? 5 ■j I ■a I iISeS -■■'■,'I n.,, ,i|-! ikllfei;: %i^r f. I'l .a i’ -■•:f'-if I :inn Vr'-":l'':^Jf-vi|:;;| .'feSiSfl’i '■-' ■•■■*. i c.. '*’« ■4U ? V, • Jr- . •• , i.-^.'h I . •'■- tfl: ■ Iff,.- V. A Yf-J: 5 ■ "ir ' - ■•' ■’i-' '•«f •■:■->;'''T J 4r‘f , >9 2 THE MASONIC JOURNAL [From the N, Y. Corner Stone. The Brooklet, Then The River. A little brooklet in n mountain J;Ost its way: Onward, onward still it rippled All the day* TJhtle wandring- drops of crater, Here and there, Joined tlie lirooklet-as it murmured Free from care. And the little brook grew wider, Deeper too: But it made the same s-weet music As it grew. IMany little birds sang sweetly All day long; And the brooklet joined the chorus Of their song. Oh, the traveler on the desert, In a dream, Ideyer saw a clearer, purer Little stream. Oinvard. onward s'illit glided, Down the hill; Other brooklets, joining, kept it Growing still. And the stream became a river, Broad and frw: And it poIIkI unheeding danger To the sea. St'iamers glided o,er its bosom: Neath it.s vaves Many noble-hearted seamen Found their graves. • Thus b}" little grew the streamlet, As it passed; But it was mighty river At the last. ■' 'When we start on life? long j-mriicy Small indeed, Start to gather in ou^caskets Precious seed - •“Many call us very little, But we grow; Filling up on golden ca.skets, Tlieii we sow; Sow good S ‘ed bccide all waters, And no one E’er can tell the many wonders We have done. d'ill our last sad song is ended, And we i-est In tlie many-mansioned dwellings Of the blest. But we know the .seed we scatter On this sliore, WaII ke^'p gTowing,growing, growing Evermore. We will reach the blessed haven— Never tear; e have Christ tlic Lord to guide us Safely there. The Good Wife. A NORWEGIAN LEGEND. There was once a man named Gud- Traml; he lived at a solitary farm on the slope ot a hill, therefore he was called “Gudbrand of the hili." Kow this man had a'very excellent wife, a thing which often happens, but is not so common; Gudbrand knew,also the worth of such a treasure, so the couple lived in great peace and happiness without thinking about the progress of years and changes of fortune. -Whatever Gudbrand did his wife had wished for beforehand, so that the good man could not touch any tiling or change anything in his house without his wife thanKing him for his forethought and kindness. Their life was insured against anxiety; the farm was their own property, they had a hun dred solid dollars in the table drawer. ' and two stately cows in the meadow. They wanted nothing ; they could grow old ill peace without fearing helplessness and misery, without needing the pity or friendship of others. One evening, as they were sitting chat ting together about their work and their plans. Gudbrands wife said to him ; “My dear I have a 'thought; you shall I lead one of our cows to town and sell it. ; The one which we keep will be quite j enough to provide us with butter and milk, why should we trouble ourselves for -others? We have money in the chest, I we have no children, would it not be W’ell j if we spared our arms, now growing old? j you will always find something to do in j the house; there is first this then that j piec'e of furniture to be mended and im ! proved, and I, with my spinning wheel, j shall be able to stay a great deal more with you.” Gudbrand found that ids wife -ivas Gudbrand, angrily, “it ks more whining than my neighbor’s wife ; how glad I should be if any one would release me from this burden.” “The bargain is made if you like, old fellow,” said a farmer who was passing by. “Take this fat goose, it is worth at least as much as that obstinate sheep.” “So be it,” said Gudbrand; “better to have a living goose than a dead sheep.” and he took the goose with him. It was no light burden. The bird was a bad traveling companion; with beak and wings it made stout resistance, Gud- branJ was soon tired of the conflict. “The goose,” said he, “is a bar! bird; mv wife would never like to have such an one in her house.” And at the first your place; a thousand thanks Now when my neighbor, me I can place a good piece of ham fore them. What do we want for it. come to vis t right, as she always was, The very next | farmyard he passed on his way be ex day he leu the cow which was to be sold'! changed the goo.se for a splendid cock, with magnificent feathers and comb. This time he was contented, but day was to the town. But it was not market day, so he found no purchaser. “Very well, very w'eli,’' said Gudbrand, “I sliall lead my cow back home again, I have hav and straw for the beast, and -the way is not longer to return than it was to come.” Then he quietly took the road home. After a few hours, just as he begun to feel a little tired, he met a man who was leading a horse to the town, a very strong animal saddled and bridled. “The way is long and the night is com ing on,” thought Gudbrand ; “I shall not get home with my cow before midnight, and then very early to-morrow I -will have to begin the march anew. This is just the sort of beast I might want, I should ride home proudl_v, like a magis trate ; and how old Gudbrand's wife would rejoice to see her husband coming home in triumph like a general.” Therewith he stopped the horseman, and bargained -w.’ith him to exchange the cow for his horse. But when he sat in the saddle he felt something like regret. Gudbrand was old and feeble, the horse was young and lively ; after half an hour the cavalier had to go on foot and wearily led his horse by the. bridle, for it shied and plunged at every bush by the roadside. “A had bargain,” he thought. Then he met a man driving a pig be fore him. '“A nail which one really wants is more valuable than a diamond which sparkles and is good for nothing," i thought Gudbrand, “so my wife often' says,” and he exchanged the horse for a - pig. That was a fine idea; b'ut tlie ' good man had reckoned without his host fast declining, and Gudbrand who had started before sunri.se. felt his knees ter and his stomach call for food. He entered the first public house he cam’e to, and sold the cock for a dollar, and as he had a good appetite he gave away the last farthing to satisfy his hunger, “What use would the cook have been to me,” he thought, “if I had died of hun ger?” When he came near l.is own farm “Gudbrand of the hill” begun to reflect over the strange journey that he had made. Befoiehe went home he talk ed about it in neighbor Peter's house, who was called the Greybeard. “Friend,'’ said the Greybeard, “how did you get on wdth your business in the town to-day?” ' “So, so,” answered Gudbrand, I can not say that I liad much good fortune, but I have not much to complain of;” and lie related everything that had hap pened to him. “Neighbor,” said Peter, “you have done a strange day’s work, you will be badly received by your wife; I would not stand in your shoes foi- ten dollars.” “I may have been right or ■ wrong,” said Gudbrand of the hill, “but mv wife is so good she wont say a word to me about what I have done.” “I have listened to you, neighbor, and am surprised at you ; but -ft’ith all the re.spoct which I have for you I do not believe a word of what you have told me.” “Will you bet that I am right!” said —the pig was tired and would not move ^ Gudbrand of the hill; “I have a hundred dollars in my chest, of which I will bet you twenty. Will you do the same?'’ “Yes,’’ said Peter, and that on the spot.” When llie wager was concluded, the two friend.s went into Gudbrand's house; an inch. Gudbrand dragged the beast, he pushed it, he beat it with all hi.s might, but all in vain ! The pig remain ed lying in the dust like a ship stranded on a sandbank. Gudbrand was in des pair. jNow a man passed by le’ading a goat - Peter remained standing at the room, by a string; the goat sprung merrily be- ' .joor in order to her what passed between fore him. “That might be useful to me,” Gudbrand and his wife, said Gudbrand ; “I would rather have . “Good evening,’’ said Gudbrand. that frolicksome goat than thi.s stupid la- “Good evening,” said his wife; “is it zy beast. Thereupon he exchanged the you my dear ? how has to-day prospered pig for the goat. All went on well with enough for half an hour. Then the', long, horned goat pulled Gudbiand on, who laughed heartily at its jumps; but you ' “Not very well, not very well,” said Gudbrand. “When I reached the town, I founrl nobody who would buy our cow, with a horse'’ People would have said : ‘Pgo]. at that proud couple ; they are too grana to go to church on foot.’ .Bring up the pig quickly under shelter.” “I have not brought the pig with me,” said Gudbrand ; “on the way I gave it up for a goat.” , “Bravo !’’ exclaimed the good woman- “you are a wise and clever man. The more I think about it the more I perceive that the pig would not have been useful to us. People would have pointed to ns with their finger.s, and said : ‘Look at those people; they eat up everythin^ that they earn ’ But a goat gives milk gives cheese, to say nothing of the kids. Take the goat into the stable. “Neither have I brought the goat with me,” said Gudbrand of the hill. “I have exchanged it for a sheep.” “This I at once perceive,” replied the mistress, “you did so for my sake; am I still so young that I can ran over stones and rocks after a gout ? But a sheep will give me its wool; take it into the sta ble,” “I have not brought the sheep,” said Gudbrand, “I changed it for a goose.” “Thanks, raa-ny thanks !’’ said the good woman. “What would be the good of a sheep ? I ha ve no loom—weaving is hard work; and when woven one must cut and sew ; it is better to buy readv-made clothes, as we have always done; hut a goose, a fat goose es[ ecially, I have al ways wished for. I already feel an ap petite for roast goose ; let me see the creature at once,” “But I have not brought the goose,” said Gudbrand ; “I exchanged it for a cock.” Bear friend,” said the good wife, "you are wiser than I; a cock i,s better than a clock, which one has to wind up every week. A cock crows every morning at four o'clock ; he tells us when it is time to praise God and work.” “Alas! I have not brought the cock with me; for as evening came on, I was as hungry as a hunter, and I wa.o obliged to sell the cock for a dollar, or I should have died of hunger.’ “God be praised for giving you suoli a good thought!” ' said the mi.stress. “Whatever you do, Gudbiand, always seems right to me. Bo we want a cock ? we are our ow-i masters. I think; nobody bas anything to command us to do; we can get up when we like. As you are back here again, dear friend, I am quite happy and have no wish but that you should always stay with me,” Then Gudbrand opened the door, and cried out : “Eh, what do you say now, neighbor Peter ? Go and bring your twenty dollars.” And be ki.ssed his old wife with as much tenderness as if she were his bride. Perhaps Not. when one i.s no longer young, one soon becomes tired of climbing over the rocks ; so our farmer, when he met a shepherd with hi.s Hock, did not hesitate to give his goat for a sheep. ‘ I have got quite enough-milk,” he thought, “and this ani- mal is at least quiet, and will neither weary me nor my wife.” Gudbrand was not wrong, there was nothing quieter than that sheep. It showed no ill temper, it did not butt, but it did not go forward. It wanted to go back to the flock, and the more Gud brand dragged it, the more pitiously it | bleated. “This stupid sheep.” cried just what I shouldTaJ’ don so I exchanged it .for a horse “For a horse !’’ said- his wife; ''that was a good plan. I thank you with all my heart; we can now drive to church like so manv people who look down upon us, and are no better Jthan we are. If it pleases us to keep a horse we have a right to do so, I think. Where is the horse? it must be taken to the stable.” “I have not brought it with me," said G'jclbrand ; “on the way I altered my mind and exchanged the horse for a pig” “Bo you see?” .said hi.s wife; “that is e, too, in The other evening a carriage had to come to a dead halt to pievent rnmiiiig over a child three or four years old, who was seated in the centre of the street. “Is that your child P" asked the driver of a man who lounged forwai'J and beck oned to the dust covered otlspring. “Guess he is,’’ wa.s the slow spoken an swer. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll be run over some day “He may be. Ills brother was run over last year about this time, and the folks made up a purse of a hundred dol lars for me 1 ' Perhaps the memory of that purse had nothing to do with the other child being jn the road. -:L

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