VOLUME I.
OXFORD, X, C., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 31, 1875.
NUMBER 13.
'THE MASOW’S eiSIED.
CHAPTER I,
Faster and faster spread tie
flames, and now the ship was en
veloped in a fiery sheet. Men
and women rushed madly over
the side to meet a quicker but
less painful death. Tire boats,
ryith one exception, had been ov
erladen and capsized. There were
liasty prajfers, and heart-rend
ing cries of misery and distress.
Death hovered, vulture like, over
Ids victims ; some clung desper
ately to . the vessel’s side, some
supported tliemselves in the water
by articles snatched hastily from
the burning ship, and with which
they had leaped wildly into the
sea. The captmn sang through
his trumpet:—“Take heart, and
sustain yourselves as long as pos
sible. A ship is coming to our
relief.”
James Durant stood upon the
almost deserted deck with his on
ly child, but four years of age,
folded closely in his arms. He
discovered it at last, but it was at
least four miles off. Before the
ship could arrive they must be
burned to death ; or if he sprang,
as others had, down into the wa.
ter, both ha.wid the child would
be. drowned, for.he was no swim
mer.
“O my God, is there no help I”
cried the de.spai.ring father, as the
flames swept nearer, and lie felt
that his present position could be
held but little longer.
“Here, give the child to me,
and I will save her,” and turning
(juickly Mr. Durant stood face to
face with a s'ranger who had a
life-preserver in his liand.
“Quick ! there is lib time to be
lost! The child clui have my life-
preserver, and it will float her
easily. Yonder is another ship ;
I have been watching it for the
last five minutes. It will reach
us in half an hour at the most.
'J’here, that is fastened securely.
Now, little girl, I am going to
throw you into the watSr. You
are not afraid ?”
“No, no, but father!”
“My darling Eva, you may
never see your father again ; but
do not fear^—God will guard you,
and somebody will find you and
take care of you. If 3^11 never
see papa again, remember he is
in heaven Muth mamma.” ,
“Has she no relatives ?” asked
the stranger.
“None in this country; I am
from England, and traveling for
her heafth.”
“Take that pin from 3-our bos
om and fasten it to her clothing.’
“ Heaven help 3^11 for the
thought,” said the father ; and in
a moment the square and com
pass was glistening on the bosom
of the child; and the stranger
took her from her father’s arms,
saying:—“I am stronger than
you, and she must he cast be-
3mnd the reach of these poor
drowning wretches, or they will
rob her of her life-preserver.”
The white drapery fluttered
through the air, and sanlc below
the waves; then rising, floated
lightly on the water.
James turned to the stranger
with tearful eyes,
“Ma3' God bless 3^)1 and pre
serve you, noblest of men. But
you, as W'ell as m3’self, must bo
lost”
“No, I am a gooi swimmer,
and^iere is. a piece of board with
which 3'on can sustain youi-self
until relief arrives.”
The father cast another glance
at the white sixick floating rapid-
fy away, and with an inward
“God preserve her,” sprang into
the sea, followed b3- the stranger;
but the fwm floated in different
directions, and they saw each
other no more.
Two hours later, James Durant
awoke, as fi-om the sleep of death,
and fotind Iiiraself in the cabin of
a strange ship, with kind and
sympathizing faces all around him.
In a moment he realized all that
had passed, and said eagerU",
though feebly, “My child, little
Eva, is she safe ?” Tliere was no
response, and a low moan escap
ed the father’s lips.
“Courage, sir,” said a lady with
tearful eyes, “some of the passen
gers were saved by another ship.”
The father’s countenance liglit-
ed. “God grant that she may be
safe.”
Mr. Durant recovered liis usual
strength in a few hours, and
sought among the saved for the
stranger wdio had proved himself
so true a Masonic brother, but he
was not to be found.
“He must be in the other ship,”
said Mr. Durant, “and he will
care for Eva.”
Both shi])s were at port on the
following da3g but although Mr.
Durant found the stranger who
had befriended him, and who
jiroved to be a Mr. Wadsworth,
from a southern city, Eva was
seen 113' no one and given up as
lost.
CHAPTER II.
Here, wife, is a child that has
just been washed upon the beach.
She is cold and stiff, but I think
she is not dead. Let us have
some warm flannels imniediateUy
and tell Thomas to run for Dr.
Hunt.”
It was long before the quiver
ing lashes and feeble fluttering of
the heart gave token that success
would crown the efforts of Eva’s
rescuers ; but b3- and b3’- the lids
parted and revealed two large, li
quid, sky-blue eyes, that wander
ed from face to face in a bewil
dered way-, and then closed wear-
iiy-
“I fear she will not recover
very rapidly,” said the doctor.
“She has a delicate constitution
and will require the best of care.’
“Poor child!” said Mrs. Turner,
“I do not wonder she is nearly
dead ; but who can she be I Some
terrible accident must have occur-
red at sea,.”
“You had better examine her
clothing,” said the doctor. “Per
haps you may find some clue to
her relations.”
Mrs. Tm-ner lifted the gossamer
white di-ess and turned it over
and over. The square and com
pass placed there b3:- Mr. Durant
flashed upon the eyes of all at
once. The doctor and Mr. Tur
ner looked at each other, but
neither spoke, and Mrs. Turner
did not notice the tear that glis
tened in lier husband’s e3^e6.
The doctor’s fears that Eva
would not recover rapidly proved
to bo well founded; days and
weeks of fever succeeded in
awakening lier to life, during
which she taUtod in(X)hercut!3r of
‘papa,’ and ‘poor mamma,’ and of
the burning ship, and of hunger.
She finall3- awoke to conscioiis-
nesa, and asked nian3- question*
as to where she was and how she
came in the dark room, and who
were those who attended her, but
Dr. Hunt forbade her being ques
tioned till she was stronger.
llow' interested were all in the
little convalescent whom the ele
ments had ea.st into the little sea
board town. The ladies declared
that never tjefore did a child pos
sess such lovely cye.s or such
beautiful curls, while the gentle
men seamed no less interested,
and brought her gifts of eveiy-
thing that might please her child
ish fanc3-.
“My dear little girl,” said Dr.
Hunt when Eva was at length
able to ride out, “will you tell me
3'Our name !”
‘Eva,’ said the child. “I thought
3-0U knew' it.”
“Yes, I know 3'our name is
Eva, but I w-ant to know the rest
of 3'oiu- name—)-our father’s
name.”
“Eva Durant. Mr. Durant is
my papa.”
“Yes, but I want 3-ou to tell
me all 3-00 can remember about
3'Om- father and niotlier.”
Eva’s e3'es filled with tears.
‘Oh, sir, 1113' mother died and
went to live with the angels.
And I do not know where papa
is. He said if I ne%'er saw him
again I must know- he has gone
to mamma.”
“^Yhel•e w'ere 3-0U when he told
3'ou tin's I”
“On the ship ; and oh, the fire
burned me so ; and papa held me
in his arms until a strange man
took me and tied something un
der 1113' aiTiis and threw me into
the water, and I liave not seen
papa since. Oh, sir, can you tell
me wdiere he is ?”
“No, dear child; but perhaps
we may yet find him.”
And this vi'as all ihat Eva’s
new friend could discover. It
was plain that she had come from
the ship winch liad been burned
a few weeks before ; that she had
been cast upon the sea, and float
ed to shore; but where ivas her
father ! Had he been saved, and
was he searching for his child ?
Eveiy possible effort was now
made to find him. Tlie circum
stances of the case, vrith the state
ment of the child, were published
fully in the newspapers of the
neighboring cities, but the grief-
stricken father, believing his child
to be lost, had sailed a week be.-
fore for Europe, and it soon be
came settled in the minds of Eva’s
protectors that he had perished.
But the little one still prattled
about her ‘papa’ and said he w'o-ald
come by and by. Tliose who
believed different!)' would not
pain her by contradiction.
The square and compass that
had been found upon her clothing
was regarded as a powerful ap
peal from a Mason to his breth
ren to care for his child. So it
came to pass that Eva became, as
it were, the special charge of Hi
ram Lodge, No. 93. Mr, Turner
would gladly have taken the en
tire care of the little waif, and the
wealthy Senator W requested
to be allowed to adopt her as his
daughter, but the brethren in
lotlgo aeaeonblod, (Iccha-cxl by a
rote that Eva should ha reared,
educated and protected b)' tlie
lodge, and that as Brovidence had
placed her in Brother Turner’s
house that should bo her home.
And so 3-e«re want b}-, and Era
became a health)-, joyous child,
flitting hero and there, and cver)'-
wh.ero meeting the warmest of
welcomes. The Masonic iialiwas
but a few rods from Mr, Turner’s
rceidcMice, and Eva often went
with him as far as the door, and
then returned alone alwa)-* bid
ding the Tiler "take good care of
Pa Turner, and send liim homo
earl)’.”
CIIATTEE HI.
Tlio six years that followed the
death of his wife and the loss of
his child passed wearil)’ to James
Durant. lie visited nearly every
country in the Old World, seek
ing among scenes of natural beau-
t)’ and grandeur as well as of his
toric interest, for the mental rewt
which could never be found.
Once more ho turned his steps to-
wai'd America, and sought his
Masonic friend Wadsworth. Find
ing that gentleman about sotting
out with his family on a journe)’
to the Atlantis Coast, Mr. Durant
accepted the mviiation to accom
pany them to Sai-atoga aud Nia
gara, tlien to New York where
leaviim the ladies, Mr. Vf adsivorth
and Ill'. Durant wandered from
town to town along- the coast, en-
jot’iug the beauty of the scenery
and tile quiet hospitality lliat
greeted them more than the
crowded hotels and the fasliiona-
ble style of the populai- watei'ing
places. Fancy and the kind hand
of Providence at length led them
to the little town of B , and
the second evening after their ar
rival they visited tlia Masonic
Lodge. A warm welcome was
extended to these bretliren ft-om
such distant homes, and both
were invited to addi'ess tho Lodge.
Mr. Durant said:
“ Brethren, I have ' ti-aveled
much and long. 1 liave found
Masonic S3’mpatiiy in every part
of the globe, and everv-where is
Masonry substanthall)’ the same.
I can luirdl)- tell where I reside.
The world seems to be m3’ home,
as I remain but a short time in
any town or counti-)’, hut ny
English bretlu-en, for tJiey first
brought me from “darkness to
light,” and I love English soil, for
with it sleeps the wife of my
youth. But I love American soil,
also, for here I have found the
warmest of welcome.!, the kindest
of brethren. And here, too, my
own child is sleeping in American
waters, even beneath the very
wai’es that wash the shores of
your beautiful village.
“Six 3’eara have passed since
this dear friend and brother rob
bed himself of his life-preserver
that m)’ little Eva might perhaps
escape, and we hoped that the el
ements might be kind, and that
heaven would send her relief, hut
she was never heard of more.”
The voice of Mr. Durant was
quivering with emotion, and una
ble to speak further, he seated
himself and covered his face with
his hands.
Glances of surprise and pleas
ure were cast from one to another
among the brothers of Hiram
Lodge. No one spoke, however,
but all ejtoe tsiraoi upoa tho Mait-'
ter, Mr. Turner. For a moment
he seemed reflecting, then taking
a slip of paper from the Secreta
ry, ho wrote:
“Mrs. Turner—Do not allow
Eva to retire until I return home;
tell her I am going to bring a
strange gentleman who wishes to
see her.” And calling the Junior
Deacon, Mr. Turner gave him tho
nolo, saying in a low voice, ‘Take
this to Mrs. Tumor, immediately.’
"Wliy, Eva,” said Mrs. Turner,
when she had read the message,
“3’ou are going to have company, j
A strange gentleman is at the '
lodge who wishes to see you.”
“Wlio can it be I”
Eva looked perplexed and
thoughtful. Buddonl)’ her cheek
flushed, her eyes lighted, and
clapping her little hands, she
sprang to her feet and exclaimed,
“Ob, it must be papa! no one
else would wish to see me, no one '
in the world,” and before Mrs.
Turner comprehended the child’s
interpretation, she had passed the
threshold and was flitting through
tho moonlight toward the lodge
room. The Tiler looked amazed
when Eva burst into tho ante
room, her cheeks burning and her
eyes flashing with joy and ex
citement.” -
‘•Do not stop me ; lam going
in !” she excl,aimed. But the inner ■
door was fastened, and the impa- '
tient Eva nearl)’ cried -ivith vexa-' ■
tion. ;
“Wait a moment,” said the
Tiler, who having heard nothing
of what had ti-anspired witliin,
was .at a loss to account for the
strange conduct of the child;
“wait a moment, and I will send
yom- requMt to Mr. Turner. He
will come out and see you ”
“I sliall not wait. I do not
want to see Mr. Turner; I want
to see m)’ pajia.”
“The child is crazy, that is ev
ident,” said the perplexed Tiler to
himself; but calling out the Dea
con, he bade him say th.at Eva
was there and had determined to
get into the lodge rooili.
Tho Deacon went to the East,
and delivered his message in a
low tone, and in a moment after
ward moved “that the craft be
called from labor to refreshment,”
“Now,” said Mr. Turner, “toll
the Tiler to lot her come in.”
And Eva did come, or rathef
bounded into the hall, more beau
tiful in her excitement than ever
before. She advanced to the cen
ter of the room and stood by the
altar ; half poised upon the tiny
foot, she scanned rapidly the faces
of all. Her eager eyes soon de
tected the strangers, who were
seated behind the rest, and for a
moment she seemed in-esolute;
then darting forward with a glad
cry, she threw her arms about th©
neck of Mr. Durant, crying, “Oh,
papa, my dear papa, you have
come home at last! You were not
burned in the ship !”
We will not attempt to paint
the scene further, but wiU leave
our readers to imagine tho joy of
the fond father, and also leave
them to decide whether the tears
that wet tho cheeks of tlie Breth--
ron of Hiram Lodge wore caused
by S3’mpathy with the happiness
of their little charge, or grief that
the)’ should lose one whom- they'
ajl lo'.’eil.
ii
f >.
I,!
n