LEISURE LUCUBRATIONS.

Cromwell Argus, Volume 2, Issue 88, 18 July 1871, Page 6

LEISURE LUCUBRATIONS.

No. IV.

CoxottßxrNo Charity, and the Scarcity THEREOF.

"Dm Clsofas.— I extremely pity people that are raving mil for gambling ; their m.lnds are often in a horrid situation. Thank Heaven, I havenothing to answer for upon account of that vice. " Asuideto.— Bat you have another fully as bad. Think you that it is at all more excusable to give yourself up to common prostitutes ? and were you not this very night in danger of being killed by bullies ? Really, I admire the folly of manhind, — whose own faults seem trifles to them, while they look at those of others through a microscope." Le Sage : " Devil on Two Sticks."

Quaint old Le Sage! dear old author of " Gil Bias !" How much do we owe thee for thy trenchant criticism of men and manners, and thy pungent satire! Thine eyes have rja closed since 1747 ; but thy works will ,e in many languages and many lands until arth and its tongues are no more. I have had an unusual amount of leisure me lately; but the circumstances under hich I acquired that leisure were so unto•ard, that I fear my Lucubrations will be mnd somewhat lugubrious. This time the reat French dramatist and novelist, Le Sage, as given us a text, —from his " Le Diable loiteaux," which, considered with regard to is wit without rancour, and to its all-embrac-ig, all-deriding satire, as well as with reject to its excellent style, is, perhaps, the ost truly French book in the language ; and the only work which, after "Gil Bias," ight have borne the name of Molierc. Gil las himself is the " universal man" of Tence. And how very true it is that while men are t to make light of their own follies, sins, Pd iniquities, they are prone to magnify to e utmost even the pardonable weaknesses of their fellow-men. The inveterate gambler coolly declares that the wine-bibber is a "beast," an "intolerable nuisance," "not fit for decent society—like ours !" Oh, dear, no ! The trader who is almost convicted of something very much like a falsification of accounts, holds his head high in Pharisaic complacency. The individual who sailed very •close to the " wind of the criminal law," in a matter in which he held a fiduciary trust, plumes himself upon his probity, and will •quietly tell you that the people who told him the honest truth are rogues. And so the world wags on ! As Thackeray pithily puts it, " We are all very respectable, till w -are found out." And when the unexpected •exposure comes, a universal shriek goes up to Heaven from an astonished public, " Who would have thought it!" Th-m how charitable people are : then is the time for a man to find out who are really his friends. In this work-day world, the poor devil who " wears his heart upon his sleeve, for daws to peck at," generally faros ill. But in our humble opinion, he is far more entitled to chai-itable consideration than the elaborate and ingenious hypocrite who nurses his vices in secret; but who is careful when he goes abroad to appear all that is estimable, temperate, and trustworthy. Preserve me from these perambulating "whited sepulchres." In truth, genuine charity is a very scarce article : a spurious compound of selfishness and assumed generosity is abundant. By " charity," I do not mean the giving away money, or goods, or any tangible thing ; but I mean the principle of charity, abiding in the heart, governing our deeds, and thoughts, and words. " Charity endureth long, and is kind ; thinketh no evil; believeth all things, endureth all things." How often do we see men with " the beam " in their own eye, conceitedly endeavouring to extract " the mote" from their brother's eye. " Think not," said our Great Master, " that these Bereans, upon whom the great tower fell, were sinners beyond all others; for, except ye repent, ye shail all likewise perish." A grand rebuke, that, to the self-righteous. How many times shall I forgive my brother ? Seven times ] Nay ! " Seventy times seven." I wonder how many of my readers have been charitable enough to forgive an offending neighbour, or a relative, or, in fast, anybody, 490 times. Let the uncharitable and self-righteous take this piece of multiplication to heart, —"seventy times seven,"—and remember that the grand old prayer runs thus : " Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us." Permit me to say something more about material charity. In April last, the quarterly general Court of the Royal Masonic Institution for Boys was held at Freemasons' Hall, London. On that occasion, Bro. Parkinson, V.P., P.M. 181, made a remarkable speech. The following extract is well worthy the attention of members of the fraternity in the Colonics : "Speaking always in round numbers, some forty thousand pounds are spent in Freemasonry every year in London alone, and with the exception of an independent sum of some seven thousand pounds which London contributes to the Masonic charities, what have we to show for thi3 vast amount? "Leather and prunella." Ye 3, brethren, Masonic millinery absorbs more money than Masonic charity. Ribbous and white leather, medals and laces, jewels, collars, aprons, silvering, gilding, and show, represent a far larger expenditure than we bestow upon either the succonr of the orphan or the relief of the distressed. During the past twelve months, more than six thousand certificates were issued by the Grand Lodge of England ; as a necessary consequence, more than six thousand aprons were bought; more ihan seven thousand pounds were Bpent in this one item of Masonic adornment.

and this by the new blood brought into the Craft in a single year ! It is unnecessary to multiply statistics. We all know that the two hundred Freemasons' lodges which flourish irf Lrmlon represent a heavy outlay ; and we ill

know the direction in which that outlay goes. I would not have it diminished. Ido not wish for one moment that any of the items I have quote.l should be reliuo.l. In all r.?e3 and among all civilised people, the value of symbolism and the importance of emblems have been insistol on and felt. The insignia, the orderg, and adornments of Freennsonrvare the outward and visible si?ns of the solemn mysteries and great principles we unite together to preserve an 1 to hand down unsullied to our successors. Experience proves the enGcacy of our emblems in fostering emulation, and in making precept practice ; and 1 am prepared to defend them as logically justifiable, wise, and sound, should thiev ever be assailed. It may be asked, however, if our symbolism has quite kept pace with our prosperity, and if, in particular, it has been adapted to our enlarged capacity for charity ?" Never were truer words spoken,—nor a humiliating fact more delicately dissected. So poor Patrick Kelly has gone to his last home. It was but the other evening that he presided at a lecture delivered by the Kev. Father Royer for the benefit of the sacred ground in which his own mortal remains were so soon to find a resting place. Little did our friend Kelly think, probably, when he spoke on that occasion of the "silent City of the Dead," and the necessity for keeping it 3 walk 3 in good order, its borders trimmed, and its fences in repair, that in the course of a few short weeks he would be no more seen amongst us. At the comparatively early age of 46 years, he departed for the mysterious spirit-land. De mortals nil nist bonum. Peace be to his memory ! And may the Divine Father give succour, help, and comfort to the sorrowing widow and the bereaved family and friends. Ah! whatever men and women may say, do, or see, in their lives,-—a time must come to all, when even the most uncharitable will stand in utter need of the charity (in its purest and fullest sense) of their fellow-men. Sickness and Death are great levellers, — " One touch of Nature, makes the whole world kin !" Walking in the Cromwell Cemetery the other day, I mused about Life, with all its cares, and anxieties, and ambitions, and defeats, and pride, and humiliations : and I thought of Death as a great, overpowering mystery. I could never arrive at that condition of mind represented in Pope's Ode, — " The Dying Christian to his Soul," —

"Vital spark of heavenly flame, Quit, oh quit this mortal frame," &c. It has always appeared to me to be unnatural, —strained : for the love of life is inherent in our nature ; and unless a person be a maniac, or suffering from some horrible torture in this world, I cannot imagine a Christian coolly bidding his soul depart. It is absurd to suppose that a person in articulo mortis would or could analyse his feelings in the methodical manner in which Pope has done it for "the Dying Christian" : "What is this absorbs me quite,— Chills my senses, dims my sight ? Tf this be death," &c. Walking in the Cromwell Cemetery, as I said, —before this digression,—l thought of some of those whose bodies rest there, —of poor Garrett, and Thomas Shanly, and Humphreys, and others : and is it not worthy of notice by what various means people come by their deaths ? An old writer quaintly remarks :—" Some go by laud, and some by water; some, it would seem, hurriedly and before their time; some in solitude, with no comforter or friend near but the unseen yet ever-present Saviour ; others, surrounded by weeping relatives, —wives, children, and dependents ; but it is all one. When the fiat has gone forth—'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,' —and the Spirit returns to it 3 Creator." Let ma here quote a few lines from Le Sage. Asmodeus is dilating upon Tombs, Spectres, and Death : "Observe these shadows attentively," said the demon ; " those who have superb mausoleums are, without distinction, confounded with those whose monuments are no more than a pitiful eofhn. The adventitious circumstances which distinguished thorn one from the other, are now at an end. The poor servant, and the First Minister of the Crown, are now on an equalitv. The grand butler is no more valued than the meanest citizen here buried. The grandeur of noble dignitaries finishes with their lives, as that of stage heroes concludes with the play."

The body of poor George Goss is not yet found, I believe. His was a sad and sudden departure. I never hear of a death by drowning but my mind instantly reverts to Tom Hood's lines:— " The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver ; But not the dark arch, Or the black, flowing river," &c. In truth there is a wonderful deal of water about this great mystery of death. The poets give us rivers, seas, and oceans ad libitum when treating the subject : " There is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign. * * * * Death, like a narrow sea, divides

' That glorious land from oura." Life is likened to a " flowing river," carrying us all on to the boundless, fathomless ocean of eternity. In popular song we are familiarised with "the other side of Jordan," and classic fable tells us of the river Styx, Charon, the Waters of Lethe— [not, the place, near Daned'm /]—Heaven is represented as a place of rest, of peace, of praise, of neverfailing flowers, and of everlasting fountains of crystal water, &c. You will probably think that I' have written enough for one week. I have something good in store for you. Meanwhile, let us try to cultivate the great virtue of Charity, in all the relations of life. Guuelmus,