or of having turned aside a threatened pang, wears a joy more unaloyed than falls to any recipient of her care. 'Tis a holy act that blesses both the giver and the receiver, but most who doth bestow. To such purposes do we at this season behold the numerous "Ladies' Fairs." Here by concentrating their efforts do we find great varieties of the pleasing and useful articles, the product of industrious hands, working under the prompting of that charity "that never faileth," and it adds another charm to the blessed act, by winning a smile from the fair devetee who sells you the toy you select from her assortment, as you involuntarily drop a praise for her taste and ingenuity there displayed. Merry Christmas too, bringing its joys to the children of lesser growth, is the time to reward the good behavior of each expectant urchin, through the agency of that kind dispenser of all such pleasures-" Old Santa Claus." And when so cheaply it is done who will not purchase a child's happiness, and perchance his love, by filling his "stocking" on that his Holiday? Anniversaries are a sort of mile-post on the journey of life, reminding the traveler of the stage of his progress. But Holidays are the pleasant resting places, where the scenery and the luxuries of the great highway are most enjoyed. They are the posting places from whence we date and send off our notes of the progress of this earthly jaunt, and they tarry longest in our pleasant recollections. The New Year like a central termination of many divergent paths, brings together again the yearly wanderers with the happy greetings and happy wishes of all. 'Tis then that acquaintances are renewed, when each, like the merchant, takes his account of stock, and brings from the quiet retreat many a valued parcel, for a season obscured by the more obtrusive but of less intrinsic worth. 'Tis then that man asks himself who are his friends: who has he neglected, and to whom can he make amends? He goes abroad and greets even those he has before passed in coldness, with the happy wish, and the smile of good will, that proclaims his better nature and desire to forget the indifference or icy feelings of unfounded prejudice and dislike. 'Tis a sort of muster-day when friendships regiment is reviewed and a tear dropped to the memory of those whose names the Great Commander has stricken from the service of earthly duty. Who shall say that Holidays have not their chastening influences upon all right minds. They are blessed in their uses as in their origin, for the Lord rested from his labor and beheld his work that it was good.—B. C. T. Perhaps it is not generally known to our readers that Bro. J. D. W. WHEMPLE has taken the prizes at the Fairs and Mechanics' Institutes, for a number of years past, for the manufacture of the most elegant and highly finished Sleighs and Carriages; that such is the fact, numerous diplomas and medals will bear ample testimony. Bro. W's place of business is at No. 42, Division street. CORRESPONDENCE. ANNUAL MEETING OF ST. PAUL'S LODGE, No. 99, I. O. 0. F. SCHENECTADY, December 16, 1844. JOHN TANNER,-Sir and Brother The First Annual Meeting of St. Paul's Lodge, took place December 11, 1844, at their lodge room, at which time the report of the year's Work was presented and accepted, which was as follows: Receipts, Initiation, Degrees, $236 00 --- Balance for the Year, $208 75 After which an address was delivered by P.G. John Bt. Clute, on the cause of the separation of the founders of St. Paul's Lodge from Mohawk Valley Lodge-the encouragement met with since their formation the necessity of unity and mutual effort in the great work of the Order-the amount of benefit the world had already received and what might be expected by the universal spread of its principles-the temporal benefits conferred by other associations and that of the Order compared-the funeral of an Odd Fellow, &c. After which a call was made, by resolution, that the address be presented to the editor of the "Gavel" for publication. Br. Clute, in reply, stated that the address was made from the inspiration of the occasion, and that it would be difficult for him to give it to the world, not having a line written—a call of this kind being perfectly unexpected. The Committee therefore hope that their brethren of St. Paul's, and those present from neighboring Lodges, will not feel disappointed in seeing the report unaccompanied by the address. S WILLIAM LAMEY, P.G., Com. J. L. VAN INGEN, V.G. JOHN BT. CLUTE, P.G.,( THE ORDER IN MICHIGAN. DETROIT, Michigan, December 3, 1844. P. G. JOHN TANNER,-Brother I herewith forward you the names of the officers of the Grand Lodge of Michigan, for publication in the Gavel. As our Grand Lodge was but recently organized it may perhaps prove interesting to some of your readers: WILLIAM DUANE WILSON, of Detroit, MWGM, Ex. Gov. J. WRIGHT GORDON, of Marshall, RWG Marshal, Yours in F. L. &. T. MICHIGAN. DEAR GAVEL ALBANY, December 17, 1844. In your last number you marked down the Green Mountain state as the only dark spot in our land, that the rays of Odd Fellowship had not as yet illumined. Wait a bit, my dear sir, there is a spec in the East, and though, as yet, "it is not larger than a man's hand," it gives much promise: Arrangements are now going on for the establishment of that triune glory of Friendship, Love and Truth, upon her soil, and in the hands of the intelligent, warm-hearted sons of that state, it would be no wonder if the old adage was exemplified again in our Order, that the youngest child is the smartest darling. Already some" Brothers," are fixing it for Burlington. And they wo'nt stop there. God speed 'em, say I. Give us your had on that. Yours, N. Y. G. R. No. 2. RECENT ELECTIONS. EN-HAKKORE ENCAMPMENT, No. 5.-John Tanner, CP; V. B. Lockrow HP; C. Brooks, SW; C. Holt, Scribe; A. Heyer Brown, Treas; R. H. Pruyn, JW. PHENIX LODGE, No. 41.-E. J. Moseley, NG; W. C. Haskell, VG; Charles P. Page, Secretary; Thomas Johns, Treas. Married, By Justice Garret Smith, on the 12th ult., Brother H. D. CURRAN, of Firemans Lodge No. 19, and ELIZABETH, daughter of David Worth, of Watervliet. MARY STEWART, Queen of Scots-at the mention of that name, how the heart thrills, as touched by the mournful melody of by-gone days. How happy were the days of her youth-how full of woe the many long years of her weary captivity-how cruel her death, as the hand that shed her blood was her cousin, her friend. Educated in France, she was married at an early age to the heir of the throne; but an early grave severed the tie which bound her to the land of Martel, and at the request of her nobles she left the land of her first love, and the beloved scenes of her infancy, to assume the crown of her father and the government of Scotland's rude peers. As the vessel was fast leaving the vine-clad hills of sunny France in the distance, she sat upon the deck with her eyes fixed upon the. shore, until the last blue outline had entirely faded from her vision; it was then that sadness, deeply foreboding of the future, sunk deep into her soul, and she exclaimed, "farewell France; lovely, lovely France, I will see thee no more." No period could be more unfortunate for Mary than the one in which she became Queen of Scotland. A catholic herself, the most of her subjects had become presbyterians, and the regency of her mother, (who had banished the intrepid Knox to the galleys of France,) had left no favorable impression on the hearts of those who still remembered the cruel death of the good George Wishart, and who wept at the fate of the venerable Mills. Yet at the beginning of Mary's reign, every thing appeared to promise peace, long life, and happiness. Possessed of rare beauty and winning manners, she charmed the most stern baron with her smile, and in the desire to please their young sovereign, her religion was forgotten as having been the scourge of her country, and Holyrood palace again swarmed with priest and palmer, as ostentatiously as in the days of her bigoted mother. The deep convulsion of the reform ation, seemed for a time to have been burried in forgetfulness, and the power of Mary's beauty seemed to sway the hearts and feelings of her subjects to her every purpose. Feasting, gaiety, and pleasure had taken the place of the stern and simple attention to presbyterian worship, and the palace was nightly the scene of ball and masquerade, the sure accompaniments of sin and licentiousness. Married to the handsomest man of her court, she also over his weak mind exercised complete control, and at this period of her life, it truly might be said in the language of Burns, "How lightly rose she in the morn, As blith lay down at e'en." But amid all this outward show of happiness, a sword, like that of the courtier of Dyonisius, was suspended over her neck by a single horse hair. Fond of music, she had admitted a low Italian, who was an accomplished performer on the violin, to exercise too much court power, by the employment of a number of his countrymen, as mean as himself, a practice which had hurled one of Mary's forefathers from his throne, and prepared for him a bloody winding sheet. And there was one, too, whose voice often broke upon the corruptions and festivities of court like claps of thunder. John Knox had felt the bitter persecution of the house of Guise, and neither the flattery of their royal descendant, nor the gold of France, could bend him one straw breadth from the line of his duty; openly and fearlessly he preached in the very lion's den, against the corruptions of the court; he was no secret declaimer, but honest, open, stern and unyielding; of him it truly has been said " he never feared the face of man.' The murder of Rizzio, the Queen's musician, by the famous Ruthven, who rose from a sick bed to plunge his dagger into the heart of the parasite, was the flash of the cannon before the rolling sound of the discharge. Then came the sickness and awful end of Darnly, and Mary's subsequent marriage with Bothwell, the principal actor in the bloody drama, confirmed the strong suspicions, that there was blood on the hand of Mary Stewart, and that blood, was her husband's. It was then that civil war burst forth in all its demon fury, with all its cruel carnage. At this period the chief of the protestant faction was James Murray, the half-brother of Mary, a man of great civil and military qualities. He had broke the power of the great Huntly in battle, and in the cabinet he was a match for all Mary's adherents banded together. Had there not been a bend in his crest he would have adorned the crown of Bruce more than any of the Stewarts. By the energy of his character, he soon dispersed the followers of his sister, and confined her a prisoner to the lonely castle of Lochleven, where instead of the witching strains of Italian music, or the melting tones of Scottish melody, she heard only the dashing of the wave on the castle wall, or the scream of the mew as it fleeted o'er the battlements of her dreary prison. |