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See how they love with a vampire affection,
How kindly they wish mediation to make;
Our Albion-mother would kill her own darling:
Awake from your slumbers! Awake! Awake!!

Talk not of politics, talk not of party,

Already the death-bell of freedom is rung; Talk not of airy and subtle distinction,

In slippers and wrappers o'er goblets of rum.
Talk you of class, when the vessel is sinking,

Or, when the tornadoes your dwelling-house shake?
Would you debate when the patient is dying?
Honor and valor! Awake! Awake!!

This is the work of the base politicians,

Of schemers defeated and bent upon bane; This is the fruit of a maddened ambition,

To stand at the wheel and to gloat over fame! This is the end of forgetting religion,

As long as they thought there was lucre to make: Shall but a few leaders dissolve us forever?

God banish our slumbers and keep us awake!

What! Shall we break into bits, like the chalice
Some wine heated toper would dash on the floor,
And see every fragment a-quaking with horror,
Whenever the old British lion may roar?

Shall the South leave the North, and the East leave the West,

Shall counties and townships authority take? Don't let it be said that America drafted:

Soul of the nation-Awake! Awake!!

Will you surrender the Father of Waters-
God's gift to the West for an eternal time?
Will you consent to a custom-house officer
Searching you, crossing Virginia's line?
Shall flowers of Florida be the exotic,

While Northmen the name of the foreigner take,.
And this the result of a morbid ambition?

Ho! for the Army! Awake! Awake!!

We are contending for holiest principle;
What if our giant Republic should die?

Tyrants will say: "You have made the experiment ;
Out with Democracy!-It is a lie!"
Future Republican effort will languish,
The heart in the Goddess of Liberty ache;
Earth will unwind all the reeling of ages,
Then oh! for Jehovah-Awake! Awake!!

'Rouse! like the ancient and mighty Leviathan,
'Rouse! like the pent up Vesuvius fire;
Down on your knees and declare to your Father,
Our country shall rise to a destiny higher!
Never give up-it is low and contemptible,

Having such means, with a nation at stake-
The Star Spangled Banner must wave over Richmond –
The Army is waiting-Awake! Awake!!

Strike on the chain that shall circle the Union-
Binding the North to the South, East and West;
Strike for the Unity that will secure us

A shield and asylum for all the oppressed;

Srike for your homes, for your wives and your children,
For all the refinements that progress may make,
Rally, ye freemen! Arouse to the rescue!
Oh! Bleeding Columbia-'Wake! Awake!!

THE INQUIRY.-Charles Mackay.

TELL me, ye winged winds, that round my pathway ro.. Do ye not know some spot where mortals weep no more? Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the west, Where, free from toil and pain, the weary soul may rest? The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low,

And sigh'd for pity as it answer'd "No."

Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play, Know'st thou some favor'd spot, some island far away, Where weary man may find the bliss for which he sighsWhere sorrow never lives, and friendship never dies? The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow,

Stopp'd for a while, and sigh'd to answer-“No.” And thou, serenest moon, that, with such lovely face, Dost look upon the earth, asleep in night's embrace; Tell me, in all thy round, hast thou not seen some spot, Where miserable man might find a happier lot?

Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe,

And a voice, sweet, but sad, responded-"No."

Tell me, my secret soul;-oh! tell me, Hope and Faith,
Is there no resting place from sorrow, sin, and death ?-
Is there no happy spot, where mortals may be bless'd,
Where grief may find a balm, and weariness a rest?

Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given,
Waved their bright wings, and whisper'd--" YES, IN
HEAVEN!"

WE MEET UPON THE LEVEL AND WE PART UPON THE SQUARE.

WE meet upon the level, and we part upon the squareWhat words of precious meaning those words Masonic are!

Come, let us contemplate them-they are worthy of a thought

In the very soul of Masonry those precious words are wrought.

We meet upon the level, though from every station comeThe rich man from his mansion, and the poor man from his home;

For the one must leave his heritage outside the Mason's

door,

While the other finds his best respect upon the checkered floor.

We part upon the square, for the world must have its due; We mingle with the multitude-a faithful band, and true; But the influence of our gatherings in memory is green, And we long, upon the level, to renew the happy scene.

There's a world where all are equal-we are journeying toward it fast,

We shall meet upon the level there when the gates of Death are past,

We shall stand before the Orient, and our Master will be

there

To try the blocks we offer with his own unerring square.

We shall meet upon the level there, but never thence

depart;

There's a Mansion-'tis all ready for each faithful, trusting

heart

There's a Mansion and a welcome, and a multitude is

there

Who have met upon the level, ånd been tried upon the

square.

et us meet upon the level, then, while laboring patient here

Let us meet and let us labor, though the labor be severe;
Already, in the Western sky, the signs bid us prepare
To gather up our working tools, and part upon the square.

Hands round, ye faithful Masons, in the bright, fraternal chain !

We part upon the square below to meet in Heaven again. O! what words of precious meaning those words Masonic

arc

We meet upon the level, and we part upon the square.

LORD DUNDREARY ON "PWOVERBS."

A fellah once told me that another fellah wrote a book before he was born-I mean before the first fellah was born (of course the fellah who wrote it must have been born, else, how could he have written it ?)—that is, a long time ago-to pwove that a whole lot of pwoverbs and things that fellahs are in the habit of quoting were all nonsense.

I should vewy much like to get that book. I-I think if I could get it at one of those spherical-no-globularno, that's not the word-circle-circular-yes, that's itcirculating libwawies (I knew it was something that went round)-I think if I could just borrow that book from a circulating libwawy-I'd-yes, upon my word now-I'd twy and wead it. A doothed good sort of book that, I'm sure. I-I always did hate pwoverbs. In the first place they, they're so howwibly confusing-I-I always mix 'em up together-somehow, when I twy to weckomember them. And besides, if evewy fellah was to wegulate his life by a lot of pwoverbs, what-what a beathly sort of uncomfortable life he would lead!

I remoleckt-I mean remember-when I was quite a little fellah-in pinafores-and liked wasbewwy jam and—and a lot of howwid things for tea-there was a sort of collection of illustwated pwoverbs hanging up in our nursery at home. They belonged to our old nurse-Sarah-I think—and she had 'em fwamed and glazed. 'Poor Richard's," I think she called 'em--and she used to say-poor dear-that if evewy fellah attended to evewything Poor Richard wote, that he'd get vewy wich, and l-live and die-happy ever after. However-it-it's vewy clear to me that he couldn't have attended to them-himself, else, how did the fellah come to be called Poor Richard? I-I hate a fellah that pweaches what he doesn't pwactice. Of courth, if what he said was twue, and he'd stuck to it-he-he'd have been calledRich Richard-Stop a minute-how's that? Rich Richard? Why that would have been too rich. Pwaps that's the reason he pweferred being Poor. How vewy wich!

But, as I was saying, these picture pwoverbs were all hung up in our nursery, and a more uncomfortable set of makthims-you never wead. For instance, there was one vewy nonthensical pwoverb which says:

"A B-BIRD IN THE HAND IS WORTH TWO IN THE BUSHI." Th-the man who invented that pwoverb must have been a b-born idiot. How the dooth can he t-tell the welative V-value of poultry in that pwomithcuous manner? Suppothe I've got a wobbing wed-bweast in my hand-(I nearly had the other morning-but he flew away-confound him!)—well-suppothe the two birds in the bush are a bwace of partwidges-you-you don't mean to t-tell me that that wobbin wed-bweast would fetch as m-much as a bwace of partwidges? Abthurd! P-poor Richard can't gammon me in that sort of way.

LOOK ALOFT.-J. Lawrence.

IN the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale
Are around and above, if thy footing should fail--
If thine eye should grow dim, and thy caution depart-
“Look aloft,” and be firm, and be fearless of heart.

If the friend who embraced in prosperity's glow,
With a smile for each joy, and a tear for each woe,
Should betray thee when sorrows, like clouds, are arrayed,
"Look aloft" to the friendship which never shall fade.

Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine cye,
Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly,
Then turn; and, through tears of repentant regret,
"Look aloft" to the Sun that is never to set.

Should they who are nearest and dearest thy heart
Thy friends and companions-in sorrow depart,
Look aloft " from the darkness and dust of the tomb,
To that soil where "affection is ever in bloom.”

And, O! when Death comes in his terrors, to cast
His fears on the future, his pall on the past,
In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart,
And a smile in thine eye, "LOOK ALOFT," and depart.

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