Then will our hearts in concord beat When we in peace can freely meet In our ODD-FELLOWS' HALL! To ease each Brother's woes we see, We'll dry the tears from Widows' eyes, And spread abroad the gentle ties Of Friendship, Love and Truth, And pray that the ALMIGHTY will BENEVOLENT SOCIETIES. Ir men were what they might be, what they ought to be, and what they most certainly were destined by their Creator to be-benevolent and charitable, in fact, regarding one another as brothers of one and the same great family; if they were Christians in fact, and not merely by an outward show, external pomp and matter of forms, then the true Paradise Lost would be found again on earth, and abundance, happiness and virtue would be the lot of each and every member of the human family: where poverty, misery and crime now degrade mankind, and fill the pages of its history with horrors and attrocities. Benevolence, charity, friendship, &c., are found in every dictionarybut not in the hearts of all men; therefore good and wise men are compelled to enter into a separate covenant with the noble view to maintain the principles of Friendship, Love and Truth, at least among themselves; and to practice benevolence and charity towards mankind in general, but more particularly towards all those, who would become members of their associations, and most solemnly promise to be true and faithful in the performance and fulfilment of all the aforesaid heavenly principles and duties, and to do unto their brethren as they would wish their brethren to do to them. Thus, many centuries ago, the Masonic fraternity and that of Odd-Fellows, were called into existence by the aforesaid stubborn facts, viz:—a general want of benevolence, charity, friendship, love and truth in the human family at large; and I greatly err if both Orders have not done more real good to mankind, than most people are aware of and may be willing to acknowledge; and I am confident that no worthy member of either fraternity, was ever found and left in distress. I have seen men of different nations, languages and creeds, members of the aforesaid frater nities; which proves, conclusively, that they are not only free of and unbiased by national pride and clan prejudices, but also free and independent of religious fanaticism and proscription-regarding men as one grand family, whose members are equally entitled to as great a share of the comfort and happiness of this world as their intelligence and moral virtues will enable them to enjoy. The existence of such societies and the creation of similar new ones, although under different forms and denominations, proves beyond a shadow of doubt the utility of the former and the necessity of the latter; because benevolence and charity-friendship, love and truth, are not to be found in every individual of the human family; and they will most probably disappear entirely from the face of the globe, if those few men, in whose hearts these heavenly virtues are yet enshrined and revered, do not enter into a solemn compact to erect new temples to them, in which the true principles of benevolence and charity are not only taught, but also practiced in reality. If it be a fact that men in general are wanting in benevolence and charity towards one another, and, that the formation of societies to uphold and exercise these noble virtues, at least, among their own members, has become a direful necessity, then it most undoubtedly is the duty of all good and well-disposed men to join either one of the above-mentioned associations of old standing, known to, and established among all the civilized nations on the globe, or to join new ones, to be established on similar principles and with similar objects in view. The most simple and shortest way to obtain these objects, would be, according to my humble view on the subject, to join one or the other of the aforesaid fraternities, and in particular for every individual of such a fluctuating population as our's now is, and will be for years to come, not only because they are already permanently established all over the globe, but also because their age and long standing proves evidently that they have answered hitherto and will also answer in future, the objects for which they have been instituted. But if those, who are better pleased with something new and untried, have a different view on the subject, let them form as many new societies as they please, but for heaven's sake, let them be established on the broad basis of true benevolence and charity; accessible to all, and do not name them after a certain clod of earth on which a certain clan or tribe of men chanced to be born. Such narrow-hearted and clanish names are in direct opposition not only to true philanthropy, morality and republican equality, but also to the very institutions themselves. Receive every good and worthy individual of the human family as a member in such associations, without regard to where he drew his first breath. The true philanthropist regrets to see the people of these United States already too much divided and subdivided in Yankees and Southerners, in Middle States and Western men, in Democrats and Whigs, in Abolitionists and Slaveholders, and God only knows in how many different religious creeds, tenets and denominations, besides political and local subdivisions. We live, thank God, as yet in a republic under the most philanthropic form of government. We are republicans and ought to act as such. We must be but one people, if we love our free and happy institutions and desire them to be permanent, and a legacy to our descendants. We must be but one people, among whom the question-What countryman are you? ought to be entirely out of the question. We are all Americans, one and all without distinction-some by birth others by adoption, the native by nativity, the foreigner by predilection and adoption. As citizens of a republic we ought to know, acknowledge and aspire to no other distinctions but those acquired by and due to merit alone. We ought to respect ourselves as republicans too high, to designate either ourselves, our fellow-citizens or any of our institutions or associations, by the name of clan, party, religion or part of the globe; we ought to be but one people in all our efforts, sympathies and aspirations; neither English nor Irish, neither German nor French-nothing but Americans. St. Louis, Mo. W. S. S. THE PASTOR: A TALE O F FRANCE. BY MRS. C. M. SAWYER, OF NEW YORK. IN Orleans, an inland city of France interesting from its historical reminiscences, once lived a venerable clergyman by the name of St. Aubyn. He had grown old in the service of his people, to whom he was strongly attached, and who in return loved him and looked up to him as to a tender and affectionate father. Unselfish in his character to a remarkable degree, it had been the daily business of his life faithfully to perform the duties of his sacred office, visiting the sick, comforting the afflicted and, as far as lay in his power, relieving the necessities of the poor and destitute. His salary though by no means large was yet sufficient not only for his own wants, but to enable him also, by judicious management, to perform an amount of good that was almost incredible. He was a protestant in his faith, but without family, for although in his youth he had married a young and lovely wife, yet the union was not destined to be of long continuance. In the space of one short year after its consummation, his gentle Louise, together with her infant of a day, had died leaving him widowed and childless. It is not my purpose to delineate the long agony endured by St. Aubyn at this sorrowful and unexpected bereavement-it would be but a thrice told tale! Suffice it that his grief was deep and poignant; but time, the softener of every sorrow, at length alleviated his, and although he could never again feel the wish to renew the marriage tie, he was not long without channels into which to pour the strong and full tide of his affections. Pity, the handmaid of love, was his constant and abiding guest, and hand in hand with her, we went forth comforting, consoling, and relieving, wherever the children of misfortune were to be found. When his own means were insufficient for the exigencies of the case, he by his simple and touching eloquence so moved the hearts of the rich, that there was not a family in his whole parish who needed aid and received it not. The sick were faithfully nursed, the maimed were fed and clothed, and the widowed and orphaned so kindly cared for, that they forgot their sorrows and bereavements, and grew cheerful beneath the sunshine of renewed hope and prosperity. So the pastor's life went on in one long scene of peace and contentment. Years stole over him as gently as summer shadows steal over the waving grass, and the sun of his life promised to go down in unclouded beauty. But to the good man-he who has a feeling beart beating in his bosom, life cannot be all sunshine; there must, in the ordinary course of events, of necessity come many sorrowful days. So it was with St. Aubyn; and a change was about to pass over the placid calm of his lot, which required all the fortitude and resignation which can animate the christian's heart to support him under the trial. A frightful and contagious disease broke out in Orleans and raged with uncontrollable fury in every quarter of the city. Bidding defiance to all medical skill, it attacked every class of the community, sweeping alike unsparingly over the high and the low, the rich and the poor. Fear crept into the hearts of the strongest and the bravest, until like the veriest cowards, they shrunk trembling from the contact of their nearest friends, and in the secrecy of their chambers vainly sought to escape the grasp of the destroyer; for, as in the days when the last dread plague passed over the land of Egypt, so in those days of terror, there was scarce a house where there was not one dead. Most of those whose means enabled them to do so, fled from their houses and endeavoured to save their lives by seeking the fresh, pure air of some mountain solitude, or dwelling remote from the poisonous breath of the crowded and unclean city. But for the poor and destitute there was no such resource: money was imperiously necessary for such a removal-money which they had no means of procuring, and naught was left for them but to remain and die. Among the parishioners of St. Aubyn, as was then the case with most protestant societies of France, the rich were far less numerous than the poor; most of them earning their daily bread by their daily toil, and few having any means reserved for a season of emergency. Those who had, profited by their good-fortune and fled; those who had not, sat sullenly down to await the visitation of the destroyer, and on these the plague fell with the most frightful violence. Then it was that the virtues of the good pastor shone out in all their native brilliancy. With none to assist him in his arduous labors, with none to cheer him in his hours of fearful trial,-hours when his heart was well-nigh fainting with despair, alone, unaided and unencouraged, he devoted himself to a mission of mercy, from which the boldest shrunk aghast. No toils or watches however great or protracted could weary him, no terrors of the pestilence could daunt him, but with his eyes fixed steadfastly on his one great object, he passed continually from house to house, now administering the cooling draught, now smoothing the weary pillow, and now offering up the last prayer at the couch of the parting soul!-every where when most needed, and every where comforting, consoling and relieving. No means within his power were left unemployed by which he could hope to alleviate the agonies, and soften the horrors of the fearful scene. Business, save that of the pawn-broker, the coffin-maker and the grave-digger, had totally ceased; money, now that the rich were gone, was a thing almost unknown, and want soon added its stings to the terrors of the plague. Wherever he went, St. Aubyn carried with him food and medicine, and even clothing, while his kindness soothed and his courage. strengthened the last hours of the miserable sufferer. So days and weeks went by-the means of the pastor were fast fading away, and still the pestilence abated not. He sold all his valuables, he sacrificed his books, he parted with every household utensil which he could possibly spare, and distributed the proceeds among the wretched victims around him, until all was at last gone, and he felt that the sorest need was yet to come. Gaunt famine now stalked hand in hand with disease, and the good shepherd beheld his flock falling around him, like leaves that had been nipped by an untimely frost. He heard the cries of those who had no helper, and despair for a time took hold of him. But he called on that God whose ear is ever open to the voice of supplication, and he was not unanswered. Peace like a dove once more descended upon his fainting spirit, and a new dawn of hope seemed suddenly opened before him. He remembered having recently heard of a retired seaman who resided not far from his own dwelling, and who was reputed to be immensely wealthy. He had been for years commander of his own vessel, and had made many prosperous voyages to every quarter of the globe, until finally having amassed a fortune that would satisfy the most boundless ambition, he withdrew from the dangers and fatigues of the sea and settled down in Orleans with the intention of spending there the remainder of his days. But many as were the attractions of his wealth, he was a man with whom few of the virtuous and respectable dared to associate. Violent and reckless in his temper, dissolute in his habits, and vulgar and profane in his language, he was insolent and repulsive to all and conciliating with none. Rumor had of late also more than whispered that he was a successful gamester, and that his nights were generally spent in the unholy orgies of the gambling house and the brothel. Why he fled not from the city when others did so, it might be hard to tell; but there were not wanting those who asserted that in no other place could he have found such op portunities for indulging in his profligate and infamous habits as there. Certain it is that whatever might have been his motives for remaining where death was stalking abroad in his most hideous forms, his lawless and debasing life furnished ample grounds for the worst suspicions. Unpromising as this source might appear, it had no sooner occurred to St. Aubyn than he determined, although a total stranger, to avail himself of it and appeal to him. He was no believer in the doctrine of total depravity, for, vile and corrupt as the world may be, he still had faith that there is no heart so utterly hardened and encased in sin, as to have no point by which it may be reached and melted. Accordingly he proceeded early in the morning to the dwelling of Morière,-for by this name was the nabob known-and, announcing himself to the servant in attendance as a clergyman who wished to speak with Monsieur Morière, on a subject of great importance, awaites at the door his answer. The servant carried in his message, but instantly returned with the refusal of his master to receive him. But St. Aubyn was not to be thus rebuffed. He forced his way into the hall and utterly refused to leave the house without having first fulfilled the object of his visit. The servant, equally respecting the sanctity of the surplice, and fearing the wrath of his licentious master knew not what to do, but finally after long contention, and much running |