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For the Agitator.
yiTHER, iVE THANK THEE.
nv mabia n. noon.
Father, we thank thee that thy love
TO ua a life hast given,
mere brightest sunbeams on our way, -
Fall from a smiling heaven.
ITe thank thee that no clond of grief '
Steal’s o’er the soul’s clear sky—
Kanght but its weight of happiness
Wakes the heart’s softest sigh.
We thank thee for the scenes of joy
Each dawning day imparts
dod, ofor that beat, holiest gift—
The love of kindred hearts.
We thank thee, when our wandering feet
Went from thee far astray,
Thv chastening love didst call us back
To seek the “better way."
Now, Father, when with life’s deep bliss
Our trembling heart-strings thrill,
W'c ask above all other good,
Tby presence with us still.
(}r«DcasUe, lowa.
A. ID D R E S S ,
silvered before Cowanesque Lodge,
of I, 0. of 0. P., July 8,1859.
BY C. 0. BOWMAN ESQ.
[Correspondence.]
Cowanesque Lodge Loom, July 9, 1859.
C.O. Bowman. Esq.; Bear Sir: At a meeting of
Lodge, I. 0. of 0. F., this evening, tbe
idersigned were appointed s committee to tender you
i» thanks of the Lodge for your address delivered
✓ore them and the citizens of this place yesterday,
:i io request copies for publication in both of the
W f S published in the county. Wo have great pleas
■ein performing the duty assigned us, and in expres
the hope that you will comply with our request.
9 Most respectfully yours in F. L. and T.
J. E. White, ]
Wm. Tiffanv, > Com.
I>. M. Vaxzyi/e, J
Knoxville, July 11, 1859.
Gevtlemf.v ; I b ave just received your letter of the
and would say that I have with great reluc
:te concluded to comply with the request you have
;n behalf of tbe I. 0. of 0. F., of this place.—
jdOiDg this I am guided more by their wishes than
t:fienue in the merits of the discourse. Still, if in
its publication will promote the objects
I submit it to your disposal.
Very Truly Yours,
C. 0. Bowman,
Ladies, Gentlemen, and Brothers of the I. O.
■'o F.; I appear before you on this occasion
. contribute my feeble talent to your enter
;.;e. I very much regret that the offering is
• unworthy the occasion. The most I can
\m\A u an inadequate expression of my in
the prosperity of Odd Fellowship, and
high regard I have for the honor of being
.rdated vuth youin the bonds of a fraternal
• tberhood. In becoming an Odd Fellow there
in intrinsic charm which lures and enchants
notaries. Odd Fellowship is loved for the
•nciples it possesses and the unqualified pos
.:ion of those principles is a sufficient reward
nil.
"id Fellowship opens additional sources of
. jraent; fills the soul with new beauties and
;; most ecstatic delights. It enables the pos
bs«r of its* true principles to travel through
of amaranthine flowers and constantly in
u celestial fragrance. It draws the curtain
‘cube past and spreads before its members
:rand panorama of six thousand years. It
cr.wa wide open t|ie gates of natures vast tem
• die gigantic proportions of which, the true
•:1 Fellow alone can survey with a proud sat-
that he is treading familiar grounds,
‘5:l. a propriety which none can feel,
the beauteous scenery all his own;
Hi* are the mountains and the valleys his,
•mj me rc-plendant rivers his to enjoy;
•U Tmh a filial confidence inspired,
He l.ft- to Heaven bis unpresumpiuous eye
.-millug says, my Father made them aIL”
lunthis iron age of cold blooded utilitari-
tie meets with a man whose only divinity
ifflmcm, and who deems nothing important
s cater for his appetite or pander for his
>n.whucan appreciate neither his labor
motives, he can retire and wrap himself
• with the mantle of his own thoughts
sa 7 “Procul 0! Procul este profaniP He
himself the elements of substantial
which time cannot corrode or adver
lestroy. This is a rich remuneration for all :
ind labor expended in the attainment of
t'rinclples of Odd Fellowship which we de
bate Fraternity. There are certain objects
which the eye of the true Odd Fellow is
‘ Considering it a false humility
seeks never to be seen and wishes never to
he places his mark high upon
pmnacieof human influence and usefulness
orm 0r himself a character in )
shah centre the converged raysand blend I
hues of every human excellence,
fishes to stand among the great benefactors
“=race, that when, his brilliant career shall
ut ' atl? ! he may leave behind him an exam
r, .I °f imitation, and a name that shall
Elated by succeeding generations with
l0 !* e °dearing recollections of the past.
-Jf a f.^ etter * nobler object can man pro-
Tsf Jf “imself? Others there are. lie may
/ ’ l ' r ; and
interest in both worlds,
ln then damned in that to come.”
live for fame. But how capricious.
ml ''r d to-day,
!Scar aedamationa loud,
b-tnorr D ®. roun d him with a thousand tongues,
j. 0w bUmed and hissed him out of sight.”
a y Ihe for porccr. But
’^est Cen< L' Dlouc tain tops shall find
m °st wrapped in clouds and snow;
tak ri sso8 ’ or £ abduea mankind,
AhiJ! W ? on t^ e hate of those below,
rb P !; th® sun of glory glow,
tim earth and ocean spread,
!dm„! re lc y rocks, and loudly blow
on his naked head,
Wa ra the toils which to those summits led.”
1 dressing (in part) a society whose im=
m ° tto me its highest ambition is
sad the object it moat highly prizes
means of attaining it. What more
, a delineation of the noble means
“ n °l ) l 9 entl obtains. This, then,
■iso* f loo ' ®i’SS esbe (l as it has been
~ , J our association, the age it rep
:sj e ; character it deserves. May I
■ 'e™ssion will aid you in securing
0 J ee t after which you so ardently
THE AGITATOR
Brixrtea to tbe mvitmim of tbe atm of JFreebow attb tbe &preab of Umiltbg Reform.
WHILE THERE SHALL BE A WRONG UNRIGHTED, AND UNTIL “MAN’S INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE.
VOL. V.
aspire. Should there be one my remarks do
not benefit, I will give you a passable reason ;
it is this; “A mole havtug consulted many
occulists for the benefit of his sight was at last
provided with a good pair of spectacles, but upon
his endeavoring to make use of them his mother
told him that though they might help the eye
of a man they could be of no possible use to a
mole.” It will hardly be expected that I should
give a minute detail of the rise and progress of
Odd Fellowship on the American Continent.
That is a matter that- has passed into and be
come a part of the history of our country. It
is sufficient to say that on the 26th day of April
A, D. 1819 the first Lodge of Odd Fellows was
organized on the continent of North America,
It was then of course in its infancy. The first
Lodge only contained members enough for a
quorum for the purpose of transacting the ne
cessary business of the Lodge, Now the mem
bers of the order are counted by thousands.—
Its progress has been unparallelled in the his
tory of this country. The organization as such
has contributed vast sums of money bordering
upon millions towards the relief of the widow
and education of the orphan in our own country,
while the orphan's cries have been stilled and
the widow's tears dried by corresponding relief
bestowed by the organization of the old world.
But I wish to call your attention for a few
moments to the history of Cowanesquo Lodge
No. 332 of the Independant Order of Odd Eel
lows of Pennsylvania. In the month of Janu
ary A. D. 1849, this Lodge was organized and
took its stand' among its sister Lodges of the
State, and I think every member of good stand
ing in the Lodge to-day, will bear witness to
this one important truth, that from its organi
zation to the present time, it has been'progress
ive in its character, its objects and aims. On
the 13th of February last, the room occupied by
the members of the Lodge, together with all arid
singular, furniture, books, papers, regalia, ban
ners and charter containing the names of the
original founders of the order in this place, all!
all ] every remnant and shred pertaining to or
in anywise connected with the Lodge were en
tirely consumed by fire. The next morning
might have been seen a few of the Brothers of
the Order surveying the ruins caused by the
devouring element. Ah! indeed that was a dark
and gloomy hour for Cowanesque Lodge. But
did she give up the ship ? By no means.—
Through, the kindness of friends outside of the
organization, the members were furnished a
room in which to hold their regular meetings,
and I am most happy to be able to say that no
regular meeting or session of the Lodge has
passed by for want of a room, and it is with much
gratification that I am enabled to annonnee that
the members of Cowanesque Lodge have fitted
up at great expense and have nearly furnished
a room in this village in which to hold their
regular meetings; which room we do to day in
the presence of our Heavenly Father whose all
seeing eye is ever upon us, in the presence of
this vast assemblage, and in the presence of
each other, solemnly consecrate and dedicate to
the principles of the Independent Order of Odd
Fellowship which hears for its motto those sig
nificant words, Friendship, Love, and Truth.
I have said that on the night of the 13th of
February last, everything pertaining to the
Lodge was consumed. This in part is a mis
take and (should be corrected. The principles
of the Order were not consumed, for principles
are imperishable, incombustible, and immu
table. Time may change, men may change,
the universe itself may change; but principles
never change. The principles of Odd Fellow
ship are as firm as the Deity from which they
emanate. Why, dearfriends.it was the estab
lishment of principle that shook crowned Eu
rope to its very centre and made despotism on
its gilded throne to tremble. It rekindled the
slumbering fires of freedom in the valleys of
France in 1848, which for a time threatened to
enwrap the world in its embrace.
ifor the scenes of exalted deeds is a noble in
stinct planted in our natures and hearts for no
ble ends. It is Inarticulate adoration addressed
not more to the understanding than to the heart.
To be in a high degree void of this is an evi
dence of personal ignominy and a pressage of
deserved oblivion. The associations which are
the most affecting are moral. The venerable
monuments of the past and localities connected
with which greatevents transpired are invested
with irresistable attractions to a susceptible
heart and cultivated mind. They snatch the
soul away in rapture as if it had already trav
ersed the tomb.and on the bosom of immensity
imbue it with the inexhaustible glories which
Jehovah has diffused through the Universe.—
It was with reference to this power of local asso
ciation that the ancient poet when describing
the battle of Salamis together with the temples
of their gods, and the persons most dear to
them, mentioned also the tombs of their fathers
as the objects best fitted to rouse the courage
and inflame the patriotism of the Athenians in
times of peril. Cicero beautifully alludes to the
pleasure, which every accomplished mind ex
periences when "exercised on the spots sanctified
by illustrious characters. Germanicus visited
Athens with veneration; and during his stay
divested himself of every insignia of power.
Atticus paused with awe among its tombs and
monuments ; Julian shed tears on quitting its
bowers and groves; Leo Allatries wept over the
ruins of a house which was said to have be
longed to Homer. And why are the ruins of
that illustrious city so thrilling to a cultivated
and reflecting mind ? Because it was the focus
of intelligence ; the arena of the noblest stripe
of the noblest heroes.
There is a hallowed fellowship existing be
tween all master-minds consecrated by mutual
ity of feeling and tentiment. The most meri
torious are always the first to recognize the
claims of merit in others, the acutest to feel
their excellence, and the most eloquent to pro
claim their worth.
The scene that beneficent spirits hare visited
remains hallowed to all time; “it is still blessed
though robbers haunt the place.” He whose
heart is not excited upon the spot which a mar
tyr has sanctified by his sufferings, or at the
grave of one who has largely benefitted man
kind must be more inferior to the multitude by
bis morgl, than he can possible be raised above
them by his intellectual nature.
Wo are indebted to the influence of local asso-
WELLSBORO, TIOGA GOUNTYi PA., THURSDAY MORMNG. JULY 28, 1859.
elation for one of the most valuable productions •
in modern history. It was in the Church of St.
Maria a’ Ara Coeli, on the CapitolinelHill at
Rome as Gibbon himself tells us: “On the fif
teenth of October 1764 as he sat musing amid
the ruins of the Capitol while the bare-footed
friars were singing vespers, that the idea of
writing the decline and fall of the cpty first
started to his mind.” Why is Pompeii so full
of thrilling associations to the thoughtful trav
eler? It is because he there views a city that
was old when Christ was a babe ; the yrell pre
served homes of a thousand happy circles all
of whom perished long before our ancestors
had a language or the world a substantial hope.
It is a city that reposed twenty centuries in the
bosom of the earth with nations trampling
above while its monuments and decorations
have been so well preserved and now stand out
so brightly in brilliant day, that a cotejmporary
of Augustus returning to its streets, its forums,
its temples, fanes and tasselated boudoirs might
exclaim, I greet thee, 0, my country! My
dwelling is the only spot upon the earth which
has preserved its form. The eternal walls and
pyramids of Egypt are mouldering in jtbeir ru
ins. The palace of the Cesars has grumbled
and now mingles with the dust. Go (pimb the
lofty towers of Rome and survey the melancholy
mementoes of other times and other men. And
was this the mighty Rome that once stood
against the legions of Carthage led on by the
victorious Hannibal? Yes, but alas! And
where is Carthage? Buried in the vortex of
oblivion. Could the shades of the jmmortal
Cicero, Horace, Virgil and Demosthenes revisit
the earth and stray through those scenes which
they have immortalized in song and eloquence
how they would be struck with the.mutability
of human grandeur. O, Time! migqty is the
strength of thy arm, the wonders of the world
have fallen before thee. Witness, ye walls of
Babylon, covered with aerial gardens, and thou
great statue of Olympian Jove.
For a moment gaze upon Babylon in the pride
of her strength. Behold her walls standing as
an immovable army of gigantic soldiery to pro
tect her splendor from the steps of tin invader.
Behold when she goeth forth to war, ten thou
sand chariots follow in her train ; crcwns clus
tered upon her brow, and she return id loaded
with trophies of easily bought victory. While
seated upon the summit of earthly I grandeur
she felt herself invincible and dared to insult
the Most High. Tho sound of revelry is heard
within her palaces. The ruby wine goes round
in jovial bands. The beautiful and bravo min
gle within her walls. Her Capitol is crowded
with the great of every nation who! offer her
homage. But soon the thickening gloom gathers
about her and the dark and portentous cloud
breaks in fury upon her" head. Heij glory de
departs forever. In the day of her prosperity
[ has destruction laid bis iron hand ppon her,
and the livid flames of the palace of her effemi
-1 nata sovereign ascending among the clouds,
remind us that she has passed away. Where
is Greece—the cradle of heroes —the Iprth place
of poetry? She tuned her lyre and the nations
bent in homage before the god of song. She
swept the gladsome harp, and as the melodious
music, peal after peal, spell-bound to catch the
voluptuous breath, and sea-gods danse in wild
delight to hear their acts recorded ly the pen
of the immortal bard. And lo 1 how many
forms come trooping up to fancy’s view, peopl
ing every foot of sacred ground with their
mighty shades. Homer, Lycurgus, Aristides,
Cimon and his rival, the beautiful pod brave
Alcibindes, Demosthenes and a host of others,
I each calculated to awaken patriotic thoughts
1 in every breast, and then reflect if With all this
proud array of poets, orators, sages and states
men, Greece was not entitled to a proud immor
tality. Why did she fall—fall even while the
matchless eloquence of Demosthenes was still
sounding in her Senate, and her wise and ever
victorious generals were near, ready to guide
by their sage counsels, her armies. Where
were the descendants of Leonidas and Xeno
phon ? or, was her bravery buried ir the graves
of these her early defenders? Why was the
proud and arrogant Alexander sufft red to bind
this liberty loving people in the irqn bands of
despotic sovereignty ? The day of ier prosper
ity has passed, and for two thousan 1 years her
glory has been trampled in the dust. We still
gaze upon the land which bears the proud name
of other days with feelings of wonder and sad
ness. j
Her country yet glows with Hesperian beau-
.api
ty; but the Promethean fire which burned upon
the altar of the Grecian heart has gone out
forever. Again, behold the wide-spreading fab
ric of the Roman Empire. Ileij dominions
girdled the seas, for she had already planted
her conquering standard upon ja , thousand
shores. Her eagle spread his broad wings over
the whole civilized world; and millions owned
her sway, and bent in meek
before her power. But where is she now ?
Vainly do we look for her name those
in the list of existing nations. Although her
imperial city was seated upon the! seven hills,
and commanded the admiration of the world;
now it only lives upon the page of history, a
colossal monument of destruction aud decay.
The most celebrated cities of antiquity have
been buried beneath the iresiatilple waves of
time. Go read an example in the fate of Syrar
euse the city of Archimides, whose single arm
repelled the host of Rome, and dired to move
the world if he could have founds tions for his
feet. That splendid city is in rui is ; her phi
losopher sleeps in the dust, and his mighty en
gines of war are gone. They are swept from
the recollections of mao.
In vain the musing traveler searches for the
splendid temple of Solomon ; its crumbling col
umns are beneath his feet, its sublime imagery
is pictured in the landscape of imagination,
but the glory of the world hath departed for
ever. Thus we see the towering walls' of gran
ite and marble crumbling beneath the wheels of
time, and the conquerors of the world are yield
ing beneath the stroke of mortality. Thank
heaven, our cities yet remain; hot where are
the originators of our form of government?
Where are the founders of our beloved Order ?
Where are the patriots of the Revolution, who
seemed almost immortal on the field of battle,
and who wrested their independence from the
most powerful nation upon the glojie ? Go read
their destiny upon their tombs. Their slumber
ing dust is beneath our feet, their voices are
suppressed in death; hut I would hold on high
before you their beaming example, to guide like
a pillar cf fire your triumphal march to eminent
usefulness.
But let us turn from the historjl of the past
to the scenes as enjoyed by us. The nineteenth
century has been characterized “the age of as
sociations,” or "the age of societies” ; and yet
out of the hundred and one “societies” that are
now putting forth pretentions to public favor,
there are but few worthy of the name of “Char
ity,” and entitled to the aid and sympathy of
humanity. As is the case in all popular gov
ernments, the masses follow a phanlorh fer a
time, but soon right themselves; so in these
mushroom societies that have filled this country
during the last few years, even good Odd
Fellows have been attracted thither by their
ignis fatmis, but must soon leave these baccha
nalian halls and obscene -representations in dis
gust, to again become, co-laborers in this great
cause of humanity. But these bacchanalian
revelries and kindred mock associations have a
still more baneful influence upon the minds of
those dupes, who are not Odd Fellows or Free
Masons, by leading them to believe that all
“secret societies” are similar in character and
alike unworthy of their admiration and support.
This erroneous view, is confirmed by seeing
around them known members of our Order ac
tively engaged in demonstrating the rare qual
ities of other associations, or pleased spectators
and enthusiastic congratulators of the persons
“sold.” That man who continues to co-operate
with such associations after the baneful influ
ences have been painted oat to him, ceases to
be an Odd Fellow in spirit and in truth.
"Whilst we have our forma and ceremonies— 1
our signs and pass-words whereby we recognize
each other, oars is no fancy association with
gew-gaws to attract and catch the silly and
thoughtless; but it addresses itself at once to
the nobler and higher attributes of our nature.
It is the-high if not the distinguishing charac
teristic of an Odd Fellow to believe that among
the most acceptable services which man can”
render his God, is relief to his fellow man; and
the exercise of this unselfish philanthropy is
emphatically his mission. Yes, Odd Fellowship
is founded upon that eternal principle which,
recognizing man as a constituent of one univer
sal brotherhood, teaches him that, as .be came
from the hands of a common parent, he is
bound to cherish and protect his fellow man.—
It thus presents a broad platform upon which
mankind may units in offices of human bene
faction. Based upon certain truths, which are
alike axioms among all nations, tongues and
creeds, its sacred tolerance presents a nucleus,
which by its gentle influences gathers within
its orbit antagonist natures, controls the ele
ments of discord, stills the storm and soothes
the spirit of passion, and directs in harmony
man’s united efforts to fraternize the world.—
Like truth, Odd Fellowship cannot lose by in
vestigation and comparison, and must finally
triumph and prevail. And it fittingly becomes
•us to render homage and adoration to Tub Su
preme Grand Sire op tub Universe for his con
tinued approbation and protection to us and to
that noble Charity for which we are laboring;
for without his Fatherly care and love our be
loved Order could not in so few years have
grown from weakness to strength, and from
poverty to wealth, and from one man now to
number hundreds of thousands. The State of
Pennsylvania alone contains to-day over five
hundred working Lodges of our Order, which
are contributing annually thousands of dollars
towards the relief of the widow and the educa
tion of the orphan. But I have not time to
particularize, or to give yon a minute'and sta
tistical account of the workings of the Order,
as I am admonished of the fact that I have no
doubt already wearied your pdtienee, and must
conclude. I cannot do so however, without ad
dressing myself tb the ladies who have honored
us with their presence upon this occasion. I
see some before mJwhom I recognize as belong
ing to our affiliation, who have taken the de
gree of Rebekah—the sixth Degree of our Or
der. I see others whom I do not recognize
as such ; but to both I will say, I recognize in
your natures, firmness in the cause of sorrow
and humanity. How often has woman trod the
wine-press of bitterness to share the woes of
him who with her toils through the rugged
pathways of life. How quick she is to fly to
relieve when she hears the wail of the heart
broken, or the moan of the destitute. And it
is not strange therefore, that when suspicion
and bigotry, selfishness and contempt leagued
together to stifle our existence and crash our
Order, the bright eye of woman cheered us on
in our labor of love. Some few, indeed, joined
those Pharisees who declared that no good thing
could come out of our Nazareth. But woman,
as a sex—true to herself, her instincts and her
impulses, smiled upon our labors, rejoiced as
we prospered, defended our principles and hon
ored our name. Grateful for her thus becoming
a shield to ward off all attacks, this Degree was
established as a testimonial that the confidence
thus reposed in us is most cordially and heartily
reciprocated. In conferring this degree upon
her we not only honor and confide in the sex
as we should, but we also realize a long cher
ished plan of an organized cooperation .with us
in visiting the sick, relieving the distressed,
and protecting the orphan. In the Bible are
certain illustrious characters worthy of imita
tion, who signalized their lives —not by bloody
victories on fields of carnage and of death, —
not by despotic sway over a nation of millions,
—not by the meretricious charms of beauty,
but by their zeal in doing good, in viudioating
the true modesty and worth of woman’s natural
character, in pouring the oil of consolation into
thewounds of the afflicted, in whispering the
words of sympathy in the of the heart
stricken. Such is woman’s, noblest work. It
is a duty that heavenly angels might not, nay,
do not scorn to perform. It is that sphere in
which your sex has gathered its-most unfading
! laurels. It is the promptings, too, of that warm
benevolence, which, though in woman is the-in
| stinct of her nature, we band together in Lodges
| and Societies to cultivate and enforce by pre
-1 oept and by law* in the more sterile hearts of
the sterner sex. Nobly, right nobly, ha? she
1 performed her mission. Poets have sttng m
glowing numbers of her constancy in hours of
trial, of darkness and Of peril* of her labors at
the bedside of’the sick and the afiicfed—of her
patient endurance of life’s roughest lot when
shared by him. for whom she has given up all
else this side of Heaven. Wherever sorrow’s
cry is heard, wherever sickness lays its paraly
zing hand—follow ladies the innate sympathies
of your nature. Wherever the hardships of
adversity fall the heaviest upon those about
you, be it yours, as far as possible, to soften
the blow. Wherever misery can be ameliorated,
or keen anguish assuaged, remember that you
are women, and obey the promptings of your
natures. I trust that you will ever bear in
mind that the benefits of. our order are not con
fined to our own bretberen, nor indeed to our
own sex. Look at that anguished, grief-strick
en widow as she returns from the drear solitude
of the grave-yard and the tomb, ttyhor desolate
home. How lonely are its silentrooms; every
echo of her foot-steps as she passes through
them, reminds her of him whose welcome step
no mortal ear shall ever listen to again; every
glance rests on some object which wakens mem
ories of the past, and every thought turns back
upon that loved one—whose love was of her
very life a part. How dark and melancholy the
prospect before her—gloomy and sad the heart
within. Bereft of him to whom she looked
with such trusting confidence, she is to strug
gle with a desolate heart for that stinted and
grudged pittance which is too oft the widow’s
recompense for her hours of cheerless toil.
“But no ; the widow of the Odd Fellow is
preserved from such a gloomy lot. At that
hour, when life to the bereaved ones seems al
most a burden, —when it. seems as if hope and
happiness Had both been entombed with the
loved but departed one, —when the future seems
clouded in impenetrable gloom,—when loneli
ness, sad and drear and dismal seems the wid
ow’s lot, our Order comes like an angel of peace
and throws across the gloomy prospect bright
rays of light and happiness. It comes, and
that bereaved widow feels that she Iras thrown
around her a protecting cordon of warm hands
and hearts, who will cherish her and hers for
the sake of him whose love she cherishes be
yond the grave. It comes; and she feels, or if
she does not, she may feel, that whenever the
rough winds of adversity strive to smite her,
she has a rook upon which she can lean with
trusting and confidence—ready when needed to
open and afford her sustenance. And she finds
at last, if prejudice has darkened her vision be
fore, that Odd Fellowship is a father to the fa
therless ; that
“We seek to dry the widow’s gushing tears,
We'seek to calm the trembling orphan’s fears,
Weseek to raise humanity above
The ills of life by ministries of love;
And when the talc is told and man resigns his trust,
We seek in Friendship’s name to monument his dust”
And what charming apparitions of female
grace and heroism beam forth from the midst
of the throng of warriors, priests and poets, as
recorded in the bible. The beauty of Surah,
that subdued all hearts, even at the brilliant
court of Egypt; the touching self-denial of the
daughter of Jeptha; the poetical enthusiasm of
Miriam; the masculine valor of Deborah and
Judith ; and, finally, the far-famed Egyptian
bride, whose praise will live forever, embalmed
in the song of song's, which is
Here are characters worthy of your imitation.
Here is the literature of eternity]—the science
of God. It contains all necessary information,
—the development of our immortality,—the
record of man's rebellion and his Maker's coim
passion. It is to our Order, as the pole-star,
chart and compass to the mariner; the great
dyke that God has raised up to protect human
ity against the lava of human passions; the
noblest and moat precious boon that God has
given to this orphaned creation. Here is phi
losophy, original, profound, sublime. Here is
biographical portraiture—faultless, perfect—of
personages most extraordinary; the great Jew
ish lawgiver, unequalled in legislation; the mon
arch minstrel, unrivalled in song; his son and
successor unparalelled in wisdom, and the Great
Teacher, who “spake as never man spake.”—
To all I would say: Study this book and prac
tice its precepts, for without a due observance
of the lessons taught us in the Bible, our Order
could not exist a single hour. It is the sub
stratum upon which Odd Fellowship rests, and
upon which “it is destined immovably to repose,
amid the wreck of matter and crash of worlds."
I would have you study it, for it contains price
less truth. ißind its holy principles as an amu
let about yotlr hearts; you will find it touched
with more than lunar influences over your com
ing vicissitudes. It is charmed with supernat
ural power that can lift’you to the skies. Thus
freighted, you shall safely sail the stormy ocean
of this world, Thus armed, you will be pre
pared for life’s great trials, and easily repel all
the darts of your enemies. Thus qualified,
with powers so perfectly balanced, you can as
cend with ease and certainty the hill of renown,
which I have supposed to be your highest am
bition as an organized body, and you will then
stand
“Like some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the rale and midway cleaves the storm.
Though round its breast some transient clouds are
spread.
Eternal sunshine settles on its head. >
So shall you rise, and on the highest watch
tower of human benevolence, and charity, firm
ly stand. Deep, heart-felt veneration like the
atmosphere shall encircle you,—earth’s highest
praises shall thickly cluster upon your immor
talized name, —garlands of the richest laurel
shall entwine around your time-honored brow,
—peaceful and triumphant shall be yoorpoesage
to the tomb, —solemn, “as it were a pause in
nature,” shall be your transit to eternity,—
thronged by the shade'of sainted heroes shall
be your approach to the Grand Lodge above, —
pteans and! the songs of angels shall precede the
opening of that lodge beyond the stars, —glory,
that is unfading and sun like, benevolence that
is unclouded and God like, pleasure that wells
but from the throne of the Noble Grand in that
celestial city, into a boundless ocean of fruition,
shall be your rich and eternal inheritance.
There are two eventful periods in the life of
a woman: one, when she wonders who she shall
have—the other, when she wonders who will
have her.
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ON THE BANKS OF THAT LONE ETVEB.
Near the banks of that tone river.
Where the water lillies grow.
Breathed the fairest flowers that ever
Bloomed and faded years ago.
How we met and loved and parted,
None on aarth can ever kftow—
Nor how pure and gentle-hearted
Beamed the mourned one years ago I
Like the stream with lilies laden
Will life’s future current flow,
Till in heaven I meet the maiden*
fondly cherished years ago*
Hearts that love like mine forget not £
They're the same in weal and woe’;
And that star of memory set not
In the grave of years ago.
Deacon W. was a staid and honest Baptist
deacon in one of the interior towns of Maine,
who had a vein of dry, caustic humor in his
composition. The deacon had a boy of some
dozen summers, who was sometimes inclined to
be a little ugly when not under the parental
eye. In school especially, John was a source
of constant annoyance to the teacher, whi>
whipped him for some sort of
and John went home crying to enter his com
plaint, and told his father the mistress had
whipped him.
“What !” exclaimed the deacon, elevating his
eye-brows, “been whipped?”
“Y-a-a-s,” sobbed the ■ boy.
“And did you let a woman whip ye?” shout
ed the old deacon;
*‘Y-a-a-s, I couldn’t help it.”
“Wall, John, you-little rascal, you go* to
school td-morrow, and if Miss undertakes
to whip you again, ye jest pitch in—don’t let a
woman whip ye if ye can help it. Don’t take
a stick to strike with, but you may kick and
strike as much as ye’re a mind to.”
The next day the boy went to school, and
emboldened by the-permission given by bis fa
ther, was soon brought before the tribunal of
violated rules. The teacher undertook to cor
rect him,-and ■he did as his father told hinj.—
The result was that John got a most unmerciful
trouncing, and was thoroughly subdued- He*
went home.to his father crying;
“Well, dad, 1 got an awful bad licking to
day^”
“What!” said the old deacon, you let
that woman whip ye again ?”
“Y-a-a-s,” whimpered John. “I kicked her*
and struck her, and fit her oil I could, bat she
lammed me orfully.”
“Aha I” chuckled the humorous old deacon,
“you tarnal little fool, I knew she would, and
she’ll give ye a trouncing every time she under-,
takes it; and I advise, you to behave yourtfelf
in future.” * ~ '
John began to hare some perception of his
father's motive, and ever after was a sadder and
a wiser boy, —Arvos look* Pioneer.
Wouldn’t Marty a Mechanic.
A young man commenced visiting a young
woman and appeared to lie well pleased. One
evening he called when it was quite late- which
led the girl to inquire where he had been.
“I had to work to-night.”
“Do you work ftra living ?" inquired the
astonished girl.
“Certainly,” replied the young man, “I am
a mechanic.''
“Jly brother docs not work, and I dislike the
name of a mechanic 1” and she turned up her
pretty nose.
This waa the last time the mechanic visited
the fastidious young woman. He is now a
wealthy man, and has one of iTse women for a
wife. The young woman who disliked the
name of mechanic is now the wife-of a misera
ble fool—a regular vagrant about the bench sa
one of the ablest judges in the’ grog shops,—■
and she, poor, miserable woman, is obliged to
take in washing to support herself and chil
dren.
fYe who dislike the name of mechanic, be
ware how you treat yonng men who work for
a living. Far better'discard the well-fed pau
per, with his rings, jewelry, and brazenness,
and take to your affections the callous-handed
intelligent and industrious mechanic. Thou
sands have bitterly regretted their folly who
have tamed their backs to honest industry?—
A few years of bitter experience hove taught
them a severe lesson. In this country; no
man or woman should be respected, in our way
of thinking, who will not work bodily and men
tally, and who curl their lips contemptuously if
they are introduced to a man who is obliged to
work for a living.
A Kiss is the Dark.— Holcrofl, the well
known dramatist, supped one evening at Opie’s.
After the cloth had been removed, numerous
stories were told, among which was one of a
gentleman, who, having put out hie candle oh
going to bed, read in phosphorant characters,
on the wall, “Confess thy sins.” The gentle*,
man fell on his knees, and, as expected, began
to confess his sins aloud—not from terror, how
ever, for he was aware that it was a trick to
terrify him, devised by a waggish young lady
in the house, and hearing a little bustle on the
stair-head, he guessed rightly that she and her
comrades were there to enjoy his discomfiture.
He confessed as the last and greatest of bis
sins, that he “had kissed Miss .— frequently
in the dark,” and so turned the tables on bis
tormenter with a vengeance—a lesson she nev
er forgot.
In one of the departments of Switzerland
their is said to be over two thousand girls con
stantly engaged in making matches.
In this country there are five times that num
ber engaged in the same occupation, besides an
unoertan number of old ladies.
Young man," said a minister to a youth of
his congregation, "do yon know what relations
you sustain in the world “Yes, sirj two
cousins and & grandmother; hut I don't intend
to sustain theta much lon get.”
“Lots ftinf neighbors” has gone ottt of date.
It is now—'“lore yont neighbor’s
BY GEORGE P. MORRIS,
Z Knew She Would.
-re'