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it was the faithful Odd-Fellow, who was the first to obey the summons to the bed of sickness, and the last to desert the house of sorrow and mourning. It was upon him, that the cold glazed eye of the dying man was last turned, in grateful acknowledgment of this final act of devoted friendship. It was the cordial pressure of his friendly hand, as it returned the feverish and convulsed grasp of the dying man, that tingled through his palsied nerves, awakening the dying echoes of his heart to Friendship, Love and Hope. Oh! when my time shall come to join that innumerable throng that are daily and hourly launching forth from the shores of time, upon the endless ocean of eternity, and the dark shadows of death are hovering around me, then let me see gathered around my dying couch the friendly and sympathizing faces of my beloved brothers—and when the scene shall have closed and the last sad and solemn words “dust to dust and ashes to ashes," shall have been pronounced, let them encircle my lowly resting place, and renewing to each other our pledge of Friendship, Love and Truth, cast upon my coffin the sweet emblems of a blessed immortality beyond the grave.

Ladies-courtesy and custom, as well as my own inclination, requires that I should devote a portion of my address to you.

It is not my intention, neither do I believe it would be acceptable to your good taste and judgment, to lavish upon you on this occasion those common place epithets of flattery and adulation, which are so easily bestowed and are worth so little. I am sure I would but ill represent the wishes and feelings of my brother Odd-Fellows, whose organ on this occasion I am, neither would I be doing justice to my own sentiments were I to treat lightly your influence in promoting the success of any moral enterprize—and more particularly one like ours, whose object is the promotion of those virtues for which your sex is so pre-eminent. On the contrary, we most earnestly desire and most respectfully solicit your kind assistance in the cause of Odd-Fellowship. Whose heart so keenly alive to human suffering, or delicately attuned to human sympathy, as woman -and who so ready to afford relief to the needy or consolation to the afflicted as she is? Indeed, charity seems to come with a double grace

from her fair hand, and words of consolation to fall with a more delightful cadence when conveyed by her soft voice.

But it may be my fair hearers, that you are unwilling to sanction that which you do not sufficiently understand, and are reluctant to yield your approval to an institution of whose useful tendency you have not yet had sufficient evidence. If such be the case, all we desire is, that you will not decide against Odd-Fellowship without allowing us an opportunity of demonstrating its usefulness. I have been told by the experienced in such matters, that when your final determination, in matters of more serious and personal import is demanded, it is not unusual to grant time for consideration—what we now desire is, that, if you are still undecided you will delay your verdict, until time shall have demonstrated the worthlessness or utility of our Order.

In the mean time let me caution you against the erroneous opinion, that because we are Odd Fellows we are bound to be single-fellows, and although some of us are still to be found in that most unfortunate predicament, be assured that it is not in consequence of any obligation we have taken as Odd-Fellows.

Let me also caution you against any undue prejudice which your exclusion from our society may have created in your minds. Believe not the vile slander which imputes to us a suspicion of your ability to keep a secret, without calling to your assistance, a few of your most intimate friends. By no such unworthy motive are we actuated—no such vile slander do we believe—and whatever philosophical reasons might be urged against your admission, rest satisfied with the assurance, that as at present advised it is quite manifest to members of the Order that ladies never can become Odd-Fellows.

Brothers of the Order, allow me to devote my closing remarks particularly to you.

You have placed yourselves in a conspicuous position before an intelligent and highly cultivated community, who are not to be deceived by false pretensions, glitter and show. They have the right to know, and rest as

. sured they will know, your claim to the high stand you have taken. By your conduct will the Order be judged—and according as your "outward life and behaviour' conforms to, or conflicts with the great moral principles we profess, will be the verdict of the world on Odd-Fellowship. I trust then, that each and every Odd-Fellow will feel the responsibility which rests upon him in maintaining the high character of our noble Order, and will endeavour to conform to its noble precepts.

If there is any Odd-Fellow here, who is prepared to say that I have drawn too flattering a picture of our principles-that our Friendship is but a name—our Faith a phantom, and our boasted Charity a cheat-to him I say, beware! for although he may be numbered in our ranks, he is far from understanding the nature of the duties he has assumed. Let him immediately set about a reformation of his feelings. Let him thoroughly inform himself of the solemn duties of Odd-Fellowship, and if he finds himself unable, or unwilling to discharge them, it were better for him, ten thousand times, that he had never entered within our sacred walls. If he be unwilling to unite in the common bond of brotherhood and equality with his fellow-members, or is reluctant to acknowledge their claims to his sympathy and confidence-if he suffers his heart to be polluted by envy, hatred, or malice towards them—if, after the gratification of an idle curiosity to learn our secrets, he can see nothing to admire in the Order, and disregards the duties which his admission imposed-or if, above all, he has made use of Odd-Fellowship merely as a means of promoting his own selfish views and interests, he has violated his duty as an Odd-Fellow, and has added hypocrisy and falsehood, to base perfidy and villainy. If any such there be, then have I been most wofully mistaken in the estimation I have placed upon the influence of Odd Fellowship—for before God, my brothers, I stand not here intentionally to bear false witness either for you or myself. If I have drawn too flattering a picture of our Order, and represented you as possessing virtues to which you can lay no claim, believe me, it was not from any disposition to flatter you-but because such I sincerely believed to be the theory of Odd-Fellowship, and such I fondly hoped had been and would be its practice.

Brothers! we are now in the full tide of success and prosperity-we have thus far gained the good will, and maintained the confidence of the community, let us take heed that we abuse not that confidence. The tide may turn, and Odd-Fellowship may become a bye-word, and a reproach among men. Experience has taught us, that secret societies cannot prosper without the full confidence of the public, and to maintain that confidence we must show ourselves worthy of it by our acts. Remembering, that it is not in the power of mortals to command success, let us do more, let us deserve it. In the mean time, while possessed of power, influence, and popularity, let us devote them all to the cause of Benevolence and Charity—and then let the worst come that may, the recollection of the good we have done will be our never dying source of consolation and reward. Then may we say, in the language of the poet,

“Let rate do her worst, there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy;
Which come in the night time of sorrow and care,
And bring back the features, which joy used to wear.
Long, long, be our hearts, with such mem'ries filled,
Like the vase, in which roses have once been distilled,
You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will,

But the scent of thc roses will cling to it still.” And finally my brothers, let us remember, that Odd Fellowship is based upon those everlasting truths and great moral precepts which were taught by him “who spoke as never man spoke," and that by their observance we may not only ensure our happiness and prosperity here below, but be prepared to meet with christian fortitude that great change to which we are all hastening, when this mortal shall put on immortality, and this corruption, incorruptability. Then,

“So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan,

that moves,
To that mysterious realm, when each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Then go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach the grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams."



Say, what avails the monarch proud,

The gorgeous, haughty throne,
Where oft the trembling suppliant bow'd

And mercy craved her boon?
Oh! what avails the sov'reign sway

Tho' streams of wealth may flow?
All, all with wings will pass away,

To rottenness must go.

And what avails the Genius bright?

Poet! what avails thy lay?
Thy wasted lyre must hang in night,

Thy strains must all decay.
And tell me, what the fertile mind

Imbued with wisdom's laws?
'Tis but at last, frail human kind,

Vitality must pause.

Enrob'd in purple's fairest hue,

Why, man exult in Pride?
Why strife and discord sow

Where peace should ere abide ?
What avails thy wreath or fame;

Say, what thy noble birth?
The beggar's hopes, and yours, the same

Beyond this dying earth.

But thine, fair Virtue, thine avails;

To erring man a light,
To guide him while on earth he dwells

And guard his spirit's flight-
Nor art thou fleeting as the day,

Nor like Time's short-lived hour;
For endless ages bound thy sway,

Eternity thy power.


It is hard, that, with man, talent, combined with perseverance, should be almost omnipotent to overcome obstacles the most numerous and formidable, while in the hands of woman, it is often wholly useless, unless fortunate circumstances, such as wealthy or literary connexions, obtain for the possessor the opportunity of gaining by its display, fortune and fame. Few and rugged are the paths by which her genius, unaided and alone, may climb even to competence.

Such an isolated being was Elizabeth Latimer, who, at twenty-four, found herself in possession of an accomplished mind, a memory stored with reading of the best kind, and a judgment accustomed to exercise itself from its earliest development; and this, with a graceful person, and a countenance of great sweetness and intelligence, was pretty nearly all that Elizabeth possessed. She had been for many years the only daughter of a merchant, who, though he did not, like some of the merchants of Boston, draw his resources from all the ends of the earth, yet possessed enough for the indulgence of luxury. The indications of talent which he very early discovered in the young Elizabeth, determined him to bestow on her an education that would save her from adding to the number of those precocious geniuses, who, from a misapplication of their powers, become unfit either for the daily concerns of life, or to hold a place among those who are gradually procuring indulgence and respect for female intellect.

We will not detail the progress of Elizabeth's studies. They were such as opened her young mind to all that was lovely in virtue, and lofty and excellent in intellect. She lived principally in the country, in a small but intelligent circle, sufficiently enlightened to save them from the dominion of a gossipping spirit, yet not so learned as to allow her to acquire any thing like a pedantic one.

The tranquillity of their own house had received a startling shock when Elizabeth was about fifteen, by Mr. Latimer's bringing home a second wife, very little more than her own age, but of entirely different temper, habits, and tastes. It was then that Mr. Latimer perceived that he had done wisely in giving to Elizabeth habits by which she could abstract her thoughts from the jarrings of a stepmother who was jealous of her. But their school of trial did not last long. Mrs. Latimer only lived to present her husband with a son.

When Elizabeth entered into society, she carried with her many warnings from her father to avoid the display of acquirements which were not common to all. She listened, determined to profit by his advice, though she felt there was some injustice in laying this embargo upon wit and learning. But poor Elizabeth found herself sadly at a loss when she encountered a bewildering number of new faces, whose ready smiles and pliancy of expression concealed all that was passing in the heart. She felt it as impossible to catch the light tone of those around her, to talk of nothing, to express rapture and enthusiasm where she felt only indifference, as it would have been for one of the gay circle to have shone forth as an improvisatrice. Being perfectly unaffected and simple, she took re. fuge in silence ; but her speaking countenance often betrayed the listlessness she felt.

We seldom reflect long, amid the enjoyments of affluence, upon their precarious nature. Elizabeth retired from the world, and devoted herself to her father and to the education of Louis, her brother, whom she loved with all a mother's tenderness. He was indeed a sweet and gentle child, fond only of books and sedentary amusements, and Elizabeth's time passed away as happily as time passed in the exercise of duty usually does. She was often uneasy, often tormented by vague fears of future poverty and distress, but these were only clouds that overshadowed her at times. Her horizon generally was bright; but the blow anticipated fell upon her at last. Mr. Latimer had ventured his fortune in a speculation which was to enrich Louis and his posterity for ever.

After many months' suspense, the news reached Mr. Latimer that he was ruined. He did not long survive it, and his son and daughter found themselves friendless and poor. A few hundred dollars was all that could be collected for them, nor had they any claims upon others. They bad but few family friends, and Elizabeth's was not a spirit to brook dependence. Poverty at first sight is not so frightful as when it comes near enough to lay its cold, griping fingers on us; and, in the present excited state of her feelings, the prospect of maintaining herself did not appear so difficult as she afterwards found it.

Mr. Latimer had insisted, some months before his death, that Louis should be placed at a large public school. Elizabeth had consented to his

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