vilege and honour it is deemed,) when Newcastle-upon-Tyne was awarded the fame, which will doubtless be a source of great gratification to our hardy Northumbrians. The following are the towns which stood the poll Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Stafford. Stockport. In addition to the delegates from Districts and Lodges we have enumerated, several have arrived during the last two days, whose names and locality we have been uable to procure; and beside these, many individuals visited Bradford at their own expense and pleasure, the first amongst whom we must mention the firm, old-tried, honest P. G. M. Thomas Armitt, P. G. M. Gray, and P. G. M. Peiser, we believe all from the Manchester district. And now we think we may safely bring our remarks to a close. The business of the meeting will terminate this day; and it is probable ere this sketch meets the eye of some of our readers, many delegates will be wending their way to "home, sweet home." Order and regularity, deep thoughtfulness and discrimination, honesty and freedom of speech, unmixed with offensive epithets, solicitude for the usefulness and honour of the Order, that unsullied it may maintain its proud position amongst the philanthropic institutions of England-faithfulness to principle, firmness of purpose, singleness of heart-characteristics which should always mark the deliberations of men assembled for a high and noble object, have marked the discussions and proceedings of the Legislative Assembly of the Independent Order of Odd-Fellows of the Manchester Unity. Again we say, long may they be united, and ever may they flourish! THE HAUNTED STREAM. A GERMAN LEGEND. BY BRO. J. B. ROGERSON, OP ENG. But he that was there in that secret spot, For his glance was on brighter loveliness.-Anon. In a small valley near the Rhine stood the dwelling of Harold, the fisherman. His family consisted of a wife and five children, three sons and two daughters; and though it required all his industry to support them, his heart was light, and he was content with such cheer as his labour enabled him to obtain. His eldest son, Arnaud, who was about the age of fourteen, usually accompanied him in his fishing excursions, and assisted him to draw his nets. Arnaud's chief delight was to hear his father, whilst waiting for the filling of the nets, recount the various legends of the valley, of which he possessed an almost inexhaustible store. The tales which Arnaud used to listen to with the greatest pleasure, and which he often prevailed upon his father to repeat, were those which told of the fairies, who were said to haunt the stream that flowed at a short distance from the fisherman's dwelling. It was believed that at certain times of the year, a bark glided along the stream, filled by a group of fairies, who landed on the banks, and after amusing themselves for some time on shore, betook them to their bark again, and, floating to a particular part of the water, disappeared. "I will endeavour to obtain a sight of these fairies," thought Arnaud; and seeking the banks of the river, he would linger there for hours together. Many a time would his heart beat fast and loud as he heard a rushing sound, and hid himself among the bushes, scarcely daring to look up, until he was at once relieved and disappointed to find the object of his alarm merely the noise occasioned by the flight of a water-fowl. Still his patience did not forsake him; and though he incurred his father's displeasure, when he returned home, for his long absence, he murmured not, for he hoped he should soon be recompensed for all his scoldings and disappointments by a sight of those mysterious beings whom he so ardently longed to behold. One day, exhausted with watching, he laid himself down beneath the shade of a spreading tree, and fell asleep, and dreamt of fairy-land. Arnaud was a beautiful youth, and as he reclined in slumber, though his bright blue eyes were closed, the flowing ringlets of his golden hair, his fair and blooming cheeks, his graceful form, and well-fashioned limbs, which the meanness of his dress could not conceal, made him appear a being destined to move in a far superior circle to that in which he had been brought up. He was awakened from his romantic vision by a warm pressure on his lips. He started from his sleep, and saw the loveliest creature his eyes had ever beheld. A female, whose charms were of the most dazzling description, bent over him in an attitude of fondness and admiration. She was clad in white drapery, interwoven with threads of silver; her zone was inlaid with gold, and studded with precious stones, that shone like so many stars. Strings of the finest pearl enwreathed her neck, and gleamed amongst her dark tresses; but the lustre of the shining stones was not so bright as her eyes, nor were the pearls as pure as her neck and bosom. She held in her hand a chaplet of water-lilies, and placing them around Arnaud's temples, she exclaimed, in a voice of melody, "Beautiful mortal! thou beholdest in me one of the fairies who haunt this place. My companions are diverting themselves on the banks of the river, and I, having chosen this spot for my gambols, was attracted by thy surpassing loveliness. Fairest of the children of men, wilt thou not go with me? wilt thou not accompany me to my own blessed regions, where sorrow comes not, and joy reigneth for ever in the hearts of the inhabitants? I will build thee a bower of crystal; the floor shall be of coral, sprinkled with pearls and rubies, and the windows shall be formed of the most brilliant diamonds.Sweet son of the earth, wilt thou not go with me?" Arnaud cast his eyes around, and beheld a numerous group of those beings whom he had so long wished to see, some bounding along the shore, and others diving be neath the waters. His glance again rested on the fair form by his side, and as he gazed on its unearthly beauty, his heart throbbed violently, and a throng of more exquisite sensations than he had ever felt before took possession of his soul: all thoughts of home vanished from his mind. "Gentle being," said he to the fairy, "if I look on and am near to thee, I cannot fail to be happy: willingly, therefore, would I go with thee to thine own country; but I fear thy companions will not consent that a poor mortal like myself should be a partaker of their gladness. "Fear not, my beloved," replied the fairy, "those of our race know not what it is to give pain to each other, and the thing which I request will not be denied.— Remain here a few moments; I will away and acquaint my sisters with my desire, and on my return we will bound into our bark, and depart to the land of light and beauty." When Arnaud was alone he almost repented of the promise he had made, for the thoughts of home came to his heart, and with difficulty he repressed his tears, as he pictured to himself the grief his family would feel on his account. "They will assemble round the hearth," thought he, "when the evening falls, and my father will ask, 'Where is Arnaud?' My brothers and sisters will repeat the question, and when they find that I come not, they will search for me in the wood and by the stream, and their search will be fruitless. My mother will weep, and she will say, 'If my son were living, he would not be absent thus long; oh, Arnaud, dear Arnaud, where art thou? Wilt thou return no more to the arms of thy mother? Alas, we mourn in vain my children, your brother must have perished in the waters.'" The fairy now returned with a countenance beaming with joy. "Arouse thee, dearest," said she, "my friends have consented that thou shouldst be as one of us; already do they prepare for their journey homewards, and soon wilt thou be far, far from this dull earth, and the cares and pains which are the lot of its children." A band of fair creatures bounded lightly over the green turf, with their shining tresses and loose drapery floating in the wind. A shout of admiration burst from the group, as they gazed on Arnaud, and they cried, "Truly, sister, this is a charming youth, and not unworthy to dwell amongst us. Away, away, let us unfurl our sails, for the breeze blows freshly. Follow us, sister, and bring with thee the graceful stranger." They sprang into their vessel, and Arnaud and the fairies were borne rapidly along the stream for a few minutes; then the fairies furled their sails, and the boat moved slower. By degrees its motion grew almost imperceptible, and then it became transfixed in the middle of the water. Arnaud gazed around with astonishment, for the fairies seemed as though they intended to proceed no further. "Shrink not," said the sweet voice of her who was by his side, "the waves are about to close over us, but they will harm thee not. From this spot will our boat descend to the land of beauty." The fairy enveloped him in a slight veil, and then the bark sank into the stream. He felt no inconvenience from the water, but breathed as freely as if he had inhaled the fresh breeze; whilst by him swept innumerable creatures of the waves. In a short time, though the vessel still descended at the same rate, he saw that they were in a purer element, and the water through which they had passed lay like a firmament above their heads. They now arrived at the place of their destination; but who shall describe the effect produced upon Arnaud by the enchanting scenes spread before him! The most beautiful trees, shrubs, and flowers, seemed to have been culled from all parts of the earth, and transplanted to this fair abode. Here were vine-covered valleys, there the peach tree bloomed in all its luxuriance, and here the orange and the lemon trees, loaded with golden fruitage. The sturdy oak, the spreading elm, and the graceful willow, flung around their shadows. The blue-eyed violet, the pale passion-flower, the sweet-breathing honey-suckle, the maiden-like rose, the silver clematis, and the white stars of the jessamine, with numerous unknown and fragrant plants and flowers, combined to render the place more lovely than any before looked on by mortal eyes. The name of the fairy whom Arnaud had first seen was Rosaura, which word signifies 'air of roses,' and she was so called because of the perfume of her breath. When Arnaud had gazed for awhile on the things around him, Rosaura led him to her dwelling, which was composed of the most brilliant spars. She brought him fruit, and he eat and found it delicious; she pressed the juice from the bursting grape, and the goblet out of which he drank was formed of a single pearl. After he had refreshed himself, he wandered with the beautiful Rosaura through the enchanting groves and valleys of fairy-land. There were neither sun, moon, nor stars above them, yet it was far more light than the sunniest day of earth, and the air was far more pure. The trees and the flowers wore a brighter bloom, and every object had a radiance thrown over it which belongs not to the world of mortals. This happy country was never visited by darkness nor storms, snow, nor rain; it felt not the chill breath of winter, nor the oppressive heat of summer; but all was one continued season of light and tranquillity. No wish was entertained which might not be gratified; and there was a never-ending succession of joy and festivity. Arnaud soon became universally beloved by the fairies, and each strove to find favour in his sight, and endeavoured to contribute to his felicity. They were exempt from the pains which attend on mortals, and they needed not rest or repose; yet Rosaura would watch by the couch of Arnaud whilst he slumbered, and imprint on his young cheek her warm kisses. In the groves large and splendid diamonds were suspended from the trees, and shone like stars amid the gloom. Their principal amusement was the dance, and the music to which they danced was produced from sweet-toned harps, whose melody was awakened by the wind. Sometimes they would strive to excel each other in the race, and bound along like a troop of startled fawns. The prize for which they usually contended was a coronal of flowers, which was placed on the victor's brow by the hand of Arnaud. There was no envy in these contests; there was no ill-will borne by the vanquished; but each was as ready to rejoice in the victor's success, as though she herself had been the conqueror. Rosaura taught Arnaud to play upon the lute, and would often accompany its music with the melody of her own voice. At other times, a group of the fair dwellers in this romantic land would join their voices together in some delightful air peculiar to themselves, until the breeze became replete with sweet sounds, and the senses of Arnaud were wrapt in a dream of ecstacy. Innumerable were the devices practised to amuse the favoured mortal thus placed amongst them; but the human mind is not fitted for a state of uninterrupted happiness. It is the alternate succession of joy and grief which renders existence desirable; it is the remembrance of the past and the uncertainty of the future which makes us cling to life with so much tenacity. It is the mingling of hope and fear, the expectation, and not unpleasing dread, of our coming years, "gloomy and indistinct as feverish dream," which makes us wish to live on. With Arnaud the memory of the past still lived; the future, however, no longer formed a theme of conjecture to his mind. All would be a scene of changeless and unchequered brightness; all would be calm, all would be beautiful; yet there would be no interruption to the calm, there would be no variation in the beauty, and as he who has long dwelt beneath a tropic sun longs even for the chill blasts of winter, so did his young heart soon yearn for his own native home, with its changeful sky, at times frowning in gloomy grandeur, and at others radiant with light and silvery clouds, floating over its surface like winged heralds of heaven sent forth to speak of peace to man. Two years passed away, two years in an abode where pleasure was the only study, where neither sickness nor fatigue interrupted the revels of its inhabitants; where age weakened not their powers of enjoyment, and where all was one continued round of harmony and bliss. Things which at first sight excite our imagination, by being ever before our eyes lose their power of charming. Beauty, when uncontrasted with deformity, palls upon the sense, and becomes uninteresting from the very uniformity of its perfection. We are only adapted to a state of earthly existence. To fit the soul for a more celestial abode, it must be rid of its bodily incumbrance, it must be divested of its fleshy clothing. If we analyze our feelings, if we strictly review our hearts, we shall find that however strong may be our belief in a future state of reward, however confident may be our anticipations of attaining it, we are still loth to quit this mortal life, this world of toil and suffering. Earthly ties still bind us down, and the frail affections of our nature triumph over the more pure and lofty aspirarations of the spirit. Arnaud had long sighed for his former life. He knew himself to belong to a race of beings inferior to those with whom he now dwelt. He was a favourite, and loaded with caresses; yet their favour had become painful, their caresses were coldly received, for he saw he was considered but as a bird admired for the sweetness of its voice or the beauty of its plumage; or as a pet lamb caressed by a gentle girl.He was loved, but not with the love which mortal bears to mortal; he was loved, but not as one on terms of equality with those who loved him. He never for a moment could forget their superior natures; he was convinced that his inferiority-his very deficiency and want of those qualities which formed their perfection-the very imperfectness of his nature caused him to be admired and caressed; and who could submit complacently to have his infirmities set up as an idol of worship? Then he thought, too, of one he dearly loved, of one who dearly loved him-the young and fair-haired Madeline. She was the daughter of a neighbouring fisherman; they had been companions almost from their birth, and often in their later years the boy's arm had encircled her slender waist, and his lips pressed her cheek, whilst he vowed that when he became a man fair Madeline should be his bride. More beauteous than ever seemed her image now as it came upon his lonely musings, and dearer far than kindred, friends, or home did he feel she was to his youthful heart. When Rosaura gazed, spoke, or smiled in tenderness, he thought of the look, the voice, the smile of Madeline, and felt that one glance, one word, one smile of hers was worth all the joys that fairy-land could afford him, and bitterly he sighed and pined for home and her. Rosaura marked the change that had come over him, and when she asked the cause, no an |