Page images
PDF
EPUB

As soon as she was well enough to bear removal, Mrs. Leslie carried her into the country, where the sight of the green hills and slopes made her feel as if she could again brush the dew from their summits: but even Nature-beautiful Nature-once so beloved, and, during her long gloomy hours in Darton street, so anxiously pined after, failed to restore elasticity to her step. It was autumn, a season she had always loved. But now, those softly shaded days, which once filled her heart with a pensiveness that she would not have exchanged for mirth, gave a chill to her frame as though the season had been December. Elizabeth felt that her race was run; but the heart, where despondency had long made its cheerless abode, was now soothed by the new and welcome feelings of gratitude and love. Mrs. Leslie was one of those benevolent beings who seize upon our affections as their right. The heart gave itself up to her with perfect confidence. The greatest sceptic as to the existence of virtue could not look upon her open, candid countenance without feeling staggered, nor witness the happiness she diffused around her, by the influence of a heavenly disposition upon the daily events of life, without feeling that the source from whence they flowed was pure.

"Look, dear Elizabeth," said she to her languid pale companion, as they were returning from an excursion to some of the beautiful villages on the Connecticut: "Look! that is Mount Holyoke. He overlooks my native village. I hope the time is not far off when we shall climb his rugged sides together." Elizabeth shook her head. "Do not deceive me. I feel that ere long I shall be no more. And yet I cannot say I die without regret, for I am yet young, and youth, even though oppressed with care, shrinks back at sight of the grave. Yet, as I feel drawing nearer to it, much of the fear that it once excited subsides, and, perhaps, before my last hour comes, I may cease to think even on Louis. Poor Louis! If I could have lived a few years longer."

Mrs. Leslie wept. She understood how dreadful was the uncertainty of Elizabeth's mind as to Louis, and she lost no time in consulting her husband about removing the only weight from her heart. He willingly agreed to her benevolent proposal, and that very evening Elizabeth was made happy by his assuring her that Louis should receive the same advantages of education as his own son. She could only weep and press

their hands.

Elizabeth lingered only a month longer. The Leslies would not part with her, and their attachment grew stronger as the object of it was fad ing before their eyes. There were times when all her delightful powers seemed renewed; when the treasures of her memory and imagination charmed away the winter evening; but the flushed cheek and glittering eye warned them that the lamp of life was burning fast away.

One evening she left the drawing-room earlier than usual. Mrs. Leslie saw with alarm the extreme paleness of her countenance, and, after a few moments' hesitation, followed her to her chamber. She paused a minute at the door, for Elizabeth had sunk on her knees at the foot of the bed. One arm hung by her side, her head had fallen on the other, which she had flung across the bed. Mrs. Leslie trembled as she saw her motionless, then rushed forward: but the hand she grasped was icy cold.— The spirit had quitted its earthly tabernacle forever.

LINES ON ODD-FELLOWSHIP.

BY MISS PENINA MOISE, OF CHARISETON, S.C.

The following lines are based upon the assumed idea, that a gentleman after having sustained many reverses of fortune, is disabled by disease from cortinuing his exertions for self support; that the society of Odd-Fellows, of which he was a member, being apprised of his condition sent him the regular allowance, which in rebellious pride would refuse but for the judicious expostulation of his wife.]

I CANNOT use this money love-'tis Charity at last,

I cannot so forget the independence of the past.

Alas, that it should come to this! that I the child of wealth,
Bereaved at once of competence, of energy, and health,

Should feel my spirit bowed so low, so crushed by sudden blight
As to accept for maintenance, the Covenanter's mite!

Behold among the mysteries of our fraternal clan,

That ruined "palace of the soul," the skull of mortal man!
Look farther on, and you will see that dark and narrow dome
In which the weary pilgrim finds a cold, but peaceful home.
Oh! rather let my aching head be fleshless as the first,
Than that this sad reproach should be by memory rehearsed.
And rather let my prostrate form be coffined in its prime,
Than flourish upon bounties, ever registered by Time.

Thus spake the haughty invalid to his afflicted wife,
Who mourned to see his manly breast, a prey to moral strife.
Ah woe is me! (she faltered out) that I should live to hear
A language so imperious, in lieu of humble prayer;
Instead of meek thanksgivings to that Omnipresent power,
Whose angel of Benevolence descends to us this hour.

Dearest, have I not heard you say, in days of brighter mood,
How feelingly this Fellowship the sense of shame subdued?
How well with human frailty all its features harmonized?
How soothingly its statutes want and wealth had equalized?
Proud poverty from such relief, you thought would never shrink,
Nor feel that in the social chain, 'twas but a broken link;
That you would be the first by whom this Lodge, if fortune failed,
As the light-house of philanthropy, would joyously be hailed.

The time is come by God's decree that must thy firmness test;
Reclaim the portion thou hast lent, the boon has been thrice blest!
More sanative the cordial that humility shall sip,
Than the beverage which luxury once offered to thy lip.

In salutary penitence the striken husband wept,

He took the balm of Charity submissively, and slept.

With renovated vigor soon his hand the pen resumed,

The fruits of plenty were restored, and health's carnation bloomed.

Now frankly he the fact relates amid assembled hosts,
And of the once rejected mite, with gratitude he boasts.

His consort and the Covenant his orisons divide,

For "Friendship, Love, and Truth" in both, are ever found allied.

ODD-FELLOWSHIP-No. 1.

MAN is so constituted, that the things he likes best, will from necessity become the leading subjects of his contemplation; he is the most ready to talk about them on all proper occasions, and we think it reasonable to conclude that he is best able to write about them. Some may be able to express their ideas in more beautiful language than others, yet all may convey intelligibly, any idea that they hold distinctly.

Odd-Fellowship has a great work to perform both in the physical and moral world, and if we would know what that work is we must know what weak and erring man seems to require; we must know something of the distress and misery that flesh is heir to, and last, but not least, we must know the principles on which the institution is based.

Man is a being constantly acting, and as constantly being acted upon. His whole life is made up of little incidents, which when viewed in themselves appear trivial enough it is true, but when viewed in relation to the whole, they assume an almost infinite importance. If we would know the physical resources of our country, we must survey the land, we must follow up the various streams that beautify and fertilize it until we have arrived at their various fountain heads. Thus after making ourselves acquainted with the numerous particulars, we can calculate with an almost absolute certainty as to general results. We are associated together for noble ends, and our motives should be high and holy. No good Odd-Fellow need be told that he has espoused the cause of Truth and Virtue.— The cause of God and of humanity. But believing as I do that our institution is one of the great moral rivers that is to beautify and fertilize the world, I cannot but feel anxious that its tributaries should all be explored; for by so doing we shall be made acquainted with our moral resources and thereby be enabled to send forth with certainty the most healthful and harmonious action. In order that we may better comprehend the particular uses our institution is designed to perform, let us briefly consider the great end for which we are associated. Every age of the world has had its leading characteristic-has manifested something peculiar to itself, which constituted its common centre, and around which all else seems to have revolved. This common centre we call an idea, which in itself is capable of penetrating all minds, and which by its convulsive throes, shakes the nations of the earth until it has marked itself out into a living - manifestation. The age in which we live has its peculiar idea. An idea which constitutes the common centre, and around which all else revolves. So powerful is its action, so manifest is its struggle for dominion that the most common observer can bear testimony that there is not a motion on the face of earth that is not affected by it. This great idea is the amelioration of the condition of man. The religious, moral and civil world is

at this moment contributing much towards its development, and all associations that have not this great idea for their end are doomed to sink into eternal oblivion. We see in the history of the past much that has been done to ameliorate the condition of man. But when we scrutinize closely, we find that those efforts were local, and from the nature of things could not produce a general action. Ours is a widely different age. It is an age of most rapid progression. The invention of printing, of gunpowder and steam, has produced a most wonderful change. By them commerce is extended to every part of the globe. Nations are made to respect each other, and useful knowledge is being generally diffused.There has been, is, and will be, different associations, diversities of opinions, parties in politics, sects and creeds. Yet amidst all these the great idea is working itself out, or coming forth into active life, and if we interpret the signs of the times correctly, Odd-Fellowship is one of the great engines that is to develope her moral beauty and clothe her with her proper garments. We say then that the true cause of the unprecedented progress of our Order is to be found in our ability to help into existence the great idea of the age; or in other words by a well regulated system of mutual aid to ameliorate the condition of man.

Odd-Fellowship in its present organic form appears to be just what this great idea would have; it lays hold on the sympathies, quickens moral sensibility, restores chaotic minds to order, and cultivates the higher feelings of the soul. So long as the members of our Order practice the principles they profess the good cause will march bravely on, and thousands on thousands will present themselves at our altars and pay their devotions to the God of Friendship, Love and Truth.

Having premised the great design of our institution, and its relation to the spirit of the age in which we live, we will now proceed briefly to consider the duties which we as Odd-Fellows are expected to perform, or the utility of our Order. I would however first remark, that what is required of us is, that as far as we can see what is wrong we endeavor to correct it, and what our Order requires to be done we should give ourselves to the work with a uniform and untiring energy; we should neither expect to accomplish every thing in a moment nor on the other hand despair of being able to effect any thing. In a word, we should devote the powers we have to their true end.

We are all bound together by solemn obligations to cultivate a feeling of brotherly love. By our lectures, and by our charges this is made one of the great duties of every individual member, and it seems of vast importance that we should well and truly understand its import. It is not enough that we hail each other by the endearing title of brother. Every act, every word, yea! every look should manifest the evidence of our sincerity, whether in the Lodge or out of it. To be a peace-maker among the brethren should be one of the highest aspirations of an Odd Fellow.Being differently constituted by nature, and surrounded by different circumstances in life, it is not to be expected that all will enter with equal zeal into this great labour of love. Yet all may learn that "it is better to suffer wrong, than to do wrong." Until we have learned this great lesson we cannot appreciate the holy principle of brotherly love. If a brother offend against us, let us examine our own hearts well, and see if we have not given just cause of offence. If so, then let us frankly acknowledge it;

but if not then let us remonstrate with him in a spirit of love, and if he will not hear us, it then becomes our duty to report him to the Lodge.Let whatever difficulties that may, arise, we cannot cherish a spirit of revenge, and be at the same time good Odd-Fellows. I know that this is a hard lesson to reduce to practice. It is but recently that the few have become many; and as a body, we have scarcely commenced the practice of self-denial. The old spirit of retaliation is not yet driven from the door of our hearts; and we have more to fear from enemies within, than from enemies without. We have to build up comparatively a new social system. One in which the feelings and interests of a brother are identified with our own, whether we had before been acquainted with him or not.— I do not mean by this that we should think less of our intimate friends, but simply that we should extend our sympathies where heretofore we have considered them uncalled for. There is danger of our being too much under the influence of selfish feelings; the greatest enemy man has ever had to contend with is self-love. It has been, and still is, a great bane to human happiness, and is ever striving to manifest itself in us, sometimes openly, and sometimes in disguise. Whence come wars, bickerings, and strife; evil words, evil practices, and worse than all, evil designs? Do they not arise from our endeavour to carry out our own selfish views, and to gratify our own selfish feelings, from our not regarding the good of others equal to our own? If so, then we have a principle within us that is wrong-a principle, that is ever ready to deal out death and destruction all around us, if, by so doing we could advance our own narrow, contracted and selfish ends. I would not be understood to advance the idea that we can act independent of self, for that which has not self in it is not morally our own. I simply mean that self-love should not be supreme. We should follow the golden rule "to do unto others as we would have others do unto us." The necessity of a strict observance of this rule, arises from the fact that we are all differently constituted. Who would be so vain as to set himself up as a perfect standard of moral excellence? We all have our failings, and if we do but examine our own hearts attentively, we shall find much room for improvement.— To correct these defects, and elevate our moral capacities is one of the grand objects of our Order, and can only be accomplished through the free exercise of brotherly love.

Bound in one common brotherhood, and acknowledging the same general head, we should cultivate the most friendly feelings towards all brethren that can prove themselves in good standing. We should never allow local causes to interfere with general principles; we should welcome to our Lodge rooms every brother that performs the duties of an OddFellow. We are engaged in the same great cause and labouring for the same great end. If we are guided by the great principles of human liberty, making the good of the greatest number our aim, we cannot fail of working together in perfect unity.

Our Order is an Independent Order. It is not connected with any other association on the face of the globe except by the ties of a common humanity. Yet while we boast of our independence let us not forget that we are not the only association labouring to work out the great idea of the age in which we live. Let us cultivate a charitable feeling towards all those that are striving to ameliorate the condition of man. Let us learn

« PreviousContinue »