"I was engaged during January last year," he aaid, "delivering a course of lectures to the Lodge at Seville."

"Most of the brethren resided in the country, five or ten miles from the Lodge, and as is usually the case, I saw but little of that part of the membership, during the three days and nights that I spent there."

"The morning after the close of my labors, just as I was preparing to depart, the fraternal greetings so commonly connected with those occasions were interrupted by a messenger, who came riding hard and fast into town, bringing doleful news. A disaster had occurred."

"The house of Brother Logan had taken fire suddenly the night before, and so swiftly had the flames extended that the unfortunate man was unable to save any part of his property. He had rescued five of his children from the fire, burning himself in a shocking manner while so doing, and leaving yet one sweet little girl to the flames.

"His profession being that of a house painter, all his stock had consisted in inflammable materials, and these were entirely consumed in an adjoining shop. In short, the brother was absolutely ruined in a pecuniary sense, nor was it likely that he would ever regain his bodily powers so as to be able to support himself and family.

"Brother Logan wa» so well. known around Seville for an industrious, honest man, that the intelligence of his misfortunes spread a gloom over the village. Several of the citizens, both male and female, rode immediately out to the place to which the remnant of the suffering family had been conveyed. They took provisions, clothing, and other comforts, with a lively thought of the destitute."

"There are certain calls which the heart must be case-hardened to resist and this was one. The benevolent character of the Seville people had frequently before been tested by their good deeds, nor had the drafts of charity ever been protested. They were honorably accepted in this particular instance. The distressed family was at once supplied."

"My own departure was delayed in view of a Lodge meeting promptly called to consider what action should be taken in the premises."

"After careful consideration, we decided that the son of Brother Logan, himself a Freemason and from his relationship to the distressed man, a fitting agent to arouse public sympathy in his behalf, should visit each member of the order, individually, and solicit contributions, as there was just then a deficiency in the Lodge treasury."

"This benevolent effort it was that first gave to my mind a clear idea of the moral force of the cable tow."

"The messenger was successful in presenting his father's misfortunes in a pathetic manner. None offered to resist the claims of their scorched and wounded brother. All were moved by the genuine spirit of pity. Brotherly love in every Instance prompted a generous relief. But the difference in the amount of contributions was so remarkably contrasted with the relative ability of the donors, that I was unavoidably struck with it."

"Brother Lane, a retired land-speculator, a man of his fifty thousand, if he had a cent, gave five dollars. He did it cordially, and his message to the suffering brother was a kind and tender one, for he declared he felt almost glad of the accident, as it gave him an opportunity to show his Masonic feelings towards a brother in whom he had always felt a lively interest.

But still he only gave five dollars, and I had expected of him fifty at least."

"Brother Wayten, a young merchant, straggling with the great difficulties connected with the opening of a mercantile business on a small capital, gave ten dollars. And the message that accompanied the money was worth as much more."

"Tell your father," said the noble young man, "that I would go out and see him in person did my business permit, but my servant shall go, and you shall give him an assurance from me that should he need further aid, if he will send me a notification, I will divide my last dime with him!"

"Professor Oliphant, the teacher, secretary of the Lodge, a widower by the way, with several children and an aged mother to support, an invalid with a troublesome cough, indicative of consumption, ... also gave ten dollars, and with such pure cheerfulness as tripled the value of the gift."

"All, without exception, bestowed gifts as he felt bound in conscience to do. But the widow's two mites were dropped in at the hand of Brother Anderson, a carpenter with a very large family of daughters, a poor man, but a devoted Mason."

"The messenger called at the shop of Brother Anderson and related his woeful tale. The appeal reached a kind spirit. Fraternal sympathy agitated the poor man's heart as with a tempest, and when the story was ended, he rushed to the house, without a word, drained the old stocking of its last coin, and gave it to the weeping youth. Then he saddled his horse and with a hasty remark, that he must go out and see for himself, he rode off. Subsequently I learned that this good Samaritan abode with Brother Logan for ten days, watching with him by night, and laboring in the daytime upon the new house that the bounty of the craft had enabled the unfortunate brother to commence."

"As I rode from Seville the next morning my heart could. not resist the contemplation of this subject. Why is there so much difference in the disposition of men towards heaven-sent charity, I asked: Why do the rich stop at a per cent. of donations so much smaller, than the poor; so that while the latter bestows one dollar from. his scanty purse, the former from his Lordly estate feels himself to have acted liberally if he gives five or ten? Was it not in view of the fact, that wealth contracts the. heart, that the law of Moses enjoined tenths of all property to be the Lord's? And as so many of the Jewish rites were incorporated into speculative Masonry is it not probable in view of the light afforded us by tradition, that this practice was introduced among the rest? There is nothing on earth more unjust than a per capitam tax, nothing more equitable than a tax of tithes."

"The modern practice of assessing Lodge dues, however convenient in practice, is certainly based upon a very different theory, although the burden being small, and chartered Lodges peculiarly a modern invention, I should not be disposed to make a difficulty upon this head. But when it comes to private donation for the poor of our order, the true intent of the cable tow symbol demands the former custom, that of assessment, and wherever speculative Masonry is practiced in its true spirit, we shall find it to be so employed."

"Each Mason is supposed to know the measure of his own Cable tow, and to have estimated its length and strength."

"Then, by the holy guide which lies open upon our altars, we should bestow as the Lord has bestowed on us, and as the charity is that of tithes, so shall be the reward, and he who keeps account of what we say or do in His name, even to a cup of cold water, will see to it that our works shall follow us in the general reckoning of the other world."

After the general applause which followed this appropriate sketch had ceased, and old Jack had wiped his spectacles, they having, in some manner, become dim, the cigars were relit, which had sympathetically gone out, and a movement was observed on the part of Brother Gaines. Winding down his long legs until they came nearly as low as his head, he blew away the cloud of smoke that had gathered maliciously around mm, and took the occasion to tell a circumstance connected with:

There was a large gathering at the house of one of the wealthiest Hebrews in Hamburg; for his only daughter, Ruth, was that day to be united in marriage to Israel, partner in trade with the well-known banking house of Vonstein. All the traditional rites connected with the betrothal of a Jewish maiden, had been carefully maintained; for the old man, though devoted to money making as the prime end of human iife, was firmly attached to the ceremonials of his creed as the only reasonable preparations for a life to come. All that could be learned from the most experienced rabbis had been adopted, and the wise Rabbi, Ben Aaron, though bending under the weight of a century, had made a journey all the way from Cracow in Poland, to join his experience to theirs. The ceremonial of marriage amongst the Jews is undoubtedly one of the oldest traditions in the world. Much of it, like the cabala of Freemasonry, is only imparted to a favored few and by them transmitted under the strictest pledges of secrecy. Portions of it, it is thought, are not now understood by any living person, the traditions having been lost in the lapse of ages, while the practice has been retained.

Persons who, by some peculiar favor, have been admitted to see it, give a most gorgeous description of the expensive preparations, the solemn responses, and the impressive rites of a Jewish wedding. My purpose at present is to describe but one, the breaking of the glass. When the various responses had been duly made and all the traditionary ceremonies satisfactorily performed, a solemn pause ensued. The officiating rabbi, a popular minister of the Jewish faith in Hamburg, withdrew to a seat, leaving the newly-joined couple standing alone in the centre of the room. Then the Rabbi, Ben Aaron, the ecclesiastic of a hundred years, solemnly rose from his seat upon the elevated station in the East, tottered down the steps by the assistance of his servant, and approached the pair. In his right hand he held a glass vessel with a long slender stem and large capacity. Addressing the bridegroom in his deep sepulchral voice he said, "The Lord make this woman that is come into thine house like Eachel and like Leah, which two did build the house of Israel: and do thou worthily in Ephratah, and be famous in Bethlehem: and let thy house be like the house of Pharez, whom Tamar bare unto Judah of the seed which the Lord shall give thee of this young woman."

To the young bride he next gave directions proper to her change of life, and concerning the obedience due to her husband, then wished for her the happiness of a fruitfal and peaceful home.

But now the aged Rabbi addressing them both, assumed a mournful tone, and in the words of the Lamenter, he reminded them how "Zion spreadeth forth her hand and there is none to comfort her: the Lord has cast down his altar, he hath abhorred his sanctuary: for this our heart is faint; for these things our eyes are dim; our holy and our beautiful house, where our fathers praised the Lord, is burned up with fire, and all our pleasant things are laid waste!" At these words the fragile cup was suddenly dashed against the floor, and a deep groan burst involuntarily from every bosom.

The veteran returned slowly to his seat and hid his face in his robe. Another solemn pause, and again the officiating Rabbi who had performed the principal ceremonies, returned co the twain who had been so impressively instructed concerning the destruction of the Temple, and explained to them that this portion of the Jewish history was to be carefully imparted to the children whom the Lord might bestow upon them, to the end that it might never be forgotten.

The subject was rather dull, and Brother Gaines had no oratorical abilities to enliven it. Just as he got through the Grand Tyier'a knock was heard at the door, come to summon the members to the Lodge room. But nobody answered, and after listening a while at the key hole, he went off, convinced that his own ears deceived him.

A general call was now made upon old Jack to sing a song, very popular about that time, relating to the Albany Antimasonioc Convention, and the Deputy Grand Master did not delay to answer the request.

The Antimason

Oh, there was an Antimason, and his name was Uncle Nick.
And he lived down below, down below,
But he came a visiting a dozen times a week,
He'd a heap of work for to do.
A school to teach and a family to keep,
And a press and a newspaper too,
And never to be idle, nor a wink of sleep,
Was the work, Uncle Nick had to do
Burn up the. Bible—let it go!
Come, Brother Anti, give a crow, (imitates,)
For there's no more work in the Mason's Lodge- On the trestle-board, moss shall grow.

Oh, his school was crammed with a thronging class-
There were gentlemen and ladies too;
The one to learn the Mason's pass,
The other what Mason's do.
Old Nick with smiles, in a big book wrote,
What the gentlemen wanted to know;
But he blushed when he turned to the petticoat,
And he whispered a word or two. (Chorus)

His family, the pride and gems of the place.
There was Merriek, Seward, Granger, you know
And a president to rule, and a preacher to grace,—
Six score such a fuss could blow!
On good hot meat these children were fed,
Twas cooked down below, down below,
And the wines they drank in the goblets red,
From the veins of the Masons flow. (Chorus)

His Journal, filled with smashing lies,
Was sent through all the nation;
Uncle Nick called on his votaries,
"Come, help its circulation!"
On the shelf, on the file, on the table strewed,
Every carrier swift did go;
And in the very house of God,
This Antimason paper strow. (Chorus}

Oh, there is an Antimason, and his name is Uncle Nick.
But he stays down below, down below;
For his school's broke up, and his children sick,
And his printers joined the foe.
And the Masons' cause, so gloomy then,
Is bright as the noonday now,
And while there's love and truth in men,
The light of the Lodge shall glow.
Bring out the Bible, let it glow!
Come. brother Masons, give a crow, (imitates)
For there is work yet in the Mason's Lodge,
As the trestle board long shall show.

A roar of involuntary applause followed this fair hit at a defunct party, and old Jack was so well pleased with his own performance that he incontinently added this anecdote:

"A large delegation from almost every State in the Union, united in laying the corner stone of Washington's Monument at Washington City, July 4th, 1848. Among the rest was (Gen. W———, formerly Grand Master of the State of ———. This gentleman is well known for his contempt of all Antimasons and for having had a fight in his younger days with three of their party leaders at once, in which he whipped them all. After the ceremonies were ended, the General was walking to his hotel, arm in arm with a member of Congress from his own State, when whom should they overtake but one of the men who had been most active in that rascally Albany convention some twenty years before. The member stopped him and just for the sake of devilment, introduced "His particular friend, Gen. W———, to his esteemed friend, Gov. S———!" The. ex-governor politely held out his hand, but the General drew himself erect with a stern look of enquiry, and asked, "Did I understand it, Governor S.?" "Yes, sir," blandly responded that gentleman. "Governor S. of New York?" " Yes, sir," replied the gentleman in question, drawing back his extended fork, and looking offended in his turn. "Governor S., who was chairman of the Albany Antimasonic Convention?" "Yes," fiercely responded the badgered individual, looking as though he would as soon strike somebody as not. By this time a dozen persons had gathered around, seeing something in the General's face that gave hopes of a fight. "Then, Mr. Ex-Governor S., if you are the gentleman from New York, and if you. were Chairman of the Albany Antimasonic Convention, and if after that you could witness a Masonic celebration as you have today, all I have got to say is, if you'll come to my State I'll help tar and feather you!" And the General turned fiercely away, nor would he ever have another word to say to his old friend, the member.

Brother Fenner was altogether of opinion that the General served him right. He thought that a list of the members of that Convention ought to be published and sent to every Grand Lodge in the United States.

For his part he would vote against an Antimason for every office from constable up.

Being called upon by the Grand Lecturer to explain what he meant by an Antimason. He said, "any man who would try to make political or other capital by denouncing Masonry." He then related the following touching anecdote concerning:

The Slipper

There were two brothers in the eastern part of Kentucky Both of them had been members of the Grand Lodge, and noted for their proficiency in the landmarks and adaptations of Masonry. By accident, the elder of the two, in a hunting excursion, wounded himself so severely that he died the same day. He was borne to his house, and his children called around, (his wife having been dead for several years,} to see his departure. His brother came with speed, to lend the last kind offices, and voluntarily proposed to take charge of the children, now doubly orphaned, and to rear them as his own. All that business affairs dictated was soon arranged, for these men had not waited until the death-hour to draw up their wills and to square their accounts with the world. (When Brother George Washington was taken ill with the sadden attack that terminated his existence, it was found that all his accounts were balanced, and his papers filed up to the Saturday before. This is the true Temple System, and it ia good.) The interests of the soul were likewise disposed of, for the great Treasurer in heaven had received from the dying man many a deposit of faith and good works and stood prepared, that dying man knew it, to honor any draft that might be drawn with Christ aa the endorser. Hands had been pressed, a kiss from each wondering child received, and the summoned then closed his eyes patiently to await the call of death. Death was not slow in coming. Soon the tongue lost its power of speech; the limbs refused to obey the will; the sense of hearing failed, and then to see was all that remained to one who had been noted for twenty years, as the strong of hand and the swift of foot.

But now, as he lay thus imprisoned in the dungeon of his thoughts, a grief came over him. It was plain, by those heavy sighs, those big round tears, and that look of anguish, that the departure of this Christian soul was not so peaceful as it should be. The brother, who leaned affectionately above his pillow, marked the change with acute sorrow. What had thus oppressed the dying man ! what business matter unsettled, what conscience matter undisposed of, was dropping bitterness into his cup of death!

The departing Mason opened his eyes and cast a glance, inexpressibly mournful, upon his children, and then upon his brother. It said: "Brother, I go the way of all flesh, and I leave these lambs with thee; if thou shalt fail in thy care — if thy pledge to me shall be broken or forgotten, whom have they on earth? I have seen the affliction of the fatherless ——•" No words were needed to make all this plain; but how should such a doubting soul be answered. All avenues to the understanding were choked up save the sight, and that was fast becoming clouded. But with a ready thought the brother stooped and plucked off his shoe, and holding it up, full in the view of God, himself and his departing friend, he laid it in his extended palm and thus sealed the covenant with the dead. It was enough, it was understood. A smile of approval that bursting from the heart, forced its way through the stiffened muscles to the face, gave token that the other party acknowledged the symbol — and so he died. The smile remained when the coffin lid was laid above it. And now in a mountain grave-yard, where many a tombstone bears a Mason mark, there is one sacred to the memory of Wallace M. T————, - whose symbol is the plain slipper, the sealing of the covenant between the living and the dead.

The relation of this circumstance elicited various remarks, in which some difference of sentiment was manifested relative to the real meaning of that anctent lsraelitish symbol, the slipper.

This being ended, Brother CollinS) Junior Warden and representative of Phenician Lodge, No. 87, related the following account of:

The Mason's Widow

There came a widow lady to our neighborhood last May, who said she wanted to make up a small class to teach wax Work to young ladies. Sons of us knew anything of her, and as we are rather poor in our county, we didn't give her much encouragement. After trying for ten days without securing a single scholar, she fell sick at my house. My wife turning over her trunk to get some things she wanted, came across a signet of the ———— degree. Now the old lady is mighty fond of that degree, and she can read the signet like a book, and so she asked Mrs. Lane, (that was the stranger's name) about it.

The widow said her husband had been a Mason and had got her to take that degree, but she thought so little of Masonry, she had never paid any attention to it. However she had kept her husband's demit and diploma and his Mason's apron, and other things, and showed them to my wife, who brought them to me. It didn't take me long to get her some scholars, and by the time she got well, we had a good school ready for her, and she has remained in the neighborhood ever since.

The question, as to how far females have privileges in connection with Masonry, and how they can make themselves known when among strangers, and in distress, was now discussed at length.

The Grand Lecturer suggested that if Androgynous degrees are at all allowable, something better should be given to the ladies than the trashy, superficial ones invented by dull wits within the last fifteen years.

This aroused the opposition of the Deputy Grand Master, who had so often conferred the ——— degree, that it was almost bone of his bone.

To close the discussion, which was getting a little warm, Brother Levings, Worshipful Master of Nonmetallic Lodge, No. 106, gave in his experience as follows:

The Devil's Half Acre

In the upper part of Louisiana near the Arkansas side, there used to be one of the most God-defying sets of people ever heard of. There was no Sabbath day amongst them, for they served their master, the devil, seven days in a week, with freedom, fervency, and zeal.

Horse racing, cock fighting, and the most cruel sports of all kinds, were their diversions. Fighting, gouging, and murder were common enough. As for such a thing as legal restraint, the very idea was laughed at. Grand Juries were compelled to wink at what they dared not present; circuit judges suffered the grossest infractions of the law to pass unchecked under their very noses; sheriffs and constables were hailfellows well met with the wickedest of them - such was Louisiana, near the Arkansas line, fifteen or twenty years ago.

The Methodist Conference had long looked eagerly at that region, for the nearer the devil is to getting a man, the more that church tries to save him !

More than once their Bishop had sent an itinerant preacher there, but he was so glad to get away with a whole skin, that he took care to say as little about what happened to him as possible. At last old Father Goolsbury offered to itinerate that field if the Bishop desired it, and the Bishop gladly jumped at the chance. Parson G. was a man of great experience, particularly in a department like this. He had itinerated clear around, from the Falls of Niagara to Red River, keeping right on the edge of civilization all the way, and he was the very man for the place. Nobody could preach oftener in a day than Father Goolsbury, or do it in ruder places. Nobody could eat rougher, sleep harder, ride longer, swim bolder, or laugh heartier than he. So he offered to go to North Louisiana, and the Bishop appointed him instanter. A collection was taken up to buy him a splendid horse, the only thing in the world except sinners, the old man loved. The kind sisters turned in and made him half a dozen shirts; a new suit of clothes out-and-out was bought for him, and then with a joke and a prayer and a tear, and two stanzas of Wesley's songs, the intrepid parson departed.

Now there was a village in the very heart of this pandemonium, called by the proprietor, Tockville, or some such name; but from the quality of the atmosphere, and the murderous brawls that continually occurred there, the country people had christened it The .Devil's Half Acre. No traveler ever stopped there twice. No sober neighbor ever visited there on a public day. No respectable woman ever rode through there at all. There was no church and no school in Tockville; but there was a score of grogshops, bowling alleys, gambling houses, &c.; and there was a race course hard by, which, to many a poor fellow, had proved to be the entrance to eternal death.

At this very place, unpromising as it seemed, the old itineerant published his first appointment. He rightly thought that if he could make the thing grind at The Devil's Half Acre it would grind anywhere; but if he thought to get an easy grist of it, he made as big a mistake as if he had torn his shirt. For no sooner was his notice posted on the tavern door than it was torn down with rage, and a popular order given to the daring minister to evacuate the village forthwith. Nothing daunted however, he wrote out a second announcement and declared that he would return the next Sabbath, and preach in the public square if he couldn't get a house, for the Bishop had ordered him to preach and preach he would, or break a hame-string trying."

Now Father Goolsbury was not the man to face such a devil's crew as the Tockvillers without some preparation. He had been ducked, and whipped, and tarred-and-feathered too often in his ministerial career not to know where he stood. And when he made his appointment at The. Devil's Half Acre his whole plan was well matured. It was nothing more or less than to make a Masonic affair of it.

There was a Mason Lodge in the adjoining county, many of the members living near Tockville, and the old man set himself diligently to hunting them up. As fast as he found one, he showed him the necessity for religion in that community the many efforts that had been vainly made to introduce it - the danger to a brother Mason now; — and other things equally pressing. His summons was answered in the same spirit in which it had been made. So, when the Sabbath morning rolled around, the Rev. Jabez Goolsbury rode into The Devil's Half Acre, accompanied by sixty-three mounted Masons, well armed and prepared either for peace or war. It was peace. The Tockville folks were overawed, and not a hand was raised against them. The sermon was a good one, and it was followed up by an exhortation that would have done credit to Brother Maffit himself. At three o'clock a second sermon was delivered, and considerable feeling manifested among the audience. At night a general calm was apparent, so promising in fact that the Masons left their pistols at the tavern, and Parson Goolsbury was permitted to preach in one of the bowling alleys in view of a bad cold he had caught. Never was there such a general knocking down of pins in that alley before! The itinerant out-preached all creation. It was a perfect pentecost. The hardest hearts melted. Women screamed. Men groaned and fell on their faces. The Masons generally became convicted. In short, a revival wag started that night and it lasted two weeks.

Then came the baptizing. Parson G. organized a church at Tockville, with more than eighty members, and named it The Pluckced-Brand church, and after he had got through baptizing the people, he threw a handful of water into the air, and said, "Devil's Half Acre I baptize thee by the name of Jerusalem," and ever since that time it has been so styled, But the best of the whole thing was ———— Here the speaker was interrupted by a loud rap at the door. The Grand Tyier, who had felt all along convinced that there must be somebody in the Grand Secretary's room, had stepped back to the door on tip-toe and listened, until he heard Brother Leverings, just at the break of his story. Then he rapped and summoned them to appear in the Grand Lodge room, and so ended one of the most delightful little episodes of our life.