between friends and an acknowledgment of favors received that angels might have beheld with delight. * * # * * * # We will not weary our readers with further accounts of brotherly kindness; their speedy restoration to their friends may be conjectured. Then followed the happiness of many parties at the unexpected return; weeds of mourning were thrown off, and the fatted calf was killed. The union between Robert and Josephine was not long delayed, and thus the second degree of Love's mysteries was happily consummated amidst the heartiest good wishes of all who knew them. In due time the third was announced in the birth of a lovely child, and when last we visited Catesby we heard General Carnarson, now an old gentleman of sixty‑five years, declaring to his wife Josephine, a silver‑haired lady only six years younger than himself, that Tim, the rogue, their grandchild, had been putting snuff in Mr. Ely's coffee, and he was afraid he should be compelled to give the darling a gentle castigation. In the graveyard amongst old dilapidated monuments and neglected tombs is one, always in good repair, a path deeply marked around it by visiters' feet, in the pattern of a broken column on the shaft of which lies an open book. Poor Tim! your body may be scattered amongst the unnamed ashes of that sacrificial spot, your spirit may have soared aloft on the sentiments of that hopeful hymn, but your virtues and your genius are indelibly written upon our memories. Peace to .

 

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your ashes! May this feeble effort to delineate your charac ter not fail of its reward. One incident further we will add. About five years after the rescue we have recorded, a strong and noble‑looking Indian entered the settlements, now at peace, enquiring for Robert Carnarson. It was the Mason‑chief who had come to restore to his brother the breastpin, the pledge of that fearful day. Much fraternal attention was paid him both within and out of the Lodge, and when he retraced his path to Canada, a large gold medal was presented him on behalf of the Masonic body, inscribed with befitting symbols, and with these appropriate words: BROTHERLY LOVE, RELIEF, AND TRUTH.

 

36    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 37   ‑0037>   THlE EASTERN STAR DEGREES.

 

THE EASTERN STAR DEGREES.

 

ANDROGYNOUS MASONRY. THE five Androgynous degrees, combined under the above title, are supposed to have been introduced into this country by the French officers who assisted our Government during the struggle for liberty.

 

                The titles, Jephthah's PDaughter, Ruth, Esther, Martha, and Electa, sufficiently denote the histories comprehended in the degrees. We have but little experience, on this continent, upon the general subject of Androgynous Masonry. The few, so called degrees common, especially in the southern portion of the United States, betray their juvenility and their American origin, too palpably to admit a very high estimate of their value. Of these "The Heroine of Jericho" seems to be the most ancient;' after that, following, in the order mentioned: "The Ark and Dove;" " The Mason's Daughter;" " The Good Samaritan;" "The Maids of Jerusalem," and others still more modern. But none of these will satisfy an intellectual woman's desire for knowledge, or shed any light upon the past, or convince their recipients of any peculiar claim they may possess upon the good will of Masons. But if we may believe those who have examined "The five rays of the Eastern Star," there is light, there is beauty, there is knowledge in each. The following extracts from the published Ritual, translated into English, are in point: " The Sisterhood of the Eastern Star is manifest to the world by its adorning virtues‑five. Honor in bright loneliness is the sanctity and moral guarantee of all the obligations of the Eastern Star. This is read by the enlightened in the cabalistic motto of the order. t Upon that foundation (honor) stand the following pillars:‑to be true; to be aiding; to be * It is ascribed by the Freemason's Monthly Magazine to Mr. David Vinton, of Rhode Island. t The cabalistic motto above referred to, is F.A.T.A.L.

 

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Page 38   ‑0038>   THIE EASTERN STAR DEGREES.

 

counseling; to be loving; to be secret; to be the servant of Tesu8s Christ. Sweet in its fragrance is the memory of the worthy dead. It comes up from the recollection of happy hours past in their companionship; it comes down in faith's joyful anticipations of re‑union in the home of the Saviour. The members of the Eastern Star will follow to the grave's brink the forms of those who have preceded them to a world of glory." The whole Ritual seems to be prepared in wisdem and beauty, and if we may believe what the enthusiastic Masons of Europe say concerning it, the advantage of strength was not wanting in its organization. The following verses are offered by the writer as an humble testimonial of gratitude to those who kindly instructed him in the mysteries of these beautiful Degrees: JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER.*‑Judges, 11. 35. FATHER! father! the joyful minstrde sung Lo, glad I come, with timbrel and with dance! Hail, father, hail! thine arm in God was strong! Hail, God of Israel, Israel's sure defence! Hosanna! hosanna! Thus the minstrel sung. Father! father! the astonished daughter cried What grief is this, what means that sign of wo M Dust on thy head? thy gray hairs floating wide? That look of horror on each soldier's brow? Bewailing, bewailing Thus the daughter cried. Father! Efather! the maid devoted said If thus I'm doomed, if thus thy vow has gone, Turn thou not back! there's hope amidst the dead, None to the perjured‑let thy will be done! Hosanna! hosanna! Thus the maiden said. Father! father! the doomed one meekly spoke Be strong thy hand, be resolute thy heart l To heaven's re‑union, I will joyful look And with a blessing on thy head, depart! Farewell! farewell! Thus the doomed one spoke AIR,' Love Not.' MASONIC LYRaics, No. 7. By the Author.

 

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Page 39   ‑0039>   TiIE EASTERN STAR DEGREES.

 

RUTH.*‑Ruth, 2. 5. FRoM Moab's hills, the stranger comes, By sorrow tried, widowed by death; She comes to Judah's goodly homes, Led by the trusting hand of faith: Ye friends of God, a welcome lend The fair and virtuous Ruth, to‑day; A cheerful heart and hand extend, And wipe the widow's tears away. She leaves her childhood's home; and all That brothers, friends and parents gave; The flowery fields, the lordly hall, The green sod o'er her husband's grave Ye friends of God, a welcome lend, &c. She leaves the gods her people own: Soulless and weak they're hers no more; JEHOVAH, HE is God alone, And HI‑ her spirit will adore. Ye friends of His, a welcome lend, &c At Bethlehem's gates, the stranger stands, All friendless, poor, and wanting rest; She waits the cheer of loving hands And kindred hearts that God has blest. Ye friends of His, a welcome lend The fair and virtuous Ruth, to‑day; A cheerful heart and hand extend, And wipe the widow's tears away. ESTHER. t‑Esther, 5. 3. QUEEN of Persia's broad domain, Why this anguish and despair! Blinding tears like falling rain; Sighs and words of hopeless prayer! Round thee stands a waiting train, Wealth and beauty, rank and powerAll to bring relief is vain, Queen of sadness in this hour. AIR, "Bonny Doon." MASONIC LYRICS, No. 8. By the Author. t MASOb[C LYRICS. No. 9. By the Author. ,,

 

4I "'    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 40   ‑0040>   THE EASTERN STAR DEGREES

 

For a voice has gone abroad, Stern and fearful, filled with doom. Israel's exiles to the sword, Sword and brand to Israel's hom& Lo, that high expressive brow Grand‑but what can woman do; Hark, those words the purpose show "I will save or pcrish too! " "To the Sovereign I will haste Robe your queen in purityCrown her as in triumphs past Maidens, to the throne with me." Queen, thy holy aim is won; God o'er rules the stern decree; Sends a pardon from the throne; Israel saves, and honors thee. MARTHA, * John, 11. 26. Low in the dust she knelt, Down by the Saviour's feet, With weeping eyes and hands upraisec Up to the mercy seat; The friendless girl was sad Complainingly she sighedOh, hadst thou come while yet he lived Our brother id not died.

 

                The Saviour's gentle smile New hopes in Martha woke; Thy brother, he shall rise again, The gracious Saviour spoke: The living shall not die, If in me they believe, And though they in the dust may lie, The very dead shall live. Into the Master's face, The sad one meekly gazed; There is no fear in love, there is No doubt where faith is placed. Thou art, thou art the Christ In thee the dead shalt lIveWhatever thou shalt ask of God, I knowu that God will give. I AIR, The Soldier's Tear. MASONIc LYRICS, No. 10. By the Autho.

 

40    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 41   ‑0041>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 Before an open tomb, A joyful group is seen; The grave has yielded up its dead, And faith once more is green. No longer, tears are thine Sweet Martha, soul of faith! Thy love for Christ has found reward, Thy brother won from death! GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 

 

                OR THE FOUR MASONIC VALUES IN THIE EUCLID LODGE. EUCLID Lodge is a good Lodge for work, and far beyond the ordinary, for practical benevolence and fraternity. Strangers who have visited Watchall county, have declared it to be a matter of surprise to them how so well‑governed and so well‑informed a Lodge as Euclid ever got there. Although it is not situated at the county seat, and is but one amongst six in the county, yet there is no Lodge in the State with a sounder membership, and it is not at all uncommon for applicants to obtain permission from the Lodges nearest which they live, to come up, from a considerable distance, to Euclid, and, if found worthy, to be made Masons there. The membership of Euclid Lodge, however, is not numerous, but little over the old standard, in fact, for they do not follow the modern notion of making members of all whom they make Masons; far from it. The last report of the Secretary, Bro. Plumbe, to the Grand Lodge, gives fifty‑four Master Masons as the * The Ahiman Rezon declares that "more than forty or fiftv members, when they can attend regularly, as the wholesome rules of the craft require, are generally found inconvenient for working to advantage." The declaration is true to this day.

 

4.1 4 0    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 42   ‑0042>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 total of membership. The reasons why they have no more, are found in a small handful of black marbles at the further end of the ballot box. Those reasons are considered amply sufficient. The Worshipful Master of Euclid Lodge, Brother Coverly, has somewhere picked up the following tradition, and seems never so happy as when he is telling it once a month to his brethren in open lodge: "At the building of King Solomon's Temple, bands of the Fellow‑crafts, eighty men in each, were sent to Mount Lebanon to examine the cedar trees, while the ten thousand Jews, under Adoniram, followed after to cut them down. Every tree was scrutinized by eighty pair of eyes, and if any one of them observed the minutest defect, such as a crook, crack, wind‑shake, knot‑hole, decay or flaw of any sort, he marked it, (not being called upon to give his reasons ) and that cedar tree stood rejected." So well known abroad is Euclid Lodge for the virtue of good fellowship, that its representative in the Grand Lodge is invariably appointed chairman of the Committee of Complaints and Appeals, an office for which he is considered well qualified on account of the many compromises he has witnessed at home. For the Supreme Court itself is not better known as a tribunal of last resort than is Euclid Lodge.

 

                Whenever a serious difficulty springs up between brethren of a neighboring Lodge, or between a member and one of those amphibious creatures, styled demitted Masons,' it most assuredly finds its way to Euclid Lodge at last; and it is worth any man's twenty‑five dollars to see Brother Coverly, sitting behind his monstrous big goggles (he declares that he can't sit up late at night unless he guards his eyes with green glass ) presiding at one of these appeal cases. The code of practice at his court is uniform and simple. First, he requires a pledge from both parties that they will stand to and abide by the decision of the Lodge; then he hears both sides with unwearied patience, * We intend no disrespect by the term amphibious. An amphibious animal is one that inhabits land and water and looks miserable in both. A demitted Mason never looks happy amidst the brethren. and he certainly cannot feel so when he is away from them.

 

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Page 43   ‑0043>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 (it has been whispered that he goes to sleep behind the goggles aforesaid ); then he makes both parties acknowledge themselves partly wrong, and shake hands over the holy spot. Then comes a speech from Brother Coverly, a heartfelt prayer from grayheaded Parson Logue, a shaking of hands and handkerchiefs all around, and then the Lodge closes and that's the last you ever hear of it. People outside may go wild with curiosity; it makes no difference‑the thing is locked up, and the key lost. They may waylay the Masons on their road home, and try to entrap them with questions; all in vain. " How did that trial come out?" a solemn stare is the only response. " Did the parties make their statements?" No answer. "Didn't Higgs call Diggs a liar?" A gentle whistle, tune, Freemason's March. "Well then, how was the thing settled?" A smile and a turning away, a scratching of heads and a general disappointment. That's just the way they did when Stovall was accused of kicking Marcus, knowing him to be a Mason, and to this day old Mother Phlote has labored in vain to get at the particulars. Ah, bless your heart, there's no leaky barrels in Euclid Lodge; the bungs are well drove in, the hoops hammered down and riveted; the whole Lodge is tight as a drum. The members have often enough been cautioned that the manner in which Masons settle their difficulties, is one of the impenetrable secrets of the art. This is in accordance with the well known views of Dr. Oliver, the sage historian of Masonry, who advises that "all differences which may occur amongst us, ought to be kept secret from the world: the degree of Provost and Judge was instituted by Solomon to hear complaints and decide differences." The amiable character of Euclid Lodge is so noted that the colonies which go out from her every year or two to organize new Lodges, as a beegum expands itself in new swarms, may be recognized by their family resemblance. The sapient Sam Slick, in his book of travels, says " the character of the mother is a sure index to the character of the daughter;" and so it proves here, for no Lodges in the State rank higher on the books of the Grand Lodge than these offshoots of Euclid.

 

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Page 44   ‑0044>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 But highly exalted as Euclid Lodge is and deserves to be, it has nevertheless a variety amidst its membership, and this variety it is that has suggested the title of this sketch, aold, Silver, Brass, and Iron. Four grades are distinctly marked even as these four metals were used in the temple of King Solomon, and we greatly err if it does not prove upon examination that every other Lodge possesses nearly the same variety. Let us commence at THE IRON VALUE. Squire Blunt is a fair specimen of this material. He became a Mason principally because his neighbors did, and he continues his membership in the Lodge because he likes to hear it said that he is a Mason. He wears a Masonic breastpin, and has painted a square and compass on his sign, both being for the purpose of affordingprimafacie evidence to the same effect. He pays his Lodge dues only occasionally; is always astonished to find they have run up so large; is convinced that the Secretary forgot to enter his last payment; hunts over his papers at home for the receipt; fails to find it, then gives it up with a grumble. Whenever he visits the Lodge, which is very rarely the case except at elections, installations, and funeral occasions, he has a resolution to offer that the quarterage dues be reduced one half, declaring that for the life of him he doesn't see what becomes of all the money. He would like very much to hold office, and frequently proposes that Euclid Lodge should fall into the modern practice of holding elections semi‑annually, in hopes that his turn would come the sooner. When a stranger falls into the neighborhood to visit an acquaintance or to look for land, Squire Blunt is usually foremost to hail him as a Mason, to examine him, and then who but he is ready to take him by the hand, introduce him into the Lodge room and boldly vouch for him. Squire Blunt invariably objects on the score of expense, to the employment of the authorized lecturer when he comes around, and as one noisy man can sometimes do much more harm than a score of

 

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Page 45   ‑0045>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 sensible folks can remedy, he did once succeed in preventing an engagement of this sort, greatly to the injury of the Lodge. The Squire has no Masonic books, but being fond of reading such things, he depends upon borrowing from others; he adopts the same economical rule concerning Masonic magazines and newspapers. Squire Blunt has very limited notions of the Cable Tow. It is not mnore than three miles long in his opinion, and some of the brethren have whispered that the particular rope which he holds on to, is somewhat warped at that‑perhaps for the want of use. It was on this account that when Bennington Lodge lost its hall by fire, and when Croswell Lodge appealed to Masonic charities on behalf of their Orphan school, and when the poor Hungarian brother who was collecting means to bring his family to America, came with a recommendatory letter from the Grand Master, none of these things moved the heart of Squire Blunt. He declared "1 they were not within the length of his Cable Tow," and who could gainsay his declaration.* Squire Blunt is more liable to be imposed upon than other Masons in his vicinity. For instance, he was overtaken one day on the road by a cute Yankee fellow in the rifle trade, who passing himself off on the Squire as a Royal Arch Mason, got a five dollar bill out of him for an old copy of Allen's Ritual, that veritable exposition of all the degrees and a good deal more. But when Squire Blunt brought his costly pur chase to the Lodge and triumphantly exhibited it, Brother Coverly put on his large green goggles, looked it through from end to end and then dropping it softly into the stove, he remarked in his sweet mild way, "either this exposition is true or false; if true you have no right to handle the perjured leaves, if false, you have no use for it: in either case you are acting unmasonically to patronize the enemies of morality by paying out your money for these works!"‑and so Squire Blunt lost his five dollars. * Masonry recognizes this moral truth, that every man is endowed by his Creator with a consciousness of right and wrong, and that conscience is his own rule of action

 

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Page 46   ‑0046>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 Brethren, who read this little sketch, have you any member of the Iron value in your Lodge? THE BRASS VALUE. Brass is not so much a metal in itself as a compound of other metals, and the mixture is very little like the original. Dr. Swazey is a specimen of the Brass value in Euclid Lodge. Dr. Swazey has many excellent Masonic qualities. He pays his quarterage dues like a hero. Hfis cable tow reaches to the furthest parts of the earth and comprehends all mankind in a single coil. The fact is the Doctor is so good hearted and benevolent to all men that he can hardly proportion his bounties to any particular class above the rest. Dr. Swazey is extravagantly fond of side degrees. He has got them all, and glories in having them all. lie has been ground over in the Button factory degree; burnt his fingers in the Call‑and‑Answer; plead to scandalous charges in the Blue hen; tussled manfully in the Row‑your‑own‑oar; shot his arrow; eat his words; held on to his cable tow; been down to Joppa; conquered divers temptations‑in short, his education in this branch is complete. Finding the thing so easy he manufactured a side degree for himself called the Pestle‑and‑Mortar;* but as none but physicians can take it, we are in the dark as to its mysteries; but we have been told that the candidate commences by swallowing twelve pills in succession as a trial of his fortitude. And here now lies the error of Dr. Swazey, his mnetal is too much compounded. He has more zeal than discretion. No person in the Lodge is better prepared to be a bright Mason than he. His library of Masonic books is large, the largest in the district. lIe has the education to understand them, and the talent to apply them, but his Masonic reputation is not first rate, for he attaches himself to every secret society that springs up, and devotes as much time and means to one as the other. He seems unable to discriminate between ' The eagerness with which these nonsensical farces are swallowed by some Masons is amusing.

 

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Page 47   ‑0047>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 an association born within half a century and one that has stood the brunt of twenty‑eight centuries. In the tenets of Masonry Dr. Swazey is as apt as any other person, in Broth erly Love, Relief and Truth; likewise in the cardinal virtues of Temperance, Fortitude, Prudence and Justice. But even here his brassy‑compound value is visible, for he has got his temperance so much mixed up with temperance societies and his relief with mutual relief associations that for the life of him he cannot see the difference.' But it is much more pleasant to commend than to blame. The charitable disposition of Dr.

 

                Swazey is so well under stood by his brethren, that when a contribution is to be made up they always put his name down, whether present or not, and he fulfills their expectations like a Trojan. When Brother Joon died, leaving his family in a destitute condition, the Doctor sent in his account for medical attendance receipted in full, and furthermore declared himself indebted to the estate seven dollars‑(it was a falsehood, but the angels smiled over it and refused to report at the heavenly east,)‑and he paid over the seven dollars to the widow. Yet there is another fault this brassy brother has. He has got into the erroneous idea that as Masonry doesn't take away any privileges which a man possessed before he joined the Order, therefore if a person insults you, you may knock him down, Mason or no Mason. This doctrine is not pure gold, like Eclecta's; it is brass. The Doctor is wrong in his premises, therefore he errs materially in his conclusions. He goes beyond the parallels and the book: no wonder then if his orbit becomes in this respect a lawless one. Brother Swazey belongs to the progressive party in Masonry. He believes in going ahead. He thinks that because King Solomon never heard the puff of a steamboat, nor saw a newspaper, nor smelt chloroform, therefore all the wisdom I The author earnestly prays that he may not be misunderstood in these remarkls. A membership in several secret associations at the same time, is nrot a criminal offence nor would he so present it; but it weakens the powers of an individual Mason, and so much divides his energies that Freemasonry, a system which demands great study and much time to comprehend it, receives but an equal share with those modern associations which need neither.

 

4a    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 48   ‑0048>   GOLD; SII,LVE,; BRASS; IRON.

 

 d;.dn't die with him; and so he is in favor of improving Masonry. He forgets that perfection in the art of architecture is lost. He thinks he has a patent way for the grips; a new kink in giving the signs; one grande flourishe, as the Frenchmen say, for the words. The year he attended the Grand Lodge he made a three hours' speech developing his ideas; but unfortunately that stubborn body voted them down, seriatim, and Dr. Swazey has never been there since.* Brethren, who read this little sketch, have you any members of the brass value in your Lodge? THE SILVER VALUE. Silver is a white, ponderous, costly and pure metal, much sought after, both for mechanical and ornamental purposes. In its nature it is indestructible. It is rather scarce among the fifty‑five elementary bodies, but very widely diffused throughout nature. The finest specimen of the silver value in Euclid Lodge is Parson Logue. This reverend brother comes from a silver family, morally speaking, for his brother Robert was so universally beloved both by Mason and Cowan, that after he died and his poor wife followed him to the grave on account of her grief, their children were raised at the expense of Masons, and more than seven years afterwards, a Lodge, organized in a room that overlooked his grave, was named Logue Lodge in honor of his memory. Parson Logue is equal to that deceased brother both in morals (Masonry) and religion; and resembles him as well in his holy walk and conversation, as in the lineaments of his face recorded in the portrait suspended on his parlor wall. The brethren of Euclid Lodge highly appreciate the silver value of this pure hearted brother, and they manifest it by using his talents freely in the various Lodge offices and duties. He has filled all the elective stations so frequently, and it has become sr much a matter of course to elect him, that when an * The landmarks of Masonry were the origin of that principle connected with the laws of the Persians: neither of tlem could be altered.

 

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Page 49   ‑0049>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 absent brother meets one after St. John Evangelist's day, his enquiry is "and what did you make of parson Jim this time?" In fact he has perambulated the Lodge room from East to South and from South to West so frequently, and occupied all the intervening places so thoroughly, that the work of Masonry comes as pat to him as it does to preach a sermon on Free Grace. Brother Logue is emphatically a working man. Had he been present at the building of King Solomon's Temple, the King would certainly have employed him, and put him in an honorable station and given him Master Mason's wages. But there are spots in the sun. We must now turn the picture. The good old gentleman lacks something. We cannot elevate him to the highest standard of Masonry, and it is for this reason, he does not know the lectures and cannot elucidate the landmarks. The consequence is that he is often compelled to defer his judgment to far younger men, and it injures his Masonic character to do so. Furthermore, whein he has conferred a degree he depends on some brother present to give the lecture, or in default of that, sends him home without it, which is a fraud (however innocent the motive) upon the candidate.* Again, this Reverend brother of the silver value is sadly deficient in the disciplinary regulations of a Lodge. He is uninformed as to the principles on which the most vital questions are founded. For instance, he cannot say what rule governs in avouching for visitors; or whether a fellow‑craft Mason is or is not to be admitted into a funeral procession; or whether a motion to reconsider can be entertained after balloting; or how it can be discovered which member of the Lodge cast a black ball. He believes that side degrees are injurious to the interests of Masonry, but he cannot prove it, and this gives Dr.

 

                Swazey, who is extravagantly fond of such things, as we have said * Several of the American Grand Lodges have ordered by special enactment that the subordinate Lodges give the whole of the lecture in immediate connection with the degree. The principle is so philisophically correct, and the . opposite course so manifestly unjust, that it is wonderful any should neglect it.

 

49    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 50   ‑0050>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 before, a great advantage in the debate. He thinks that Squire Blunt ought to pay his quarterage dues more punctually and attend the stated meetings more regularly, and study the work of Masonry more completely, but he has no unanswerable argument with which to meet that selfish cry, "It isn't within the length of my cable tow"‑and thus the Squire wins the argumeut. Yet there are many precious virtues in this silver value of Parson Logue. He preaches all the Masons' funerals in the county, and most beautifully does he perform it too. His independence of thought, his Masonic reputation, his long experience, and his incorruptibleness of character, are a sufficient guarantee to every hearer that he shall have a mental feast. These occasions bring out a large concourse of people who acknowledge their gratification at his success in presenting Masonry so appropriately as the adjunct to Christianity. This excellent brother is generally installed agent in all the Masonic charities of his brethren. Is there a widow to be visited? an orphan family to be provided for?‑a sick brother to be comforted? Parson Logue is the man ever ready, always willing, ever efficient. Whole chapters might be written to illustrate his silver value, and a volume of anecdotes paraded to show it up, but a single instance must suffice. The two Masonic brothers, both amphibious, Thomas Lane and Jacob Htall, had quarreled. The original difficulty was an insignificant one, connected with some church matter, but the sore had come to a head, on a five dollar account which Hall bought up against Lane, and a bad offensive sore it proved to be. Many a stamp with the foot had well nigh led to a smite with the hand, but thus far the Lord had led them on and they had not come to blows. Mischief however had been heaped upon mischief, and rumor upon rumor, and the breach was every day widening, when Brother Logue, the silver Mason, declared that the quarrel had proceeded far enough, and he would go a frogging himself to settle it.' His first motion * This joke is a ponderous one and requires explanation. Frogs are amphibious, so are demitted Masons. To go a frogging then, morally speaking, is to settle difficulties between demitted Masons! Q. E. D!

 

50    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 51   ‑0051>   SOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 was to buy up the aforesaid five dollars account, and present it to Brother Lane receipted in full. Then he took back Brother Lane's thanks and respects to Brother Hall; then Brother Hall's warm good wishes to Brother Lane. Then he brought the two parties face to face at his house (accidentally of course) and the whole thing was reconciled in five minutes, natural as a turnip. The best of it was they both handed in their demits to Euclid Lodge, were elected without a demur, and became active members‑thus diminishing the number of croakers by two. It is just such things as these that the old brother lives for, and if he didn't believe there was a Mason Lodge in the next world, he would care very little about going there.* Brethren, who read this little sketch, have you any members of the silver value in your Lodge? "then let every Mason prove his own work, and then shall he have rejoicing in himself alone, and not in another." THiE GOLD VALUE. Gold is about sixteen times more valuable than silver. Estimating iron at four cents a pound, gold exceeds that metal in value nearly five thousand times; in other words it will nearly take five thousand pounds of iron to purchase one of gold. We do not know the relative value of the four metals in King Solomon's time, but there must have been great disproportion, for we observe the numbers 8, 17, 18, and 100 representing the number of talents respectively that were consumed in the Temple. The division of officers and artificers is also indicative of great disproportion, viz, 3, 300, 3,300 and 80,000. A fine specimen of the gold value in Euclid Lodg,e is Bro. Coverly, and would that we could worthily display his char acter. But who can describe the refined gold of the Temple as it flashed answering back to the god of day, from every pinnacle and spearhead upon the roof. No foul bird was to I This remark, though it may ound irreverent to some. will not to a wellinfomed Masoni.

 

61    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 52   ‑0052>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 alight there and defile it no vile flesh was to encumber it.it was to reflect nothing but Holiness to the Lord. When Brother Coverly first became a Mason (it was long, long ago: not a hand which then hailed him with a brother's grip but is now consumed in death,) he embarked in it as a man would encounter some abstruse science that demands time, and toil and talent to comprehend. He had his choice between the four values, gold, silver, brass, iron. Hie might have come up to the iron value merely by possessing himself of the grips and a few technicalities of the order; but this had no temptation for him. "Once a Mason always a Mason," is a severe truth, and Brother Coverly early declared " that when a man enters any state of existence either with or without his own consent, prudence dictates that he should make it as tolerable as he may." So he took hold of the thing vigorously and vowed to see the end of it. He might have attained to the brass value with great facility. By uniting the more obvious beauties of Masonry to those engrafted into other secret societies he could have displayed his talent and gained high honors with the mass. But he declared himself opposed to polygamy; didn't believe in breeding in‑and‑in; loved pure blood; would sew no new patches upon old garments." Therefore he never joined any other secret society, and jested at the idea of dipping water fromn the spring‑branch below, when he could have free access to the spring‑head above. He might have gone up to the silver value, and stood side R)y side with that exemplary brother, Parson Logue. Ile had all the qualifications in advance of a prepared heart, a consistent life, a good education, experience for this world, and religion for the next; Masonry can add but little to such as that, to bring her votaries up to the silver value. This little was soon acquired. He learned the work of Masonry in a few days, while after a year's novitiate none could preside with more dignity or wield the gavel with more propriety than he. The honors of the Lodge and of the Grand Lodge were awarded him; the brethren had respect to their own interest in hs speedy elevation, and soon Brother Coverly began to be looked

 

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Page 53   ‑0053>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 upon as an embodiment of the principles and practice of Free masonry both at home and abroad. But all this was far from satisfying his mind. The silver value, however precious and pure, ranks but second in the scale of Masonic values, and his heart aspired exceesior. Having the beauty and skill of the Widow's son, the stren,tth and fulness of the Tyrian monarch, he sighed for the wisdomn of the King of Israel, and he made the gold of Ophir his standard of Masonry. Those who aim high may not hit their mark, but they will assuredly send their missiles to a more extensive flight. These considerations influencing the mind of Bro. Coverly, he resolved to make three sacrifices on the altar of Masonry, yea four: time, 8tudy, will, money. The expenditure of the latterprocured Masonic books for his study, and the personal experience of Masons for his guidance. The outlay of the former gave him that further experience of Masons which is recorded in books; to these he added the stock he had gath ered in his own person. The sacrifice of his will‑he was delighted with the old symbol, the Masonic slipper‑purchased for him one of the principal secrets of Masonry, a secret which thousands wlao pass through our Lodges, Chapters, Councils, &c., and incur much expense of money never do acquire;' and the knowledge of that secret it was more than all the rest which ennobled him. Brother Coverly early adopted the opinion that the worI of Masonry is to the senses, what the lectures are to the mind, and that the lectures themselves should only be considered as a text to the development of those principles, wise, strong, and beautiful, which underlie, like the immense stones which were in the Temple's base, the whole moral system. Pursuing the subject by the ai;.d of tradition, revelation and the study of symbols, he arrived at this sketch of Masonic theology;‑that there is a God; that he created man and * "Those who are made Masons for the purpose of learning their secret, may deceive themselves; for they may be fifty years Masters of chairs (WVorshipful Masters or \Wardens,) and yet not learn the secrets of the brotherhood."‑D. Seingalt's Memoirs. There never was a truer sentiment than this.

 

5,ill    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

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 placed him in circumstances of happiness; that man forfeited his blessings and was banished to an inferior state; that to repenting humanity God promised restoration; that the unrepentant were destroyed by water; that miracles were worked to release the people of God from bondage and to strengthen them with hope; and that a tabernacle and afterwards a temple were constructed on a divine plan to fix the promises by symbols and types.' Who that has stood by him in the sanctum of Euclid Lodge and heard his thrilling illustration of the doctrine of the Resurrection through Judah's Lion, but what has felt like declaring his feelings in Jacob's own words, this is no other than the house of God and this is the very gate of heaven,‑and then has gone forth with a firmer faith in the religious tendencies of the order than he had before. The course of Masonic labor drafted on his Trestle Board, being actively pursued for many years, elevated Brother Cov erly to the gold value. He can see why Masons should pay quarterage dues punctually, and attend the stated meetings promptly, and study Freemasonry diligently. He can tell not only that Masons must not gamble, drink, swear, and fight, but why they must not; and his why is an overwhelming why, irresistible, unanswerable. In addition to an exposition of the landmarks of Masonry, Brother Coverly has devoted himself at great cost of time and money to the disciplinary regulations of a Lodge. When he commenced the study of this topic it was in vast confusion. The various Masonic journals in America had not touched upon it. There was no standard authority of faith and practice on this head. To acquire the necessary information then, demanded patience, study, correspondence and travel. But Brother Coverly has it plumbed, squared, and leveled now. He knows whether or not each Lodge must be opened and closed separately; what code of Masonic laws is universal and universally binding; what amount of Masonic knowledge is comprehended in the term suitable proficiency; what are the privileges and what the responsibilities of a demitted 'From Oliver's Landmarks vol. 1., this system of Masonic theology is extracted, but with slight alterations.

 

54    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 55   ‑0055>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 Mason; to which Lodge the petitioners for a new Lodge belong; whether an adjournment of the Lodge can be made on motion‑and a myriad of the same sort. Not only is he able to give you a satisfactory answer to such questions, but he advances such arguments and offers guch reasons, (all based upon the ancient and admitted land laarks,) that you yourself are perfectly convinced, and you feel able to convince every one else who has got an ear to hear. Brother Coverly is not an opponent of side degrees as such. On the contrary, he knows too well that all the degrees, save the first three, are in strictness such,* but yet that some of them are essential to the understanding of symbolic Masonry. Instead therefore of offering a blind opposition to side degrees in mass, he separates such as are instructive from such as are merely impressive and rejecting those (far the larger part) which are neither, he gives their relative place to the rest. This good brother of the gold value is opposed to all innovations from whatever source or motive they may spring. iHe opposes such large numbers in a single Lodge; such irregular hours; such a rush of work; so much demitting; opening the Lodge doors so wide; so much gewgaw and tinsel in decoration; the modern bastard politeness in Lodge work; the arbitrary by‑laws; and other things not lawful to mention here. He makes his opposition practical. When Triangle Lodge, in his vicinty, imitated the Oddfellows and fixed a sliding pannel in the door of their Lodge room, for the convenience of the tyler, Brother Coverly, being Deputy Grand Master at the time, nailed it up with his own hands, and terrified the members by asseverating that curiosity once killed a tyler, and that he thought another one was in great danger of his life! There is a tradition afloat in his county that seeing the tyler peep into the room one day while he was presiding, he threw his gavel at him, and with so much precision as to strike that respectable functionary directly upon the forehead, and thus to knock off considerable of the vices and superfluities of his * By side de‑rees we miean those that are explanatory of the symbolic. This definition however would include the R. A.

 

5hi    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 56   ‑0056>   GOLD; SILVER; BRASS; IRON.

 

 life. Whether this tale be true or not, we know that the tylers all dread Brother Coverly as far as they can see him. Such is our understanding of the gold value in Euclid Lodge.

 

                Brothers, you who read this little sketch, have you any such in your Lodge? If you have, prize them; for, as our Grand Master saith, wisdom is better than rubies; and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared with it. You will miss them when they die, and well for you if the loss do not prove to be irreparable. The same plumb, square, and level, with which you level the footstone of your mansion, will be used to level the block above your grave, but, oh, with what different emotions. So when we assay the metals of our Lodge, and pronounce this one or that to be up to the gold standard, we enjoy far happier feelings than when called upon by the stroke of death to declare in the words of Jeremiah, How is the fine gold become dimmed? Prize them, brothers, while yet they walk and work and shine among you. Your iron and your brass may be replaced; your silver, although its loss will be greatly mourned, can be supplied; for the mine is large and the metal widely diffused: but who shall replace your fine gold. Brethren, young and zealous, who look forward to the double aim of Masonry, getting good and doing good, aim for he gold value. Slight the other metals, but strive for the crown, for the pure, yellow, glittering gold of Masonry. Who amongst you will attain to the gold value. His God be with him and let him go up to Jerusalem, which is in Judah, and build the house of the Lord God of Israel (HE IS THR GOD,) which is in Jerusalem. Amen. So mote it be.

 

56    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 57   ‑0057>   FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

 

FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH A TALE OF ANTIMASONRY.

 

IT was in the year of light, 5789, the same year and month that witnessed the inauguration of George Washington as first President of this Republic, that Mr. Oliver Lanceroy was installed pastor of the church at Weeconnet. Ile was then a young man. He had just graduated at the well‑known school, even then venerable for its age and character, Harvard Universit,v at Cambridge. Many anticipations were formed concerning him; for his boyish promise had been brilliant, and his career at college was with the foremost both for scholarship and good conduct. Add to this the fact, that Washington himself acknowledged an interest in his success, having stood by the dying bed of his father wounded to death at Trenton, and at that solemn hour pledged his Masonic faith to exercise a supervisory care over the son. When, therefore, the lad arrived at sufficient age to enter the University, it was with a warm recommendatory letter from the General's own hand. And when, with the sand yet fresh on his diploma, he visited Weeconnet, preparatory to meeting of the vestry, it was with a second letter more than sustaining the praises of the first. So it was not strange that the young minister, pious, learned and coming so well recommended, should have been unanimously called to the pastorship amidst the most confident expectations as to his future usefulness. Nor were any of those hopes falsified. While Mr. Lanceroy never was a popular idol (he had none of the qualifications of a demagogue) and was never run after as a clerical wild beast or a reverend monster, yet he always contrived to secure the attention of his hearers at home, and a welcomed place in the pulpits of those congregations abroad with whose pastors he exchanged. His pews were rarely vacant. His church membership regularly increased. He

 

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received his moderate stipend with punctuality and subsisted on it with frugal comfort. In due season, he offered his hand to the daughter of one of his own parishioners, and was accepted. The union was in every respect a fortunate one, for he found womanly virtues as permanent, and love as sincere, as the heart of the fondest husband could desire. Sons and daughters were born to them. The stipend was increased from year to year to cor respond with the increased demands upon it, and while there was but little hoarded up in the treasury at home there was never any real necessary of life in which they lacked.

 

                There is but little in the life of a pastor wherein the superficial observer can find an interest. It seems but a routine of ministerial duty, arduous enough yet practicable, demanding the whole time, the whole attention; but it is a routine whose results, though they may appear scanty and insufficient to the unobserving, are in reality, among the very highest blessings of society. The marriage bond; the baptismal rite; the consolations of religion in hours of spiritual conviction, in hours of earthly trial, and in hours of death; the settlement of disputes; the oversight of education; the calls of popular charity;‑these and other charges press from day to day upon the pastor's attention, and in the well‑ordering of these, lies the public weal.

 

                Such, for thirty‑seven years was the life of Rev. Oliver Lanceroy, in charge of the church at Weeconnet. Such is the life of hundreds who oversee the flock of Christ throughout our broadly‑extended States. May their reward not be lost in the day of reckoning when each craftsman shall receive his lawful wages. The lapse of thirty‑seven years, though imperceptible in the estimate of an eternity, is a large hiatus in the life of a mortal. It removes one generation into darkness and dust, and places another in their seats. The lapse of thirty‑seven years brings down the history of Rev. Mr. Lanceroy‑now by the favorable judgment of a neighboring Theological school, ‑Doctor Lanceroy‑to the year of 1826, year of light 5826, year of darkness 1; that period so rife with anti‑Masonic stratagems and discoveries. It was the time when a large

 

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political party made the grand discovery that Freemasonry is an institution established in opposition to all laws human and divine! It was the period when the cunning sought to snatch away her richest jewel, secrecy, that they might expose her, unchaste and unbefriended, to the scorn and contempt of the world. Too well did talice and detraction succeed, and although in the goodness of God it was but for a little while, and the wings of Jehovah were even then sheltering her, yet many a true heart despaired, and many an honest though weak one endeavored for the sake of peace, to untie the indissoluble bonds of Masonry. Some of the symbols on the tracing board temporarily lost their value. The slipper, that earliest and most impressive reminder of allegiance was erased; the brilliant star, quintuple‑rayed, followed it into darkness and disuse; the daytime labors on the highest hills, nearest heaven, gave place to the toils and self‑denial of the unwearied twenty‑seven. We have in another work given at some length a sketch of the evil consequences that resulted from the introduction of Masonry as a religious test. The question of Masonry and Antimasonry in churches and among the pious, proved very detrimental to the craft. The shade that bigotry and superstition gave to the operations of pure morality as displayed in Freemasonry, was well nigh a fatal blow. Ignorance, and a lust for an unlawful knowledge, had wielded the gauge against her, and thereby inflicted a severe wound; political ambition, that hydra of all republics, had followed up the stroke until the very heart of the aged victim palpitated beneath it; but when the voice of the church cried out crucify, crucify, a crusade against Masonry at once commenced, as if the Holy Temple were in the Infidel's hands and must be redeemed at all hazards. During the closing term of Gen. Washington's administration he had presided at the conferring of Masonic honors upon the son of his old friend, and thus Mr. Lanceroy had become a Mason. We have often observed that the most enthusiastic lovers of the royal art, those whose zeal the longest

 

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endures, whose fire goes the most reluctantly out, are those who were the slowest to appreciate the full beauties of Masonry. Such men ponder; they compare; they reflect. They antici pated much from their knowledge of the character of the membership and from the published code of Masonic morals. They were sufficiently conversant with human nature not to look for a perfect development of Masonicrinciples in any one man this side of the grave, yet they were prepared to judge the tree by its fruits, by all its fruits considered in one cluster. In time their judgments become convinced. If the Lodge in which their membership commenced is a working Lodge, prompt in ceremonies, in explanations, in landmarks, and in morals, they become zealous as a furnace of charcoal, and their zeal burns as long as the fires beneath a mountain. It was so with Dr. Lanceroy. The earliest East of his Masonry was glorious with light. A succession of enlightened officers in his Lodge at Weeconnet followed up and fixed the impression, and it was not strange, therefore, that a few years witnessed the reverend gentleman himself at the head of the order, not only in his own village, but in all that Masonic district. Years stole noiselessly, almost imperceptibly, upon him, until he numbered nearly half a century.

 

                Then the shafts of death flew suddenly around him and struck down his wife, beloved by all as a mother in Israel, a married daughter and two sons, the staff of his declining years. The patriarch gathered up the remaining sheaves of his harvest, and from that day withdrew his active participation in the management of the Lodge, declaring that a higher duty now awaited him at home. It was only a few years after this afflictive dispensation of providence, that the storm of Antimasonry began its ravages. Churches, formerly as harmonious as the Christmas angels, now became like unto heathen temples dedicated to the goddess of discord. The sound of ax, hammer, and many other unlawful weapons rang through the sacred chambers, disturbing tle peace and harmony of the workmen. Amongst others, the oli congregation at Weeconnret caught the infection.

 

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Whence it started, in whom it originated, none could tell. What wonder in that! what wisdom has traced the cholera to Its source! what quarantine was ever efficient to wall out the plague! There was a Judas somewhere among the twelve, an Arnold amiong the patriots, and that was enough. But in whatever source it 6riginated, its course was rapid and violent, and the cry of Down with all secret societies! Death to the mother of serpents! soon became popular. Ah! but the wrath of man is a fearful judgment in the hands of God. By the side of the numerous evils inflicted on Masonry through this persecution, there was nevertheless one advantage that grew out of it. It brought back the decaying lights of the last generation into the Lodge; it called back such retired Masons as Dr. Lanceroy from their he.‑rmitage, and placed them around the old altar once more, in the east, and in the south, and in the west. This was the case with many an aged brother, and of Dr. Lanceroy among the rest. When the first list of renouncing (and denouncing) Masons was presented to him, as he sat in his library preparing his Sabbath discourses, he construed it as the second Cincinnatus had construed his country's summons to the field. It aroused the force of remembered vows; it called back cherished hours, and festive nights, and linked professions. Shadows of the dead, memories of the living, seemed to group around him as he read the perjured catalogue. A voice as from one who had authority, seemed to command him, Comfort ye my people. The veteran crumpled the foul sheet in his hand and hurled it from him, as he turned around to write a petition for membership in his old Lodge. Henceforth he was punctual to every meeting, whether stated or special, nor neglected a single opportunity of expressing in public places, as well as in the tyled chambers of the temple, his indebtedness to Freemasonry. As his congregation received the shameful impulse of Antimasonry from without, they began one by one to withdraw from Dr. Lanceroy's ministry. The unaccustomed sight of empty pews began to pain his eyes, the murmers of alienated friends

 

GI    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 62   ‑0062>   FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

 

his ears. His doors, once like the city gates for publicity, were deserted. Letters from those whose parents had sat beneath his ministry, and who had themselves cherished his ministrations until chilled by this cruel blast, letters always disrespectful, often violent, sometimes insulting, were placed in his hands. Hle wept over them in his retirement. The All‑Seeing Eye, whom the sun, moqn, and stars obey, and under whose watchful care even comets perform their stupendous revolutions, that Eye which pervades the inmost recesses of the human heart, that Eye beheld the drops of mingled mortification and grief that showered from his eyes but still he endured patiently and he made no complaint. But when on a certain Sabbath morning as he endeavored to fulfill an engagement to exchange pulpits with an old friend, grayhaired like himself, and was publicly forbidden by the vestry to raise his voice in that church, the cup of his sorrow was full, and Dr. Lanceroy returned home to tkrow himself on the charity of God, seeing that the hearts of men were embittered against him. That very week a summons from the officers of his own church was presented him, citing him to appear and answer certain charges of official misconduct that had been preferred against him. The motives that prompted this course were sufficiently obvious. The charges that had been trumped up were intended only as a blind, and whether sustained or not, it mattered little with the persecutor, for reasons enough would be found for declaring his pulpit vacant, and that was the main thing sought for. With this painful prospect in view Dr. Lanceroy, accompanied by a legal adviser, and the remaining members of his family, took his way to the vestry room at the appointed hour, prepared for the worst. He anticipated wisely. The scene that presented itself at ‑the place of trial was one that offered some remarkable features. The room was the same in which the church officers had assembled thirty‑seven years before, to give the young graduate a unanimous call to the pastorship of that church. All the old members of that official board, with one ,

 

62    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 63   ‑0063>   FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

 

exception, were dead. That exception consisted of Elder Drane, for the last fifteen years in his dotage, favored only with occasional returns to sanity. It was in one of these lucid intervals that, hearing of the pastor's trial, he had demanded to be conducted to the vestry, that he might be a spectator; but long before he reached the door his imbecility returned, and he was now lying at full length in one of the pews, apparently unconscious of all that was passing around him.

 

                Besides Elder Drane, there was not one of the church officers present, who had not received baptism at the hands of Dr. Lanceroy, and bowed beneath his heartfelt pleadlings with God, and been joined by him in the bands of matrimony, and shared with him in the happiness of revival seasons, as well as in the distress of spiritual dearth. As he took his seat with the board there was a marked contrast between the youthful locks of the judges and the gray hairs of the accused. Before him in the body of the house, a large old fashioned square room, was a crowd densely packed, comprehending not only his own flock (banded against this gentle shepherd) but the residents of the surrounding farmsteads gathered together, some in sympathy, more in curiosity, many, alas! in derision, to witness the trial. Amongst the former his aged eve could see several of his Masonic brethren from the various Lodges in the district, and there was a gleam of hope in the glance. The charges were read. They were wordy and diffuse, but involved only these propositions: "that the accused had contumaciously resisted the advice both of official and lay members, and had stubbornly published his attachment to Masonry by conducting the members of that order in public processions as well as in their secret meetings; that in this act he had fallen behind both the spirit and light of the age; that the church pews were fast becoming vacant on account of his obstinacy; that spiritual revivals had ceased; that his usefulness in the administration of the word was destroyed, the interest of Christ's kingdom retarded "‑and much more of the same sort. The legal gentleman who had volunteered to aid Dr. Lan

 

61)    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 64   ‑0064>   FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.

 

ceroy, (since become a Grand Master of Masons in the same State,) arose now to speak to the technical points. He answered the charges in a dry business way that while it proved how illegal and unchristian would be the action of the vestry in ordering Dr. Lanceroy's dismissal, it failed in touch ing any chords of sympathy, or turning the popular current that had set so fatally against his client. A rejoinder from the lawyer selected by the vestrv on account of his violent Antimasonic prejudices, smothered the law and the gospel under a mountain of words that denoted one idea very clearly: "Antimasonry is about to rule the land and it shall rule it with a rod of iron!" After some further altercation between the professional gentlemen, the presiding officer enquired of the accused if he desired to say anything for himself, before the vote on the charges was taken. A dead silence of considerable duration followed, and as no response was heard, the chairman had again risen, preparatory to putting the question, when Dr.                 Lanceroy at length arose. It was with strange difficulty that he gathered himself erect, he had never felt so weak in body before, and he was compelled to place his hands upon his chair for support, even as Jacob in his death‑bed injunctions, leaned on the top of his staff. It was with still greater difficulty that his tongue performed its office.

 

                A weight clogged it heavily at the very time when its eloquence was most needed. He had succeeded however in stammering a few incoherent words, and was collecting his ideas into a more rational channel, when he suddenly caught the eye of Elder Drane, the superannuated church officer, the friend of his youth, one of the working Freemasons of the last generation. This old man had arisen from his seat, and was standing upright with superhuman strength, staring full upon him. His eye was filled with a strange meaning. A quick gesture came from his hand, to the casual observer it might have seemed as the movement of an idiot.

 

                But there was method in that madness, and a gleam of acknow

 

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Page 65   ‑0065>   FATI1FUL UNTO DEATH.

 

ledgment passed over the minister's face as he beheld it. Dr. Lanceroy sat down. Every eye was now turned in the direction of the Elder, and great was the sensation in that large audience when the veteran, with more than ninety years upon his head, and for nearly a score of them a second child both in body and intel lect, opened his pew door and walked with firm strides up the aisle. The crowd deferentially gave way, and closed behind him. A seat upon the platform was proffered to him, the seat in which he had presided long before. But steadily rejecting every offer, and making no other acknowledgment of the general courtesy, save a dead stare, he at once began to speak. Never will that strange oration be forgotten while one of its hearers remains alive. In this latter half of the century +,here abides a tradition among the elderly portion of the population that has preserved the leading points and much of the peculiar language used.* "Vile pack!" shouted the frenzied Elder with a voice stern and threatening as when it thundered in front of the forlorn hope at Stony Point; "vile pack, that has joined in the howl of Antimasonry as dogs bay the moon, and know her not as their source of light, what would ye of this man! has he ever defrauded any of ye! or stricken ye with his hands! has he fallen away into base doctrines that endanger your soul! lo these thirty‑seven years he has gone in and out before ye and your fathers before ye, and served at the table of the Lord, and has one accusing voice ever been raised against him! but he is a Freemason! and has the fraternity of mystics cajoled him to join them in his declining years! I tell you, base descendants of an honored stock, he was a Freemason before ye had any being, and such as he are Masons wherever dispersed around the world, though they may never hear of a Mason's Lodge. He was a Mason in heart, in life, in practice, in aims, though the mystic rites ' A short hand reporter was present, and the writer has read his verbatim opy of the latter portion of the speech.

 

6 a'    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 66   ‑0066>   PAITHUL UNTO DEATIH. had never been performed upon him. Ye would have him to renounce Masonry! Fools, do ye know what ye would have him renounce! what shall he recant! ye know not what ye ask! Would ye have him to declare himself the friend of the Serpent and the foe of the Trampler! the opponent of Temperance, Fortitude, Prudence and Justice, and the servant of Drunkenness, Cowardice, Indiscretion and Fraud. Shall he quench the bible‑light and fall back upon the book of nature! repudiate all yearnings for immortality and, like yourselves, all charity to suffering humanity! I tell you, insensate pack, as I told your granthers, (grandfathers) before ye‑well that they did not live to see the genera, tion of vipers that from their loins have sprung‑I told them as I tell ye, that an honest man (;ann6t renounce Masonrv though a hypocrite may!" The eyes of the veteran here flashed as the eyes of a basilisk, upon Lawyer Savin, the renouncing Mason, the rabid editor of an Antimasonic sheet; and the time‑serving lawyer cowered beneath the glance. "The wolf may cast off the sheep's clothing," pursued the old man in a still higher key, "the sheep's clothing that concealed his marauding errand, and he is a wolf again as he was all the time a wolf, a prowling, marauding, murderous wolf. But the lamb cannot lose its gentle heart, its spotless robe, its meek and loving character, to become a wolf. Masonry in my day was taught as a system of morality, vailed in allegory and illustrated by symbols. Shall he renounce the morality as ye have done! or is it that ye would have the allegory expounded and the symbols explained. Ah, pitiful wretches! there were fifteen like ye in the Wise Man's day who could not wait for the word, and well did they despair, for they found that obstacle in their own hearts which forbade all hope of their ever being recipients of so great a trust. And ye like them would snatch at that of which you are so thoroughly unworthy! but thank God, your unholy efforts are in vain, for from the days of Sanballat Masonry has withstood such as ye. " Dr.

 

                Lanceroy, Pastor, Dear Brother beloved‑" the pastr

 

66    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 67   ‑0067>   FAITIIFUL UNTO DEATHA. ,f well nigh forty years experience, stood up and meekly bowed his head before the veteran who laid both hands, withered, trembling and cold, upon it; "Brother beloved, I warn ye, as a voice from the grave, BE YE TRUE! By the memory of the immortal Washington, by the virtues of the holy Saints John, by the inspiration of Solomon wisest of men, by the strength and beauty of the Tyrian twain, and in the name of the whole fraternity, I warn you let this great trial that is come upon you, fail to shake your integrity. Be fortitude yours.

 

                Though your column may be broken in the midst, soul to heaven, dust to earth, yet the remembrance of you, only continuing faithful, shall be treasured in the hearts of faithful brothers, while the name of the righteous shall flourish there as a green bay tree." Headlong,, prone to the floor, the Elder fell, all the powers of nature having given away at one instant. The meeting was of course dissolved in confusion. Upon the next Sabbath the pastor stood at the head of a newly‑opened grave, around which was grouped a band of Masons, the last beheld in WVeeconnet for twelve years, and there they honored the resting spot of Elder Drane by the significant emblem of the resurrection. Upon the Pastor's table at home lay the order of dismissal, passed by unanimous vote of the officers of his church. A few more weeks and he was seen to leave the parsonage with his remaining family. His furniture and effects followed after him, and then the old brick house was tenantless; for his successor, a brisk, finical gentleman, up to the spirit of the age, declined residing there, and took his boarding at a more showy place.

 

                Reports were soon circulated that Dr. Lanceroy was removing to a considerable distance westward. A few months more and the newspapers of the day announced his death by a sudden stroke of apoplexy. # y # # * * * * * # Twelve years afterwards the Deputy Grand Master of that Masonic district, with a noble train of brethren and surrounded by an honored band of officers, spoke an eulogy, well deserved

 

Ci i'    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 68   ‑0068>   HOW WILL OUR BODIES BE FOUND?

 

and eloquently declared, upon Dr.

 

                Lanceroy, the Mason whe was faithful unto death. And then the craft, joining together their means as God had dealt bounteously with them, reared a tombstone, stamped with the symbols of Masonry, to remind coming generations of one well worthy to be their standard in the aims of the order. And beneath the name and age of the departed, they engraved these solemn charges deduced from the history of the dead; to sustain a failing cause; to fly to the relief of a distressed principle; toprop the falling temple or to fall with it; to support the adherents, to cherish the endangered secrets, and to honor the slighted virtues of Freemasonry. HOW WILL OUR BODIES BE FOUND?

 

THEY will have been long buried, long decayed. Friends, relatives, yea even our very children will cease to remember "where they have laid him." The broad earth will undergo many changes; mountains will be leveled and valleys filled. The seasons will have chased each other in many a fruitful round. Oceans lashed into fury by the gales of to‑day will on to‑morrow sink like a spoiled infant to its slumber. Broad trees with broader roots will interlace them hard and knobbed as they are over our ashes, as if to conceal the very fact of our burial; and then after centuries of life they will follow our example, and long struggling against decay, will a last topple down above us and join their remains to ours; thus obliterating the last testimony that humanity has ever rested there. So shall we be lost to the knowledge of man. But the eye of God will nevertheless mark the spot, green as it will be with the everlasting verdure of faith, and when th3 trumpet's blast!shakes the hills to their bases, our astonished bodies will rise impelled upward by an irresistible impube, awd we shall stand face to face with our Reideemer.

 

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Page 69   ‑0069>   PALIMPSESTS. PALIMPSESTS. PALIMPSESTS are rescripts or copies of ancient writings, first written on parchment, but then as the material was costly and scarce, the original writing was partly erased or washed off and a new subject inserted, as it were above the old. In more than one striking sense every Masonic symbol may be styled a palimpsest. There is an outer or evident meaning which, unlike the hierotic writings of the Nile, may in general be comprehended at a glance. Thus the joined hands, the broken column, the coffin, spade and setting maul, &c., cannot fail of being understood in their first meaning by every beholder. Then there is a second or primary concealed meaning, imparted only to the initiate, which like the first is perfectly natural, rational, and simple. And here, truth compels me to say the majority of the Mao sonic brethren stop. Like the sinner first converted to Christ, they are delighted with their first view and too often, like too many of those who profess the blood‑bought interest, they are satisfied with what they see and go no farther. This is is truly unfortunate. It was once the boast of Freemasons "that they were wiser than other men;" now their claim would be "they are in the way of more knowledge than other men," but what a falling‑off is this. The third meaning, more profound yet equally attainable to every initiate, lies beneath the first two. It is altogether rational, no way forced or unnatural, satisfies the mind, answers a thousand enquiries. It lies at the basis of the writings of the philosophic Oliver* and Scottt,‑writings which have imparted a new impulse to Masonry. It is so perfectly harmonious with admitted facts that when received the mind is compelled to wonder that it did not sooner occur to it. Author of Landmarks of Masonry, and many other works. t Author of Analogy of Masonry to Religion.

 

69    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 70   ‑0070>   PALIMPSESTS. It is the sap of the roots of Masonry without which, root and trunk, and bud and flower must wither. It is this, not the work of Masonry, not the ordinary lectures of Masonry, this that has proved to be the vitality of Masonry for more than twenty‑eight centuries. It is this that brings to bear the unexampled wisdom of Masonry's royal founder, Solomon, and gives us an insight into that unexampled mind, alas too soon corrupted by wordly influences. In this, however, is displayed his vigor and greenness of intellect, before lust had brutalized or tyranny enfeebled it. Those who stop short of this, may well enquire, "what to us is the antiquity of Masonry!" they may even declare that "Paul nor John, nor Zerubbabel, nor Solomon, nor Moses, nor Enoch were Masons!" for without this Masonry is but a thing of unmeaning ceremonies and puerile usages, scarcely more elevated than the thousand and one secret societies (save the mark!) of the nineteenth century, and it will admit of uncounted innovations, and improvements. The difference between those who teach the superficials and the fundamentals of Masonry is well illustrated by comparing botanists of the Linnean school with those of an earlier date. The latter taught from the flower downward, the former adopted the bolder and more rational process of instructing from the root upward, and the progress of botanical science under his method has been unexampled. What Linnseus was to Botany, philosophical instructors of Freemasonry will be to this science. We may well hope that more palimpsests will arise, who can decypher the passages hidden from so many, and bring them clearly out upon the Masonic Trestle Board.

 

                70 .

 

                  ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 71   ‑0071>   BURNS' FAREWELLBURNS' FAREWELLIT was in the latter part of the gloomy 1786, that Robert Burns, the poet and the Mason, gathered up his thoughts, he Mad but little else to gather up, preparatory to leaving Scotland forever. Forever! terrible word to the expatriated terrible to the poor exile, who turns toward his country as the Jews turned themselves three times a day praying with their faces toward Jerusalem. Terrible in the highest degree to such a man as Burns, who to the most exalted patriotism added the keenest appreciation of home joys and social pleasures. Disappointment had set its mark upon Robert Burns. The indulgence of passions that raged within him as the pentup fires rage beneath the sealed crater of the volcano, had brought to him its legitimate consequences in the upbraidings of conscience, the forfeiture of friendship, and, worst of all, the loss of self‑respect.

 

                The restraints of Freemasonry had been neglected, while its social joys were most keenly relished; in other words, our tenets had been faithfully sustained, while our cardinal virtues were neglected. The use of thte Compasses had never blessed his hands. The fine genius, the unequalled gifts that enabled Robert Burns to conceive and execute The Cotter's Saturday Night, could not confine him into the ordinary channels of prudence, and even then he was a doomed man. Heavy debts had accumulated upon him, such as in that barren, unenterprising country there was but little chance of his ever being able to cancel. He had been summoned to find security for the maintenance of two children, whom he was forbidden to legitimate by a lawful marriage, and as he dis dained to ask, or tried in vain to find pecuniary assistance in this his hour of need, there was no other alternative remaining for him but a Scottish jail or a flight from Scotland. He had chosen the latter. After much trouble the situation of assistant overseer on an estate in Jamaica had been secured for

 

71    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 72   ‑0072>   BURNS' FAREWELLhim by one of his few remaining friends. In his own bitter language, "He saw misfortune's cauld nor'west Lang mustering up a bitter blast; A jillet brak his heart at last Ill may she be! So, took a birth afore the mast An awre tne sea.' He had said farewell o all the friends, they were not many, and to the scenes very many and very dear to their poet's heart. This he did while skulking from covert to covert under all the terrors of a Scottish jail. His chest was on the road to Greenock. He had composed the last song he should ever measure in Caledonia. It is fraught with solemn thoughts and words, as the reader will see: "The gloomy night is gathering fast, Loud roars the wild inconstant blast, Yon murky cloud is foul with rain, I see it driving o'er the plain; The hunter now has left the moor, The scattered coveys meet secure, While here I wander, prest with care, Along the lonely banks of Ayr. The autumn mourns her ripening corn, By early winter's ravage torn; Across her placid azure sky, She sees the scowling tempest fly: Chill runs my blood to hear it rave, I think upon the stormy wave, Where many a danger I must dare, Far from the bonny banks of Ayr. 'Tis not the surging billows' roar, 'Tis not that fatal deadly shore; Tho' death in every shape appear, The wretched have no more to fear: But round my heart the ties are bound, That heart transpierced with many a wound; These bleed afresh, those ties I tear, To leave the bonny banks of Ayr. Farewell old Coila's hills and dales, Her heathy moors and winding vales,

 

72    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 73   ‑0073>   BURNS' FAREWELLThe scene where wretched fancy roves, Pursuing past, unhappy loves! Farewell my friends, farewell my foes, My peace with these, my love with those; The bursting tears my heart declare; Farewell the bonnie banks of Ayr." And now, all other remembered subjects having been marked by the tears of the poet, the poet himself being on the road to the port of Greenock to the ship that should witness his last glance at his native land, his heart turned lovingly, involuntarily, towards Masonry. For Robert Burns was a Freemason, prepared first in heart. In none of the vast folios where stands the vast catalogue of our brethren, ancient or modern, is there a character shaped more truly by Masonic skill than his. No where one, who in the expressive language of the Ancient Constitutions would "afford succor to the distressed, divide bread with the industrious poor, and put the misguided traveler into the way," more cheerfully than Burns. He understood right well "that whoever from love of knowledge, interest, or curiosity desires to be a Mason, is to know that as his foundation and great corner stone, he is firmly to believe in the eternal God, and to pay that worship which is due to him as the great Architect and Governor of the Universe;" and Robert Burns governed himself accordingly. There is many a record in the Lodge books of Scotland that gives prominence to his Masonic virtues; and in the higher Lodge, the Grand Lodge of heaven, we have reason to hope the Grand Secretary's books also bear his name.

 

                None lament the weaknesses in his character more than his brethren, but be those defects in number and in extent what they may, his brethren protest in the name of their common humanity, against the inhuman judgments that have been pronounced against him. If the royal dignity, the divine partiality, the unlimited wisdom of a Solomon, First Grand Master of Speculative Masonry, could not preserve that prince of peace from the errors of the passions, who shall dare too cruelly to judge the son of an Ayrshire cotter, nurtured in penury and debarred

 

73    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 74   ‑0074>   BURNS' FAREWELLthe most ordinary relaxations of his age.

 

                "Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall." Lovingly then turned the heart of Brother Burns towards Freemasonry. The happy hours, the honest friends, the instructive lessons, the lofty desires! let the brother who reads this sketch endeavor to place himself in the condition of the poor exile, self‑expatriated and almost friendless, and he will understand the keenness of his pangs! There came up a vision of his last Masonic night. The presence of the Grand Master and his noble Deputy; of a gallant array of gentlemen, the chiefest in all the land; and himself with them first among the equals of those who "meet upon thile level" to "4part upon the square "‑there was the cue‑it was enough ‑sitting down by the roadside, he pencilled upon the back of an old letter his Masonic farewell. How many a remembrance of Grand Lodges and Subordinate Lodges and social meetings among Masons, is attached to these well‑known lines: "Adieu! a heart‑warm fond adieu I Dear Brothers of the mystic tie! Ye favored, ye enlightened few, Companions of my social joy! Though I to foreign lands must hie Pursuing fortune's sliddry ba', With melting heart and brimful eye rIll mind you still though far awa'. Oft have I met your social band And spent the cheerful festive night; Oft honored with supreme command Presided o'er the sons of light; And by that hieroglyphic bright, Which none but craftsmen ever saw! Strong memory on my heart shall write. These happy scenes though far awa'! May freedom, harmony, and love Unite you in the grand design Beneath the Omniscient eye above, The glorious Architect divine! That you may keep the unerring line Still rising by the plummet's law Till order bright completely shine Shall be my prayer when far awa'. .

 

T4    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 75   ‑0075>   BURNS' FAREWELLAnd you farewell! whose merits claim Justly that highest badge to wear! Heaven bless your honored, noble name, To Masonry and Scotia dear! A last request permit me here, When yearly ye assemble a', One round, I ask it with a tear, To him, the bard, that's far awa' I" * It pleased God at this crisis to turn the destination of Robert Burns and to spare to Scot]and and the world, this affectionate heart. By a train of circumstances, almost miraculous, certainly unprecedented, he was brought unexpectedly to the notice of the literary circles of Edinburgh, then as now, the most classic and critical in the world, and with one consent that society placed him foremost in the ranks of his country's poets. Fame and profit then flowed nightly unto him. His pen was put into constant requisition, his company everywhere sought after, and his talents met with their due appreciation. The Masonic order added its judgment to that of an approving nation. The Most Worshipful Grand Master Charters, with every member of the Grand Lodge of Scotland, visiting a Lodge in which Burns happened to be present, graciously gave as a toast, "Caledonia, and Caledonia's bard, Brother Burns!"‑which rang through the whole assembly with multiplied honors and repeated acclamations. But he is gone. On the 21st of July, 1796, Robert Burns died. More than ten thousand persons accompanied his remains to the grave. "It was an impressive and mournful sight," writes a spectator, "to see men of all ranks and persuasions, and opinions, mingling as brothers, and stepping side by side down the streets of Dumfries, with the remains of him who had sung of their loves and joys, and domestic endearments, with a truth and tenderness which none perhaps have since equalled." I The fifth verse unworthy of the connection and highly unmasonic, which is appended to the above in some of our American Manuals, was not written by Buras ,

 

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Page 76   ‑0076>   BURNS FAREWELLH

Tle is gone, and here in a distant land, an humble admirer of his genius, addresses his memory in the following lines: AMERICA'S MASONS TO ROBERT BURNS.* The sun is uprising on Scotia's far hills Day's labor is opening, the Crand Master wills, But Lodge‑lights are gleaming in cheerfulness yet, Afar in the west where we Masons have met. There's song for the tuneful, kind words for the kind, There's cheer for the social, and light for the blind: But when we uprising, prepare us to go, With one heart and feeling, we'll sing thy Adieu. A melting farewell, to the favored and bright,A sorrowful thought, for the sun set in night,A round to the bard whom misfortunes befell,A prayer that thy spirit with Masons may dwell. When freedom and harmony bless our design, We'll think of thee, Brother, who loved every line: And when gloomy clouds shall our Temple surround Thy brave heart shall cheer us where virtues were found. Across the broad ocean two hands shall unite, Columbia, Scotia, the symbol is bright! The world one Grand Lodge, and the heaven above. Shall witness the triumph of Faith, Hope and Love And thou sweetest Bard, when our gems we enshrine, Thou jewel the brightest, most precious, shalt shine, Shall gleam from the East, to the far distant west, While morning shall call us, or evening shall rest. THE REASON.‑Brother Rodd, who has been presiding officer of his Lodge ever since Morgan's time, complaining in his good‑natured way that the brethren wouldn't pay sufficient attention to Masonry, declared "that charity impelled him to this conclusion; his brethren were so afraid the world would acquire a knowledge of their Masonic secrets, they were afraid to learn them themselves!" * AIR ?"Flowv gently, Sweet Afion."‑Masonic Lyrics, No. 14, by the Author.

 

 

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Page 77   ‑0077>   DESECRATION OF MOUNT MORIAH. DESECRATION OF MOUNT MORIAHI. THE Mahometans, who are in possession of Jerusalem, take every opportunity of showing their abhorrence of the Jewish faith, and their contempt for the Jewish character. Among other contrivances to this end, they have selected that portion of Mount Moriah which tradition points out as the ancient site of the Sanctum Sanctortum and made it a receptacle of filth. The daily scourings and refuse of the Turkish mosque near by are poured upon tle sacred spot with every invective that ingenuity and hatred can invent. As this appears most sacrilegious to the Jewish part of the population, the object in view, that of giving the greatest possible pain, is fully accomplished. It has appeared to us that an analogous case exists in our own country, in the base uses to which too often so many of the aboriginal mounds are put. In some cases they are selected as convenient sites for a vegetable cellar or ice house; in some for a building spot; brickmakers turn them into bricks, and farmers cart them to cover their heaps of compost; a few more thoughtful individuals employ them as family grave yards, while in one case, the vilest of all, we observed a slovenly fellow, an Irishman, by the way, who had ingeniously fenced one in and made out of it a remarkably fine hog pen! Shades of the Mound Builders‑a hog pen! The Sanctum Sanctorum of some grand edifice, whose builders, and whose plans, and whose purposes, are all lost, desecrated into a hog sty. "To what base uses must we come at last!" Let none become wrathful in spirit, because of Moriah's debasement, while they thus defile the sanctuaries of a generation past.

 

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                WE have visited many Grand Lodges in our day, and have never failed to find a general air of cheerfulness pervading the sittings. If no other advantages accrued to Masonry from these annual meetings, except that of making Masons better acquainted with each other, it would well justify even far greater trouble and expense. Friendships are there established, more lasting than time. Hearts are cemented into one that would otherwise revolve in a remote relationship. Other advantages are found; jarring ideas are reconciled; comets reduced to planets crude and imperfect theories corrected; innovation frowned down; errors adjusted; appeals heard and adjudicated; light on Masonry disseminated; but the best of the matter is, that peace and harmony are caused to prevail throughout the bounds of each Masonic jurisdiction. None can overlook this important fact who has observed the practical effect of Grand Lodge convocations, that however disappointed any may be in the Masonic improvement expected from the visit, good fellowship is vastly increased amongst the members. Above the many scenes connected with Grand Lodge amenities, and which dwell with peculiar gratefulness in our memory, the following has a cheerful pre‑eminence. At a certain stated communication of the Grand Lodge of ,there had been an exciting question debated for two days. The members had become exhausted with the discussion; besides being out of all patience with the pertinacity with which the friends of the measure in question pressed it. Night came on. The call from labor to refreshment had been acknowledged; then the sound of the gavel had summoned the craft back to labor again. The long and tiresome speech that had been interrupted by the calling off, was resumed, and so interminable did it threaten to be that by a kind of spontaneous movement a half dozen of the older members slipped out and assembled in the Grand Secretary's room, to enjoy a cozy cigar and a quiet chat all by themselves.

 

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First among them, both in port and manners, was Brother Fenner, long known to the craft, both in this and his native State, as a zealous Mason, but one a little given to novel theories. Having a rather better idea of Masonic work as he had learned it, than of the established landmarks, he was a great stickler for some things and a red‑hot denouncer of others; in either case basing his attachment or opposition upon preconceived notions not always in accordance with constitutional Masonry. Hiowever, he was Mason all over, to use the emphatic phrase, with a full purse and an open door to it, a large heart and many chambers therein, a cordial manner and the most polished grace to recommend it. Next to him on the right, smoking a favorite dutch‑headed pipe, was Jackson Burt, Deputy Grand Master, familiarly known to his friends as the grandfather of Masonry in his precincts. It was old Jackson Burt who left his farm and his merchandise, and consumed three months in the year instructing Lodges gratuitously, in the principles and practice of Masonry. If a difficulty got up between brothers, if two Lodges differed on any topic, if a hall was to be dedicated, a brother to be buried, or a case of Masonic conscience to be settled, old Brother Jack was applied to, and rarely refused to come. Judging from his coat and plain manners, old Jack believed what he preached, that it was not the external qualifications that render a man acceptable to Masonry. In the corner of the chimney with his feet high up, higher than his head by a yard, and glaring around through a pair of hideous spectacles, was Charley Gaines, formerly Senior Grand Warden, and now a candidate for higher honors.

 

                Charley scorned tobacco, detested smoke, looked with contempt upon a cigar, but ate liquorice as a hen eats corn. Opposite Charley was Brother Herron, the Grand Lecturer, a gentleman whose character in Masonry we shall better understand further on. Brother H. was a great lover of speculative Masonry, thought no subject so important as the obligations of Masonry, wouldn't give a fig for any man's opinions unless he had good arguments to back them with,

 

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and was preparing for a Masonic journey to Europe and Palestine, in pursuance of his favorite theory, "the nearer the East the purer the light." The other two were representatives of country Lodges, men of experience in worldly matters but young in Masonry. The room being locked on the inside to prevent intrusion, and an injunction to speak low for fear of the Grand Tyler being passed around, the conyersation opened, and several anecdotes were related that have enlivened our note book for many a year. The Grand Lecturer led the way with a good illustration of THE CABLE TOW. "I was engaged during January last year," he said, "delivering a course of lectures to the Lodge at Seville. "Most of the brethren resided in the country, five or ten miles from the Lodge, and as is usually the case, I saw but little of that part of the membership, during the three days and nights that I spent there. "The morning after the close of my labors, just as I was preparing to depart, the fraternal greetings so commonly connected with those occasions were interrupted by a messenger, who came riding hard and fast into town, bringing doleful news. A disaster had occurred. "The house of Brother Logan had taken fire suddenly the night before, and so swiftly had the flames extended that the unfortunate man was unable to save any part of his property. He had rescued five of his children from the fire, burning himself in a shocking manner while so doing, and leaving yet one sweet little girl to the flames. "His profession being that of a house painter, all his stock had consisted in inflammable materials, and these were entirely consumed in an adjoining shop. In short, the brother was absolutely ruined in a pecuniary sense, nor was it likely that he would ever regain his bodily powers so as to be able to support himself and family. "Brother Logan was so well known around Seville for an   

 

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industrious, honest man, that the intelligence of his misfortunes spread a gloom over the village. Several of the citizens, both male and female, rode immediately out to the place to which the remnant of the suffering family had been conveyed. They took provisions, clothing, and other comforts, with a lively thought of the destitute. "' There are certain calls which the heart must be case‑hard ened to resist and this was one. The benevolent character of the Seville people had frequently before been tested by their good deeds, nor had the drafts of charity ever been protested. They were honorably accepted in this particular instance. The distressed family was at once supplied. "My own departure was delayed in view of a Lodge meet ing promptly called to consider what action should be taken in the premises. "After careful consideration, we decided that the son of Brother Logan, himself a Freemason and from his relationship to the distressed man, a fitting agent to arouse public sympathy in his behalf, should visit each member of the order, individually, and solicit contributions, as there was just then a deficiency in the Lodge treasury. "This benevolent effort it was that first gave to my mind a clear idea of the moral force of the cable tow. " The messenger was successful in presenting his father's misfortunes in a pathetic manner.

 

                None offered to resist the claims of their scorched and wounded brother.

 

                All were moved by the genuine spirit of pity. Brotherly love in every instance prompted a generous relief. But the difference in the amount of contributions was so remarkably contrasted with the relative ability of the donors, that I was unavoidably struck with it. "Brother Lane, a retired land‑speculator, a man of his fifty thousand, if he had a cent, gave five dollars. He did it cordially, and his message to the suffering brother was a kind and tender one, for he declared he felt almost glad of the accident, as it gave him an opportunity to show his Masonic feelings towards a brother in whom he had always felt a lively interest.

 

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"But still he only gave five dollars, and I had expected of him fifty at least. "Brother Wavten, a young merchant, struggling with the great difficulties connected with the opening of a mercantile business on a small capital, gave ten dollars. And the mes sage that accompanied the money was worth as much more. 'Tell your father,' said the noble young man,'that I would go out and see him in person did my business permit; but my servant shall go, and you shall give him an assurance from me that should he need further aid, if he will send me a notification, I will divide my last dime with him!' "Professor Oliphant, the teacher, secretary of the Lodge, a widower by the way, with several children and an ag‑ed mother to support, an invalid with a troublesome cough, indicative of consumption, Prof. Oliphant also gave ten dollars, and with such pure cheerfulness as tripled the value of the gift. "All, without exception, bestowed gifts as he felt bound in conscience to do. But the widow's two mites were dropped in at the hand of Brother Anderson, a carpenter with a very large family of daughters, a poor man, but a devoted Mason. "The messenger called at the shop of Brother Anderson and related his woeful tale. The appeal reached a kind spirit. Fraternal sympathy agitated the poor man's heart as with a tempest, and when the story was ended, he rushed to the house, without a word, drained the old stocking of its last coin, and gave it to the weeping youth. Then he saddled his horse and with a hasty remark, that he must go out and see for himself, he rode off. Subsequently I learned that this good Samaritan abode with Brother Logan for ten days, watching with him by night, and laboring in the daytime upon the new house that the bounty of the craft had enabled the unfortunate brother to commence. "As I rode from Seville the next morning my heart could not resist the contemplation of this subject. Why is there so much difference in the disposition of men towards heaven‑sent charity, I asked? Why do the rich stop at a per cent. of donations so much smaller than the poor; so that while the latter bestows one dollar from his scanty purse, the former from

 

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his lordly estate feels himself to have acted liberally if he gives five or ten? Was it not in view of the fact, that wealth contracts the heart, that the law of Moses enjoined tenths of all property to be the Lord's? And as so many of the Jewish rites were incorporated into speculative Masonry is it not probable in view of the light afforded us by tradition, that this practice was introduced among the rest? There is nothing on earth more unjust than a per capitam tax, nothing more equitable than a tax of tithes. "The modern practice of assessing Lodge dues, however convenient in practice, is certainly based upon a very different theory, although the burden being small, and chartered Lodges peculiarly a modern invention, I should not be dis posed to make a difficulty upon this head. But when it comes to private donation for the poor of our order, the true intent of the cable tow symbol demands the former custom, that of assessment, and wherever speculative Masonry is practiced in its true spirit, we shall find it to be so employed. "Each Mason is supposed to know the measure of his own Cable tow, and to have estimated its length and strength.

 

                "Then, by the holy guide which lies open upon our altars, we should bestow as the Lord has bestowed on us, and as the charity is that of tithes, so shall be the reward, and he who keeps account of what we say or do in His name, even to a cup of cold water, will see to it that our works shall follow us in the general reckoning of the other world." After general applause which followed this appropriate sketch ceased, and old Jack had wiped his spectacles, they having, in some manner, become dim, the cigars were relit, which had sympathetically gone out, and a movement was observed on the part of Brother Gaines. Winding down his long legs until they came nearly as low as his head, he blew away the cloud of smoke that had gathered maliciously around him, and took the occasion to tell a circumstance connected with THE JEWS' MTARRIAGE RITE. THER,E was a large gathlering at the house of one of the wealthiest Hebrews in Ilambur,g; for his only daughter,

 

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Ruth, was that day to be united in marriage to Israel, partner in trade with the well‑known banking house of Vonstein. All the traditional rites connected with the betrothal of a Jewish maiden, had been carefully maintained; for the old man, though devoted to money making as the prime end of human life, was firmly attached to the ceremonials of his creed as the only reasonable preparations for a life to come. All that could be learned from the most experienced rabbis had been adopted, and the wise Rabbi, Ben Aaron, though bending under the weight of a century, had made a journey all the way from Cracow in Poland, to join his experience to theirs. The ceremonial of marriage amongst the Jews is undoubtedly one of the oldest traditions in the world. Much of it, like the cabala of Freemasonry, is only imparted to a favored few and by them transmitted under the strictest pledges of secrecy. Portions of it, it is thought, are not now understood by any living person, the traditions having been lost in the lapse of ages, while the practice has‑been retained. Persons who, by some peculiar favor, have been admitted to see it, give a most gorgeous description of the expensive preparations, the solemn responses, and the impressive rites of a Jewish wedding. My purpose at resent is to describe but one, the breaking of the glass. When the various responses had been daly made and all the traditionary ceremonies satisfactorily performed, a solemn pause ensued. The officiating rabbi, a popular minister of the Jewish faith in Hamburg, withdrew to a seat, leaving the newly‑wed couple standing alone in the centre of the room. The abbi Ben Aaron, the ecclesiastic of a hundred years, solemnly rose from his seat upon the elevated station in the East, tottered down the steps by the assistance of his servant, and approached the pair. In his right hand he held a glass vessel with a long slender stem and large capacity.

 

                Addressing the bridegroom in his deep sepulchral voice he said, " The Lord make this woman that is come into thine house like Rachel and like Leah, which two did build the house of Israel: and do thou worthily in Ephratah, and be famous in Bethlehem: and let thy house be like the house of Pharez, whom Tamar   

 

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bare unto Judah of the seed which the Lord shall give thee of this young woman." To the young bride he next gave directions proper to her change of life, and concerning the obedience due to her hus band, then wished for her the happiness of a fruitful and peaceful home. But now the aged Rabbi addressing them both, assumed a mournful tone, and in the words of the Lamenter, he reminded them how "Zion spreadeth forth her hand and there is none to comfort her: the Lord has cast down his altar, he hath abhorred his sanctuary: for this our heart is faint; for these things our eyes are dim; our holy and our beautiful house, where our fathers praised the Lord, is burned up with fire, and all our pleasant things are laid waste!" At these words the fragile cup was suddenly dashed against the floor, and a deep groan burst involuntarily from every bosom. The veteran returned slowly to his seat and hid his face in his robe. Another solemn pa, and again the officiating Rabbi who had performed the ucipal ceremonies, returned to the twain who had been so impressively instructed con cerning the destruction of the Temple, and explained to them that this portion o*h4e Jewish history was to be carefully imparted to the children whom the Lord might bestow upon them, to the end that it might never be forgotten. The subject was rather dull, and Brother Gaines had no oratorical abilities to enliven it. Just as he, got through, the Grand T's knock was heard at the door, come to summon the m0o the Lodge room.

 

                But nobody answered, and aftermng a while at the key hole, he went off, convinced that his own ears deceived him. A general call was now made upon old Jack to sing a song, very popular about that time, relating to the Albany Antimasonic Convention, and the Deputy Grand Master did not delay to answer the request.

 

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THE ANTIMASON.* Oh, there was an Antimason, and his name was Uncle Nick, And he lived down below, down below, But he came a visiting a dozen times a week, He'd a heap of work for to do. A school to teach and a family to keep, And a press and a newspaper too, And never to be idle, nor a wink of sleep, Was the work, Uncle Nick had to do Burn up the Bible‑let it go! Come, Brother Anti.

 

                give a crow, (imint,) For there's no more work in the Mason's LodgeOn the trestle‑board, moss shall grow. Oh, his school was crammed with a thronging clas There were gentlemen and ladies too; The one to learn the Mason's pass, The other what Mason's do. Old Nick with smiles, in a big book wrote, What the gentlemen wanted to know; Buthe blushed when he turned to the petticoat, And he whispered a word‑r two. (Chorus). His family, the pride and gef of the place. There was Merriok, Seward, Granger, you know! And a president to rule, and a preacher to grace, Six score such a fuss could blow! On good hot meat these children were fi 'Twas cooked down below, down below, ‑ And the wines they drank in the goblets red, From the veins of the Masons flow. (Chorus.) His Journal, filled with smashing lies, Was sent tlhrough all the nation; Uncle Nick called on his votaries, "Come, help its circulation!" On the shelf, on the file, on the table strewed, Every carrier swift did go; And in the very house of God, This Antimason paper strow. (Conrs.) Oh, there is an Antimason, and his name is Uncle Nick, But he stays down below, down below; For his school's broke up, and his children sick, And his printers joined the foe. And the Masons' cause, so gloomy then, Is bright as the noonday now, ' A iR‑" Uncle Ned." Masonic Lyrics, No. 6, by the Author.

 

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And while there's love and truth in men, The light of the Lodge shall glow. Bring out the Bible, let it glow! Come. brother Masons, give a crow, (imitates) For there is work yet in the Mason's Lodge, As the trestle board long shall show. A roar of involuntary applause followed this fair hit at a defunct party, and old Jack was so well pleased with his own performance that he incontinently added this anecdote: A large delegation from almost every State in the Union, united in laying the corner stone of Washington's Monument at Washington City, July 4th, 1848. Among the rest was Gen. W, formerly Grand Master of the State ofThis gentleman is well known for his contempt of all Antimasons and for having had a fight in his younger days with three of their party leaders at once, in which he whipped them all. After the ceremonies were ended, the General was walking to his hotel, arm in arm with a member of Congress from his own State, when whom ould they overtake but one of the men who had been most tive in that rascally Albany convention some twenty years before. The member stopped him and just for the sake of devilment, introduced "His particular friend, ~ W‑, to his esteemed friend, Gov. S‑!" The exgovernor politely held out his hand, but the General drew himself erect with a stern look of enquiry, and asked, " Did I understand it, governor S.?" "Yes, sir," blandly responded that gentleman. "Governor S.

 

                of New Yo 11, "Yes, sir," replied the gentleman in question, drawi his extended fork, and looking offended in his turn. Governor S., who was chairman of the Albany Antimasonic Convention?" "Yes," fiercely responded the badgered individual, looking as though he would as soon strike somebody as not. By this time a dozen persons had gathered around, seeing something in the General's face that gave hopes of a fight. "Then, Mr. Ex‑Governor S., if you are the gentleman from New York, and if you were Chairman of the Albany Antimasonic Convention, and if after that you could witness a Masonic celebration as you havre to‑day, all I have got to say is, if you'll come to my State I'll help

 

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tar and feather you!" And the General turned fiercely away, nor would he ever have another word to say to his old friend, the member. Brother Fenner was altogether of opinion that the General served him right. He thought that a list of the members of that Convention ought to be published and sent to every Grand Lodge in the United States. For his part he would vote against an Antimason for every office from constable up. Being called upon by the Grand Lecturer to explain what he meant by an Antimason. He said, "any man who would try to make political or other capital by denouncing Masonry." He then related the following touching anecdote concerning THE SLIPPER.

 

                There were two brothers in the eastern part of Kentucky. Both of them had been mebers of the Grand Lodge, and noted for their proficiency in the landmarks and adaptations of Masonry. By accident, the elder of the two, in a hunting excursion, wounded himself so severel that he died the same day. He was borne to his house, is children called around, (his wife having been dead for several years,) to see his departure. His brother came with speed, to lend the last kind offices, and voluntarily proposed to take charge of the children, now doubly orphaned, and to rear them as his own. All that business affairs dictated was soon arran or these men had not waited until the death‑hour to dr their wills and to square their accounts with the worl The interests of the soul were likewise disposed of, for the great Treasurer in heaven had received from the dying man many a deposit of faith and good works and stood prepared, that dying man knew it, to honor any draft that might be drawn with Christ as the endorser. Hands had been pressed, a kiss * When Brother George Washington was taken ill with the sudden attack that terminated his existence, it was found that all his accounts were balanced, and his papers filed up to the Saturday before. This is the true Temple System, and it is good.

 

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from each wondering child received, and the summoned then closed his eyes patiently to await the call of death. Death was not slow in coming. Soon the tongue lost its power of speech; the limbs refused to obey the will; the sense of hearing failed, and then to see was all that remained to one who had been noted for twenty years, as the strong of hand and the swift of foot. But now, as he lay thus imprisoned in the dungeon of his thoughts, a grief came over him. It was plain, by those heavy sighs, those big round tears, and that look of anguish, that the departure of this Christian soul was not so peaceful as it should be. The brother, who leaned affectionately above his pillow, marked the change with acute sorrow. What had thus oppressed the dying man! what business matter unset tled, what conscience matter undisposed of, was droppirng bitterness into his cup of death! The departing Mason opened his eyes and cast a glance, inexpressibly mournful, upon his children, and then upon his brother. It said: "Brother, I go the way of all flesh, and I leave these lambs with thee; if thou shalt fail in thy care if thy pledge to me shall be broken or forgotten, whom have they on earth? I have seen the affliction of the fatherless ‑ " no words were needed to make all this plain; but how should such a doubting soul be answered. All avenues to the understanding were choked up save the sight, and that was fast becoming clouded. But with a ready thought the brother stooped lucked off his shoe, and holding it up, full in the vie:od himself and his departing friend, he laid it in his extended palm and thus sealed the covenant with the dead. It was enough, it was understood. A smile of approval that bursting from the heart, forced its way through the stiffened muscles to the face, gave token that the other party acknowledged the symbol‑and so he died. The smile remained when the coffin lid was laid above it. And now in a mountain grave‑yard, where many a tombstone bears a Mason mark, there is one sacred to the memory of WALLACE M. T, whose symbol is the plain slipper, the sealing of the covenant between the living and the dead.

 

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The relation of this circumstance elicited various remarks, in which some difference of sentiment was manifested relative to the real meaning of that ancient Israelitish symbol, the slipper. This being ended, Brother Collins, Junior Warden and representative of Phenician Lodge, No 37, related the following account of THE MASON'S WIDOW. There came a widow lady to our neighborhood last May, who said she wanted to make up a small class to teach wax work to young ladies. None of us knew anything of her, and as we are rather poor in our county, we didn't give her much encouragement.

 

                After trying for ten days mithout securing a single scholar, she fell sick at my house. My wife turning over her trunk to get some things she wanted, came across a signet of the degree. Now the old lady is mighty fond of that degree, and she can read the signet like a book, and so she asked Mrs. Lane, (that was the stranger's name) about it. The widow.

 

                said her husband had "en a Mason and had got her to take that degree, but she thought so little of Masonry, she had never paid any attention to it. However she had kept her husband's demit and diploma and his Mason's apron, and other things, and showed them to my wife, who brought them to me. It didn't take me long to get her some scholars, and by the time she got well, we had od school ready for her, and she has remained in the neighborhood ever since. The question, as to how far females have privileges in connrection with Masonry, and how they can make themselves known when among strangers, and in distress, was now discussed at length. The Grand Lecturer suggested that if Androgynous degrees are at all allowable, something better should be given to the ladies than the trashy, superficial ones invented by dull wits within the last fifteen years.

 

 

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Page 91   ‑0091>   CHEERFUL HOURS AT THE GRAND LODGE.

 

This aroused the opposition of the Deputy Grand Master, who had so often conferred the degree, that it was almost bone of his bone. To close the discussion, which was getting a little warm, Brother Levings, Worshipful Master of Nonmetallic Lodge, No. 106, gave in his experience as follows: THE DEVIL'S HIALF ACRE. In the upper part of Louisiana near the Arkansas side, there used to be one of the most God‑defying sets of people ever heard of. There was no Sabbath day amongst thee, for they served their master, the devil, seven days in a week, with freedom, fervency, and zeal. Horse racing, cock fighting, and the most cruel sports of all kinds, were their diversions.

 

                Fighting, gouging, and murder were common enough. As for such a thing as legal restraint, the very idea was laughed at. Grand Juries were compelled to wink at what they dared not present; circuit judges suffered the grossest infractions of the law to pass unchecked under their very noses; sheriffs and constables were hailfellows well met with the wickedest of them‑such was Louisiana, near the Arkansas line, fifteen or twenty years ago. The Methodist Conference had long looked eagerly at that region, for the nearer the devil is to getting a man, the more that church tries to save him! More than once their Bishop had sent an itinerant preacher there, but ‑ was so glad to get away with a whole skin, that he took care to say as little about what happened to him as possible. At last old Father Goolsbury offered to itinerate that field if the Bishop desired it, and the Bishop gladly jumped at the chance. Parson G. was a man of great experience, particularly in a department like this. He had itinerated clear around, from the Falls of Niagara to Red River, keeping right on the edge of civilization all the way, and he was the very man for the place. Nobody could preach oftener in a day than Father Goolsbury, or do it in ruder places. Nobody could eat rougher, sleep harder, ride longer, swim bolder, or

 

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Page 92   ‑0092>   92 CHEERFUL HOURS AT THE GRAND LODGE.

 

laugh heartier than he. So he offered to go to North Louisiana, and the Bishop appointed him instanter. A collection was taken up to buy him a splendid horse, the only thing in the world except sinners, the old man loved. The kind sisters turned in and made him half a dozen shirts; a new suit of clothes out‑and‑out was bought for him, and then with a joke and a prayer and a tear, and two stanzas of Wesley's songs, the intrepid parson departed. Now there was a village in the very heart of this pandemonium, called by the proprietor, Tockville, or some such name; but from the quality of the atmosphere, and the murderous brawls that continually occurred there, the country people had christened it The ‑Devil's Half Acre. No traveler ever stopped there twice. No sober neighbor ever visited there on a public day. No respectable woman ever rode through there at all. There was no church and no school in Tockville; but there was a score of grogshops, bowling alleys, gambling houses, &c.; and there was a race course hard by, which, to many a poor fellow, had proved to be the entrance to eternal death. At this‑very place, unpromising as it seemed, the old itineerant published his first appointment. He rightly thought that if he could make the thing grind at The.)evil's Half Acre it would grind anywhere; but if he thought to get an easy grist of it, he made as big a mistake as if he had torn his shirt. For no sooner was his notice posted on the tavern door than it was torn down with rage, and a popular order given to the daring minister to evacuate the village forthwith. Nothing daunted however, he wrote out a second announce. ment and declared that he would return the next Sabbath, and preach in the public square if he couldn't get a house, for the Bishop had ordered him to preach and preach he would, or :reak a hame‑string trying." Now Father Goolsbury was not the man to face such a devil's crew as the Tockvillers without some preparation. He had been ducked, and whipped, and tarred‑and‑feathered too often in his ministerial career not to know where he stood. And when he made his appointment at The D)evil's HalfAcre   

 

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Page 93   ‑0093>   CHEERFUL HOURS AT THE GRAND LODGE.

 

his whole plan was well matured. It was nothing more or less than to mnake a Masonic affair of it. There was a Mason Lodge in the adjoining county, many of the members living near Tockville, and the old man set himself diligently to hunting them up. As fast as he found one, he showed him the necessity for religion in that commu nity; the many efforts that had been vainly made to introduce it; the danger to a brother Mason now;‑and other things equally pressing.

 

                His summons was answered in the same spirit in which it had been made.

 

                So, when the Sabbath morning rolled around, the Rev. Jabez Goolsbury rode into The Devil's Half Acre, accompanied by sixty‑three mounted Masons, well armed and prepared either for peace or war. It was peace.

 

                The Tockville folks were overawed, and not a hand was raised against them. The sermon was a good one, and it was followed up by an exhortation that would have done credit to Brother Maffit himself. At three o'clock a second sermon was delivered, and considerable feeling manifested among the audience. At night a general calm was apparent, so promising in fact that the Masons left their pistols at the tavern, and Parson Goolsbury was permitted to preach in one of the bowling alleys in view of a bad cold he had caught. Never was there such a general knocking down of pins in that alley before! The itinerant out‑preached all creation. It was a perfect pentecost.. The hardest hearts melted.

 

                Women screamed. Men groaned and fell on their faces. The Masons generally became convicted. In short, a revival was‑started that night and it lasted two weeks. Then came the baptizing. Parson G. organized a church at Tockville, with more than eighty members, and named it The Plucked‑Brand church, and after he had got through baptizing the people, he threw a handful of water into the air, and said, " Devil's Half Acre I baptize thee by the name of Jerusalem," and ever since that time it has been so styled. But the best of the whole thing was Here the speaker was interrupted by a loud rap at the door. The Grand Tyler, who had felt all along convinced that there must be somebody in the Grand Secretary's room,

 

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Page 94   ‑0094>   94 FEMALES, IN THEIR CONNECTION WITH MASONRY. had stepped back to the door on tiptoe and listened, until he heard Brother Leverings, just at the break of his story. Then he rapped and summoned them to appear in the Grand Lodge room, and so ended one of the most delightful little episodes of our life. FEMALES, THEIR CONNECTION WITH MASONRY. (Extract from an Address by the Author.) "NOR can any insurmountable objection be urged, why the fair sex should not participate in the privileges and share the pleasures of this kind of association. (The speaker is referring to the plan of Loges d' Adoption, patronized by Josephine when wife of the First Consul Bonaparte.) If it be a claim to possess physical weakness, if gentleness in retirement and dependence in society call for that aid which mutual associations guarantee, surely the female portion of mankind, of %lI the world, stand upon this footing. * I would not be misunderstood. I do not ask that the doors of our chartered Lodges should be thrown open to females. " The very terms of admission, the preparation and the reception, forbid the Mason granting such a privilege to woman, however exalted or deserving. Whatever key to the world's mysteries, and to life's treasures, may be intrusted to her, the key to the Lodge room is eternally denied her; its ioors are eternally barracadoed against her entrance. "Her light footstep may thrill upon our hearts, but we must near it outside the door. her soft voice may arouse passionate emotions within us as she pleads for aid, outside the door. The sunshine of her presence may and shall penetrate our walls, and warm our hearts in charity as she shines upon us, outs/de the door.

 

                "But her sphere is in the heavens, ours within the Lodge, and though her light and warmth may reach us, her form

 

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Page 95   ‑0095>   LRBERALITY OF THE JEWS.

 

cannot enter. Then ask not, sweet voice, for we cannot graint this boon. Seek not, dear form, for you never can pass these portals. Knock not, soft hands, for our inexorable guardian is steeled against your approach. Disgraced amongst the world's holiest, and traitors to the highest sense of obligation~ we should be as unworthy of your notice as of the companionship of our own brethren, were we thus to betray our trust." LIBERALITY OF THE JEWS.

 

SOME have wondered at the extreme liberality of this people when a call was made upon them by King David to join him in preparations for building the Temple. Their donations amounted to many thousand talents of gold, of silver, and of brass, (probably copper, as it is not supposed that the compound which goes by the name of brass, was known in those days,) and no less than one hundred thousand of iron. Leaving out all extravagant estimates and taking the talent at its most moderate computation, the value of these treasures was enormous; and the question naturally arises how a class of persons somewhat notorious even then for economy of expenditures, were wroug,ht upon to be so liberal? In reply, we may offer various conjectures. It was a time of general unity and peace, consequently a time of plenty. Each tribe had at last settled down with enlarged borders to enjoy the fulfillment of God's promise to Abraham, and each tribe acknowledged that to David's valor and prudence they were indebted under God for this blessing. Then the royal bounty of David himself who, out of his own private treasures, in his distress, as he pathetically remairks, gave no less than three thousand talents of gol(l, and seveIl thousand of silver, besides brass, iron, wood, anl building stones. Tlii liberality of his excite,! the principle of emulation among the

 

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Page 96   ‑0096>   LIBERALITY OF THE JEWS.

 

people to the highest pitch. The desire to erect an edifice more costly than any heathen temple, as Jehovah was above all the gods, this too was calculated to touch their national pride, and call out their more generous feelings. Not to depreciate the Jewish liberality, it may nevertheless be added that this was the first call made upon their purses since Bezaleel fashioned the furniture of the tabernacle out of the spoils of the Egyptians, and although we cannot say in the style of modern philanthropists, "that they had learned to give," yet we may see that the call was one so urgent and accompanied with so many motives to liberality, that it was calculated to break down all the barriers of parsimony, and even of ordinary economy. LEBANON. A modern traveler, who spent much time in traveling over the mountain ranges of Judea and Syria, estimates the ancient cedars still remaining upon Mount Lebanon at aboutfour hundred in number. They are found in a single group of about three quarters of a mile in circumference. Some of them are very large, as much as one hundred feet in height and forty in circumference, while all bear tokens of great age. Considering the slowness of the cedar's growth, and the indestructibility of its wood by any natural causes, save that of fire, it is not unreasonable to suppose that these scions of a princely race, may have existed and even been of good size when the axes of Adoniram's thirty thousand made the mountain echoes answer back the sounds.

 

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Page 97   ‑0097>   THE CHURCH TRIAL.

 

THE CHURCH TRIAL; OR,

 

J Y N I N' T H E MASONS. THE Rev. Baruch Hieidleberger was arraigned before the Effete congregationfor jynin' the Freemasons. People eum f?ur and neere to see him tried. It was better nor a horse race to the folks in them diggins, and most as good as a hanging. The members of the church, many of them, brought their families in wagons detarmed to see it out, cost what it nwut. Old Miss Slowup, the cake ooman, brought her whole stock alonge,; so did. free Josh, who makes temperance beer out of whisky and molasses; so did Sock Freelinghysen, who peddles cowbells of his own manufacture.

 

                Candidates were there, agents were there, the devil (printer's) was there. The Masons, of whom there are not many among those desolate hills mustered in full strength. Finally, there was a general turn‑out, and to conclude, we were there ourself. Parson Heidleberger's wife, who had gone sick when she heern tell that her beloved Baruch had pitched headforemost into Masontry, got well again when she found he was likely to be expelled from the church on account of it, and tuck her lord's part with infinite vivacity. She had sarched in vain for the brand; it couldn't be found. It was the Saturday before the third Sabbath in May.

 

                Effete church was early crowded, chockfull. Its seats made of rails, whose sharp edges would have aroused the sympathy of a rooster, were crowded thickly on their points of gravity, by human beings painfully balanced. The pulpit was but a pen closed on three sides, but it was crowded by five and one half preachers, come to help the breethrin try the case and degrade the criminal. The reverend monster himself was on the spot. He was an old man with thin gray hairs, tall in stature, but with a downcast look like an omphalopsychite; meek in countenance, gentle of speech, benevolent

 

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Page 98   ‑0098>   THE CHURCH TRIAL.

 

in visage‑who would have thought to see him sitting there, gazing calmly around him, that he, Baruch Heidleberger, for twenty years a zealous minister, who had stemmed the torrent of religious innovations, could so grievously have overstepped church rules and jyned the Masons. But he had, and here was the result. What's the world coming to? who knows? Effete church was not at all like the temple of Luxor, either in shape or magnificence, still less did it resemble King Solomon's Temple. On the contrary it was a low dirt‑daubed log cabin cf a thing, 40 by 30, plain as linsey and cold as a quaker. As Rev. Mr. Heidleberger arose in it to answer the charges read by the moderator and to plead to the merits of the case, his bald top just reached the cross beams that bound the eends of the building together.

 

                The charges were specific; the plea was guilty. A hurried consultation in a hoarse whisper heard to the horseblock, and then the moderator in a confused manner begged leave to axe the conygroashun ef he should deklar the guilty brother expended or suspelled. Another hurried consultation‑during which eleving old oomen, who wore black bonnets and no shoes, loudly clamored suspel him, suspel him,‑after which the moderator prudently expressed the idea that had been hinted to him by one of the older members, and told Parson ileidleberger "ef he'd anything to norate in the way of vindieshun he mout." The criminal acknowledged the courtesy by a low bow and went on in his meek, quiet way to norate: "I feel to admit breethren beloved, (the old man differed from Webster in his ortheopy, as the reader will perceive,) I feel to admit that cordin to church rules, I done wrong. Yes, I done wrong.

 

                Masontry is a seacurt instushun, and you all done gin in your testimonies gin seacurt instushuns, long ago." A fat sort of a groan from the old ladies, and a general expression of, yes, praise the Lord.

 

                " I know that when Bob Clink got drunk and set my bakky barn to fire, you suspelled him, and when you tuck him back, and he quit drink and jyned the Sons, you suspelled him gai.." '

 

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Page 99   ‑0099>   THE CHURCH TRIAL.

 

An asservation, contradictory to the intention of the second commandment from the aforesaid Bob, who was present, and the chorus from the aforesaid antiquaries, yes, praise the Lord! " But breethern, I want you to zamin this matter, tiklurly by the light of scriptur." An interruption from the moderator who informed the bad man with great correctness, "that scriptur had nothin' to do with this matter, and eff he'd anything to norate why he jyned the Masons he'd better do it to wonste." "I ollers thought, breethern beloved," pursued the criminal with some hesitation, "I ollers thought that our church rules was the same as scriptur. Leastways that's how I olers construed the matter for twenty year, that I've been trying to preach the gospel and you never set me to rights afore. Well, breethern beloved, I have jyned the Masons and I'll tell you why, I did it soze to understand scriptur better and bekase I thought I mout be more useful. I haint found nothing wrong in it so fur. It's a good thing. It's a blessed thing, breethern beloved. You'd all of you say'twas good if you had it There's mysteries in it that makes a man think better of hisself, his God and humans. There's mysteries in it. * *# * * Now how many breethern and sisters is there of you here, who'd like to know the mysteries of Masontry? Let em rise at wonste to their feet!" Up, by a common impulse flew the crowd. Up, in spite of rheumatics and old age, the very foremost of all, flew the old women, with a praise the Lord, half out of their throats. Up hopped the moderator, his mouth flung open gate‑like from ear to ear. Up bounced Bob Clink with an oath. Up popped the Masons with surprise. Up sprung the rosycheeked maidens with cheeks rendered yet more rosy by mysterious conjectures and imaginations. Up hitched the young men who hoped now to get out all the kernel of Masontry without having to break the shell. All were on the perpendicular before the echo of Parson Hleidleberger's proposition had ceased to vibrate along the dusty roof.

 

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Page 100   ‑0100>   THIE CHURCH TRIAL.

 

The old gentleman glanced benevolently around the church, looked over the pulpit, scanned the moderator's countenance with a half smile, and went on with his exposition. "Your curiosity, breethern beloved, is just like mine was before I jyned the Masons. Now, the Lodge ain't full yet, and if you'll do like I did, the Masons will may be let you in!" The hit was too good to be overlooked. A general roar from the crowd acknowledged it. Bob Clink took a duck‑fit and was carried out in spasms. The Masons clapped with their hands and stamped with their feet. The maidens giggled. The five preachers and a half (the fraction represents the moderator) and the old women, were the only serious faces. For half an hour it seemed as if the meeting would break up without further discussion. Silence was at length restored and old Parson Heidleberger continued his remarks, as he took a spider out of his hair that had been shaken down from the roof. "I didn't try this plan, breethern beloved, to pick you up ‑not by no means. I only did it to see whether I stood alone, in curiosity to learn the secrets of Masontry. I am proud to find all the breethern and sistern in the same fix. Then I think, breethren beloved, you ought to bear with me, beloved." A tear from the old man. "I have been in and out before you, for many a year, and it's in my heart to live and die with you." A low shout from Mrs. Heidleberger, and weeping among the women generally, all but the aforesaid antiquated. "I promise you, breethren beloved, on the word of a Mas, of' a Christian I mean, that my Masontry shall only make me more industrious and praying. I'll love you better, if possible, than ever I did before, beloved. And I pray the Lord to put it into your hearts to deal justly with me, breethern beloved." # $ # # * # * * But the Church expelled him forthwith without a dissenting voice, and we came away.

 

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Page 101   ‑0101>   CATHARINE WILLIAMS.

 

CATHARINE WILLIAMS; ORI, HUSBAND AND WIFE. ' The patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit." IT was a pleasant summer evening, just as the silence of nature announced that the Grand Master of the universe was about to close his lodge for the day, and to give bird, beast, and man the refreshment of repose. Two ladies, both young and beautiful, walked hand in hand together, down the avenue lined by tall wood poplars (Liriodendron tulipifera), which marked the boundary between their respective dwellings. Each was beautiful as we have said, but there was a marked difference in their style of beauty.

 

                One was of the modest, retiring order of loveliness, that manner of beauty which wears so well, and bears so sacred a place in all the relations of maiden, wife, and mother. Her plain neat dress left no place for gaudy ornament; her low winning tone of voice was musical as a lute; the beholder, while observing Martha Bone, could not but feel that a jewel lay within, richer than all the diamonds of Golconda. The other exhibited a superb, queenly air that at times, in the warmth of conversation, assumed a scornful aspect which augured ill for the happiness of him who should win Catharine Williams. Yet her beauty was most lustrous and bewitching. None could see her black, sparkling eye, her magnificent tresses, or her commanding form, set off as it was with all the splendor of dress and the witchery of female ornament, without feeling impelled to take a second view and then a third. Catharine had been known from infancy as the splendid heiress, and now that her father was dead and there was no restraint upon her disposal of his large possessions, she carried a high air among the more humble beauties of the village. Walking thus together the two cousins, for such they were, conversed in earnest voice, and thus Martha spoke:

 

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Page 102   ‑0102>   CATHARINE WILLIAMS.

 

"And is that really your decision, Kate? can you slight so true a heart as Herman's on so frivolous a pretext as that? What! discard an engaged lover because he is a Mason? who ever heard of such a thing? now acknowledge that you are jesting with me all this time!" "You may call it frivolous or not, just as you please, Martha," responded Kate, as she curled her pretty lip and elevated her brows, in a pet at the words of her cousin; "but frivolous or not it is my decision, and my final one, and so Herman will find it. if he had been led thoughtlessly into the Masonic order I could have overlooked his heedlessness, and forget that he had ever joined them. But he must discard it now, at once and forever, or he shall never possess my hand." *'And you have really told him this?" inquired her cousin anxiously.

 

                "And I have told him this, and told it to him pretty plainly too. I confess I felt that he had treated me badly. He must have known my sentiments on the subject of Masonry from the very commencement of our acquaintance. He must have known that dear papa was seriously opposed to it, and for many years took a decided stand against it. Could he expect my father's daughter to do less? Should I not be recreant to every principle of daughterly affection, if I failed to sustain my father in what was the ruling principle of his old age? Long before he died he declared to me that if a daughter of his should condescend to marry a Mason he would never open his doors to her again Judge then of my astonishment when I saw Herman Croswell in the procession yesterday, not merely participating in their nonsensical ceremonies, but acting as their presiding officer, and wearing their childish aprons and scarfs with as much delight as though it were heaven on earth to be a Freemason!" And did you propose to him to renounce Masonry?" When he called on me last night I met him so coolly as to give him at once to understand how much I felt aggrieved by his conduct. As to our engagement I told him positively it must be dissolved, for my heart was steel to a Mason. He had shown such a want of confidence by concealing his

 

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Page 103   ‑0103>   CATHARINE WILLIAMS.

 

Masonic attachments from me, that I could no longer feel any attachment for him. ie then begged permission to call tonight and explain his conduct, and so we parted." This unexpected communication quite took away the breath of the fair questioner. The facility with which the engage ment had been broken up was so contrary to all her ideas of love and betrothal, that she walked by Catharine's side until they arrived at the very extremity of the avenue without another word. But then, as the coquettish girl turned towards her own dwelling, with a cheerful good‑night, Martha laid a finger upon her arm and detained her: "Will you not tell me, Katy dear, what are your insuper able objections against Masonry? Perhaps I may have a Mason some day for a lover, who knows! and I should like of all things to be forewarned against committing this unpar donable sin of marrying one! Masonry must be something very horrific to break up your engagement with Herman, so suddenly. Come, dear cousin, enlighten me." ",It would be a sufficient argument for me," returned the heiress, "that dear papa was so much opposed to it. The bountiful fortune that he has left me, ought not to be shared with one whom he would not have suffered even to darken his doors. But I have examined this subject for myself. By papa's request, I read the various authors to whom our country is indebted for exposing the horrid evils of Masonry; and I am thoroughly convinced that there is no baseness but what Masons do commit, or at least are tempted to commit by the principles of their society. Now I will never marry a man whose secrets I cannot share. When God pronounced concerning man and wife, these twain shall be one flesh, he meant that their knowledge and aims, as well as their enjoyments and sorrows, should be mutual. So at least I construe it, and so will I act in regard to it. Mv head shall never be pillowed upon a casket that is sealed to me, for there can be no permanent affection where there is concealment." '' Do we not love God? is not our heart tender towards Jesus Christ? do we not rest in faith on his gracious arm? and yet the secret things belong to God.

 

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Page 104   ‑0104>   CATIIARINE WILLIAMS.

 

"But do you expect," pursued Martha earnestly, "do you expect that your husband will share with you all his secrets? all that is connected with his business affairs, with his worldly plans, his combinations, his dealings with men, often running into altercations, harsh and perhaps unfeminine? How will you be able to comprehend these things, not having a man's experience for them? how can you desire to know them, not having a man's taste for them? how" * * * Here a sudden noise as of approaching feet, caused the warm‑hearted speaker to stop, and before the two ladies could step out from under the shelter of a large grapevine under which they stood, they distinctly heard, in spite of an instinctive desire not to hear it, these words: "Now, if my wife were to hear of this it would render her very miserable; but we must carefully conceal the matter from her." The remark came from Mr. Hoggs, the venerable clergyman of the village, one of the oldest ministers in all the land, and one too who was known as an opponent, though a mild one, of the Masonic cause; it was adressed to one of his leading parishioners who was ridi/g by his side. Observing the young ladies, and knowing that they must have overheard him, the good parson stopped his horse, and after a friendly greeting, remarked to them in a serious tone: "My dear Miss Catharine and Miss Martha, as the words which you so unintentionally overheard, may have sounded strangely to you I will ask permission to explain them. They relate to an affair that has lately occurred in which Mrs. Hoggs' brother is deeply implicated. The difficulty at one time threatened to be serious, but we have contrived thus far to hush it up, and it is now in a very fair way to be compromised. In Mrs. Hoggs' present state of health the knowledge of it might be hig,hly dangerous to her; at all events it is not a matter for a woman to meddle with. I shall therefore hope, my dear young friends, that no indiscretion on your part will expose me to inquiries from Mrs.

 

                Hogg on this subject, and so, fair maidens, good night." And bowing gracefully to the

 

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cousins, the good old gentleman rode off with his friend, renewing the conversation at the point at which it had been interrupted. Martha looked up triumphantly to Kate, while a merry twinkle danced in her eve, and remarked: "Now, coz, could anything have been more opportune than that. How perfectly does it corroborate the declaration I was about to make, that husbands have things to do and to know in the affairs of life, of which their wives must and should remain ignorant." "If you like to be thrust aside in that manner, Martha, you may submit to it," responded Kate with an air of annoyance; "and I hope to goodness gracious that you'll get a husband whose chest is locked with a triple key. For my part I shall be satisfied with less mystery and more candor. So once more, dear Mat, goodnight, and here's a kiss to seal my love, and convince you that I bear you no malice on account of your opinions." Each then took her way to her dwelling; the heiress to her splendid mansion adorned with luxury and grace, the other to the more humble but far happier home of her parents. Eachr meditated as she walked, the one reflecting on the manner in which she should meet Herman's request, and how she could most gracefully conclude the engagement that had long existed between them; the other wondering within herself if that could be true love which was about to be so readily cast off. At the proper hour Hlerman made his promised call.

 

                This gentleman was known as a man of good means, a good profession, good morals and character, and one whose father before him had been a Mason, even Grand Master of Masons in his native State. This fact of course had its influence upon the son, and even before he was eighteen, he could have declared in all sincerity that he had long entertained a favorable opinion of the order. About that time he commenced the practice of employing a half hour each day in studying the manuals of Masonry and reading the elaborate works of Oliver, Preston, Hutchinson,

 

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and others who have devoted themselves to this holy cause. here is a good proof that in Masonry as in religion, children should be trained up in the way they should go. As Herman had only recently moved to Fountain Green, although the engagement had existed for two years or more, Catharine had remained ignorant of the fatal fact of his Masonic love, until the very day before our history commences. It is probable that Herman had heard of her antipathies on this behalf, but if so we presume he depended upon time and the influences of love to wear it off.* From this expectation he had been suddenly dashed down by the harsh and unmaidenly words which, as we have seen, Catharine addressed to him the night before. All throu(gh the day his mind had been revolving on the means of escaping from his present dilemma. He had fallen deeply in love with Catharine, and built UD a thousand hopes for the future based upop their union. How could he bear to have them so rudely overthrown. Besides that, he anticipated all the annoyance and mortification naturally connected with the idea of being thus summarily rejected. To renounce Masonry!‑that he could never do; the very suggestion of the serpenttempter on this head was hurled from his mind as a shot from the cannon's mouth nor ever permitted to return. To withdraw his membership from the Lodge, notifying his brethren of the cause, and to stand aloof from Masonry until the marriage bond should give him a claim, and marriage affection a power to overcome Catharine's opposition; this, at first view, seemed practicable, and he turned the thought frequently in his mind. But then how dishonorable such a course! His Masonic brethren at Fountain Green had just elected him to be their presiding officer for the ensuing twelvemonths, and he would feel disgraced in his own esteem were he to adopt the suggestion.

 

                Nevertheless his mind was vacillating on this topic, and it is hard to say what would have ~ Many instances are in the writer's knowledge, where the prejudicial influences of an Antimasonic education upon the mind of the wife, have been entirely eradicated by the gentleness and forbearance of the husband.

 

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been his conclusion, when a letter was han(led him in the handwriting of his old friend, Mr. Shoster, which contained these appropriate lines: THE CONTRIBUTING MASON.* A place in the Lodge for me; A home with the free and bright; Where jan ing chords agree, And tihe darkest soul is light: Not here, not here is bliss; There's turmoil and there's gloom; My heart it yearns for peaceSay, Brothers, say, is there room! A place in the Lodge for me, &c. My feet are weary worn, And my eyes are dim with tears; This world is all forlorn, A wilderness of fears; But there's one green sp)ot below, There's a resting place, a home, My heart it yearns to know, Say, Brothers, say, is there room! A place in in the Lodge for me, &c. I hear the orphan's cry, And I see the widow's tear; I weep when mortals die, And none but God is near; From sorrow and despair, I seek the Mason's home,My heart it yearns to share, Say, Brothers, say is there room! A place in the Lodge for me, &e. With God's own eye above, With brother‑hands below, With friendship and with love, My pilgrimage I'll go: And when in death's embrace, My summons it shall come, Within your heart's best place, Oh, Brothers, oh give me room A p!ace in the Lodge for rme, A home with thetfree and bright; Where jarring chords agree, And the darkest soul is light. 'AIR‑VIA life on the ocean wavc."‑Masonic Lyrics, No. 1, by the Author.

 

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Mr. Shoster was known in that vicinity as a rhymster, and hearing of the dilemma into which his Brother Herman had been thrown the night before, he had smoked innumerable pipes of tobacco over the matter and penned the above lines. The result was more successful than tobacco poetry in general, for it determined Herman's mind to retain his membership in the order, to face the matter boldly, and to trust in love to bear him out. CHAPTER I.. "There is a time when one man ruleth over another to his own hurt." HERMAN walked up the marble steps and knocked at the mahogany door. He was received by the obsequious servant, and ushered promptly into the sitting,‑room.

 

                Catharine was not there, but she sent him a message by her waiting maid that she would presently be down. To while away the minutes, and by occupying his mind to banish painful thoughts, Herman approached the center table and began to turn over the books. To his surprise they consistedly entirely of works professedly written against Free masonry.

 

                His artful mistress had purposely arrayed them in their present position, and Herman well understood now that her delay in receiving him was to allow him time to inspect them. This omen was significant of evil. Here was "J. Q. Adams' Letters to Stone," the writer expatiating upon topics he had not the light to understand, while Stone, the seceding Mason, must have laughed over the whole affair in his retirement, as supremely ridiculous. Here was a Bernard, minister of the gospel of truth, hanging upon the horn of his own dilemma, and placing himself in an attitude before the world that must necessarily have led to

 

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the destruction of his usefulness as a preacher and his happi ness as a man.* IHere was Morgan with his speculation in morals equaled only in respectability by the peddling of a pirate's last confession. Here was Allen, wondrous divulger! self‑sacrific;ig de nouncer! And here, to rise far higher in the scale of falsehood, here, filled with splendid engravings and costly fancies, were such works as Robinson, Pritchard, Carlisle, Finch, Lambert, &c.; together with bound volumes of the various Antimasonic journals filled with all the carrion and garbage of a reckless political party, now, thanks to the God of truth, defunct. From the abundance of marginal notes, and the wellthumbed appearance of the books, they had been carefully read and compared with one another, having doubtless served as texts for many a denunciatory tirade against Masonry. Herman turned away from this valley of Jehoshaphat with a sigh, and as he heard the step of his mistress in the hall, he prepared himself for the worst. His reception was barely civil. The proud girl only curtsied to him at entering, declined his offered hand, and seated herself on the end of the sofa, nor would she permit him to approach her side. So they sat face to face. A momentary silence followed, during which Catharine, with an air of offended dignity, looked towards the ceiling as if waiting that explanation which was the object of their present meeting. Herman began by inquiring: "Catharine, your reception is so chilling that it seems almost unnecessary to ask you, is your determination of last night sustained? is our engagement, from which I had anticipated so much happiness, is it to be dissolved, and that only on account of Freemasonry? had the affection you have heretofore acknowledged, no better foundation than to be over * Bernard, in the preface to his book, styled Light on Masonry (never was there a greater misnomer) says "If the institution is corrupt, I am under a moral obligation to break my oaths and reveal its secrets lo the world." The unhappy man was really placed on the hornis of Itis dilemma; either he must perjure himself or lose his congregation. Htc unfortunately preferred the good things of this life, and chose the former alternative. Note to Oliver Landmarks, Vol. 1.

 

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thrown so easily? Come, dear Kate, consider,‑what can there be in Masonry that should prevent a man from making a fond lover or a devoted husband? I declare to you upon my honor, more sacred to me than life itself, that every benefit connected with this institution will accrue to you, as my wife, which I as a Mason can enjoy. It is in this as in all the other burdensome affairs of life, that while men perform the toils and bear the burdens, their families share with them to the last penny in the advantages. Then if there be no weightier cause for your cruel determination, consider. By all the memories of our past happiness, by your plighted faith, by the pure kiss that sealed our engagement, by " Hold, hold Herman Crosswell," hastily interrupted Catharine, as with flushed cheeks and a tone of exquisite pathos her lover was awakening the buried hours into life; "let there be no more such words as these. You have said more than enough. It is not well that these things should be mentioned in our present relation to each other. I consented that you should call on me to‑night at your own urgent request, although I declared to you that my mind was irrevocably fixed against you the moment I saw you in a Masonic procession. You have deceived me, sir, and there is but one thing that can justify you in using such language to me again, that is to renounce Masonry at once and forever. I have confidence yet in your honor, that if you bind yourself to this thing you will perform it. Will you then here, upon this Bible,.solemnly repudiate all Masonic obligations, and at an early opportunity, make a public declaration to the same effect; and will you pledge the faith of a gentleman never again to renew your engagements at a Masonic altar? furthermore‑for this is not all‑nor can I consent to a reconciliation unless you give me evidences of perfect confidence in my discretion‑will you forget the foolish vows which have enchained you to the absurd secrets of Masonry, and answer me honestly whatever questions I may ask you concerning it." "My dear Kate," commenced Herman in reply, but he was haughtily interrupted by the maiden, who with flashing eyes forbade him addressing her in that strain, and

 

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Page 111   ‑0111>   CATHAR1NE WILLIAMS. demanded a precise a answer to her conditions. " Then madam," slowly replied the justly offended gentleman, "since there is no other alternative but one, and that one such as no honorable man could accept, you may truly say, here ends the matter. "All my Masonic engagements, of whatever nature, are founded upon that honor of which you profess to entertain so high an opinion. How you can reconcile a pledge of honor with the demands you have just made surpasses my understanding to conceive, though you were aided with all thefalse logic of these detestable books. When I go back to that Holy Word to renounce my vows, may my right hand forget her cunning! Could the heart that beats within my breasts could it even conceive such a thought I should feel unworthy of your hand. But it does not. And since it has come to this that I must choose between honor and Catharine, I select the former. Here, Miss Williams, are the evidences of our betrothal, the tokens of an attachment that I once thought stronger than the pillars of heaven, but have found to be so frail." He drew from his pocket a package of letters, and a miniature, and laid them upon the table with strong emotion. "There is nothing left, Miss Williams, but to say farewell. In the unknown future, should a regretful thought occur to you concerning this night's work, I would have you to know, Catharine, that the reflex of our Masonic teachings is forqiveness, and that I do sincerely bestow mine upon you for the wrong you have done me, however mistakenly, to‑night!" He was gone. The sound of his retiring feet was heard as they crushed the gravelled walks down the avenue. The heiress leaned back in her seat and for many hours remained in silent thought.

 

                The tenderness of a woman was taking the place of that scornful indifference. The fire burned low in the grate; the candle flickered dimly in the socket; the waiting maid put her head again and again within the door, and endeavored to attract her mistress' attention. Ile was gone. The breach was now irreparable. There upon the table were love's pledges, vain mockeries of a frozen faith. He was

 

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gone. His parting words rang prophetically in her ears. Forgiveness! what had he to forgive! did Masonry teach him this? Such was not the morality of Masonry as she had learned it from Bernard! Thus she meditated, and long years afterwards when the crushed hopes of her youth were brought up on the wings of memory the recollection of that night added poignancy to her solitary lot. Great was the astonishment, active the scandal, loud the street talk, when the citizens of Fountain Green learned that Catharine Williams had discarded Herman CrosweJl. A hundred conjectures were formed, all of them about as near the mark as such things usually are, by those who having no business of their own to do, disinterestedly adopt that of others and then nurse the bantling to death. Catharine vouchsafed no replies to the numerous questions propounded her, for save her cousin Martha, she had no confident. Herman gave no hints as to the cause of his rejection. But this gave more room for the imagination. The invention of Miss Hannah Rice, a spinster of forty‑five, hopeless and hateful, is a fair specimen of the blunders made on this head, and deserves preservation if only for its ingenuity. It was oracularly delivered at a tea‑table party of the FountainGreen‑Female‑Benevolentand‑Social‑Club at one of its semimonthly convocations, and came forth in this wise: "You see I larnt it of Kersiah, Miss Kate's waiting maid. Kersiah was dusting the cheers in the next room and heern every word Mr. Crosswell said. Kersiah declares that Mr. Croswell, he cried like a whipped puppy, and he begged Kate not to gin him the mitten. But Kate, she declared that she could never marry a man who was caught in such a snap, and her money shouldn't never support such a monster. And then Mr. Croswell he tuck his hat and left, and that's all about it." While public opinion was thus agitated with all the violence of a tempest in a teapot; Herman, to dissipate the unpleasant recollections connected with the affair, made a journey across the Atlantic, which occupied his attention for nearly three years. The members of the Lodge who were in the secret, kept the matter close, for there was not a leaky barrel

 

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amongst them, and in a few months some other wonderful event took its place. The news of Herman's departure fell with heavy weight upon Catharine's mind. Martha, with a gentle fervor, had adopted the cause of the rejected lover, and earnestly endea vored to make peace between the alienated pair. But her advice was so haughtily received and such an insulting answer given from Catharine, as to produce a coolness between the cousins, and their long and confidential walks beneath the poplar grove were forever ended. Deprived of her old friend and confidant, the heiress desponded. Her proud spirit fell back upon itself, and in the secret recesses of her splendid mansion there were gloom and sadness that poorly orres ponded with the magnificence of the interior. The determination to which she had arrived by means of an unfortunate prejudice, the result of education, was not calcu lated to compensate by any thing within itself for the loss of a devoted lover; nor could the perusal of Antimasonic books or the consideration of arguments against Masonry, however incontrovertible, drown the recollection of a heart blighted and manly virtues slighted through her decision. She became morose and neglected herself. Deserted by all whom she loved, she cared not that her parlors were thronged at evening with the gay hangers‑on of fortune. In their smiles she found no light. In their words there was no cheer. IHer costly piano, struck by her own skillful fingers, gave back no answer to alleviate her regrets. She listened when any allusion was made to Herman, for her heart was with him in his lonely pilgrimage, and there were times in the hours of retirement, when reflection had so subdued pride, that her tongue would gladly have spoken his recall. But the roar of the Atlantic was between them and it was too late. Labor became a drudgery, books a burden. She ceased after a few months to entertain company at all, and then the gossips of Fountain Green had another morceau of scandal in the fact that Catharine was about to shut up her splendid house and spend the summer, in company with a distant relative, at Saratoga Springs.

 

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The last Sabbath at Fountain Green before her departure, Rev. Mr. Hoggs preached an elaborate discourse upon the subject of Church relations. The reverend gentleman took the scriptural positions and sustained them well, that a difficulty between brethren should, if possible, be reconciled by the parties themselves in secret; that in case of failure two or more church members, mutual friends, should be called in to adjudicate the matter and bring them together in secret; that in case of a second failure the church session should try the cause of difficulty in secret; and that if all these efforts failed to compromise the matter, then the church in its congrega,tional capacity may be called in to give their private action in interlocutory meeting, that is, in secret. Now, as thiis good man was noted for his opposition to all secret societies, there seemed to be a slight discrepancy between the two positions, and so Catharine told him the next day. But the subtle ecclesiastic was not to be overthrown by a straw lance from a lady's hands, for at once with great spirit he drew the sword polemic and showed Catharine how that Christ went aside in private, prayed in private, commissioned his disciples in private, instructed them in private, lived thirty years in private, rebuked Peter in private, appeared to his disciples after his resurrection, in private, led them out to Bethany in private; in short, the Rev. Mr.

 

                Hoggs so effectually demolished the lady, that if not convinced by the weight of the arguments, she was altogether anihilated by the ponderousness of the words.

 

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CHAPTER III. "Wo to him that is alone when he falleth, for he hath not another to help him up." THREE years bring many changes. Three sun‑circuits through the vast orbit of the heavenly Lodge, witness many a fall and many an uprising. Disappointments come and are overcome. Hearts are depressed and hearts are buoyed up again.

 

                The Mason's Lodge receives new material for its spiritual walls, new wisdom to its wisdom, strength to its strength, beauty to its beauty; likewise the brothers bear many a polished block to lamented graves. Up the mystic steps untried feet are continually passing. At the sacred portals, trembling hands are still knocking. Within the guarded and secluded chambers, very nigh to heaven, the hallowed fire is yet burning. The call from labor to refresh ment and from refreshment to labor, is still heard resounding; while the field of graves has always some freshly upturned earth that marks a new tenant who sleeps beneath the sprigs of evergreen with which his comrades defied the power of death. Three years‑the mutability of time affects us all. Those who formed the rearguard, called to be last, become the first, while many who were the first, exchange places with the last, outstripped in the race of knowledge. Three years brought its necessary changes to Catharine Williams. For more than a twelvemonth after her summary rejection of Herman, her heart had remained unoccupied. The haughty beauty could not discover in any of those who crowded around her with their attentions, a worthy substitute for one for whom now that he was lost to her, she felt more tenderness than she would willingly have acknowledged. At last however she yielded. The conquerer was a certain Colonel Kirkham, well known throughout the district as a hanger‑on upon the great, a candidate for the hands of heiresses in general, and a servile friend to all who had means or influence at their command.

 

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This notorious character had first gained her eye by a timely display of boldness in relieving her from her horse, which was making some furious demonstrations of terror. The thankful glance she bestowed upon him, revealed his person in a gentleman of some thirty‑five years of age, of polished exterior, with a soft, flattering tongue, and a most respectful deference to the wishes of the alarmed lady. The walk home, for which she thankfully accepted his proffered arm, confirmed her first impression of him, and when at parting he begged permission to call the next morning, and enquire after her health, she cordially assented. This visit was followed up by another, then by a third, and soon Col. Kirkham became her stated attendant, escorting her to balls, parties, and the other scenes into which she had again plunged to drown remembrances of her former lover. In a few months this assiduity was so generally noticed, that the affair was popularly considered a match. The swarm of admirers that had previously buzzed around her, withdrew their attentions, thus tacitly acknowledging themselves defeated. Then came a proposal of marriage from the gallant swain. At first it was declined, but so soft was the tone of refusal that the petitioner could but continue his addresses. A second proffer was urged with increased vehemence and fervor. This met with the same result, but in a still more hesitating manner. A third trial followed, for Col. Kirkham had become too much accustomed to things of this sort to allow his zeal to be dampened while there was any hope of eventual success, and faint heart never won fair lady, was the motto of the gallant swain. This time, with much doubt, much delay, the tender confession was at last made, and Col. Kirkham rode proudly off that night as the affianced lover of the wealthy Catharine Williams. The marriage in due time was consummated, and the first letter Herman received as he entered Rome, contained the startling announcement. "Your old flame, Kate W., is spliced hard and fast. And of all the world, who do you think? you would never guess, never in a month of Sundays. Not Charley I, nor Gus.

 

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, nor Tom C. T, nor any of the Fountain Green boys.

 

                But of all the suitors in the world, that old fortune hunter, Col.

 

                Kirkham, who has been oftener Rejected in his search for a rich wife, than any ten men in the State. Poor Kate, I pity her! she can't possibly be happy long with such a man. She wants a husband who will give her his entire confidence! now I'll venture to say there isn't a lawyer on the circuit with half so many bad secrets in his possession as Col. K, and though I wish her no evil, I predict this step will prove the bane of her life. * * * * The Masonic brethren are very anxious you should return. Our new Hall is dedicated, and a beautiful affair it is. The lower apartments are to be used for school rooms, and the Lodge has agreed to pay the expense of educating eight children, session by session. This will enable poor Terry to school his boys without further difficulty. Poor fellow, he is not long for this world. The brethren are desirous you should see Dr. George Oliver, when you return to England, and propound those questions to him which we debated the night before you left. His elucidation in' The Landmarks' is beautiful, but not sufficiently extended. "Pick up all the French and German authors on Masonry you can find. Our Masonic library has already reached one hundred volumes, and has done much good. * * * The third year brought Herman back to Fountain Green, where he resumed the practice of medicine, for which, by his European studies he was now eminently qualified. He had stood at the base of Mount Moriah, and looking up towards the consecrated spot, hallowed by the three grand offerings of faith, repentance, and devotion unto death, had mourned over the changes produced by time and sin. He had walked through the valley of Jehoshaphat, the figurative deposit of all rejected cowans. He had examined the fords on the river Jordan; searched for the clay grounds anciently lying o.u its banks between Succoth and Zeradathah; walked all the way from Jeirusalem to Joppa and back, to measure the time and distance with his own limbs. He had handled the sword of the immortal Godfrey

 

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Page 118   ‑0118>   CATHARINE WILLIAMS.

 

so carefully preserved in the Sacristy of the Holy Sepulcher. He had plucked a branch from one of the few remaining cedars on the snowy peaks of Lebanon, and a sprig of evergreen from the valley of Gihon. He had pitched his tent amidst the ruins of Tyre, once the center of maratime and architectural enterprise, and spent many days in the now deserted capital of the powerful King Hiram. At Malta he had inspected the remains of the great Knights who once bore the banners of the Templars into the thickest of the arrayed strife. Returning to Europe, he had made acquaintance with the most distinguished Masons in the different kingdoms, and familiarized his mind with the peculiarities of the various rites. Possessing ample means, he had accumulated a valuable stock of Masonic publications, and now he returned home, laden with the stores of a well‑filled mind and an unusually large collection of authors. These things endeared him greatly to the hearts of his brethren. There is no class of men more grateful than Masons, or readier to acknowledge an obligation of this sort. The efforts of an enterprising brother will assuredly be rewarded. H;s own Lodge, with which he had kept up a regular correspondence during his three years' tour, acknowledged their indebtedness by placing him once more in their Masonic east. The Grand Lodge endorsed their favorable judgment, and elevated him by regular graduations to the highest honors at her command. And while basking in the confidence and esteem of his brethren, Herman was not unmindful of the duty he owed to his own heart. Time had effaced every regretful memory connected with Catharine Williams. The ungentle treatment of one in whom his love had centred, changed his whole feelings towards her, and when at his return he called upon her at the request of her husband, it was with the unconcern of a mere acquaintance. But a new chain was about to be wound around him, far more enduring than the former. The fair enchantress was no other than Catharine's gentle cousin Martha, whose warm

 

118    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 119   ‑0119>   KATHARINE WILLIAI S. defence of Herman formed the opening sentences of this sketch. The manner of their engagement was as follows: Martha had a brother who resided in a neighboring town, a medical gentleman like Herman, and likewise a member of the Masonic order. They were frequently thrown together both professionally and fraternally, and soon became intimate friends. A Masonic procession was announced for a certain day, connected with a public presentation of a full set of robes to the Royal Arch Chapter of Fountain Green by the liberal‑hearted ladies. The lady selected to deliver the address, was Martha Bone, and our friend Herman consented to make the reply. During the young lady's remarks, she had occasion to allude to the weakness of that argument so frequently offered by cavilling spirits, that Masonry places a barrier between husband and wife. This subject she disposed of so handsomely and with so much delicacy and propriety withal, that Herman, who was to respond, could not help admiring not merely the argument itself, but the kindled look and sparkling eye that rendered it so irresistible. The ceremonial being ended, he could not do less than accept the invitation of her brother, Dr. Bone, to dine with them. So he conducted her home, and the hour spent in that neat, happy dwelling, confirmed his destiny. For there Martha reigned as queen in the hearts of parents, brothers, and sisters, and he saw at a glance that her's was no common order of mind.

 

                The acquaintance was assiduously followed up and ere long strengthened by a direct offer of marriage. No objections or grounds for delay could be made, and soon after the village paper announced the marriage of Dr.

 

                H. Crosswell to Miss Martha Hargous Bone. A general expression of good will from all their friends followed their marriage, for it was clear that so far as human foresight could extend, the twain had every prospect of a happy union. In this popular expression we must however record one dissenting vote, that of Miss Hannah Rice, not yet married, but not yet despairing. This experienced spinster was never so distressed, it was said, as when the number of marriageable females was reduced in this

 

119    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 120   ‑0120>   CATHARINE WILLIAMS.

 

way. Scandal whispered that the true reason was, not that she loyed females less, but that she loved males more; and that in every case of this sort she felt as if she had been defrauded out of her own. Be that as it may, the glib tongued damsel, at a called meeting of the Fountain‑Green Female‑Sewing‑Benevolent‑and‑Social‑Club, expressed her sentiments, "that it seemed strange to her that a man like Herman Croswell could patch up his affections, (she was then engaged in patching up a bedquilt for the distressed Pawnees) could patch up his affections in this way, so soon after having them lacerated by the scorn of Kate Williams. For her part she thought it surprising how easy some folks could get over a thing of this sort; she was sure she never, never could‑no never, never,">‑and so thought all her friends. But was Catharine happy in her marriage with one who possessed so few qualities to render a union permanent? Alas, the honey moon was hardly at an end when the fatal mistake she had made became evident. That Col. Kirkham had married her for her fortune alone. did not admit of a doubt. That he had totally failed in imparting to her that full confidence which she had expected from a husband, she read in the fact that no sooner was her marriage with him announced than his creditors, whose claims had been carefully concealed from her until this moment, one and all sent in their accounts to her and clamored for payment. There were bills running back almost to the period of his maturity. There were tailors' bills, board bills, bills for every article of clothing bills for luxuries of all sorts, bills for horses and horse hire, and bills for borrowed money. Nay, worse than that, there were gambling claims, bets on races, debts of honor, &c., and such a startling sum‑total did all these demands present, that the outraged wife at once declared she would never pay them. From this determination however, Catharine was driven by threats from the creditors that they would expose the claims for sale at auction at the, court‑house door, unless she settled them, and this brought her reluctantly to terms. More than five thousand dollars were consumed in this operation, and the

 

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Page 121   ‑0121>   CATIIARINE WILLIAMS.

 

foundation for a permanent misunderstanding between hus ban and wife was deeply laid. A year rolled by, and the birth of their child promised to unite the parties, between whom a sad incompatibility of temper was now manifest. There was more tenderness then on both sides. The bickerings which had become too commons now ceased, and when the pale but happy mother took her first drive through the poplar grove, after her confinement, and gazed from the face of the lovely infant into that of her admiring and certainly well‑featured husband, she felt as if there was yet something in store for her. But it was not so to be. The little one, in whom so many hopes were centered, sickened and died. The old strife was rekindled by the presentation of several heavy bills made by the Colonel within a month after their marriage, and without informing her of the act. Things were fast hurrying to a crisis. One night after she had retired, her secretary was broken open and a large sum of money abstracted; and although Col.

 

                Kirkham made loud and bustling threats against the robbers, and even had two of the servants imprisoned for the theft, yet in her heart Catharine could not help believing that his own hands had committed the deed.

 

                There was something on his mind too that she could not comprehend. In his dreams he muttered words of tenderness that had no reference to herself, and of fears of which nothing that she had been informed of could be the subject. What an entire failure had she made, in carrying out the principle, that in her maiden days, she had established for herself! how far was she from the declaration recorded in the first chapter, " my head shall never be pillowed on a casket that is sealed to me." As the childless mother, unable to sleep from sadness, mused through the weary hours of night, while her partner tossed and murmured mysteriously at her side, she felt in her heart of hearts, that an ill‑assorted marriage is a hell upon earth. But it was too late. She had mingled the draught with her own hands, and she must drain the cup, bitter though it was. The unexplained reserve in her husband's manners, fast

 

121    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 122   ‑0122>   CATHARINE WILLIAMS.

 

increased. He took long excursions from home and when he returned would render no account of his absence. Visitors with rude manner and loud voices, were often closeted with him for hours together, and although the subject of their conference was concealed from Catharine, yet she heard enough to be sure that these men had some mysterious claim upon her husband which he could not shake off. One evening too as she walked out all alone in the poplar grove, the scene of so many happy hours in former days, she observed Col. Kirkham in company with a strange female, whose despairing gestures spoke of a deeply‑wounded heart. Hlusband and wife became more and more estranged.

 

                They no longer occupied the same apartments, scarcely, indeed the same house. Servants were permitted to hear their mutual upbraidings, and the scandal of it went abroad, delighting the heart of HIanrnah Rice, but paining every other hearer. Then followed a full explanation of the mystery. A warrant from the Governor came down to arrest Col. Kirkham for forgery committed long before, but concealed thus far by pensioning the witnesses. New developments followed hard and fast. A young woman, the same who had fallen under Catharine's observation in the poplar grove, called at the splendid mansion now so desolate, and brought ample testimony to the horror‑stricken mistress, that a legal marriage between herself and Col. Kirkham had been entered into more than two years prior to Catharine's marriage. This was the crowning point of her grief. A divorce was at once sued for and obtained, but although she thus became free from the marriage chain so wickedly wound around her, the heavier chain of self‑accusation, and of a crushed heart, pressed her beneath its weight and the links thereof entered her soul. POSTSCRIPT.‑We had not thought it necessary to add a moral to this tale, but the opinion of esteemed friends who had perused the manuscript, changed our plan. We therefore appear as the apologists of King Solomon. We declare then by way of postscript, that while as Masons, we make no unnatural reservations between husband and

 

122    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 123   ‑0123>   CATHARINE WILLIAMS.

 

wife, sharing no blessings among ourselves from which our beloved partners are debarred, seeking for no gratification or advantage, but such as will enable us to make them happier, yet there must be, not only in the constitution of Masonry, but in the very constitution of the sexes, in their different spheres of action, in their different tastes, capacities, and temptations, there must be, and there is, a history for each, which the other is forbidden to know, and which nothing but an unclean curiosity ever induces the desire to know.

 

                Practically, this is well understood in every domestic circle. Nay, it is well understood even by that open‑mouthed class of feminine Antimasons of which Harriet Martineau is leader.' In the very claim which females sct up, and which, by unallimous consent among civilized nations is allowed them, in their claim for extraordinary attentions on the score of physical inferiority, this position is confirmed. It is only when the abstract question comes up, why is not Masonry open to the female sex, that hard feelings arise and the female class is inclined to take ground against us. But we contend that this is not the form in which the question should be started. To which sexual sphere is Masonry adapted? that is the shape we propose for it. Now the answer may be gained by reference to the very origin of Masonry. It originated among men,‑was designed to protect laboring men in their rights,‑to add the lightness of superior knowledge to the inherent hardships of their profession,‑to enable men to overcome the peculiar temptations to which in their exposed position they were peculiarly liable. Then the answer must be this, Why is not Masonry open to the female sex? because females are not men. In general, it is only those viragos who yearn for a beard, and who unsex themselves in their conventions for Woman's Rights, it is only these in general who make the demand placed in the mouth of Catharine Williams in the second chapter. Miss Martineau took ground in 1836, against Freemasonry.

 

123    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 124   ‑0124>   CATHARINE WILLIAMS.

 

Of such an one that facetious writer, Lawrence Sterne, says, VoL 4, page 271, "She would have stood a shot any time to be made a Mason!" It was such an one who published abroad her indignation in the Antimasonic times, because our Ahiman Rezon associates woman in this manner, "Rule 17, No woman or enuch, or old man in his dotage, can be made a Mason." To such females we only commend patience under the lot to which providence has subjected them.

 

                Their.greatest hardship in life is an unfeminine curiosity‑cured of that they will be at ease. But to that vast multitude of the gentle sex who are content to walk modestly in their own sphere and be verily a help meet for man, here's a Mason's hand and heart. For you, bright sharers of our joys, sweet consolers of our affliction, for you shall the golden harvest of Masonry be gathered, although we may not demand your presence in the tiresome sowing or in the hot reaping. For you our gavels shall resound, our symbols shall shine, our monthly labors shall be continued, and while one chord can vibrate within our bosoms, to your love it shall be fondly attuned. "Lord, thou wilt ordain peace for us; for thou also hast wrought all our works in us." Amen. So mote it be. Amen. THE UNIVERSALITY OF FREEMASONRY.* WHEREVER man is tracing, The weary ways of care, Midst wild and desert pacing, Or land of softer air, We surely know each other, And with good words of cheer, Each brother hails his brother, And hope wings lightly there. *AIR‑" The Feast of Roses." Masonic Lyrics, No. 3, by the Author.

 

124    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 125   ‑0125>   WASHINGTON.

 

Whierever tears are falling The soul's dark wintry rainAnd human sighs are calling, To human hearts in vain, We surely know each other, &c. Wherever prayer is spoken, In earnestness of faith, We're minded of the token, That tells our Master's death: We pray then for each other, &c. Wherever mall is lying, Unknowing and unknowvn, There's one yet by the dying He shall not die alone. For then we know each other, And with good words of cheer, Each brother‑ hails his brother, And hope wings lightly there WASHINGTON.

 

A MASONIC POEM. 1. GLORY TO GOD, IN COURTS OF GLORY HIGH! EARTH, BALMY PEACE! GOOD WILL, GOOD WILL TO MBN! O'er the still plain, beneath the starlit sky Ring the glad tidings; and, again, again, GLORY TO GOD, TO GOD! the dewy plain Echoes the notes the midnight solitude Wood, mount, and waters, catch the glowing strain! Ah ne'er was heard such note since Satan stood, Sad hour, in Eden's groves, and worked to man no good! Heaven's joy that night was perfect: Christ was born, Immanual, Prince of Peace and Son of God. New grief to demons, wailing and forlorn, Grief to their spirits as a venomed sword. To GOD ON HIGH ?thus the accordON EARTII, GOOD WILL AND PEACE, GOOD WILL AND PEACE. Now far ascending, singing as they soared.

 

                The angelic brothers vanish; echoes cease, And from their wondering trance the Shepherds' souls release.

 

125 2.

 

                  ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 126   ‑0126>   WASHINGTON.

 

3. Spirits of peace, since that bright Christmas eve, Have oft descended from the ladder's top, And brought to those who suffer and believe The priceless blessings of the Chlristian's hope, That soon humanity will cease to grope In doubts and darkness as in days gone by, And follow Him, the Peaceful, journeying up, From Bethlehem to gory Calvary, Who died that we might live, and lives to eternity. 4. Heavten sent a Washington: there was much needAges had rolled along, and hearts had bled, And liberty downtrodden as a weed, No shelter found for her defenceless head: Peace lay like Lazarus in sepulchral bed:God raised up Washington, and freedom smiled; Once more to yearning hearts the angels said, GOOD WILL TO M3AN, OF GRACE THE FAVORED CHILD! GOOD WILL TO MAN; that voice shall never more be stilled 5. On Trestle‑board divine the plan was traced,The Master Architect his work surveyedEach virtue in its proper balance placed; Each ornament of purest metal made; Each block in symmetry exact was laid; And there stood Washirngton the Mason‑man,Wise unto warfare's sanguinary trade, Wiser to PEACE such was the MIaster's plan! And Wisdom, Beauty, Strengthli, through all the Temple ran. 6.

 

                Caution his chiefest care; the outer gate Was strictly guarded; through its portals came Naught could betray; prudent, deliberate, Each messenger bore out undoubted claim To instant reverence and deathless fame. Thus, tyled wvith care, his sanctuary kept Unstained its altar, unforgot its flame While sentinels on other watch‑towers slept, And PRUDENCE o'er the ills of sad indifference wept. 7. Sober in all thino‑s. TEMPERANCE, the spring Of human strength, was paramount in him There was no vile excess or Inst to bring, Untimely feebleness to manly limb.

 

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Page 127   ‑0127>   WASHIIINGTON. Or dull his ear, or make his eye grow dim. Like him of old, the leader through the sea, Floated no changes on life's rapid stream, Age brought him death but not infirmity: Bore hence the vigorous frame unshaken by decay. 8. How great his FORTITUDE! protracted war, Caused patriot hearts to sink dispiritedHis bleeding army cast in flight before A taunting enemny‑his hopes betrayedHow great his FORTITUDE! firm, undismayed The pillar of his suffering country stood. By night a glow, by day refreshing shade, A column fixed, broken but unsubdued! Plumbed by the Master's hand,‑by him pronounced GOOD. 9. Excellent he in JUSTICE; if to do, In all that life presents, fiom day to day, To others as you would they do to you, If this be Masonry a Mason he! Unswerving, to the right or left, his way Was nward, upward; in his hand the scale Of righteousness was equipoised, to pay Homage to God‑hail, great Creator hail! JUSTICE to man‑for man was brothler beloved well. 10. But not these sterner virtues only stand Around this good man's life; true BROTHERLY LOVB, Such as the ancient brethren cherished, and RELIEF that does both pain and wo remove, And TRUTH, an attribute of God above, Clustered like dropping vines on Washington. What marvel that admiring Masons strove To catch the light from such a matchless sun, Or claim the mantle ere the godlike chief was gone. 11 Henceforth the Christmas song need not be stilled! The conqueror, ere t'he battle's turmoil cease, Turns froinom the glory of the encrimsoned field And bends in homage to the Prince of Peace. GLORY TO GOD‑that anthem shall increase; ON EARTH such lives proclaim GOOD WILL TO MAN. Henceforth when angels sing Immanuel's grace We'll strike the harp and recognize the planOh that our earth might yield such Temple‑work again I

 

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Page 128   ‑0128>   WASHINGTON.

 

12. Lo the sands swiftly run! behold, our lives Dropping like foliage to a solemn close! To‑day the bud brigh‑t expectation gives, To‑morrow blossoms to a transient rose, Another morn and its whole beauty goes: Its leaves are scattered wastefully around, No heart remembering; another glows Upon the stem; another hope is crowned; And this is human life, the life the dead have found. 13. Count well the moments then; fill up the day; Brothers, let wisdom's hand your life plans trace. The Temple will be finished though we may, Not see the stone exalted to its place: It is enough that God will see and bless: Labor while it is day; there's work for all; The Trestle‑Board proclaims it, and alas! Too soon will night spread its hueless pall: Too soon the grave, the grave! for which there's no recall. 14. Clouds may obscure us; slander may detract; The foes of truth and rectitude unite; But while within our mystic sphere we act There lives no power can hinder or affright. The Master's eye still oversees the right; Heaven's books record it with angelic pen; And when death summons calls us up the height, A full reward for labor shall we gain, In God's own Temple freed from sorrow, toil and pain. 15. Man of a thousand virtues, Washington! Thy model lent from heaven we prefer; Our deeds upon that high design begun, Shall merit praise tried by the Chief O'erseer: Master of men! hear thou a Mason's prayer! Breathe in our spirits a true love of peace; Teach us a brother's bons and woes to share; Enlarge our charity, ourjaith increase, And save us all in Christ, the Mason's righteoes

 

128    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 129   ‑0129>   THE BIRTH LIFE, AND DEATH

 

o F STONE‑SQUARERS' LODGE, NO. 91.

 

PART FIRST.

 

                ‑ THE BIRTH. Ye are the salt of the earth.‑ Ye are the light of the world. "Now eff this don't make the old man chaw his backy fine, I'm a Guinea! He's done fowt the Masons ever sense we've been together, now gwine on forty year, and to have the drotted things stuck here right under his nose at last,'twill be the death on him, sure as shooten! " These words, portentous of evil, speedy and vast, were addressed by old Mrs. Mowthphoole, (currently known in the Bend as Granny Mouthful,) to her grand‑daughter? lHepsibah Truck, who had just brought her the startling tidings, by way of neighbor Serkses'. "that the Masons had done detarmed to start a lodge, and set the mas8ontry‑mill to grinding, next Saturday, come three weeks!" Mrs. M. was a finished specimen, from the old‑fashioned anti‑masonic trestle‑board: she was one of that most‑gone set who did the talking, and evil speaking, and dirty work of their grand master, the devil, before a political party in 1826 took it out of their hands, nor ever returned them a thankee in the way of recompense. This lady was a member of the church ‑ that class always is ‑ which approaches nearest in doctrine to pure fanaticism. There is no institution that so plainly inculcates the duty of works in evidence of faith, as Masonry; therefore, none is so obnoxious to fatalists in general. In her apparel, Mrs. Mowthphoole was as peculiar as the Masons themselves. She wore the covering and adorned herself with the ornaments whose counterparts had served her ancestors generations before. Her frock (not to invade the arcana) was homespun and home‑made, but alas! the skill of the widow's son was

 

9 (129)    ‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

Page 130   ‑0130>   BIRTH, LI,IFE AND DEATH

 

visible neither in the web, nor in the cut, nor in the miake. (2d Chron. ii. 14.) The pattern was the same to which nature cuts all her coverings; that is, the frame itself; and with curious fidelity did the garment follow the curves and angles, (the hills and valleys), for which the steel had prepared it. As this old dame was reduced in flesh, this dress, so suggestive of the jewel it inclosed, forcibly reminded you of the bark on a cherry tree, and for the life of you, you yearned to pull out your knife and cut it open, that the imprisoned body might be released. Her shoes were of they were locked up, in fact; foi the weather was too warm for horseskin. Her head, naturally rejoicing in a sandy mat for a covering, was now enfolded in the additional envelop of a red flannel cap, made upon the principle that causes glassmakers to color their junk bottles so, that is, that they may use the coarse materials. Iron spectacles, a string of purple glass beads, (purple as denoting a union of bad taste with no matter what,) and a cob pipe, completed both her attire and adornments.

 

                In brief, Mrs. Mowthphoole was what that disrespectful young male, Sammy Stokes, calls an old she, and the big‑ mouthed Professor Lerose styles a chondropterygian! The reader will see our motive in describing this venerable dame at such full length, (she was just five feet nine and a half long,) when we agnize him that in that vicinity there were fourteen other old women who also wore red woolen caps; incased themselves in cherry bark frocks; were wealthy in glass beads; smoked cob pipes; locked up their horseskin in sultry weather; belonged to the Mohammedan style of church membership, and were ardent antimasons. (They styled themselves ampisamsono, but we presume it means the same thing, in Dutch.) One word as to Mrs. M.'s house, and we'll go along faster. Of course it was log, dirt‑daubed, etc.; many an excellent Mason lives in no better, and we have no better for us and ours; but then Mowthphoole's tenement was such a mean sort of one. The census‑taker thus sketched

 

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Page 131   ‑0131>   OF STONE‑SQUARERS LODGE, NO. 91.

 

it for us: "The mud, hit was put in in frosty weather, and was always fallin' out, while the bark from the poles, they being cut in summer weather, hit was always fallin' in!" Around the room hung four Dutch paintings of Clay, Webster, Jackson, and one that was labeled " Ban viewrin," which latter, from the fact of its having no top knot, was probably intended for the ex‑President from Kin derhook. The mouth of Clay was like a buffalo's, (the fish, not the quadruped,) while Jackson's face was sharp enough to open oysters with.

 

                There was a bureau in the room, on which the thin veneering stood in incurable blis ters, and there was the usual quantity of old rickety furni ture around. And now let's hear something further from Mrs. M., as she murmurs through her cob pipe. "I'll be dogged eff it dton't kill the old varmint [she meant her husband] plum dead, fee‑ee‑ee, the minu'te he hears it. And who's the no‑counts that's getting it up? Lots and gobs on'em, I'll be bound! Parson Ellyphant, did you say? Fee‑ee‑ee! I'll be bound he's one. Yes, fee‑ee‑ee. Such a feller‑tall assurance. HIis fingers ollers minds me of a hanful of possom‑tails. Oh, my ring‑tailed monkey, diddle, fee‑ee‑ee. Eff there's enny one thing I wouldn't marry, it's a sarkut rider; fee‑ee‑ee. Eff I couldn't be a too‑seeder, I'd be a see‑seeder, but neverdi marry him, not by a jug full; fee‑ee‑ee." These reflections, the result of profound investigation, were interspersed with periodic sucks at the pipe, in acknowledgment of which the smoke and vapor gurgled antagonistically through the cane tube, accompanied with noise. " But here's the old varmint himself. It'll kill him, I know it'll kill him plum dead! Leastways it ought to! " And with praiseworthy resignation the dame seated herself in the chimney corner, in a position to afford her a view of the catastrophe, come as it mout, and continued her amusement through the hollow cane with increased zest, despite her anticipated widowhood. He was not a tall man, old Ben M. wasn't; that is, he

 

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might have been tall once, but, if so, he had 8unk doun There is no architectural term for exactly such a building as he. The Egyptian order, which delights in the massive (Byron terms it "the colossal copyist of deformity"), has something like it in those pillars which bulge out in the middle, as if the weight on top was too much for their shoulders. Such, though on an enlarged scale, was Benjamin Mowthphoole, or if it wasn't, there is nothing else that was.

 

                The dress of this worthy patriarch (he resembled the patriarch Jacob in two things, the number of his children, and the way he raised them up); the deacon's dress, we say, resembled that of his antiquated partner, except that "the bifurcated garment with an anterior door" (Miss Slap's definition of breeches), which he sported from the ribs down, were dyed with sumac juice, fastened with copperas, and that he wore shoes, untanned and homemade, of course, and a coonskin cap. Both had evidently kept the same grand principles in view, viz: to confine the scissors to the ancient landmarks, and to let no man or body of men (or women either), make innovations. His first movement, on entering his dwelling, was to the barrel of red‑head always on the tap in the corner of the room. Thence, he drew a cupful of fluid, originally concealed in the shape of corn, but very differently flavored now from any corn in the world. This he drank, and the effect of the potation was cordial. There was an increased glow of the countenance, and a loosening of the lingual cable‑tow. He had not heard the dreadful intelligence that was certain, and as his expected demise was postponed, Mrs. M. relaxed in her attention, and resumed her work. This was to turn a pile of old garments, by means of a castoff pair of Surgeon's shears, into slips for a rag‑carpet, to be exchanged for " store truck." It is annoying to observe what an affectation of wisdom, ignorant old men will put on, while uttering their nonsense. The deacon, relaxed by the cornjuice aforesaid, commenced an interminable dawdle, all about a heifer

 

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he'd been all the way to Redbook's to trade for‑and how the sorry thing had the hollow horn when he seed her and how some young mules thawed off his horse's tail, every hair of it‑and how old Marm Swett was battling her clothes down't the branch as he come past‑while her no‑count gals was rubbing snuff at the house‑and how there'd be a late spring this year, caze Easter come so late‑and a heap of rubbish all to the same purpose. Fortunately in this instance, the dawdle was prema turely nipped. A halloo at the fence was heard; a rattling of chairs from the house answered it; a peal of dogs from every corner followed; a flock of dirty children, black, white and composite rushed to the door; while over all loomed the gray hairs of Deacon Mowthphoole. It was nobody but neighbor Serkses, a mortal of the same class, order, genus and species ‑with himself. The riot was quelled with chunks and bats, and the visitor ushered hospitably into the house, a long train of hounds following and comparing notes among themselves by sight and scent, keen as a drunkard's nose, concerning him. Billy Serkses, figuratively speaking, was down at the heel. As himself said he wasn't 8o pooty well as8 you mout imagine! A cupful of the juice failed to make his heart glad, the first failure of the sort unto him ever known. A second was equally unsuccessful for Billy sat silent, only batted his eye (the other was in North Corolina‑gouged), looked solemnly at the deacon, and shook his head. It was so dry a head and so much resembled a dead gourd, that you naturally expected to hear the seeds rattle when he shook it, and you were disappointed because they didn't.

 

                A third operated more powerfully. With a reckless disregard of human life he blurted out, " Deacon I come over to tell you‑the Masons is gwine to start a lodge at Swipsey's‑right off‑I'll be dogged eff they aint!" and he reached out his hand for a fourth cup. The human mind is telegraphic in its nature. It calls

 

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up the past, it anticipates the future with equal rapidity. That of Deacon Mowthphoole, flashed with inconceivable speed as it took in at a glance all the evils of this step. Not even the penman of that lightning verse, " Adam, Sheth, Enoch," (1 Chron. i, 1.) could dart over the centuries more swiftly than this experienced antimason. In the gloomy perspective he saw it all‑schools would be established; whisky‑drinking abolished; improvements in farming, in dress, in manners, in religion; churches built on free grace principles; a neglect of old‑fashioned things and old‑fashioned people like himself; these and other mischiefs would assuredly follow upon the establishment of a Mason's Lodge. But the deacon was no child of yesterday.

 

                Exacerbated as he was he remembered that one man can destroy an edifice which exhausted the skill of a thousand builders. Therefore he did not faint. IHe did not die plurn dead( as his yokefellow had predicted. Bad as he rather undeniably was he did not even lose hope‑he only took a cupfull of cornjuice and in a resolute voice declared, "Eff they try it they'd better not!" In that phrase he expressed the sentiments of all the antis in Squashes' precinct. The report thus conveyed to the auricles of Deacon Mowthphoole was genuine. The six stray sheep of the masonic fold who lived in the Bend Aad resolved, that to go twenty miles to attend lodge at Elgin, was too great a sacrifice for them, and they must have one nearer home. The idea was by no means novel; indeed it had long been entertained. Years before, there was a petition started by that enthusiastic young brother, MeLesky, who proposed to erect a hall at his own expense, so anxious was he to see Masonry planted in the Bend. But his sudden and melancholy death closed the scheme. Then Elder Flint, who had held a quarterly conference at Swipsey's Chapel, and had been half starved for want of temporal and spiritual accommodations, recommended

 

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the Masons to organize a body there, if only for religion's sake, and offered to help them. Next the Grand lecturer, Bruce, who was on a visit to his uncle, Parson Moses, joined his solicitations to the others and proposed, if the brethren would go into it, to stay a week among them and give them instruction gratis. But although the demand was urgent, and these offers tempting, the Masons were slow to move. None of them in worldly matters were unembarrassed, however affluent they might be in masonic wealth, and they feared the ex pense. At last a motion became visible, as we have said, and at a stated meeting in Elgin Lodge it was decided by the six, that if the town Masons would come out and give them a start, and lend them funds to begin with, and recommend them to the Grand Master, they would shoulder the burden, and strike in the name of the Lord. The town Masons shook hands with them as a token of acceptance. The enterprising six were, Parson Moses,* an old man but young in Masonry, who had been expelled from the fatalist church the year before, a church in which he had preached from his youth up, for becoming a Mason; Mr. Alexander Boxton, the schoolmaster and class leader at Swipsey's Chapel, so rigid in doctrine that he had more than once declared himself, " Methodist warp and filling, drove up by a beetle!" Thomas Houghton, carpenter, and like all carpenters, the father of many living children; and the three brothers Bell, of whom it had been pleasantly said that, if ever three bells were cast to the same note, they were Saul, Noah and Isaiah Bell, so well did the * We were once visiting a Lodge in a certain state capital, and saw the principal officers of the state, the governor, ex‑governor, secretary, supreme judge, auditor, attorney general, adjutant general, etc., all Masons, and members of the Lodge, while the Lodge itself was governed as follows: the W. M. was a journeyman printer; S. W. a carpenter; J. W. a painter; Secretary a tinner. It is known that George Washington himself never rose to distinguished Masonic honors, and for the good reason that he never attained to what is technically styled the work of Masonry. Masonry values no man on account of his worldly wealth or honors.

 

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Bells agree in everything. Such was the seed of the new Lodge. The three principal sources of opposition to be encount ered were these: first, the neighborhood, as the reader has already learned, was offensively antimasonic. The professing Christians in the Bend (all except the few who met at Swipsey's, and a couple of Cumberland Presbyterians), belonged to Deacon Mowthphooles's church, a church of which it may be truly said, that the creed is not written, and for the sufficient reason, that ink is not dark enough to indite it; but which is as well known to friend and foe, as though it were printed in " Harper's Library of Select Novels." Second. There were four licensed grogshops and a distillery in the Bend, the full‑egged nests of vice and strife. Beside this, the housekeepers generally, kept a barrel of red‑head for family use, bought at the distillery of Deacon Mowthphoole.

 

                The stereotyped excuse for this was (did ever a mortal purchase strong drink without some good reason for it? a liquor‑seller hears as many confessions as Father O'Riley, but not quite so many promises), the excuse was, that the milk‑sick was in the hills, and a barrel of liquor cost less than a cow anyway! This apology was about equal, in point of application, to that of the Dutchman, who said he put eggs into his sugarwater to get out the Vurities. T/&ird. Beside those two sources of antimasonry, than which none is more destructive than the free use of strong drink, and therefore it is, that temperance comes first in our list of cardinal virtues, there was a whole liest of abandoned women on the river‑side, and a splendid game country in the hills, opposite, the one spreading licentiousness, the other idleness, all through the Bend.

 

                Then, there was no house fit for Lodge purposes, nor could the feeble half dozen who were about to shoulder this heavy burden, bear the expense of building one. This difficulty had appeared insurmountable ever since poor McLesky's death, but on the second coming of

 

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Page 137   ‑0137>   OF STONE‑SQUARERS' LODGE, NO. 91.

 

Elder Flint, that whole‑souled Mason suggested, that another story might readily be built on Swipsey's chapel, and to start the thing handsomely, he pledged himself to raise fifty dollars toward it, if the brethren in the Bend would advance the rest. So powerfully impressed was this experienced minister with the importance of throwing a moral restraint around that abandoned district, by the aid of Masonry, which religion, single‑handed, seemed inadequate to do. The brethren agreed to the latter proposition, although, as the chapel was of logs, and had been erected ten years before, the additional story looked like a new French bonnet upon a venerable dame of ninety. The title to one half the property was henceforth vested in the Grand Lodge, the other half in the General Conference of the church.* An election for constable, held at Squashes' grocery, enabled the settlement to learn amid the picking of banjoes and the torturing of feline viscera, that the Masons, with Parson Moses ill the van, had got a dispensation from the Grand Master (a disposition public report styled it), and would begin next Saturday. Mluch blasphemy and some threats followed upon the news. The former fell unnoticed. The latter (which had reference to the unlawful application of fire), was met in a decided manner by M‑r. Boxton. He took down the names of those who had dared to hint at arson, and gave it out that if Swipsey's chapel s8houtld at any time catch fire, a couple more should go from Gowan county to the penitentiary. As Gowan already had eight there, learning to make trace chains, this remark stifled farther threats, and Daddy Hook, who had been one of the incautious, neyer saw a thunderce)ud pass over for a twelvemonth afterward, but he prayed it migAt not hit Swivsey's. * This will appear to some a singular coincidence. But we have reason to believe that the ancient masonic usage on this head, guided Wesley's mind, in arranging the title‑deeds to the chapels and other church property in the connection.

 

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Page 138   ‑0138>   LIFE, BIRTH, AND DEATH

 

A consultation meeting had been held at the house of the Rev. Dockery Moses, his excellent wife being previously and most unfairly decoyed away, on an imaginary report of a neighbor's sickness.

 

                This convention was opened by reading the Scriptures, and prayer. The first thing to be settled at it, was the name of the new Lodge. There were four prevalent notions to consider. The parson first suggested the name of the Grand Master, by way of policy, but the other five opposed that, especially Boxton, who protested against using the name of any living person, on the ground that we don't know what a man will come to, before he dies. He cited three instances of Lodges that had been compelled to change their names, because the persons who had been thus honored in Lodg,e nomenclature, were afterward expelled from Masonry for gross offenses. Boxton proposed the title of Conference Lodge, as being euphonistic and not unMasonic. But the others voted that down with a shout. It was sectarian, they said, and would be so construed by the public. Brother lHoughton was of the opinion that Temperance lodge would be a good hit. Declined unanimously. The three brothers Bell agreeing, as usual, offered Convexity Lodge as just the thing. What idea they had connected with the term convexity, is inexplicable. The other three refused it. So they did the various substitutes of Bible Lodge, Compass Lodge, Square Lodge, Bend lodge, ASwvJipsey's Lodge, CUtapel Lodge, Flint lodge, level Lodge, Gacvel lodge, Trowel Lodge, Xoses' Lodge, Globe lodge, lodge of the Two Pillars, and many others. It did really seem as if the brethren would disperse on the question of naming. At last, MIr. Houghton, who was turning over the leaves of a family Bible with marginal notes, that lay on the table, called the general attention to the word Ghibbrin, translated from the Hebrew, Stone‑Squarer, and suggested the adoption of that word. Weary with the debate, it was

 

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accepted, and resolved that the new Lodge should be styled Stone‑Suarers' Lodge, U. D. The next subject was quarterly dues. The members generally having large families and small means, a mini mum charge for Lodge purposes must be adopted. But how much? Boxton said fifty cents a quarter. Too much. Noah Bell said fifteen cents, the other two Bells assenting. Too little. Then forty, thirty, twenty cents, were severally proposed and discussed. At last, by way of compromise, the latter was adopted, and eighty cents a year agreed upon. Then came up the code of by‑laws. Printed copies of those in use by the surrounding Lodges had been furnished them by Elder Flint, and some judgment was needed to adopt the better portion and reject the rest.* A very stringent section concerning immorality in general, and the vices of intemperance, fighting, blasphemy, and gambling, in particular, was inserted by unanimous consent. It was also resolved, nem. dis., to have a chaplain as a standing officer, and that acting preachers, of whatever denomination, should receive the degrees gratis.t This (the general custom in the United States) was done with reference to the fact that preachers are rarely remunerated for their labor as other men, and therefore in charitable contributions they should be spared. The stated meetings were now set for the Wednesday night after each full moon (to give the members light homeward), and thirteen meetings a year ‑the old rule. Time and place being then satisfactorily designated, the few other necessary preliminaries were arranged, and the consultation was closed, as it had been opened, with * It is to be regretted, that in many States no constitutional form of Bylaws for the use of subordinate Lodges, has been furnished under Grand Lodge authority. t In 1788 the Grand Lodge of Scotland decreed that the clergy should be initiated into Masonry free of charge. We opine that the cause of this will continue to exist till the millennium.

 

 

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prayer. Rev. DockeWy Moses was nominated first Worshipful Master, Bro. Boxton, first Secretary. The two elder Bells were made Wardens, and the younger, Treasurer, on the Grand Lodge principle, that a man of worldly substance should fill that office. Let them reconcile the principle to any constitutional principle who can.

 

                Another error was committed, a very usual one, that of making Houghton, who had no capacity for committing or delivering a sentence, the senior Deacon, one of the most important officers in a Lodge. Three of the Elgin Masons, whose names had gone with theirs on the petition, were taken to fill out the list of officers. As funds were scarce, a few strips of tin, procured at the tin shop, were ingeniously shaped into the form of Lodge jewels, though, like the Egyptian hieroglyphics, they required an expounder to give their true intent. A few yards of bleached goods and tape served for masonic aprons, after passing through the discipline of scissors and needle in the hands of the forgiving Mrs.

 

                Moses. Houglliton made a beautiful G and gilded it, also some turned pillars, an altar, the necessary seats and stations. In framing the latter, he was Freemason enough to avoid the idea of pulpits, and substituted the true masonic principle of thrones. Miss Snaile, sister‑in‑law of Boxton, who was in possession of a small income of her own (old man Snaile, her father, being dead), presented the Lodge with curtains having the square and compass neatly embroidered thereon with her own fair fingers; also, a bucket and dipper for water; a big Bible, having the name and age of the new Lodge under the head of BIRTHS; and a cushion. This liberality on the part of the maiden, we are happy to say, met its own reward; for Saul Bell, who was all his days inclined to be over‑bashful, took her generosity as a password, entered the door of her dwelling with masculine boldness, filed his petition for marriage, and astonished everybody by wedding her on the Wednesday after the second meeting of the Lodge. As the three Bells prided themselves on striking the same

 

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note, the other two were driven in less than a twelvemionth to the same desperate act, and little Bells jingled forthwith. The necessary notice had been forwarded to town, and the following announcement appeared conspicuously in the Elgin Courant: MASONIO. "The members of Stone‑Squarers' Lodge, U. D., will organize at Swipsey's Chapel, in Pickett's Bend, Wednesday, May 5, at 2 P. M.

 

                Brethren from other Lodges fraternally welcome." The day set apart for this august ceremony proved pleas ant. Every omen was favorable. The sun rose clear; the breeze was balmy but not too fresh; the birds sounded the passwords, and made the signs their ancient brethren had done before them since they followed Eve out of Eden. By noon there was a large collection of people on the hill, which was crowned by Swipsey's chapel.

 

                The reader will please accompany us thither. That old cataphracted man, whose tobacco‑stained lips match his sumac‑stained breeches, that is Deacon Mowthphoole. Some persons might feel a delicacy in hanging round a Masonic Lodge this way, but he has none to feel. He says he's gwine to larn suzthen, and from his stupid appearance, it is certainly time he did. Luckily he's a trifle deaf, or something might slip through the large crack in that upper room, and he hear it! That bony‑looking young man, with Gen. Lewis Cass on his breastpin, and a pack of hounds on his coat buttons, that is Henry Herz. Henry has already put in his petition to be made a Mason, and can't be persuaded but that he'll be put through before midnight. }Ie once paid a quarter to see an elephant, hle says, and he got to see him right off. Why, then, should the Masons make him wait? Those two chunky fellows on the log yonder, with eyes like a locomotive, are Rossini and Auber Linley. Their father once played his clarionette at a Mason's funeral, and he brought his sons up to worship the very idea of some

 

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day joining the Masons. They are sitting there watching brother RIanwed's saddle‑bags, from which they suppose the branding irons will be drawn. Ah, if they can only stand the burning, what Masons they'll make! And hurrah, here comes the Elgin brethren, thirteen of them, all in a row, a real baker's dozen, and merry as griggs! That's Lee's voice! Bless us, you'd know it a league. Ile has just finished a joke, a real oyster of a thing, and see, Chandler looks pale and exhausted, as though he had been spitting blood, and the rest of them talk huskily; they've laughed so hard. Lee will be immensely wealthy whenever sound jokes are taken at par, but meantime he must stick to press‑board, goose, cabbage, and needle. There's Graylet. To look at him, wouldn't a man think he had lost his grandfather lately? And yet that man, Graylet, does dryer wit and enjoys it better than any other in his chapter. But he laughs inside, as though he was swallowing tobacco juice, and keeps his enjoyment tyled as close as he does the Royal Arch Degree itself. Here they come; make way for them, for they are the salt of Elgin. Here's a body of Masons that Masonry may well glory in. Every one of them is a temperance man; not one of them swears.

 

                Every one of them has his little pasteboard box, inclosing his regalia, brought down in honor of the new Lodge; not one of them but what belongs to some church. Good‑fellowship lightens the orient of every eye.

 

                Fraternal feeling glistens through the pores of the face, and their very tongues ring with it. God bless such Masons as they. Not one of them laughs at the funny‑looking bonnet of a thing, perched up there on top of the (hapel; for they all understand,'twas the best the brethren could do, banished as they were to the banks of the Euphrates. Oh! such a sinewy grip as their hands can give; they would almost lift up a dead body. They forbear to laugh at the hieroglyphical jewels so economically got up, and at the general rudeness of arrangements, for each visitor knows the heavy burden these enterprising

 

142 A.

 

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six have shouldered;‑yes, and each one has brought downi a V in his pocket‑book, to loan them. Thecrefore, instead of fault‑finding,, there is an expression of gratified surprise, that so much has been done, and so well done too; and many an encouraging prophesy is ventured, and many a pledge of aid is offered, if aid be required, and many Oh! God bless such Masons anyhow. The crowd of cowans, by this