WE MEET UPON THE LEVEL AND WE PART UPON THE SQUARE. WE meet upon the level, and we part upon the squareWhat words of precious meaning those words Masonic are! Come, let us contemplate them-they are worthy of a thought In the very soul of Masonry those precious words are wrought. We meet upon the level, though from every station comeThe rich man from his mansion, and the poor man from his home; For the one must leave his heritage outside the Mason's door, While the other finds his best respect upon the checkered floor. We part upon the square, for the world must have its due; We mingle with the multitude-a faithful band, and true; But the influence of our gatherings in memory is green, And we long, upon the level, to renew the happy scene. There's a world where all are equal-we are journeying toward it fast, We shall meet upon the level there when the gates of Death are past, We shall stand before the Orient, and our Master will be there To try the blocks we offer with his own unerring square. We shall meet upon the level there, but never thence depart; There's a Mansion-'tis all ready for each faithful, trusting heart There's a Mansion and a welcome, and a multitude is there Who have met upon the level, and been tried upon the square. Let us meet upon the level, then, while laboring patient here Let us meet and let us labor, though the labor be severe; Hands round, ye faithful Masons, in the bright, fraternal chain ! We part upon the square below to meet in Heaven again. O! what words of precious meaning those words Masonic are We meet upon the level, and we part upon the square. LORD DUNDREARY ON "PWOVERBS.” A fellah once told me that another fellah wrote a book before he was born—I mean before the first fellah was born (of course the fellah who wrote it must have been born, else, how could he have written it ?)—that is, a long time ago-to pwove that a whole lot of pwoverbs and things that fellahs are in the habit of quoting were all nonsense. I should vewy much like to get that book. I-I think if I could get it at one of those spherical-no—globular— no, that's not the word-circle-circular-yes, that's it— circulating libwawies (I knew it was something that went round)—I think if I could just borrow that book from a circulating libwawy-I'd—yes, upon my word now-I'd twy and wead it. A doothed good sort of book that, I'm sure. I-I always did hate pwoverbs. In the first place they, they're so howwibly confusing-I-I always mix 'em up together-somehow, when I twy to weckomember them. And besides, if evewy fellah was to wegulate his life by a lot of pwoverbs, what-what a beathly sort of uncomfortable life he would lead! I remoleckt-I mean remember-when I was quite a little fellah-in pinafores-and liked wasbewwy jam and—and a lot of howwid things for tea-there was a sort of collection of illustwated pwoverbs hanging up in our nursery at home. They belonged to our old nurse-Sarah-I think-and she had 'em fwamed and glazed. "Poor Richard's," I think she called 'em--and she used to say-poor dear-that if evewy fellah attended to evewything Poor Richard wote, that he'd get vewy wich, and l-live and die-happy ever after. However-it-it's vewy clear to me that he couldn't have attended to them—himself, else, how did the fellah come to be called Poor Richard? I-I hate a fellah that pweaches what he doesn't pwactice. Of courth, if what he said was twue, and he'd stuck to it-he-he'd have been calledRich Richard-Stop a minute-how's that? Rich Richard? Why that would have been too rich. Pwaps that's the reason he pweferred being Poor. How vewy wich! But, as I was saying, these picture pwoverbs were all hung up in our nursery, and a more uncomfortable set of makthims-you never wead. For instance, there was one vewy nonthensical pwoverb which says: 'A B-BIRD IN THE HAND IS WORTH TWO IN THE BUSII." Th-the man who invented that pwoverb must have been a b-born idiot. How the dooth can he t-tell the welative v-value of poultry in that pwomithcuous manner? Suppothe I've got a wobbing wed-bweast in my hand-(I nearly had the other morning-but he flew away-confound him!)-well-suppothe the two birds in the bush are a bwace of partwidges-you-you don't mean to t-tell me that that wobbin wed-bweast would fetch as m-much as a bwace of partwidges? Abthurd! P-poor Richard can't gammon me in that sort of way. LOOK ALOFT.-J. Lawrence. IN the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale If the friend who embraced in prosperity's glow, Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye, Should they who are nearest and dearest thy heart- And, O! when Death comes in his terrors, to cast In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart, THE MODERN CAIN.-E. Evans Edwards. "Am I my brother's keeper ?" Long ago In vain, in vain! that sleeper never woke. His murderer fled, but on his brow was fixed A stain which baffled wear and washing. As he fled A voice pursued him to the wilderness. "Where is thy brother, Cain ?” "Am I my brother's keeper ?” O, black impiety that seeks to shun That cries with the ever warning voice : "Am I my brother's keeper ?” Cain, Cain, "Where is thy brother?" Every sight and sound I saw a man He seized the cup, he drank the poison down, l'hey buried him-ah! little recks it where To pray by that unhallowed mound; no hand Once had he friends, A happy home was his, and love was his. United in thy love, and may we meet, When life's last scenes are o'er, around the throne." Thus prayed he-thus lived he-years passed, And o'er the sunshine of that happy home, A cloud came from the pit; the fatal bolt A happy home was ruined; want and woe He died! Cain! Cain! where is thy brother now! |