Its language all people can understand, its spirit all minds can grasp, its moral laws all people can obey, its truths appeal not only to the lowly and simple, but also to the highest intellect, they win the spontaneous approval, not only of the pious, but also of the most skeptical. At a literary gathering at the house of the Baron von Holbach, where the most celebrated atheists of the age used to assemble, the gentlemen present were one day commenting on the absurd and foolish things with which the Bible abounds. The French encyclopedist, Diderat, a materialist himself, startled his friends by his little speech: "But it is wonderful, gentlemen, it is wonderful. I know of no man who can speak or write with such ability. I do not believe that any of you could compose such narratives, or could have laid down such sublime moral laws, so simple, yet so elevating, exerting so wide an influence for good, and awakening such deep and such reverential feelings, as does the Bible." Diderat spoke the truth. Place the most celebrated systems of philosophies or the most famous code of ethics, into the hands of the masses, and see whether the subtleties of their learning, the elegance of their diction will touch their hearts as deeply as does the Bible. All the genius and learning of the ancient world, all the penetration of the profoundest philosophers, have never been able to produce a book that was as widely read, as voluminously commented on, as dearly loved, as this book, neither have all the law-givers of all the lands, and of all ages, been able to produce a code of law and ethics that was universally and as implicitly followed as that of the law-giver, Moses.

The Bible is an emblem of Odd-Fellowship, because it is the Odd-Fellows' text-book. Here we get our doctrines for faith and our rules for practice in all the relations of life. As Odd-Fellows, we believe the Bible is the word of God, because in their enmity humanity has never been able to destroy it or rob it of its power; nor have any who reject it given us a book to take its place. The intellect and culture of our day can not improve the teachings of Christ, nor set before us a nobler ideal life. As Odd-Fellows, we believe in this beautiful emblem, because our hearts attest its truth. We need not be told that the landscape is beautiful, or that the song of birds is sweet. When we see the one and hear the other, we know it. As the eye discerns the beautiful, and the ear discerns sweet sounds, so the heart of man discerns the divineness of the Bible teachings and sets its seal to their truth. As Odd-Fellows, we believe in the scriptures, because the experiences of all true believers, of whatever name, or age, or country, prove it to be the "bread of life" and the "water of life" to a needy and suffering world. Age by age the evidence of experience is accumulating, and growing stronger, and for a soul to distrust the revelations made unto it, and the divine leading of the human race, is as though the eye should disbelieve in the sun shining at mid-day. We recognize the Bible as a precious boon to man, the gift of the Great Father above. It is a "light to our feet and a lamp to our path." It is a compass whose never-failing needle directs us safely across the desert sands of life, and through the dark labyrinths of an evil world, and its precious promises gives us comfort while we bear the burdens and endure the sorrows, pain and anguish incident to human life.

Since our organization is founded on the Bible, we should, as Odd-Fellows, become more conversant with it. Many evils creep into our lodges that could be avoided if we used the Bible more in our talks for the good of the order. Intemperance is an evil that does us much harm. What does the Bible say in regard to it? Proverbs, xx, 1, says: "Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging, and whosoever is deceived thereby is not wise." Proverbs, xxi, 17: "He that loveth pleasure shall be a poor man; he that loveth wine and oil shall not be rich." Ah me! what dead courage, what piles of bleached bones that was once the concentration of all that was great and lofty and true. What aspirations, ambitions, enterprise and resolutions—what genius, integrity and all that belongs to true manhood—have been swept from the tablets of time into oblivion by King Alcohol and his horrid half brothers, the gambling hell and the brothel.

A few years ago a noted wild-beast tamer gave a performance with his pets in one of the leading theatres. He put his lions, tigers, leopards and hyenas through their part of the entertainment, awing the audience by his awful nerve and his control over them. As a closing act to the performance, he was to introduce an enormous boa-constrictor, thirty feet long. He had bought it when it was only two days old, and for twenty years he handled it daily, so that it was considered perfectly harmless and completely under his control. He had seen it grow from a tiny reptile, which he often carried in his bosom, into a fearful monster. The curtain rose upon an Indian woodland scene. The wild, weird strains of an oriental band steal through the trees. A rustling noise is heard, and a huge serpent is seen winding its way through the undergrowth. It stops. Its head is erect. Its bright eyes sparkle. Its whole body seems animated. A man emerges from the heavy foliage. Their eyes meet. The serpent quails before the man—man is victor. The serpent is under control of a master. Under his guidance and direction it performs a series of fearful feats. At a signal from the man it slowly approaches him and begins to coil its heavy folds around him. Higher and higher do they rise, until man and serpent seem blended into one. Its hideous head is reared above the mass. The man gives a little scream, and the audience unite in a thunderous burst of applause, but it freezes upon their lips. The trainer's scream was a wail of death agony. Those cold, slimy folds had embraced him for the last time. They crushed the life out of him, and the horror-stricken audience heard bone after bone crack as those powerful folds tightened upon him. Man's playful thing had become his master. His slave for twenty years had now enslaved him.

The following is a will left by a drunkard of Oswego, New York State: "I leave to society a ruined character and a wretched example. I leave to my parents as much sorrow as they can, in their feeble state, bear. I leave to my brothers and sisters as much shame and mortification as I could bring on them. I leave to my wife, a broken heart—a life of shame. I leave to each of my children, poverty, ignorance, a low character, and the remembrance that their father filled a drunkard's grave." It behooves us as Odd-Fellows to ponder well the lessons taught by our order. Unless the principles that are laid down are fully carried out, we can never be Odd-Fellows in spirit and in truth. Today is our opportunity; act now. Have you ever seen those marble statues fashioned into a fountain, with the clear water flowing out from the marble lips or the hand, on and on forever? The marble stands there, passive, cold, making no effort to arrest the gliding water. So it is that time flows through the hands of men, swift, never pausing until it has run itself out, and the man seems petrified into a marble sleep, not feeling what it is that is passing away forever. And the destiny of nine men out of ten accomplishes itself before they realize it slipping away from them, aimless, useless, until it is too late. "Be such a man, live such a life, that if every man were such as you, and every life a life like yours, this earth would be God's Paradise."

Remember that no good the humblest of us has wrought ever dies. There is one long, unerring memory in the universe, out of which nothing dies. A chill autumn wind, blowing over a sterile plain, bore within its arms a little seed, torn with ruthless force from its matrix on a lofty tree, and dropped the seed upon the sand to perish. A bright winged beetle, weary with flight and languid with the chilly air, rested for a moment on the arid plain. The little seed dropped Aeolus served to satisfy the hunger of the beetle, which presently winged its flight to the margin of a swift running stream that had sprung from the mountain side, and cleaving a bed through rocks of granite, went gaily laughing upon its cheery way down to the ever rolling sea. Sipping a drop of the crystal flood, the beetle crawled within a protecting ledge, and, folding its wings, lay down to pleasant dreams. The Ice King passed along and touched the insect in its sleep. Its mission was fulfilled; but the conflict of the seasons continued until the white destroyer melted in the breath of balmy spring. And then a sunbeam sped to the chink wherein the body of the insect lay, and searching for the little seed entombed, but not destroyed, invited it to "join the Jubilee of returning life and hope." Under the soft wooing of the peopled ray, the little seed began to swell with joy, tiny rootlets were developed within the body of the protecting beetle, a minute stem shot out of its gaping mouth, and lo! a mighty tree had been carried from the desert, saved from the frosts of winter, nurtured and started upon its mission of life and usefulness by an humble insect that had perished with the flowers. The agent had passed away, but, building better than he knew, the wide-spreading tree remained by the margin of the life-giving stream, a shelter and a rest to the weary traveler upon life's great highway through many fretful centuries.

A child abandoned by its mother to perish in an Egyptian marsh may become the instrument to deliver a nation from bondage, and an unostentatious man, unknown to fortune and to fame, may become the agent of a mighty work destined to benefit the human race as long as it may last upon the earth. George Eliot says, "Our deeds are like children that are born to us; they live and act apart from our own will. Nay, children may be strangled, but deeds never; they have an indestructible life, both in and out of our consciousness."

No man has come to true greatness who has not felt in some degree that his life belongs to his race, and that what God gives him he gives him for mankind. The different degrees of consciousness are really what make the different degrees of greatness in men.

While Odd-Fellowship does not claim to be a religious institution, yet so closely is it allied to Christianity that we deem it proper to discuss these questions. I quote from Dr. Lyman Abbott's lecture on "Christianity and Orientalism," as follows: "Religion as a thought has four questions to answer: First, What is God? Second, What is man? Third, What is the relation between God and man? Fourth, What is the life which man is to live when he understands and enters into that relation? There is no other question; there is nothing left. What is God? What is man? And how are men to live when they have entered into that relationship? Now, Christianity has its answer to each one of those four questions. God—one true, righteous, loving, helpful Father of the whole human race. God—love. And love, what is that? Such a life as Jesus Christ lived on the earth. What is man? Man is in the image of God. If he is not, if he fails in that, he fails being a man. He is in the image of God, and not until he has come to be in the image, of God will he be a man. What is a statue? I can see a nose, a mouth, appearing out of the marble block. No, it is not a statue, it is a half-done statue. Wait until the sculptor is through, then you will see the statue. Not till God is done will you see a man, and you never saw one except as you saw him in Jesus of Nazareth. And what is the relation between this God and this man? It is the relationship of the most intimate fellowship that the human soul can conceive; one life dwelling in the other life, and filling the other life full of His own fullness. You can not get any closer relationship to God than that. When this fullness has been realized, when you and I have the fullness of God in us, when God has finished, the man life will result. Just such a life as Christ lived, with all the splendor of self-sacrifice, with all the glory of service, with all the magnificent heroism, with all the enduring patience."



BROTHER UNDERWOOD'S DREAM.

Being invited some time since to deliver an address before a benevolent institution, and being pressed amid the daily business cares which surrounded, I was fearful I should not be able to command sufficient time for preparation of the task. Returning home, I retired to my bed, my thoughts still keeping themselves in active motion in their endeavor to "think out" what I should say. In this state of mind I fell asleep, and soon was in dreamland. I dreamed that death had taken place, and as I approached the gates of the unseen world, I was met by an angel, who kindly tendered his services in escorting me through the realms of Heaven. Being a stranger there, I gladly and gracefully accepted his kind invitation. Proceeding along the pearly streets, enraptured with the beauties which surrounded me, I saw a multitude of people, the number of whom figures fail to compute; but I noticed there were dividing lines, and they were gathered in companies. Observing a beautiful body of water in the distance, and a gathering of one company by its banks, I inquired of my escort who they were. He replied they were Baptists, and said "they always keep near the water's edge." Just beyond was another company, which my faithful attendant informed me was a Presbyterian band, and that their infant baptism views still clinging to them was one of the causes of their "corralling" together. Just then we heard loud and prolonged shouting and singing of the hymn "Shall we gather at the river," and, pointing to the spot from whence it came, near a beautiful stream not far off, the angel said: "Those are the Methodists. They never cease shouting, and so loud are they at times that they annoy the Episcopalians, whom you see on the opposite side of the stream, in their discussion of the doctrine of apostolic succession." Seeing still other gatherings farther on, I was anxious to go thither and mingle with them; but my guide remonstrated, saying: "You can see from this standpoint the representatives of all churches. There, said he, are the Catholics and the Jews, the Universalists and the Congregationalists, the Unitarians and the Moravians, all with their varied 'creeds,' and if you go that way you will be surrounded by them, each trying to prove that you got to Heaven through their peculiar doctrine or faith."

Turning to the right, we moved on, only to pass to more gorgeous and beautiful apartments, where the streets were golden. Here I observed another multitude, but it was one body. "This," said the angel, "is the gathering of the various priests and pastors, rectors and rabbis, and the ministers and the elders who are trying to unite on some common ground upon which their congregations (which we had passed) might stand, where there would be but 'One Lord, one faith, one baptism.'" Gal., iv, 5. For, said the angel, until then, they go not up with their churches and creeds to higher seats above, for "neither circumcision availeth anything, nor uncircumcision." Gal., v, 6.

Proceeding on our way we approached a magnificent archway, over the lintels of which was inscribed, "The Christian's Home in Glory." The grandeur of this new apartment exceeded all the rest, a description of which lies beyond the power of words, "For eye hath not seen, nor the ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love him." I Cor., ii, 9. This I found to be the abode of the apostles, martyrs and Christians of all ages. Here was Paul and Peter, and the prophets, the thief on the cross and Bunyan, Lazarus and Baxter, Stephen and Father Abraham, Martha and Mary and the widow who gave her two mites. Pausing, I beheld, with banners above, an innumerable number "marching on," with Lincoln and Lovejoy, Lyman, Beecher and John Brown in the advance, and on the banners was inscribed, "These are they which came out of great tribulation." Rev., viii, 14. The angel said: "That is the multitude of poor slaves from the cotton fields of earth, doing homage to their deliverers." "They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat." Rev., vii, 16. Here I also found Watts and Wesley singing, while Bliss (who had but lately been translated from earth to heaven by way of Ashtabula bridge), catching the inspiration, was setting the songs of Heaven to the music of earth. Gazing on the many thrones and crowns, there were some of peculiar brightness. I looked on one, and what was the inscription? Was it, I was a Methodist? No. I was immersed? No. I was a Jew? No. But rather this: "Because I delivered the poor that cried and fatherless, and him that had none to help him, the blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me, and I caused the widow's heart to sing with joy." Job, xxix, 12, 14. And this was the crown of Job. And there was another just beyond, and I read the inscription. Was it, I was a Presbyterian? No. I prayed by quantity? No. I was a Universalist? No. But "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and the widow in their affliction and to keep himself unspotted from the world." James, i, 27. And while the memory and name of Peabody, the philanthropist, is and shall be honored and loved for ages to come in two hemispheres, his crown of glory in heaven is second to none. But there was still another. It was worn by one of queenly beauty, and she sat upon her throne; the splendor of her robe and the brilliancy of her apparel dimmed my vision. I read her inscription, set, as it was, in Heaven's choicest diamonds. Was it, I was an Episcopalian? No. I was baptized? No. I was a Catholic? No. But thus: "I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye clothed me; I was sick, and ye visited me; I was in prison, and ye came unto me." Matt., xxv, 35, 36. And before her throne stood thousands who had come up from the battle fields of the Crimea, and the widows and orphans, the lame and the halt, the blind and the deaf from the streets and alleys of London, and as they shouted their hallelujahs before her, they carried banners on which were emblazoned these words: "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." Matt., xxv, 40. And the crown of Florence Nightingale glistens brightly in Heaven. Passing on, and observing a large number of vacant thrones and crowns, I naturally asked, for whom are these? The angel replied: "For the Christians of earth; the managers of the 'homes' for the friendless, the widows and the orphans, and those who, regardless of their respective church creeds and doctrines, like their Master when he was on earth, go about doing good." The angel vanished, and I awoke.

MORAL.—Brethren, in our tenacity for church creeds, let us not fail in the practice of a little daily Christianity. "Finally, brethren, if there be any virtue and if there be any praise, think on these things." Gal., iv, 8.



THE IMPERIAL VIRTUE

Though sophists may argue, or philosophers prate, The evils of lying they can not mitigate. Our God's law is truth! Who then dares justify A falsehood? Remember, a lie is a lie! Let this he our motto, in old age or youth: "All lying is sinful, so, stick to the truth!"

"Truth we accept as a cardinal virtue, and require its practice on the part of all the votaries of Odd-Fellowship while traveling the rugged journey of life in search of reward and rest." Truth is above all things else, and every Odd-Fellow knows full well that his obligation binds him to speak the truth. Remember a lie is never justifiable. It does the person more harm than that he seeks to avoid by telling a falsehood would do. "What is truth?" This question of Pilate is in the air today. It is repeated on every side and in every department of intellectual pursuit. It always pays to tell the truth under all circumstances. Abraham came near bringing a whole nation into trouble in lying about his wife. Be it said to the honor of President Grant, that once a visitor called at the White House wishing to see him. The door-keeper told the servant to tell the visitor the president was not in. General Grant, who was very busy, heard what was said. He called out, "Say no such thing. I don't lie myself, and won't allow anyone to lie for me." Tell the truth always. "I said in my haste all men are liars." Psalms, cxvi, 2.

It was a very sweeping assertion that the Psalmist made, and one that incriminates us all. He probably did not mean that all men were liars in the sense that everybody always spoke untruthfully, but that the great majority of people would, under certain stress of circumstances, equivocate to suit the conditions of the occasion. If that was what he meant, he uttered a sage truth when he said very hastily one day: "All men are liars." Though a hasty utterance, facts seem to prove its truthfulness. The greatest mischief-maker in the world today is the liar. I honestly believe that lying causes more real anguish and suffering than any other evil. It would be effort wasted to spend much time in proof of this assertion of David's, so we will attempt to classify briefly, that each of us may know where he belongs. First, there is the deliberate lie. This species needs no particular definition. All are acquainted with it, all have met it, some have uttered it. You all know it when you see it; it is barefaced and shameless; it reeks with the mire of falsity and is foul with the slime of the pit infernal. This lie contains not an atom of truth, is tinctured not with a grain of fact, but is a full-blooded, thoroughbred, out and out lie. Then we have the campaign lie. A large, open-faced fellow, loud-voiced and blatant; bold, daring and sweeping; it claims everything, asserts everything, denies anything.

During the campaign this lie is a factor. Men buy papers to read it, and go miles to hear it. The campaign lie is the greatest worker in the canvass for votes. He pats the workman on the back and promises to fill his pail with sirloin steak and fresh salmon, when, if the other man is elected, he will have to carry liver and codfish. He grasps the merchant strongly by the hand and promises him larger sales and better profits in case his party gets into power; he enters the magnate's office and promises him increased dividends and no strikes; he promises everything till after election, when he has no more promises to make.

There is the polite lie, too. A very gentle affair this. A very proper lie, clothed with the attire of an elegant etiquette and of graceful form. It is never harsh and never rude, but smooth as oil, as gentle as a zephyr. The number of polite lies that are told every day are legion. It would be useless to attempt to classify them, worse than useless to try to enumerate them. They are of all sizes, colors, descriptions and shapes. They have much in common, but differ widely in particular. No locality is destitute of this venerable and classic falsehood. The ancients used it, the moderns still cling to it; the poor find it handy, the rich could not keep house without it; it abounds in every clime and thrives in every latitude. The polite hostess says to the departing guest: "We have been delighted by your visit; do us the favor to come again," when she sincerely hopes that most any catastrophe may overtake her rather than another visit from this same personage. There are the every-day expressions, 'Not at home,' which the housemaid is instructed to give the caller; and a score of other social lies which in truth deceive nobody, nine times out of ten. Society would lose little and gain much if the polite lie could be banished, and every man say what he thought and speak as he felt.

Another lie I will notice is the business lie. The business lie is a very matter of fact lie. It sounds well. There are some genuine bankrupt sales, of course; there are a few bona fide smoke, fire and water mark-downs undoubtedly, but there are more advertised in a week than there are failures and fires in a year. Good, staple merchandise will usually bring its value, and he who advertises an unheard of bargain has generally set a trap for the unwary. One class of goods in the window marked a certain price, an inferior class on the bargain counter at the same figure. You bargain for a piece of furniture at a surprisingly low figure; when it is delivered you have every reason to suppose that it is like what you bought in appearance alone. A roll of cloth marked "all wool," it is half cotton, and the rest shoddy. The business lie, though found so often, is never the friend of merchant or purchaser. It is the foe of all honest transactions. Office, salesroom and storehouse would be better without it; proprietor, clerk and purchaser would thrive better if rid of it.

The lie of gossip. If by some power, human or divine, the gossiping tongue could be silenced and the tattling mouth effectually closed, half of the evil of this world would already be stopped, and the other would commence to languish for want of patronage. The lie of gossip is the blackest of them all. The blackest of all the black horde, the very worst of the whole evil troop; insinuating, sly and crafty, it creeps around with a serpent's stealth, and carries beneath its tongue the deadly poison of ten thousand adders. The venom can be extracted from the cobra's fangs, but no power on earth can tame the tongue of an unprincipled gossip. Some lies you can kill, but the lie of gossip is imperishable. You may clip its wings, but its flight is unhindered; you may cut off its head, but two will grow out in its place; you may crush it to earth beneath the heel of denial. Let it alone and possibly the dirty, contemptible, infamous thing will die; touch it not and it may droop and languish; do not chase it and it may grow weak for want of exercise.

Oh, my dear reader, above all things, don't have your life a lie, your career a falsehood. Be no hypocrite, live no lie, and the God of all truth will see something in you to admire if you live truthfully and honestly before all men. Truth is a sure pledge not impaired, a shield never pierced, a flower that never dieth, a state that feareth no fortune, and a port that yields no danger. We can not build a manly character unless we are in possession of the imperial virtue, truth. Ah! truth is the diamond for which the candid mind ever seeks. It is the sanction of every appeal that is made for the good and the right. It may be crushed to earth, it may be long in achieving victory, but it is omnipotent and must triumph at last. Christ brought truth into the world. Truth, then, is a personal, experimental and practical thing. It is a thing of the heart, and not mere outward forms; a living principle in the soul, influencing the mind, employing the affections, guiding the will, and directing as well as enlightening the conscience. It is a supreme, not a subordinate matter, demanding and obtaining the throne of the soul-giving law to the whole character, and requiring the whole man and all his conduct to be in subordination. Truth blends with every occupation. It is noble and lofty, not abject, servile and groveling; it communes with God, with holiness, with Heaven, with eternity and infinity. Truth is a happy, and not a melancholy thing, giving a peace that passeth understanding, and a joy that is unspeakable and full of glory. And it is durable, not a transient thing, passing with us through life, lying down with us on the pillow of death, rising with us at the last day, and dwelling in our souls in Heaven as the very element of eternal life. Such is truth, the sublimest thing in our world, sent down to be our comforter and ministering angel on earth.

It is plainly God's intention, as in nature and in history, that our human life should grow better and more joyous as it advances, and that the best shall not be at the first, but shall wait until we are ready for it. The highest and largest blessings can come to men only when the men are fitted to hold and to use them. If you are going to give a man a purse or a diamond you can thrust it into his hand in his youth, or on the street, even when he is asleep; but if you would give to him a great truth or virtue, if you would make him a noble character, you must wait upon the man's growth, and be content if after many years you see only a flash of what you would give him appearing. Step by step, through all the gradations, we travel, and if faithful to truth, Christ will make in us a perfect manhood, and of us a perfect society. His gift is so great, vital and complex, that He can not bestow it all in the beginning. He would make our life an increasingly joyous life, and give us the best of its wine at the last of its feast. Christ would have us always increasingly hopeful and joyous, and never of sad countenance. All our faculties were designed to minister to our joy. All the great world of life below is a happy world. The children of the air and the water are all baptized into joy. Even the solitary creatures that carry their narrow houses with them have their joys, which are well known to their intimate acquaintances. So in the world of adult man we find the joy of life disproportionate to condition and faculty. In the faces of the men we meet on the streets we see many scars and dark lines of storm and care; only seldom do the faces we meet there wear the rainbow. Men are without joy because they have violated the laws of nature, they have subordinated their manly powers, reason and conscience to their animal instincts; they have lived by wrong theories and wrong methods, and for unmanly ends, and thus have exhausted the joy of life's banquet.

A man can have deep and continuous joy only if his life is continuously rational and progressively manly. He must put away childish things and live for truth and right, for love and immortal virtue. If our hearts sadden as our years increase and our thoughts widen, it is because there has been a defect in our vision and a sophistry in the logic of our conduct. If the growing corn comes only to the blade and to the ear, and not to the full golden corn in the ear, we may be sure it is because there has been something wrong in our gardening. Christ comes into our wasting life to give us a new, a higher and a better joy; to give us new truth, new faith, new arguments, new motives, new impulses and new joys. Christ gives us the Heavenly Father, and thus lifts us into the dignity and beatitude of a divine nature, relationship and destiny. Man is a child of the skies, and can not find rest complete and joy abiding in anything less or lower. Bearing now the image of the earthly, we must go on to bear the image of the heavenly. To have our manly joy ever increasing we must keep the heavenly in sight and take our way from it.

Christ brings us into the living alliance with forces and personalities that are spiritual, and thus makes us strong to resist all animal temptations and those impulses toward greed and wrong which, if indulged, drain our life of its manly felicities. He would have us lift our manly cups to God, and make their rims to touch the heavens. Christ would have us to live for other's welfare and to know the joy of duty and of sacrifice. It is the man who is living for wife, and child, and neighbor, who has flung himself with all his might into the carrying forward of some great cause that blesses his fellow-men, who knows the true and increasing joy of the manly life. The happiest woman in the world is the mother who is living for her child. It is in working out the salvation of other people that we find the true joy of our own. It is this joy that carries the martyr through his fiery tasks with a song and a shout. To be able at the end of our days to look up to God and say, "I have finished the work thou gavest me to do," is to have the best wine at the last of our feast. We must have joy; it is indispensable. It makes us healthy and strong and enables us to be of some use in the world. It is so necessary to our best becoming and doing that we must put away everything that increases it. We must have the joy of truth and virtue, of duty and sacrifice, of hope and love, which is the joy of the eternal life. Christ thus holds out to us a joy that lasts, and one that satisfies forever.

Jesus was no cynic, no ascetic, and no fanatic. He loved the great outward world, and was the friend of all men. He was hated only by the Pharisees, if to these He spoke sharply, His words to the children were sweet as a mother's, and in His words about the birds and the flowers you hear the tones of a lover. He loved the lakes of sweet Galilee, her hills, her fields and her olive groves; and among them often took His disciples apart to rest awhile. Adopt Christ's views of God; of the future; Christianize your opinions, your character and your conduct, and you will have manly joy even in the midst of sorrow. Christ lived much in communion with God. He lived much out of doors, in the fields and among trees, the birds and the flowers.

We must come back to nature. Happy the man who owns a piece of ground in the country and lives on it betimes, where he can hear the robins singing their hymns and the winds chanting their litanies; where he can see the sun rise and feel the hush of the hills; where the spirit that is in the beautiful world can touch and bless him as it did the blessed Christ.

Brothers, I wish you great joy. Live in the constant sense of the Heavenly Father's loving presence, and of nature's veracity and friendly intention. Distrust all doctrines, all opinions and all ways of living that destroy manly joyousness. Never lose sight of the fact that a noble life is a truthful life. Truth is a trust. He who has discovered any portion of useful truth has something in trust for mankind. God is the author of truth, and when man seeks this imperial virtue and acquires it, he is in possession of great power.

This brings us to the final practical thought. This power must be appropriated. The cable car that is unattached to the cable will make no progress and stand still forever, even though the engines in the power house glow with heat, and the cable, gliding along in the center of the track not two feet away, is laden down with power. The cable car must close its grappling iron and grip the cable before progress can be made. It must come in contact with the power. An electric lamp will swing dark and unlighted while all the other lamps about it send forth enlightening rays, and all the dynamos in the world may be revolving in the engine house, sending a surging current within a few inches of the isolated lamp, and all in vain unless it come in contact with the power. You must turn the switch and let the current flow in, and then the lamp will itself shine and will illumine its surroundings like the rest. So, in like manner, if we are to make progress in this life, we must lay hold of the cable. We must come in contact with the Divine. If we do not, the power of God is of no avail to us. If we would be lights in the world, we must come in contact with the Divine spirit, we must unbar the doors to our hearts and let the current of divine power and love flow into our lives and illumine them.

The great design of Odd-Fellowship is to improve the morals and manners of men, to promote their interest, well being and happiness. Great prudence is demanded in our daily life and conversation. We should be actuated by a realizing sense of our position, and by example, action and generous thought, recommend our cause to the consideration of others. We should persevere for the attainment of every commendable virtue, to raise the mind from the degrading haunts of intemperance and folly; we should be distinguished for usefulness to society and the community at large. A good Odd-Fellow must necessarily be an upright and useful member of the community. The precepts inculcated are calculated to stimulate to the faithful performance of every moral and relative duty; and an individual who holds a standing with us, and is careless and negligent of these things, is a reproach to the Order—they wear the livery, and bow before the same shrine, but in the heart and practice they belie their profession. Profanity, intemperance and every species of immorality are rigidly discountenanced. We have pledged ourselves to aid in diffusing the principles of brotherly love throughout the world. We have assumed the office of guarding the holy flame which burns on the altar of benevolence, and we are bound to cherish its principles. That brother is recreant to every honorable feeling who can trifle with the solemn pledge he has taken.

A duty we owe to the community is to cultivate the principle of virtue, to lend holy serenity to the mind, and shed around a halo of light and glory to direct the steps of others in virtue, to happiness and greatness. The man who treads only in virtue's ways, when every act is honest, acquires the confidence and friendship of others, thus benefiting others, and thus benefiting the community, which, also, the center of another circle, continues this influence to those that surround it, purifying the thought, emboldening the idea and elevating the man. How grand is the position Odd-Fellowship now occupies—a world of honesty in a world of deceit, with a character strictly virtuous and solely dependent upon its members for the perpetuity of that character.

It depends upon the brethren to be virtuous, upright, honest and benevolent, thus sustaining in its purity the noble reputation it now enjoys, which will continue a bright and shining star in the constellation until time shall be no more, when it will be perpetuated in the glorious light of eternity. Amid the wrecks of institutions and powerful interests that were a short time since thought to be impregnable against all assaults, the Independent Order of Odd-Fellows still maintains its vantage ground, and bears its banners proudly up. With its doors thrown so widely open to applicants for admission, composed as it is of nearly every shade of thought or educational influence, whether of sect or party, with all the infirmities incident to human nature, modifying by their weakness its true purposes, or retarding its advancement, its unity and moral force, its stability and progress are truly wonderful. Its bond of cohesion, so frail and yet so potent, is seemingly inexplicable. It is the recognition of the principles of brotherhood and fraternity, and the practice of their resultant virtues. To appreciate and practice is to attain strength. We are weak and frail. Odd-Fellowship is strong, and its principles are as eternal as the stars. The history of the past is little but a record of the domination of physical force. The law of might was the law of right. Violence and strife, outrages and wrong, have been for ages the common heritage of the race. Man has been the sport and victim of human passions, and notwithstanding the culture and the progress of the race, the earth yet resounds with the tread of armed combatants. Weary, sad-eyed toilers groan under the burden of war, countless millions are squandered upon the maintenance of non-producing, destructive hosts.

Widows and orphans, nay, the very angels in heaven, if they are permitted to look down upon us from their bright abodes in bliss, must mourn over the sad result of man's semi-barbarism, and his worship of the world's materialism. Long ere this mind should have been the controlling force in all nations claiming to be civilized. Pure intellect and its struggles, its aspirations for light and truth, should have relegated to the regions of barbarism and darkness mere animal contests. Not only so, but intellectual supremacy should have been in its turn subordinated, or crowned by true spiritual life. "God is a spirit, and they that worship Him must worship Him in spirit and in truth." Man would occupy a higher and happier position than he at present fills if he had earnestly co-operated with good agencies for the unfolding and development of his better nature.

The special mission of Odd-Fellowship is to incite and stimulate the dormant moral energies to action, to rouse the lethargic, encourage the timid, and to strengthen the aspirations for a nobler and a better life. Reaching out its helpful hand to the needy and distressed upon the one hand, and with the other battling with selfishness, intolerance and vice—with all that dwarfs man's moral nature—it appeals to something within us, to be earnest advocates of its principles, by making them a living faith and illustrating its beneficent purposes. If we make one man purer and better, and that man one's own self, we have done something toward the betterment of the world. The voices of the past and of the present all speak to us today. Men and brethren, let us hearken unto them, and putting our trust in God, let us march onward, side by side together, until the standards of our order are planted upon the highest summit of achievement, and as their glorious folds are illuminated by the Sun of Righteousness, may the simple yet the sublime legend emblazoned thereon be seen and acknowledged by the nations, as with uplifted eyes and reverent hearts they read, "God is our Father, and we are all brothers."



QUIET HOUR THOUGHTS.

Genuine love and sympathy are what wins the hearts of our fellows.

A Christian ought always to wake up in the morning in a good humor.

Remember that sorrow and pain soften the heart and sweeten the temper.

The young man who sees no beauty in a flower will make a mean husband.

If you love young people's work you will prove it by laboring and sacrificing for it.

Begin active work in your society at once, and do not fail to see that each one has something to do.

The fact that God gives any consideration to mere mites of humanity scattered about the surface of this little world of ours is conclusive proof of His infinity.

What a blessing it is that we can not always do what we wish to do, or have everything our own way.

Many words are no more an indication of depth of feeling and heart than are boiling bubbles in a frying pan.

There are some people who would scorn to keep bad company, but who think the worst kind of thoughts by the hour.

Do not wait for somebody else to put your society on the roll of honor. If you want a thing well done, do it yourself.

If the very hairs of our head are numbered, then why should we not consult the Father in regard to all our temporal affairs?

How the heart of God must yearn for the record of lives devoted to humanity. He asks no higher service of man than this.

The truly great man is that one who is satisfied if he is doing to the utmost limit of his capacity the thing which he has at hand.

God would never make the mistake of helping any young man or young woman who did not make every possible effort to help himself.

Do not make the mistake of thinking you are the biggest man in your society. Bigger men than you have died and have not been missed after forty-eight hours.

The girl who is caught by gold-headed canes, carried by heads with no brains on the inside and only pasted hair on the outside, has a pitiable future before her.

No pain, no privation, no sacrifice endured for Christ is a loss, but is rather a gain. Christ will not forget those who suffered for Him when He comes to make up His jewels.

Sunday manners are just like Sunday clothes; everybody can tell that you put them on for the occasion only, and know that you are not used to wearing them through the week.

The devil led the Prodigal Son away from a good home into the gay society of the world, and amused him with the pleasures of sin till he got him down, then he fed him on husks. That is the way he works.

A good many church members do not like to have it known how much they give for missions. They remind us of the man who said, when asked about the amount he gave, "What I give is nothing to nobody."

The reason why some people do not want the preacher to preach on personal sins, is because they are afraid he might say something against them.

When we see a man going to get water at his neighbor's well, we naturally suppose his own is dry. So when we see a Christian seeking the pleasures of the world, we suppose he no longer finds pleasure in religion.

To know which way a stream of water is flowing, you must not look at the little eddy, but at the main current, and to know which way a life is tending, you must not look at a single act, but at the whole trend of the life.

Satan likes to discourage people, to hinder them in the performance of their Christian duties, but remember that Christ has said, "My grace is sufficient for you." Go steadily forward in the line of duty and success will crown your efforts.

The light of a candle can not be seen very far in the light of a noon-day sun, but at night it may be seen for a long distance and may be a guiding star to some poor wanderer. And so, God sometimes darkens our way that we may shine.

The man who prays for the conversion of the heathen, and then spends a great deal more for tobacco than he gives to missions, is certainly not very consistent in his praying and giving.

Thomas Hood once wrote to his wife: "I never was anything, dearest, till I knew you; and I have been a better, happier, and more prosperous man ever since. Lay by that truth in lavender, sweetest, and remind me of it when I fail."

"I believe one reason why such numerous instances of erudition occur among the lower ranks is, that with the same powers of mind the poor student is limited to a narrower circle for indulging his passion for books, and must necessarily make himself master of the few he possesses before he can acquire more."—Walter Scott.

Christians should not forget that God uses human agency in the work of salvation. The only reason that there are not more saved, is because the people of God do not put themselves at his disposal for the work. The Lord wants all to be saved, but they will not be saved until the people of God are willing to let the Lord use them to bring the lost unto Himself.

Deceit and falsehood, whatever conveniences they may for a time promise or produce, are, in the sum of life, obstacles to happiness. Those who profit by the cheat distrust the deceiver; and the act by which kindness was sought puts an end to confidence.

The judges of the election can not tell the difference, when they are counting the votes, between the one cast by the minister of the gospel and the one cast by the saloon-keeper, when it has been cast for the same party. Vote for principle rather than for party.

"Let every man," said Sydney Smith, "be occupied in the highest employment of which his nature is capable, and die with the consciousness that he has done his best." If the highest employment is not to be found in our avocations, let us seek it in our leisure.

Beware of anger of the tongue; control the tongue. Beware of anger of the mind; control the mind. Practice virtue with thy tongue and with thy mind. By reflection, by restraint and control, a wise man can make himself an island which no floods can overwhelm. He who conquers himself is greater than he who in battle conquers a thousand men. He who is tolerant with the intolerant, mild with the fault-finders, and free from passion with the passionate, him I call indeed a wise man.

Brothers, keep posted in what your lodge is doing; knowing who is sick; inquire if there is not some widow in need of help; some poor orphan that should be clothed and provided with a home and sent to school. Remember that the widow was your brother's wife, and the children your brother's. Be a brother to the widow, and a kind uncle to your brother's children. There is plenty of work for you, and you agreed to do it. Cheer up the care-worn traveler on his pilgrimage—help the weak and weary, the lonely and sad ones. Time is passing by, and we have none too much of it in which to do our work. Remember that if we expect to complete our labor, now is the time; soon all will be over with us, and then all that we shall leave behind, by which to be remembered, will be the good or evil we have done. If we have done good it will be emblazoned on many hearts, and our names will be spoken of with reverence and love; but if we have done evil, our names will be blotted out of the memory of the good and true, and we despised.

"How is't the sons of men are sad, Oppressed with grief and care? How is't that some of this world's goods, Have such a scanty share? Why should the orphan's piercing cry, Assail so oft our ear, And thousands find the world to be All desolate and drear?

"We do not solve the mystery Of woes, the lot of man, But in the lodge we all unite To do the good we can. 'Tis there we learn the pleasing task To soothe the troubled breast, To educate the orphan child, And succor the distressed.

"Our motto—Friendship, Love and Truth— These e'er shall be our guide, Our aim shall be, of misery To stop the running tide."

We ask not what's a brother's faith, What country gave him birth; But open the door to every creed And nation of the earth.

Hail, Charity! Odd-Fellows all Bow down before thy shrine; They raise no altar, make no vow, That is not wholly thine.



LOVE SUPREME.

Love is the key to the human heart. If we want to have power with God and man, we must cultivate love. It is love that burns truth into the hearts of people. A man may be a good lawyer without love. There may be a good surgeon without love. A man may be a good merchant without love. But a man can not be a good Odd-Fellow or Christian without love. I would rather have my heart full of love than be even a prophet. If a man is full of love, Paul says, "he is greater than a prophet." A wife would rather live in a cabin with the love of her husband, than to live in a palace without it. If I love a man I will not cheat him or slander him or envy him. I pity people who are constantly looking out for slights. It is better to look on the bright side rather than the dark side of life. Love will lead us to look on the bright side. Some persons are always magnifying the faults of others. They use a magnifying glass in this business. If you want power with persons, speak as well as you can of them. Self-control is a great thing. This comes and stays through love. How many dwarfs there are in God's church now. They have not grown one inch spiritually in twenty years. If our hearts are full of love, we are bound to grow. Many other graces pass away, but love is eternal. The most selfish man is the most miserable man. A man may be miserly with his money, but no man can be miserly with love. Love creates love. The more we love, the more we will be loved. Love must show itself. Love demonstrates its presence by action. Our lives, after all, are mere echoes. I speak harsh to a man, and he will speak harsh to me. If a man has bad neighbors it his own fault. If a woman has bad servants it is her own fault. If we make others happy we will be happy ourselves. If you are not happy, go and buy all the poor people near you a turkey for Christmas. "He that noticeth others shall be noticed also himself." If you want to get your own soul above its own troubles, go and do good to some unhappy soul. If we do this work, I believe we will have to do it in this world. There will be no tears to wipe away, or sorrows to assuage, or afflictions to remedy in the other world. This work is for this world. It is a blessed work. It is the best investment a man can make. It pays an hundred fold. Labors of love demonstrate better than the church membership that we are in the Master's service. This is the Master's business. Though my way through life has often been through graveyards and through glooms, I have loved and I have been loved, and I know that life is worth living. Love is the fulfilling of the law; the end of the gospel commandment; the bond of perfectness. Without it, whatever be our attainments, professions or sacrifices, we are nothing. Love obliterates the differences in education, wealth, station, religion, politics and nationality. It is a promoter of peace and harmony; it cultivates the social graces; it makes friends of strangers and brothers of acquaintances; it softens the asperities of life; it worships at the shrine of piety, and recognizes the omnipotence of God and the immortality of man. It is religious not sectarian, patriotic but not partisan. It glows by the fireside, radiant with perpetual joy. It glorifies God in worship and in song. It blesses humanity in genial mirth and human sympathies. It is a perennial fountain at which the old may drink and grow strong. It is a daily benediction to its devotees, and, like "a thing of beauty, is a joy forever." It stands like the statue of liberty, a beacon light to the tempest-tossed and wayfaring mariner and brother, pointing him the way to the haven of refuge, to the right living and right doing.

Oh love, thou mightiest gift of God; thou white-winged trust in Him who doeth all things well; thou one light over His darkest providences, lingering to cheer when all else has passed away, thy whisper upon the dull ear of night. But alas! this world was made to break hearts in, while love was sent from heaven to heal them. The precious balm, though, is so scarce that many must die for want of it. Oh, the might-have-been! What human soul has not sung that dirge? Verily, the winds come, howling it by like an invisible band of mourners from the grave of all things. Alas! is anything in this life real, or are we indeed shadows, and this world altogether a shadowy land, while the blackened skies above give us only glimpses of a far-off better home, better friends and better love? Alas! Heaven's loudest complaint to mortals is ever for lack of love. Even He who sitteth upon the throne of thrones knoweth what it is to stretch out His arms in utter desertion of no one to love Him, no one to seek Him, and no one to fear Him—"no, not one." Then as we may best show our love to Him by loving one another, is it not well that we commence loving those around us at once? Ah! yes, and like the ambitious vine, do thou reach out all thy tendril thoughts to what is nearest, the while aspiring to the oak or the pine of the loftier trust, even the faith of Abraham that was accounted unto him for righteousness. Would I had some new phrase for love, some new figure for hope! How lonely and weary must that life be without love, how tasteless all its joys, and how vacant every scene. If we have the spirit of love we will live for others. Auguste Comte inscribed on the first page of his work, "Politique Positive," wherein he depicted in systematic form, life that had been forming itself throughout human history, these words: "Order and progress—live for others." The force of this thought is, in accord with Odd-Fellowship, which teaches love of our kind, love of right, zeal for the good.

Man's happiness consists in living as a social being, living for self in order to more truly live for others. This is summed up in the word humanity. But affection, as the true motor force of life, must have a foundation, must stir us not only to the right things, but to the right means; in other words, action must be guided by knowledge. Improvement must be the aim of social life, as it is the incentive to individual effort. It is not enough to desire the good, or to know how to achieve it, we must labor for it. Associated effort gives the opportunity for gaining grander results than centuries of divided activity. The conception of humanity has grown nobler. The good of the vast human whole is now acknowledged as the end of all social union. Humanity embodies love; the object of our activity; the source of what we have; the ruler of the life under whose span we work, and suffer and enjoy.

All religions, all social systems worthy of the name, have sought to regulate human nature and perfect the organization of society by proclaiming as their principles the cultivation of some grand social sentiments. Philosophers, moralists, preachers have united in saying: "Base your life upon a noble feeling, if you are to live aright; base the state upon a generous devotion of its members to some great ideal, if it is to prosper and be strong." All have agreed that the difference of life could only be harmonized by placing action under the stimulus of high unselfish passion. Odd-Fellowship has grown strong under this governing law. The banner it bears aloft proclaims sentiments that are attractive to all the nations of the earth. We are strong in as far as we truly interpret, for the good of humanity, this elevated aim, this devotion to fraternal ends.

Compte defines religion as consisting of three parts—a belief, a worship, and a rule of life—of which all three are equal, and each as necessary as any other. As is truly said, "Society can not be touched without knowledge; and the knowledge of social organization of humanity is a vast and perplexing science. The race, like every one of us, is dependent on the laws of life, and the study of life is a mighty field to master." Enthusiasm of humanity would be but shallow did it not impel us to efforts to learn how to serve—demanding the best of conduct, brain and heart. The power of Odd-Fellowship lies in its fraternity. It goes forward with irresistible magnetism when its fraternal principles are truly interpreted. It furnishes to men a strong union, where general intelligence, by attrition, is increased; it provides a high moral standard; its objective action is such as touches the common heart of humanity; and by its grand co-operative system it gives the finest means of securing those advantages that tend to the securement of material comfort and mental and spiritual peace and happiness.

Drummond says: "Love is the greatest thing in the world." Read what Paul says about it in I Cor., xiii: "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing. Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up: Doth not behave itself unseemly; Seeketh not her own. Is not easily provoked. Thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love never faileth; but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face; now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, love, these three, but the greatest of these is love."

The more I study Odd-Fellowship, the more I become convinced that I have just crossed the threshold, and that new truths and sublime lessons await me, of which I never dreamed. Brothers, there is hidden treasure in our order for which we must dig. It must be brought to the surface. We must know more of the beauties of this great organization of ours. "The greatest thing," says some one, "a man can do for his Heavenly Father is to be kind to some of His other children." "I wonder why it is that we are not all kinder than we are? How much the world needs it. How easily it is done. How instantaneously it acts. How infallibly it is remembered. How super-abundantly it pays itself back—for there is no debtor in the world so honorable, so superbly honorable, as love. Love is success. Love is happiness. Love is life." "Where love is, God is. He that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God. God is love. Therefore love." "Without distinction, without calculation, without procrastination, love. Lavish it upon the poor, where it is very easy; especially upon the rich, who often need it most; most of all upon our equals, where it is very difficult, and for whom perhaps we each do least of all. There is a difference between trying to please and giving pleasure. Give pleasure. Lose no chance of giving pleasure. For that is the ceaseless and anonymous triumph of a truly loving spirit. I shall pass through this world but once. Any good things that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any human being, let me do it now. Let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again. We can be Odd-Fellows only while we act like honest men."

Every Odd-Fellow ought to be a "gentleman." Do you know the meaning of the word "gentleman"? "It means a gentleman—a man who does things gently, with love. And that is the whole art and mystery of it. The gentleman can not in the nature of things do an ungentle, an ungentlemanly thing." "Love doth not behave itself unseemly." Life is full of opportunities for learning love. Every man and woman every day has a thousand of them. There is an eternal lesson for us all, "how better we can love." What makes a good artist, a good sculptor, a good musician? Practice. What makes a man a good man, a man of love? Practice. Nothing else. If a man does not exercise his arm he develops no biceps muscle; and if a man does not exercise his soul, he acquires no muscle in his soul, no strength of character, no vigor of moral fibre, nor beauty of spiritual growth. Love is not a thing of enthusiastic emotion. It is a rich, strong, manly, vigorous expression of the whole round Christian character—the Christ-like nature in its fullest development. And the constituents of this great character are only to be built up by ceaseless practice. To love abundantly is to live abundantly, and to love forever is to live forever. We want to live forever for the same reason that we want to live tomorrow. Why do you want to live tomorrow? It is because there is some one who loves you, and whom you want to see tomorrow, and be with, and love back. There is no other reason why we should live on than that we love and are beloved. It is when a man has no one to love him that he commits suicide. The reason why, in the nature of things, love should be the supreme thing—because it is going to last; because in the nature of things it is an eternal life. It is a thing that we are living now, not that we get when we die; that we shall have a poor chance of getting when we die unless we are living now.

No worse fate can befall a man in this world than to live and grow old alone, unloving and unloved. At any cost cultivate a loving nature. Then you will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have really lived are the moments when you have done things in a spirit of love. As memory scans the past, above and beyond all the transitory pleasures of life, there leap forward those supreme hours when you have been enabled to do unnoticed kindnesses to those around about you, things too trifling to speak about, but which you feel have entered into your eternal life. I have seen almost all the beautiful things God has made; I have enjoyed almost every pleasure that He has planned for man; and yet as I look back I see standing out above all the life that has gone, four or five short experiences when the love of God reflected itself in some poor imitation, some small act of love of mine, and these seem to be the things which alone of all one's life abide. Everything else in all our lives is transitory. Every other good is visionary. But the acts of love which no man knows about, or can ever know about—they fail not.

Odd-Fellowship ought to grow. The kinship of the human race—how beautiful a thought! Without mutual aid the race would perish. Think of it. Throughout life you are dependent upon your fellow-man. Who can live without a friend? When you have no money and no home, where, brothers, will you find food and shelter? When low with fever, the tongue parched, the brain wandering, who will give you water, bathe your throbbing temples, and watch over you lest you die? See the old man. The frosts of seventy winters have whitened his head; his eye is dim; his limbs tremble; reason and memory fail; he is an infant again. He goes down to the valley of the shadow of death. Who shall lead him and comfort his weary soul? Who lay his body gently and reverently in the grave, and sod it over with green grass? So with us all. A man alone in the world, without a human being who cares whether he live or die! Not a hand to touch, nor a voice to hear, nor a smile to receive! Human affections forever sealed to him; no fireside; no home with father, mother, brothers, sisters; no little children, no son to be proud of; no daughters to caress; no "good night;" no "good morning." Who could bear it? The sun could not warm such a man. The brightest days and the greenest fields could not give him pleasure. Better chain him on a rock in mid-ocean and leave him to the vultures, than thus rob him of his kinship with the human race.

This world is beautiful, and it is full of priceless sympathies. All creation is glorious with melody. The morning stars, saith the Bible, sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy when it was made. The universe of stars, and suns, and planets and globes, swing harmoniously through space. Not a sparrow falleth to the ground without our Father's notice; not a soul yearns, or sorrows, or rejoices, but He knoweth it. He hath made of one blood all nations of men to dwell together on the face of the earth. We are bound to each other by indissoluble ties. It is a law of nature that we must all work for each other. Though ten thousand miles apart; though oceans roll between us and continents divide us, we labor not for ourselves alone. You plow the furrow in California and sow the wheat for your brother in Louisiana, while he plants the cane and cotton for you. The good Siberian is this day roaming over snows and ice, hunting the otter and gathering furs, that you may be warm. Men are diving in the Persian gulf for pearls to grace your wives and daughters. The silkworm of India and China may have spun the threads of your dress, the Frenchman may have woven it; the hardy mariner braved the seas to bring it here. Truly, we are brothers. A common Father brought us all into this world, and to a common Father we all go. Let us, then, help one another, in money (if need be), in education, in sympathy.

There is one feature of the order we desire to emphasize, and that is its full sympathy with those that labor and toil. No reference would do justice to the order that did not emphasize this fact. It is its pride and glory. It is from this class its membership is chiefly drawn. It was with this class it originated, the first lodge in the United States having been organized by half a dozen humble mechanics; Thomas Wildey, their leader, was a blacksmith. You see it had no aristocratic origin, and its broad and catholic sympathy, its popularity with this class is explained. They know its value, and have seen its active charity and experienced its beneficence. A man who has no sympathy with the humble and the lowly, a man of mean and narrow heart, will find no congenial dwelling place in our lodges. The true Odd-Fellow is a man of heart; his hand is open to every worthy appeal of the needy, and he is honest and upright in his life. It enforces no religious or political tests; in these every member is free; but it does teach and urge its members to be grateful to their Creator and loyal to their country. In conclusion, let me urge upon the living, fidelity to the teachings of Odd-Fellowship. If these are respected it will make you better citizens, better husbands, better fathers, better men. It is a cultivation of the heart and the better feelings, and expands our humanity. If you are poor, it will come to you, or your family, sometimes as a benefaction. If you are rich, you can afford to give, and with a good Odd-Fellow that is more blessed than to receive.

I want to say here what I have often said in the lodge-room. I love Odd-Fellowship, above all, for the heart there is in it. For its display on the street and its pageantry I care but little. I shrink from it rather than follow it. But its benevolence, its active charity, and its mission of good will, I admire. When death's unwelcome presence rests within our portals, and obedient to his call a loved one has gone hence, we should give the mortal remains of the departed brother a decent sepulture; fondly cherish the remembrance of his virtues, and bury his frailties "beneath the clods which rest upon his bosom." We should then direct our thoughts and cares to the desolate home, where the widow, clad in the robes of grief, her heart cords broken and bleeding, is weeping over earth's only idol, now lost to earth forever. Then, too, should we extend the helping hand to the fatherless children, and endeavor to so direct their steps that their paths may be paths of usefulness and honor. These are the imperative duties. But our ministrations of charity and benevolence should by no means be confined exclusively within the pale of the order. This crowded world, with its eager millions, maddened with ambition's unquenchable fires, trampling under foot and well-nigh smothering each other in the great rush of competitive strife, is full of poor unfortunates, daily appealing for generous sympathy and assistance.

Though not members, it may be, of our peculiar family, yet the poorest, the humblest, the most wretched, is a human being—"the master-piece of His handiwork"—and, as such, demands our aid and comfort as far as practicable. Life has been compared to a river. Aye, and beneath its murky waters lurk countless reefs and shoals. Many a beautiful bark, sailing, seemingly, under the very star of hope, dashes upon them, and is lost. All along its shores are scattered the wrecks of stranded vessels, once laden with joyous hopes and brilliant prospects. Odd-Fellowship renders the passage of this river safe by a bridge of mystic form,

"On one side is friendship planted— Truth upon the other shore; Love, the arch that spans the current, Bears each brother safely o'er."

It should be the most pleasing duty of Odd-Fellows to point our fellow-travelers to this beautiful and stately arch; to lead thitherward their weary steps. Such would be assistance more permanent than can be rendered by silver or gold. The time is certain to come when every young man is thrown back upon himself—must leave the tranquil security of the parental home, and seek a refuge among strangers. When beyond the reach of family influence—beyond the reach of that tender providence which so carefully guarded him from vice, and soothed his griefs and sympathized with all his youthful aspirations and pleasures—when this influence ceases to surround him, what will continue its ministry of love? What will be to him father, mother, brother, sister—home? Will society? No! Society to its deepest core is selfish, corrupt, unnatural and unloving? Society will not, and can not. He is in the great world—allurements and temptations are rife around him—he is sick and in distress, and must suffer alone, with no one to console him with a word of comfort, sympathy, or love; he has no attention but such as money will purchase—he dies, and the cold eyes of strangers only look upon the grave, if, indeed, a grave he has. This is a life picture, and it is at this point the beauty and utility of Odd-Fellowship is seen, for the order is a vast family circle, spread throughout the community; always powerful and efficient to preserve those who are brought within the sphere of its influence. He who is a member of this fraternity may go where his father's counsel and his mother's care can not reach him, but he can not go beyond the reach of that larger family to which he belongs! Silently and invisibly, yet with unslumbering assiduity, Odd-Fellowship watches over him, and by its wise counsels, its tender sympathies and rational restraints, saves him from the ways of vice.

Mythic story tells us that the ancient gods invisibly and secretly followed their favorites in all their wanderings, and when exposed to danger, or threatened with destruction, would unveil themselves in their awful beauty and power, and stand forth to preserve them from harm or to avenge their wrongs. Odd-Fellowship realizes this myth of the pagan gods; she surrounds all her children with her preserving presence, and reveals herself always in the hour of peril, sickness or distress. Nowhere in our country can a true Odd-Fellow feel himself alone, friendless or forsaken. The invisible, but helpful arms of our order surround him wherever he may be. And should he be overtaken by illness or misfortune, be he in any part of the country, and never so poor, he will, if he makes his wants known, receive as a right the necessary assistance, and friends to watch over him with fraternal solicitude. And should he fall a victim to disease, the brothers of charity will be there to close his eyes, and with solemn, yet hopeful, heaven-born rites, consign his body to the repose of the silent tomb. Odd-Fellowship is an embodiment of family love and affection, and is the only substitute for home influence, and the only green spot in the dreary waste of life which binds these brothers to the tender practice of every virtue—guides in prosperity and health, and as a ministering angel bends over them with tenderest pity in their chamber of suffering. True, there are sorrows which it can not reach—there are griefs which it can not remove; notwithstanding, it still pursues its way, imparts its healthful influence, and accomplishes its beautiful and holy ministry of benevolence and charity. If it can not heal the wounds of misfortune, it administers the balm of sympathy, friendship and love. My dear reader, learn to give encouragement to those around you.

Everybody feels the need of encouragement, from the humblest artisan to the king on his throne. We hear of the choice spirits who have been the world's idols, how they came up through terrible trials alone and almost unaided, setting aside obstacles that would have crushed others, and fighting their way to the very pinnacle of fame. Aye! but great as they were, they needed and received encouragement. In some part of their poor home they saw the smile that spoke the hearty appreciation of the genius, though, perhaps, the lips said nothing. Even West left on record, "my mother's smile made me a painter." The encouragement of a little child will send the blood more warmly to the heart, and even the appreciation of a poor dumb brute is worth its gaining. Give encouragement. Everybody needs it—men, women and even children. Oh! how many a dear little heart has been chilled into ice when the coarse laugh has greeted its rude hieroglyphics in the first attempt to portray its ideal. The child sees warm visions of sunlight and beauty in those uncouth angles. Whole minds of thought lie concealed under those strange shapes. To the young mind's eye they are wonders, and the tiny fingers have built monuments that deserve not to be thrown down so rudely, when a smile that costs nothing would have left them standing to be finished into finer shape and more classical proportions in the years that are to come. You do a positive injury to the dullest child when you reward his little efforts with contempt. It is a wrong that can never be repaired, for the disheartment that strikes the happy spirit, flushed with the consciousness of having achieved something new and great, comes up in after time with the very same vividness at every trivial disappointment. Give encouragement. You men of business, who know so well what a good, hearty "go ahead," coupled with a frank, merry face, will do in your own case—give encouragement to the young beginner, who starts nervously at the bottom of the race, and who, though he may put a bold outside on, quakes at the center of his being with the dread that among so many competitors he shall always be left in the rear. Hold out your hand to him as if you thought the world was really large enough for two, and bid him God-speed. Tell him to come to you if he feels the need of a friend to advise with him. Don't emulate your sign in overshadowing him. Out upon these mean, cringing souls who would grudge God's sunlight if it shone upon a piece of merchandise as good as their own. They are poor, barren wretches, who plow furrows only in their own cheeks, and plant wrinkles on their brows. Above all things, if you have any tenderness or compassion, encourage your pastor, your physician, and your editor. Suppose, once in a while, they do, in expressing their own honest views, say something that conflicts a little with your own starved or plethoric notions. Suppose they do dare to tell you the truth sometimes in a way that makes you cringe, and you say to yourself, "he has no business to be personal," when the poor man never thought that his homely coats would fit; don't grow cold, and cast sheep's eyes, and nudge somebody's elbow in a corner, and whisper all around, and say complacently, "Yes, Brother A. is a good man—but—"

Those "buts" and "ifs" ought to be christened intellectual revolvers, for they kill more reputations than any other two words in the English language. We have known instances where pastors and editors and others have felt weary of living, from having to encounter the spirit of discouragement among their brethren; and oh! how many wives, husbands and children, are dying deaths daily from this same prolific source of suffering. Give encouragement, then, wherever and whenever you can, and you will find that you have not lived in vain. If God blesses those who offer but a cup of cold water in charity, how much more will He regard the kind heart that has refreshed a weary spirit fainting by the way. Death quickens recollections painfully. The grave can not hide the white faces of those who sleep. The coffin and the green mound are cruel magnets. They draw us farther than we would go. They force us to remember. A man never sees so far into human life as when he looks over a wife's or mother's grave. His eyes get wondrous clear then, and he sees as never before what it is to love and to be loved; what it is to injure the feelings of the loved.

Let us deal gently with those around us. Remember every day a flower is plucked from some sunny home; a breach made in some happy circle; a jewel stolen from some treasury of love; each day from summer fields of life some harvester disappears—yea, every hour some sentinel falls from his post and is thrown from the ramparts of time into the surging waters of eternity. Even as I write, the funeral of one who died yesterday winds like a winter shadow along some silent street. Daily, when we rise from the bivouac to stand at our posts, we miss some brother soldier whose cheering cry in the sieges and struggles of the past has been as fire from heaven upon our hearts. Each day some pearl drops from the jeweled thread of friendship—some harp to which we have listened has been hushed forever. Love, however, annihilates death even; blots away all record of time and creates the world it lives in; conjures back arms to embrace, lips to kiss, and eyes to smile, whispers its own praises and breathes its own names of endearment. Thus, love maketh the light to our dreams and planteth hope in the midst of our sorrow. In darkness and in danger, too, love cometh to us ever, ever, now warning, now chiding, now blessing, and always safely guarding. Love lightens labor, shortens distance and quickens time. Love teaches us to forgive, helps us to forget and whitens the memory of all things. Love paints every hope, brightens every scene and maketh beautiful whatsoever it shines on. Love is wisdom. Love is high. Love is holy. Love is God. Love gloweth in the hearts of the angels, wreathes the smiles on their brows and melts the kisses on their lips. Love is the light of the beautiful beyond.



GEMS OF BEAUTY

More hopeful than all wisdom is one draught of human pity that will not forsake us.

Laughing is one of the products of civilization. In the uncivilized tribes laughter is entirely unknown.

Let him who neglects to raise the fallen fear lest, when he falls, no one will stretch out his hand to lift him up.

Time is a species of wealth which it is impossible for us to hoard, but which we may spend to good advantage.

Character is the eternal temple that each one begins to rear, yet death can only complete it. The finer the architecture, the more fit for the indwelling of angels.

It is only by labor that thought can be made healthy, and only by thought that labor can be made happy; and the two can not be separated with impunity.—John Ruskin.

Don't moralize to a man who is on his back. Help him up, set him firmly on his feet, and then give him advice and means.

There is a pleasure in contemplating good; there is a greater pleasure in receiving good; but the greatest pleasure of all is in doing good, which comprehends the rest.

Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning—an endeavor to navigate a cloudy sea by measuring the distance we have to run, but without observation of the heavenly bodies.

Most people keep too strong a hold of their personality to be able to forget themselves in their subject; they carry an unacknowledged self-consciousness along with them. If to be single-minded is to have an undivided interest in things, they are not single-minded.

Real affection is independent. A woman may passionately love a man who does not care for her, and men have gone mad for the sake of women who were indifferent to them. That affection which survives coldness or even contempt on the part of the subject is a stronger proof of its strength than jealousy, however well founded.

To have a respect for ourselves guides our morals, and to have a deference for others governs our manners.

If you want to be miserable, think about yourself, about what you want, what you like, what respect people pay you, and what people think of you.

One great impediment to the rapid dissemination of new truths is that a knowledge of them would convict many sage professors of having long promulgated error.

The leaves that give out the sweetest fragrance are those that are the most cruelly crushed; so the hearts of those who have suffered most can feel for others' woes.

Each of us can so believe in humanity in general as to contribute to that pressure which constantly levers up the race; can surround ourselves with an atmosphere optimistic rather than the contrary.—Selected.

He who has more knowledge than good works is like a tree with many branches and few roots, which the first wind throws on its face; while he who does more than he says is like a tree with strong roots and few branches, which all the winds can not uproot.—Talmud.

If we waited until it was perfectly convenient, half of the good actions of life would never be accomplished, and very few of its successes.

A helping word to one in trouble is often like a switch on a railroad track, but one inch between wreck and smooth rolling prosperity.

Prayer is the key of day and lock of the night; and we should every day begin and end, bid ourselves good morrow and good night, with prayer.

In order to love mankind, expect but little from them; in order to view their faults without bitterness, pardon them. The wisest men have always been the most indulgent.

There are souls which fall from heaven like flowers, but ere the pure and fresh buds can open they are trodden in the dust of the earth, and lie soiled and crushed under the foul tread of some brutal hoof.

Many of the men we calmly set down as failures may have been doing as much as those who have made ten times as much noise in the world. A great deal of the best work in the world is anonymous, if we do not confine the term to writing.

To a man of brave sentiments midnight is as bright as noonday, for the illumination is within.

That man who lives in vain lives worse than vain. He who lives to no purpose lives to a bad purpose.—Nevins.

Labor is the law of the world, and he who lives by other men's means is of less value to the world than the buzzing, busy insect.

Deep is the sea, and deep is hell, but pride runneth deeper; it is coiled as a poisonous worm about the foundation of the soul.—Tupper.

The integrity of the heart, when it is strengthened by reason, is the principal source of justice and wit; an honest man thinks nearly always justly.

Be firm, but be not too hasty to decide; weigh well before you act, but, having weighed, act promptly, and abide the result. This is the test of judgment.

Wit loses its respect with the good when seen in company with malice; and to smile at the jest which plants a thorn in another's breast is to become a principal in the mischief.

Success never did, never will come to that young man who knows everything—in his own opinion.

In love, as in everything else, truth is the strongest of all things, and frankness is but another name for truth.

Frequent disappointment teaches us to mistrust our own inclination, and shrink even from vows our hearts may prompt.

For children there is no leave-taking, for they acknowledge no past, only the present, that to them is full of the future.

To love, in order to be loved in return, is man, but to love for the pure sake of loving, is almost the characteristic of an angel.

Fond as a man is of sight-seeing, life is the great show for every man—the show always wonderful and new to the thoughtful.

The sweetest book in all the world, if properly read, is the Bible. Its leaves are as fragrant as a bed of violets in full bloom.

Pity gilds mortality with rays of immortal light, and through faith enables its possessor to triumph over sin, sorrow, tribulation and death.

If we can not live so as to be happy, let us at least live so as to deserve happiness.—Fichte.

Little by little fortunes are accumulated; little by little knowledge is gained; little by little character and reputation are achieved.

Don't rely for success upon empty praise. The swimmer upon the stream of life must be able to keep afloat without the aid of bladders.

Industry—In seeking a situation, remember that the right kind of men are always in demand, and that industry and capacity rarely go empty-handed.

Frankness is the child of honesty and courage. Say just what you mean to do on every occasion, and take it for granted that you mean to do what is right.

To be always intending to lead a new life, but never to find time to set about it, is as if a man should put off eating from one day to another till he is starved.

A man loved by a beautiful and virtuous woman carries a talisman that renders him invulnerable; every one feels that such a one's life has a higher value than that of others.

The great beauty of charity is privacy; there is a sweet force, even in an anonymous penny.

Every heart has its secret sorrows, and oftentimes we call a man cold when he was only sad.

A promise should be given with caution, and kept with care; it should be made with the heart and kept with the head.

"The mind of a young creature," says Berkely, "can not remain empty; if you do not put into it that which is good, it will be sure to use even that which is bad."

We all see at sunset the beautiful colors streaming all over the western sky, but no eyes can behold the hand that overturns the urns whence these streams are poured.

We often live under a cloud, and it is well for us that we should do so. Uninterrupted sunshine would parch our hearts. We want shade and rain to cool and refresh them.

Poverty is very terrible to you, and kills the soul in you sometimes; but it is the north wind that lashed men into vikings; it is the soft, luscious south wind that lulls to lotus dreams.

There is nothing so valuable, and yet so cheap, as civility; you can almost buy land with it.

It has been justly said nothing in man is so Godlike as doing good to our fellows.—Selected.

Contentment swells a mite into a talent, and makes even the poor richer than the Indies.—Addison.

Never was a sincere word utterly lost, never a magnanimity fell to the ground; there is some heart always to greet and accept it unexpectedly.

There are people who often talk of the humbleness of their origin, when they are really ashamed of it, though vain of the talent which enabled them to emerge from it.

A witty old deacon put it thus: "Now, brethren, let us get up a supper and eat ourselves rich. Buy your food, then give it to the church; then go and buy it back again; then eat it up, and your church debt is paid."

Self-sacrifice is the essential mark of the Christian, and the absence of it is sufficient at once to condemn the man who calls himself by that name and yet has it not, and to declare that he has no right to it.—Bolton.

There are many comfortable people in the world, but to call any man perfectly happy is an insult.

Women often make light of ruin. Give them but the beloved objects, and poverty is but a trifling sorrow to bear.—Thackeray,

Independence is a name for what no man possesses; nothing in the animate or inanimate world is more dependent than man.

Wealth is to be used only as an instrument of action, not as the representative of civil honors and moral excellence.—Jane Porter.

There is nothing purer, nothing warmer than our first friendship, our first love, our first striving after truth, our first feeling for nature.—Jean Paul Richter.

Shakespeare is as much out of the category of eminent authors as he is out of the crowd. He is inconceivably wise; the others conceivably.—Representative Men.

A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner. Neither do uninterrupted prosperity and success qualify a man for usefulness and happiness. The storms of adversity, like the storms of the ocean, arouse the faculties and excite the invention, prudence, skill and fortitude of the voyager.

It is not work that hurts men. It is the corrosion of uncertainty; it is the anticipation of trouble; it is living in a state of painful apprehension. Therefore we should endeavor to rise out of the atmosphere of gloomy forebodings. The man who is lifted above fear and its whole brood of mischief can go through twice as much trouble as a man who is subject to its influence.

He that looks out upon life from a sour or severe disposition, with hard and stringent notions, is ill prepared to meet the experiences of the world; but he who has the sweetness of hope, he who has an imagination lit up with cheerfulness, he who has the sense of humor which softens all things—he who has this atmosphere of the mind—has made himself superior to accident. As the angel described by Milton, who was smitten by the sword, and whose wounds healed as soon as the sword was withdrawn, so ought man to be; and when he receives a spear thrust in life, no sooner should the spear be withdrawn than his flesh ought to "close and be itself again."

A married man falling into misfortune is more apt to retrieve his situation in the world than a single one, chiefly because his spirits are soothed and retrieved by domestic endearments, and his self-respect kept alive by finding that, although all abroad is darkness and humiliation, yet there is a little world of love at home over which he is monarch.



HUSBAND AND FATHER

Miss Frances Power Cobb is right, and she is wrong, when she says: "It is a woman, and only a woman—a woman all by herself, if she likes, and without any man to help her—who can turn a house into a home." She is unquestionably right in her judgment, that it is a woman who can, if she will, turn a house into a home, but she is much in the wrong in her assertion that it is a woman all by herself, without any man to help her, who can effect such a beneficial transformation. Woman possesses magical powers in the way of building up a home; but home naturally implies the presence and protection of man—and it is man himself, if he likes, and without any woman to help him, who can give that home a semblance of that place where, as some people believe, the wicked suffer after they have "shuffled off this mortal coil." The husband can never make the home, but he can succeed most admirably, if so he choose, to unmake it, to banish its happiness and comfort, to exile from it its ministering angels of peace and content, to shatter woman's sweet and blessed work to its very foundation. Let the wife concentrate, all day long, all her care and ingenuity and love upon building up her little paradise at home, let her hands be ever so busy in strewing fresh flowers around the domestic hearth, let her heart be ever so happy throughout the day in the discharge of her domestic duties, let her countenance be ever so beaming in her sweet anticipation of the happy smile of appreciation, of the kind word of sympathy and encouragement, which shall be her reward when her husband returns; and then see this star in her domestic firmament enter, sulking and surly, blind to all that her busy hands have so lovingly prepared, grim and gruff to her and the little ones, who have been fitted up in their neatest and cleanest, in which to welcome their father's return, and then see whether you can agree with Miss Cobb's assertion "that it is a woman, and only a woman—a woman all by herself, if she likes, and without any man to help her—who can turn a house into a home." See how her heart sinks, how her voice, full of mirth and glee and music before his coming, dies in her throat, how the little ones, full of merriment all day long, tremblingly hide in the corner, or withdraw from the room; see how the intrusion of this grim spectre of malcontent shuts the door upon domestic peace and happiness, and withers every pious resolve to make home the dearest, sweetest, most contented and most sacred spot on earth, and then calculate how long, under such disheartening surroundings, woman will be able all by herself, and without any man to help her, to prevent her house from becoming anything and everything except a home.

While studying language, I observed that most of my mistakes in grammar occurred in the feminine gender, and thinking over the cause of it, it dawned upon me that, belonging to the masculine sex, I was in the habit of thinking in that gender, and that my teachers were men, and that my text-books and grammars had been written by men, and that the masculine gender predominated so strongly in the exercises, that it was but natural for me to make the greatest number of mistakes in the gender to which the least attention had been given. When dealing with the social and domestic question, the unbiased among us can not but observe a similar failing. Many a serious mistake has been made by man when speaking or writing concerning women, because our speakers and writers and preachers and teachers belonged from the very beginning of civilization, almost exclusively to the masculine sex, a sex which has never tired in exalting itself at the expense of the weaker sex, in emphasizing woman's inferiority to man, in asserting its rights, and in complaining about its wrongs, and as woman did not write or speak for herself, we have heard but little of her side of the story, know next to nothing of her just rights and of her grievous wrongs, seldom dream that she, too, has rights that must be respected, and suffers wrongs that must be corrected.