truth to Odd-Fellowship. The true and faithful OddFellow feels that his good and ill will live after him—a lasting blessing, or a perpetual curse; and this consideration will give dignity to the humblest effort made for the advancement of its principles. What a mistake, to suppose that any service rendered to mankind-any interesting relation of human life-any exhibition of moral greatness even any peculiar condition of society-can ever be lost! Their form may disappear; but their value will ever remain, and perform the good office everlastingly. Material structures dissolve; they lose their identity and functions: but mind partakes of the eternity of the Great Parent Spirit; and thoughts, truths, emotions, once given to the world, are never lost: they exist and perform their holy mission as long as kindred spirits are found to be moved by them.

And now, if we do not greatly err, these considerations, and others similar, ought to prompt every member of our Order to preserve untainted, not only its principles, but the literature through which those principles and their many illustrations are to be handed down to those who are to uphold and perpetuate them. That these reflections may assist in this good work, is the sincere wish of one who delights in being hailed as an Odd-Fellow.

RAVENNA, OHIO, January, 1846.

A FRIEND IN NEED.

BY A. A. PHILLIPS, P. G.

"The friend

Who smiles when smoothing down the lonely couch,
And does kind deeds, which any one can do
Who has a feeling spirit-such a friend

Heals with a searching balsam." PERCIVAL.

IN 184-, I was on a visit to an old friend, who resided in the lovely and picturesque village of Peekskill, which lies like a gem upon the east bank of the noble Hudson. It was in the month of June, that period when blushing Spring drops the mantle of youth, and assumes the warm, glowing, and matronly dress of lovely Summer.

My friend, one glorious morning, invited me to take a stroll before breakfast, to visit the 'squire, as he was termed, -but whose name I soon learned to be Mr. Treadwell— which invitation I at once cheerfully accepted, and away we started. The pure air of the morning was most refreshing to nerves enfeebled by the close and noxious atmosphere of a crowded city; the river lay in the glorious sunlight like a rich vein of molten silver, the leafy banks

enclosing it as in a huge framework. Our road wound its way beneath large and spreading oaks and chestnuts, beside the river's bank, while the view of the giant stream for miles was uninterrupted: the snow-white sails of the river-craft; the graceful steamer, ploughing her way majestically up the river; the slow and noisy tug, struggling with her heavy and clumsy barges, laden with valuable merchandise fresh from the city mart, on its way to consumers in the interior of this, and many of the western states; the large and ungainly raft, floating at the pleasure of the current to the great vortex of all merchandise; and the birds floating idly yet grandly over the bright expanse of water-exhibited a picture of the rarest beauty, which completely fascinated, and led me almost to forswear the dull routine of city life for the bright and joyous scenes of smiling nature. The scene was so new, that I stopped at every point where I could catch a new view, and gazed so long, that my friend was compelled more than once to remind me of the flight of time, and hasten me on to the end of our journey.

We finally left the river, turned inland, and as we entered the lane leading to the homestead of 'Squire Treadwell, the air seemed suddenly filled with fragrance, and I paused to ascertain the cause of this delightful odor. How shall I describe the scene that met my eye? On my right a hill, the base of which ran to the very verge of the road, was completely covered with wild rosebushes, which fairly bent beneath their beauteous burdens; the whole hill