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VOL. 1.
GllEENSBORO, C., ElllBAY, MAY 5,1876
NO
The Corner-StoiiG.
J« BliO. COL. ROBlvRT TAYLOR.
^l\oad at ('he Laying of the Coruei'-Stone of
N'e\v Masonic Temple, at Virginia, Ne
vada, OctoI)er 13, 1875.]
Wisdom inetfable I 'we how
la reverential uive
Before Thy holy throne, and vow
To keep Tliy law.
We ]>our the Corn, the Wine, the Oil,
I'pon this new-laid stone,
And ask no blessing for our toil
But thine, alone.
To Thee we build, in Thee we trust,
d'hy gloiy we confess;
r or I'hou art God, and M'e but dust,
"Whom Thou dost bless.
Tills is Thy temple; Thou our Guide—
Our “true and trusty'’ Friend ;
Be Thou, O Fatlier, by our side
Until the end.
The Plumb, the Square, the LeveVs test,
True “well formed” lines have shown ;
And all is M'ell, if God has blessd
This corner-stone.
New may the building proudly rist
To be a statidy fane.
Where souls are litted for the skie.s—
W here peace shall reign ;
Where Masons’ heaits. attuned to love,
Shall join in .sweet accord,
To supplicate the Throne ab(»vc
And praise the Jjord.
Mattie’s Wish.
Mattie Everett was one of the prettiest
girls in the city. She kr.ew she was pret
ty when she looked in the glass—she saw
the reflection of her rose-bud beauty in
the admiring faces of chance passers.—
And yet withal, Mattie Everett was not
contented. She wanted to be rich. She
yearned for a peep into ‘fashionable so
ciety,’ Slie was tired of the common
place existence which she led every day,
and longed for an adventure of some sort
—a streak of romance to dapple her life !
For Mattie was only a dressmaker’s
apprentice learning the trade under the
auspices of Madame Genevieve. So mat
ters stood, when Miss Bellefont’s wedding
order came in.
‘Where’s that little blue-eyed girl you
sent to ray house to alter my white cash-
mere morningf robe?’ said Miss Bellefont
to Madame Genevieve. ‘Let her come
again. She has a capital idea of trim
mings, and her fit is excellent.
Augii.sta Bellefont was not unlike Mat-
tie herself—a plump, fresh complexioned
girl, with blue eyes and pale yellow hair
—and after she was gone, Mattie heard
the full particulars of the case—how Miss
Bellefont was to be married the next
moilth to Major Cai'lyle, and who had
more money than he knew what .0 do
\vith.
‘She’s a lovely girl, I’m sure,' said Miss
Garratt, the forew'oman, as she out off
yard upon yard of bias white satin for the
trimming. ‘And for all that they say
there’s a young fellow, without a penny
in ail the w'orld to bless himself with, that
she loves to distraction.’
‘Oh, how delightfully romantic,’ cried
Mattie, with sparkling eye.s ; and she
worked away, thinking of Miss Bellefont
and her two lovers.
‘One has her heart,' she mused, ‘the
other will have hei hand ! Dear, dear,
what a world t’nis is !’
Two or three days afterwards, Mattie
Everett took a big paper box of half com
pleted dress bodices to the pretty little
brown stoii-j house on Oreusa Park where
Miss Bellefont lived. The servant show
ed her into the library, where the beauty
sat, picturesquely posed in a sleepy hol
low chair, with her satin slippered feet
on an embroidered footstool. And lean
ing against the opposite window stood a
tall, handsome man, whom Matlie recog
razed at once for Major Carlyle.
‘Hallo !' cried he, in his off-hand way,
‘is that the milliner's little girl ? Pretty
as a daisy, isn't she ?’
‘I told you she was pretty,’ said Miss
Bellefont; and Mattie smiled and blushed
and dimpled, and scarcely knew which
way to look. ‘Major, I shall have to
leave you for a few minutes. I dare say
you can amuse yourself very well with
the books and magazines. Little one,
come with me.’
And then Mattie wa.s ushered into a
satin-hung boudour, of whose splendors
she had never before dreamed.
‘Oh, Miss Bellefont," said she, ‘I should
think you would be so happy 1’
‘Happy !' said Miss Bellefont, careless
ly. ‘Which of us is really happy in this
world ? Come, let us try on the emerald
green-satin, and then we shall be through.’
Day after day Mattie Everett came,
until the wedding drew near. Sometimes
she saw Major Carlyle, sometimes she did
' not. But the oftener she came, the often-
! er one fixed fact became evolved from
her inner consciousness—that Au.gusta
Bellefont was—or ought to be—the hap
piest girl in the world.
, Yet there w.is an absent look in Au-
gusta's great, blue eyes, a troubled ex
pression of the mouth that forbade the
' inference of perfect bliss.
I ‘I wondei what it is that is wanting in
her life ?’ said Mattie to herself. ‘0, if
' only I was in her place !’
i Lights, and blossoms, and the shimmer
of silk and satin usheied in Miss Belle-
font's wedding evening ; and Mattie was
there, dimpled, smiling, and eager to
help.
The bride's-maide were ready—all was
ready but the bride. Augusta Bellefont
had been strangely capricious, and lull
of vagaries all day. Sometimes laughing,
sometimes almost sad.
‘Ready ?’ she cried, gl-anoing at the
little malachite clock on the mantel, as
the last summons came. ‘Surely it is not
time yet. I wont dress until I am oblig
ed. See here, little one,' to Mattie, ‘I’ve
an idea of seeing what I am like m this
fine bridal garb of mine. You are about
my height and build- You shall put on
the w'edding-dress and veil, the 'white sat
ir. slippers, and the wreath.’
‘I, Miss Augusta?’
‘You. Why not? Quick! Off with
that sober brown gingbam, that makes
such an insignificant brown sparrow of
you r
And half laughing, half reluctant, Mat-
tie Everett o’oeyed, not altogether averse
to decking herself, even though it rvas in
jest, with the brilliant robes and resplen
dent pearls of the heiress.
The leflection in the mirror brought
the rosy carmine to her cheek. Invol
untarily she drooped her eyes.
‘You are charming, ma petite,' cried
Miss Bellefont. ‘But stay—the bouquet
from the other room. Wait half a second
and I will bring it.’
‘Oh 1 Miss Bellefont, let me go.'
‘Ho ; I’ll get it in a minute.’
And away she flitted.
One minute went by—two, three, four
and five, and still Miss Bellefont did not
come back. Mattie began to grow unea
sy, and ventured to peep into the room
beyond. Ho one was there.
The girls heart gave a great jump—at
the same moment the bevy of bride’s-
maidb fluttered into the room.
‘Come, Augusta, are you ready ? The
groom is waiting—the clergyman’s come,
and—Why, Miss Everett 1’
Mattie grew scarlet.
‘She made me put it on 1’ she faltered,
conscious of the awkwardness of her po
sition,
‘And where is she ?’ demanded indig
nant Mrs. Bellefont.
‘Gone for the boquet.’
They made immediate search for her,
but, as the reader will probably conjec
ture, Miss Augusta was far enough away,
and only a note, which Clara, Mordaunt,
the second bride’s-maid, found slipped
into the window casing, gave any idea of
her whereabouts.
‘Good-bye,’ it said, debonairly. ‘Hove llar-
i-v Tiske, and liave gone to imirry liiin.
A. B.’
And in the midst of the melee. Major
Oarlyle’s tall head was seen, towering
over the rest, like Saul above his fellows.
‘Gone has she?’ said he with a compos
ure which was quite wonderful under the
circumstances. ‘And I am left to wear
the mitten. But who is this little ghost
in the wedding robes ?’
Mattie Everett lifted her pleading
eyes to his,
‘I don’t mean to do wrong,’ said she.
'Oh, believe me sir, I knew nothing of
all this.’
Major Carlyle looked gravely at her.
‘Here is a bride,’ said he. ‘And here
is the wedding feast, the clergyman and
the guests—and, last of all the groom!
So I think it would be a pity to lose the
wedding. If Miss Bellefont does not
care for me, that is no sign that others
may not.—Come here, little Mattie Ev
erett—will you be the bride?’
Mattie looked in his face a minute, and
then she said, ‘Yes.’
It was a strange wedding, but it was a
wedding, after all 1
And Mattie is happier now, than she
ever dreamed it possible to be.
She has gained her wish—she is a rich
and fashionable lady now, and orders all
her dresses from Madame Genevieve.
Mr. andMrs. Fisk are living in Paris,-
happy and impecunious—and Major Car
lyle is just as devoted to his pretty young
wife as if he had never had any other
love.
The Progress of Masonry.
The London Freemason of a recent dale
speaks encouragingly of the growth of
the Masonic Crder, and goes so far as to
say that at no epoch of our existence since
the Puevival of 1717, has the spirit of Ma-
sonic propagandiem been so active or so
successful as now. In so far as this coun-^
try is concerned, our English contempo
rary is right in claiming that much pro-'
gress has been made. The same may be
said of the United States ; and we believe
that every civilized nation of the world
has witnessed the most remarkable in--
crease in the growth of Masoni'y lyithin
the past year or so that has been known
in the history of the Crder. Even in
countries where the spirit of persecution
has been rampant, and where, everything
that was possible has been done to crush
it out, there has been a wonderful exem
plification of the onward progress of.
Freemasonry.
The increase in the number of members
and Lodges in England and America has
been unprecedently great; but that has
been as nothing compared to the growth
of the Order abroad, under the most ad
verse circumstances. The spirit of into!-*
erance was invoked to such an extent a.s
to give reason to fear that much harm
would be done ; but it seems to have bad
a far d fferent effect, for we learn with
satisfaction, that even beneath the shad
ow of the Vatican Freemasonry flourishes
and has become a power in the Eternal
City. When the inarch of progress is so
marked, there is ample room for oongrai-
ulaticn, and we scarcely Vv’onder at the
enthusiasm of the Freemason. The ex
traordinary growth of Freemasonry un
der such apparent adverse circumstances
affords the best grounds for believing
that the world is beginning to appreciate
its value. It is no longer regarded with
the suspicions that formerly surrounded
it; on the contrary its benefits are being
felt and its teachings better understood ;
hence there is hope of a speedy squelch
ing of the intolerance and bigotry witii
which the Order has so long been assailed
J/ay the time .soon come when the prin
ciples of fl/asonry will be rightly appre
ciated, and its opponents cease t® worry
themselves with an agitation that can be
of no avail. Anti-masonry has done its
worst, and we presume we shall soon hear
the last of the attempts that are being
made to mislead the public mind on a
1 S'lbjeot which they neither donor can
I understand-.—YAS Ci'aftsmam
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