Newspapers / Masonic Journal (Greensboro, N.C.) / June 30, 1876, edition 1 / Page 2
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r;;-7 £ bf' ti’i if’ t \ r.r "rfiMI I ) c!. ’‘Si-af f f I K'fk''vBiL*f 1 *. ' *'#&' I ! •! r ^#'11 f i •E-qi- >>' H.ni * i-« •ti-;' }^i- •: f ! f-i* :iis! a 1 ri^lTr ii ■TM 1 a B *i . ,• .?• ■•■• , THE MASONIC JOURNAL Haste Hot—Eest Not. “Witliout haste, without rest 1” Bind tlje motto to tliy breast! Bear it witli thee as a spell ; Storm or sunshine guard it well; Heed not flowers that round thee bloom Bear it omvard to the tomb! Haste not—let no thoughtless deed Mar fore’er the spirit’s speed; Bonder well, and know tlie right, Onward then with all thy might; Haste not—years can ne’er atone Bor one reckless action done! Rest not—life is sweeping by, Go and dare before yon die ; Something mighty and sublime Leave behind to conquer time! Glorious ’tis to live for aye, Wilen these forms have passed away. “Haste nod—rest not!” Calmly wait; Meekly bear the storms of fate; Duty be thj' polar guide: Do the right, whate’er betide! Haste not—rest not! Conflicts past, God shall crown thy work at last.' Goethe, From the Swiny South. THE OLD RED TAVERN. BY CLAUDE. After a lapse of fifteen years, I visited the town where the old red tavern stood; but it was not there. In large, gilded letters there stood a sign, “Pequod Jn- Btitnte.” “Where,” I involuntarily exclaimed, “is the old inn keeper ?” “Over in that three story house,” was the reply. “How came he there ?” “Why, he got rich keeping tavern and mortgaging property. You see, the old loafers used to sit there in the bar room and drink until their senses were be numbed ; and when their farms grew empty, first the tavern keeper would lake a lew acres of mowing land for se curity for liquor drank, then the pastu rage lot, and finally the homestead. Oh!” said my informant, “your heart would aohe were I to enumerate all the doings of the past fifteen years. You remember Joe Ashton ?” “Yes; a likely man. At the time I left, overseer of the poor.” “Well, the poor house took him in at last. Every cent he had went for liquor. You knew Frank Donald ?” “Certainly—he was town clerk,” “Well, he died of delirium tremens.” And his brother Ked—what became of him?” He perished in the snow with a jug under his arm.” “Great heavens !” I exclaimed ; “has every body died drunk since I left!* Where is my old Uncle Joe ? Gone the same, I suppose,” “Why no; to save him. a guardian was placed over him, and he reformed when the temperance question was so agitating, ^ Friend Joe was nearly dead from his violent excess—not that he was a habitual drinker, but one who, in vu! gar phrase, ‘would have his sprees.’ Soon after he was put under guardianship, a temperance lecturer came along, and Joe took the pledge. He never violated H, was appointed president of the society and IS now one of our best citizens-very watchful over the habits of young men, and a most worthy advocate of the cause’ He IS a great lecturer, and speaks from experience.” And so Jack Connor lives over the way the man who kept the red tavern, and was a boy with me. I will give him a call. Jack has a splendid house—three stones high. His grounds are kid out with great taste, and just see what an aping for city fashions ! He has put ell at the side of his front door—the o: ly one in town, I gave it a twitch ; it pulled hard. None of the villagers ever rang it, I suppose. “Is Mr. Connor at home ?” I enquired of a lean, gray headed old man, who had on a pair of green spectacles, and seemed debilitated and enfeebled in his gait. “Yes, sir; I am Mr. Connors.” “I mean Mr. John Connors, formerly inn keeper in this village.” A paleness came over his countenance as he replied, “I am the person you speak of.” “Do you remember .your old school mate, George Powell ?” “George—George! I reckon I do!” and he gave me a hearty shake of the hand as he seated me in a great arm chair, “I am glad to see you, George I am horribly ‘blue’ this morning, and am glad to be cheered with the presence of an old friend. Come, come George ; you must pass the day with me.” “Well, Mr, Connors, if I must, I will. I am rambling a day or two in these parts to hunt up old genealogical reminiscences of my ancestry. I will avail myself, therefore, of your invitation. Had you kept the old ‘red tavern,’ however, I should have taken lodgings uninvited.’’ The mention of the tavern seemed to throw a deadly pallor again over my old friend s countenance. I began to inter rogate him about the people in the neigh borhood. Let us walk out,” said I, “and see the placed have not looked upon for fif teen years; and point out to me changes and removals which time has made.” “Then we had better go in the grave yard to find your old friends. They are nearly all dead. This place has been famed for its mortality. The fact is, people lived too fast, Mr. Powell ; they ate too much and drank too much.” Put', interrupted I, who lives oppo site in that vine covered cottage.” The widow- Darton. You remember Tony, her husband—a shoemaker.” Perfectly. What became of him ?” “Oh ! he is dead—died a drunkard. I have a mortgage on that property.” “Whose estate is that by the river side, where Peter Morton lived'?” “That is mine. Peter died an inebri ate. His widow survived a year or two, and both lie there,” pointing to the grave yard. “Who keeps the grocery store now?” “I have a man ; that estate belongs to me likewise. Th.e fact is, Mr. Powell, everybody drank formerly, and I was the only man who kept liquor, and of course, when they could not pay I was obliged to take a mortgage for security, just to keep the families along; but few ever redeemed their property. But since Y broke up, and some raving temperance man came along, things wag on a little better. The old drunkards have died off, and their children don’t follow the footsteps of their fathers—and some mothers, I am sorry to say.” But this liquor selling has brought you a ereat estate, Mr. Connors. I sup pose it wakes up your conscience now and then, and leads you to consider whetnersome of the doings in that old ‘red tavern' were right, admitting they were legal at the time ?” “Why, no-itis not that; but my health IS miserable. I have terrible low spirits, bad dreams, forebodings of evil and great tremulousness. I suppose it is all nervous debility from applying my- sell too closely to business. I, have read of various medicines which could cure such diseases, and have spent a great deal of money to no purpose in taking I will show me what is my difficulty; and I wish, George, you would go with me.” I piomised to do so. Oo our return, a poor woman met us, crying bitterly and said : “Oh, ’Squire, you have ruined me! The Sheriff has carried off everything / My poor husband, too, died in your store /” “Getaway, Mary ; you are crazy. Here, Leslie, take care of this woman, she is in sane. I won’t have her following me around.” Another younger and fai.-er one stood at the gate as we entered. “ ’Squire,” said she, very modestly, “will yon give me a few days’ grace to redeem my household stuff? You may take all the rest, but there are a few things I hardly earned before my mar riage, which it grieves me to sacrifice. Will you ?■’ she asked imploringly. “Nancy, you are womanish ; I want money, and must have it, but—but per haps 1 will wait four and twenty hours if I were sure of my money then.” Say forty eight, sir—do oblige me,” and a tear stole down her cheek and an other followed, “That s the way 3-00 women bother. Go along, and remember just forty eight hours from this time is every moment I will give you,” said the ’Squire, gruffly. Nancy decamped. “That is a very pretty woman,” I re marked. “Yes ; her husband was a great drunk- am, though, and I’ve had to take her effects for security,” “Good heavens.'” thought I, “it is no wonder you have bad dreams. "We will See what the mesmeric woman will say to morrow.” I felt sure he would have a bad night. It proved so, and early the next morning my nervous friend was moving, betraying great uneasiness. “That confounded Nance,” said he, “stood before me all night pleading pov-’ erty. I suppose I had the nightmare.” I felt cej-tain the same mare would trouble him all day. In the morning, he submitted to a mes meric examination. Hear the oracle speak : You are troubled in mind ; medicine will do you no gosd. The cause lies there (knocking at the heart). You have distres,sed so many families, and oh ! such a scene as I behold / All perishing and pointing to one man. I shudder ; I can say no more—take me away / You must make peace here, and your bodily health will return. Go out in company and forget yourself, and all will be better.” And am I to pay a dollar for such advice? You importer !" So saying he threw down a hard dol lar and beckoned me out, “Well,” said the ’Squire, “I have been duped again. She told me to forget my self. Merciful Heaven ! that I might do so, Powell. I would gladly exchange situations with the meanest beggar if I might once more rid my eyes and ears of those shrieking luaniacs which follow me crying, ‘You did it and pointing me to the liquor cask.” I oor fellow, said I, “I know no re cipe for such a case as yours but peni tence. Restore, so fur as you can ail un- just gains ; be a benefactor to your race ■ relieve the poor woman who called yes’ re- bu7^ ^ °° consoienoe left.^Y^^ “Rather be grateful that you m awakened it in lime to repent All ) effect of transgression may not be washel away. Repentance, if sincere, will away the sting, .so that present evil fo7 bodings may be mitigated by fiHi„ of life with good deeds.” I left my friend to pursue my ance, tral registry, and when I next hearl of him. he was a celebrated temperance lecturer, a.nd had secured thousands 0 names to the pledge. Centennial Greeting from the Grand Orient of Egypt. The following is a copy of a communk cation sent by the Graii-l Orient of Eoypt to the Grand Lodge of Pennsylvania" (To the the Glory of the Grand Arcbi- t©ct of the TjOiVerse.) Secretary General of the Grand Orient of Egypt and Dependencies, Valley nf the Nile, Orient of Alexandria the IStt of May, 1876. 1776—FOURTH OF JULY—1876. Ii. W. John Thomrjson, O. Y Grnml Lodge of Pennsylvania ; Dear Sir and Brother.—Most Ulus, trions Puissant Brother S. A. Zola, Grand Master of Grand Orient of Egypt, pro posed, and the following resolution was unanimously adopted to be sent— TO ALL AMERICAN GRAND LODGES. Grand Orient of Egypt and all Lodges hailing therefrom, avail themselves "of the happy event of the Centennial Anni versary- of American Independence to greet their American brethren therefrom ■ as the best part of one of the greatest nations in the world, and request them to accept on so glorious a day the hearty salutations and fraternal wishes from the regenerated Egyptian Craft Masonry, whioh is working to strengthen more and more the sacred ties binding all F. and A. Masons who are spread throughout the world, for the ^lory of the Great God of the Universe. This you will he pleased to convey to your M. W. Lodge in due and full form, and believe me truly and fraternally you re, F. F. Oddi, Grand Seci-elary, Bird’s Forekno'wledge. An eminent European ornithologist has just given to the world the results of his observations concerning the influence of epidemics upon birds, to which he lias devoted the last thirty y-ears of his life. Ills statements, fortified bv numerous references to facts, are peculiar and de cidedly intere.sting. The chief of his conclusions are that birds, such as spar rows and swallows and other species, will leave any city that is threatened with an epidemic, as cholera, for instance, and! return only after the disease shall have abated. The author himself observed this in St. Peteisbiirg and Rigna ia 18-18, in West Prussia in 1849, in Hanover in 1880, and again in Galicia- in 1872. In every instance the sparrows suddenly disappeaied from,the streets,' roofs and, trees of the city, and a few days there after the disease broke out. Within several days after the epidetuichad ceas ed the Birds reappeared. Hav ng com' -i-j-ui WHO called yes- bis observation to other oniL teiday, and show yourself merciful to ^bologists, he was gratified to find that the erring, if y-ou ever desire peace to be i ..L, them restored to your conscience, “And will that give me relief?” ea gerly inquired the late inn keeper. That will bring some present satisfac- myself in’"m4rerc°'l;rrespofdZe wS f 'n® ^ ^on’t know a celebrated woman who, they tell me I °T "'r tiey tell me, j look above for comfort on that account/’ the same ooinoidenoe had aiso been ob served by them, and numerous instances were.given him confirming the fact. In every sin which a man deliberately commits, he taxes down a draft of deadly poisoii. In every lust which he, cherishes, be embraces a dagger. • ' '~..i it ■ ; .tpsjp '' ;■ " hi' { J' •• •' r, . ,g.--
Masonic Journal (Greensboro, N.C.)
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June 30, 1876, edition 1
2
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