"How wonderful is death, Death and his brother Sleep! When, throned on ocean's wave, Yet both so passing wonderful!" I do not ask if the images of Sleep and Death strike the imagination as forcible and natural. They have only to be presented to the mind to be received as such. But as I have already exceeded the limits which I had prescribed for myself, I will hasten to a conclusion. My last quotation is from a short poem addressed to a child. I give it from memory:— "Thy memory as a spell Of love comes o'er my mind, "I hear thy voice in dreams Like echo of the mountain streams, Or sportive waterfall. I see thy form as when Thou wert a living thing, And blossom'd in the eyes of men Like any flow'r in Spring." The philanthropic Leigh Hunt has written, among other very beautiful essays, a pleasing paper "On the Deaths of Little Children," in which he endeavours to reconcile us to their loss in a strain of persuasive and affectionate philosophy. He shows that the pleasure with which we think of their past endearments and innocent manners, after the first bursts of sorrow are over, is a source of lasting feeling, that partakes alike of joy and grief, exceedingly soothing to the mind of the bereaved, a fact which which every day experience will verify. I remember hearing of a father, who lost his only child-a daughter. He bore the loss with meekness, if not with cheerfulness; and when asked how he felt the bereavement of his only child, replied,-"I have lost my child, but her memory will only depart with my life; and that solace will cheer me to my dying hour." The preceding fragment, I think, does not unaptly pourtray the feelings of such a father. Its memory would, indeed, be" a spell of love" to its parent. The images of" dew," " perfume," "moonlight," and "music," are all natural similies, for they are as guileless as childhood itself, and therefore more appropriate for the subject. The "voice in dreams," calling in accents sportive as the waterfall, is a happy link in a chain of correct and smooth-flowering imagery. And here my remarks must close. Perhaps I have ill-succeeded in the task which I had set myself. My notions I fear are crude and unformed, and my style unconvincing. The theme, too, as I before remarked, is not one of common interest, consequently requiring more skill in the treating of it to be effective. But why should we not all be conversant with poetry? Why should the working man be shut out from a great deal of what is beautiful in the world by the precepts of an education as narrow as it is illiberal? A knowledge of the harmony of language-and of what are termed the fine arts, would assuredly better our condition from the inward resources with which we should be furnished. A little acquaintance with botany would enable the inhabitant of the crowded city to adorn his windows with flowers that will not only delight his eye, but whose fragrance will be grateful amid an atmosphere of smoke and steam; an acquaintance with drawing and painting would give him powers to ornament his dwelling with representations of some of the most beautiful objects in creation; as a musician, how cheering to possess the capability of delighting his household with the sound of the sweet-toned instrument, or the pleasing melody of his voice. Who can deny that these things, when rightly directed, would be a benefit to the meanest of us. Assuredly some. God has given us certain powers; and we should, or rather, we ought, to bring them to perfection, if that be possible. There is nothing in poetry, painting, and music that can do us harm; on the contrary, they will refine our thoughts, elevate our feelings, make us more happy, with each other, and more worthy of the hand that created us. THE RECLUSE OF BLACKMOOR. A FRAGMENT. ABOUT Six miles north of Leeds, near the picturesque hamlet of Shadwell, lies a rocky waste called Blackmoor. There the various kinds of tinted mosses flourish luxuriantly, and the different species of the heather unfold their simple but elegant blossoms; except the plaintive cry of the lapwing, and the hollow murmuring of the wind among the pine trees, with which it is nearly suarounded, all is silence and dreary solitude. The only traces of habitancy are the few farm-houses on its borders; it is, indeed, a place well fitted for the solitary and uncharitable musings of the pitiable misanthrope, At the beginning of a cold, stormy day, towards the month of March, 1825, a man of a fierce and sullen aspect was observed in the midst of the wilderness, busily employed in paring turf, with which he was erecting a kind of hovel. The sight of such an uncouth figure apparently about to make the desert his place of residence, attracted the attention of a neighbouring farmer, who, being desirous of ascertaining something relating to the mysterious stranger, hastened to the place where he was engaged. A considerable piece of land was cleared ready for cultivation; and he was so intent upon his work, as not to observe the approach of the visitor, who thus had sufficient time for observation. He appeared to be past the meridian of life. His visage was dark, weatherbeaten, and care-worn, his eye sunken,-and the beard, instead of being shaven, was clipped, which increased his grisly appearance. He wore no stockings, and his feet were defended with a sole which somewhat resembled the antique sandal. His garments were made of cloth, but threadbare and loathsome; the coat reaching to his ankles, and fastened round his boby with a girdle; upon his head was a capote, from under which his grey matted hair descended upon his shoulders, and his whole appearance bespoke. wretchedness and destitution. He eyed the husbandman very suspiciously, who, nothing daunted, interrogated him as to who he was, and whence he came; and was surprised to find instead of an illiterate mendicant, as he supposed, an individual evidently of education, and who had seen better days and many climes; but could not elicit anything to account for his mysterious conduct. He said his name was Mark Northouse, that he had been in the army, (but why he left it was unrevealed) that having met with a more than the ordinary lot of crosses, losses and disappointments in the world, he had determined to retire from it and its turmoil, and that he did not wish for any visitors. Whether this account was true or not was never known; for if any one intimated a desire to become acquainted respecting his personal history, he would never after hold conversation with the speculative inquirer, He finished his hut, his "lodge in the wilderness," and planted the land which he had broken up with potatoes; but howsoever averse he might be to visitors, the report that a hermit, (as he was called) had taken his abode on Blackmoor, caused them to come up in crowds, which much annoyed the 'solitary.' His disposition was both vindictive and cruel, particularly to children, who sometimes molested him, or animals that trespassed on his circumscribed domain; so that people approached him with fear, which diminished the number of his visitants, and after a time public curiosity still more subsided. It was supposed that he had in some way obtained permission of the owner of the soil, a distant lord of many acres,to sojourn on the romantic spot selected. The writer of this sketch had several interviews with him, and his conversation fully proved him to be a person of extensive abilities and intelligence. He could solve an abstruse problem in mathematics, understood French, and could play on the flute; but he was a professed infidel, and he had located himself, at all events, afar from the most sacred ordinances of his fellows. His hut was a miserable place, about twelve feet square, but not lofty; the fire was usually kindled on a few stones in the middle, the smoke escaping through the door and an aperature in the roof, in the true primitive fashion. He had neither chair, table, nor stool. His couch was turf covered with dry ling, which served him during the day for a seat, and his only companion a cat. The neighbouring farmers liberally supplied him with milk whenever he chose to solicit it, which, with potatoes, constituted his principal He generally remained in his cabin during the day, and rambled about the sequestered and lonesome moor at nightfall. He remained in this degraded and singular situation till somewhere about the fourth anniversary of his arrival, when the adjacent VOL. 6.-No. 2-0. sustenance. rustics, not having seen him for some time, supposed him to be either ill or dead. They repaired to the hut, and the door being closed, knocked without obtaining a reply. They again tried it, and found it unfastened, and on entering were much surprised not to find the object of their search; they examined the contiguous retreats, but no traces of the anchorite were to be discovered. His feline friend was also gone; upon the pallet of sods were the dirty vestments he had worn; and in a corner his garden tools and a few vegetables, everything else had disappeared. Various were the reports respecting him, but they were mere conjecture. The hut is now destroyed, and "A pleasant cot, in that tranquil spot," is built near its site, the tenant of which occupies the land he cultivated. And why, or whence he came, or whither he went,-still less, whether he had encountered too much of the world's rude storm, or "being more sinned against than sinning," or known the fever and desolation of blighted hopes, or the shock of domestic bereavements, remains a mystery to this day among the dwellers upon the skirts of Blackmoor! WILLIAM BURROUGHS SNOWDEN. Thorne, February, 1840. TO A SNOW DROP. WHILST winter's winds blow bleak and keen, And groves and forests, once so green, No smiling vegetation wear, To show that spring is drawing near; Yet thou, fair Snow Drop, modest gem! Regardless of the chilling rain, Thou meets me in the open plain; Through mouldering leaves and withered grass, Thou peeps as if to watch me pass. In thee I see my Maker's care,— Lest winter's gloom should cause despair,-- The crocus will not break his vows- I'll say no more,--but wish thee well! Mechanics' Lodge, Leeds District. JAMES ROSS, P. G. TOKENS OF RESPECT PRESENTED FOR SERVICES RENDERED TO LODGES, DISTRICTS, AND THE ORDER IN GENERAL. 1839. September 11th, a Silver Snuff Box to P. Prov. G. M. Willcock, of the Chillington Lodge, Wolverhampton. September 18th, a Silver Medal to P. G. William Groves, by the members of the Elsom Lodge, Birmingham. September 18th, a Silver Medal to P. G. George Tarrant, by the members of the Elsom Lodge, Birmingham. October 20th, a pair of rich silver-mounted Horn Cups to P. G. William Musgrove, by the Ebor Lodge, York. October 20th, Volumes of the Odd Fellows' Magazine, handsomely bound in Morocco, to brother Thomas Ward, by the Ebor Lodge, York. November 16th, a Silver Medal to Prov. D. G. M. Aaron Hobson, by the Victoria Lodge, York. December 16th, a valuable Gold Watch and Appendages to P. G. M. William Gray, by private subscription of the Directors and other members of the Manchester District. December 19th, a Silver Medal, with God Centre, to P. G. James W. H. Tidswell, by the members of the Perseverance Lodge, Spalding. December 19th, a Silver Medal to P. G. Smith, by the members of the Perseverance Lodge, Spalding. December 30th, a splendid Silver Medal, with Gold Centre, to P. Prov. G. M. James Thompson, by the Scarborough District. February 10th, 1840, a Silver Medal to P. Prov. D. G. M. Ratcliffe, by the Spring of Love Lodge, Derby. REFLECTIONS ON THE POWER AND GOODNESS OF THE DEITY. How beauteous and wonderful the works of nature are! Surpassing bright and glorious is the twinkling evening star,The sun, how hot and powerful,-the moon, how fair and bright; How clear and light the summer day,-how dark the wintry night. How fearful and dreadful are the earthquake and the storm; Enchanting to the human eye is the dazzling rainbow's form,The rolling clouds, the raging sea, the all-deluging rain— What varied feelings do they cause of pleasure and of pain. How fierce are man's passions, and how mild his reasoning soul! With unerring order do the planets in their orbits roll; The whole stupendous arch of heaven, revealing to the sight Our great Creator's matchless works, his majesty and might. Then let us view with gratitude, the gifts which he bestows! Each herb and tree that yieldeth fruit, each rippling brook that flows Are emblems of his goodness: with an equal hand he gives His blessings to the monarch, and the meanest slave that lives. "Tis man alone that causeth all the misery we see,And then, great God of Nature, he astributes it to Thee! Thy justest dispensations he hath named a scourging rod, And ascribed the suffering of the poor to the providence of God; Although thy true and perfect laws to all the world proclaim That thy mercy and beneficence are for evermore the same; For thou didst here withhold thy gifts e'en from ungrateful man, And thy goodness is the same to-day, as 'twas when time began. Oh! that mankind would but observe the laws which thou hast given, Then would this green and fertile earth be truly made a heaven; A realized Paradise, a never failing portal,— Through which the whole of human kind might enter life immortal. Shakspeare Lodge, Manchester. BENJAMIM STOTT, P. G. TO THE READERS OF THE MAGAZINE. IN presenting our readers with another Number of the Odd Fellows' Magazine, and the last previous to the York A. M. C. being held, we cannot, in justice to ourselves and those correspondents who have favoured us with their contributions, allow the present Number to circulate, without entering into a subject which has long been matter of serious consideration with us, namely, an alteration in the mode of conducting the Magazine. Many of our readers will, no doubt, frequently have noticed a want of original articles, and at times selections of rather inferior talent and little variety; on such occasions, and without consideration, the fault is generally laid upon its conductors, but a little examination into the case will soon remove such ideas. The fault of the Magazine not being on a par with the leading periodicals of the day, in respect of original matter, is with the Order at large; delicacy has hitherto prevented the Magazine Committee, as well as the most intelligent Correspondents, from broaching the subject. We have indeed received occasionally from various quarters, suggestions and plans calculated to emulate members to become correspondents; but unfortunately they have been sent to the wrong parties, they should have been sent for the consideration of the A. M. C., not to the Magazine Committee, who have no power even to alter the mode of conducting, much less to appropriate the funds arising from the sale of the Magazine. For the purpose of a fair understanding it should be named, that though there are near a dozen individuals appointed to compose the Magazine Committee, yet no more than three or four persons take the trouble to attend to the duties attached to such appointment, the members composing which are parties who have to attend their daily avocations to obtain a livelihood; what little time they have to spare from business is fully occupied in reading over the communications from the various correspondents, and to see that they are selected for the printer; they have, therefore, no time either to write original articles, or vary much the selections to suit the tastes of their readers. Thus it will be seen, if the subscribers do not furnish good articles, the Committee have to insert indifferent ones. There is a common proverb that the labourer is worthy his hire. Laying delicacy aside, we must say that it can hardly be expected that parties would or should, year after year, devote their time, without some sort of remuneration; a person may do so one, two, or three years, but to continne doing so for an indefinite period, is out of the question. Those who at present conduct the Magazine, have done so for several years; whether their management has been good or bad, its contents and still increasing circulation will give the best answer. It is not the most pleasing task to force oneself into notice, for what we have written gives us considerable uneasiness; nor should we have wrote so now, did we not believe that the stability of the Magazine requires an immediate alteration in its management. We shall now state what alterations we consider necessary, and then give extracts from several correspondents, from which we hope some plan may be adopted by the York A. M. C., to infuse new life into the pages of the Magazine. As far as our experience goes we would recommend the A. M. C. to appoint a responsible Editor, with a salary to recompense him for the due attention to the conducting of the Magazine. The Editor should at the same time furnish every number with an original article on some subject connected with the Order. That he be instructed not under any circumstances to allow the insertion of any passage which may have the most remote bearing on politics or theology. That he furnish the Officers of the Order, or the Committee of Management, (if continued) with a proof sheet for their approbation previous to its going to press; and that the Officers of the Order, as well as District Officers, furnish him with such information connected with the Order, as he may require to illustrate any subject that he may write upon. We would also suggest that the A. M. C., at its sittings, reward in any manner they may think best, such correspondents who have contributed the best articles, which will have a tendency to emulate the members to furnish good matter. The following remarks are from a very intelligent correspondent: "I HAVE for some months had an intention of writing to you a kind of half-private letter, relative to our Odd Fellow's Magazine, but a press of engagements (almost too much for an individual) have hitherto entirely precluded such an act. However, at last, I snatch up my pen to give you a mere skeleton of my thoughts in a hasty manner: but you must bear in mind that this is only a rough sketch, and not intended to stand criticism or contention. I shall, for brevity, omit ALL ARGUMENTS, and much else which |