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him in performing his marketing, or to carry home his meat.

THE PENSIONER.

always out of season; as the mode in May, for instance, can never arrive here till June; so that it merely gratifies the curiosity to know what was the fashion, or enables us to come into it a year after. How can the pride of our fair country women submit to this? It might be some comfort, to be sure, for a blooming American girl to know, that on the morning of this blessed 20th of June, 1820, she had on a morning dress like that of the Dutchess of A, or the Countess of D, in England, at the same time. But to think of this being a cast-off fashion of the preceding month, or preceding

An aged pensioner, who was attending our county court for the purpose of making oath to his poverty, according to the late act of congress, hearing it announced that the court would require four dollars and seventy-five cents from every pensioner, drew from his pocket-book an old continental bill of sixty dollars, remarking that was all he had ever received for his services in the revolutionary war; and that if the court insisted upon any compensation from him, they must take their year, already supplanted by a new

pay out of that bill, for he had no other property or means of payment. A gentleman present prevented its being handed to the court, but it is needless to add that it would not have been received. Connecticut Journal.

INFALLIBLE CURE FOR THE DYS-
ENTERY.

Simmer together one quart of strong vinegar, and one and a half pounds of best quality loaf sugar, for twenty minules, in a pewter dish, with a pewter

If

cover, and no other will answer. the patient be an adult, it will be necessary first to cleanse the bowels with one ounce of glauber salts, united with two grains of torterisia antimony; and a less quantity for a child. One table spoonful of the syrup is then to be given every hour, night and day, for 24, 36, or 48 hours, till the cure is effected. The writer never knew it to fail in effecting a cure of this fatal discase within the limits of 48 hours, even in the worst cases of camp dysentery during the late war.

A STUDENT OF MEDICINE.

LONDON FASHIONS.

I know of no greater waste of paper, than the room occupied in our newspaper columns by the monthly account of English fashions. And this as the less useful, because it is of course

one-Oh fie! It is too much like picking the bones of the gay world!

Have we not ladies of talents, of taste and general accomplishments, as capable of inventing fashions, as those of England? I believe so. But if not, are we destitute of milliners and mantua makers, of sufficient ingenuity, whose interest would lead them to change the mode as often as the most

extravagant belle could desire. After

all, what is this fashion but a mere illusive meteor, that is gone as soon as

found? I'll engage for it, that any pretty girl, or even one not pretty, who will cultivate the talents allotted to her, cherish the virtues of the heart, and walk decorously in society, will lose nothing by adapting the colour, proportion and quality of her dress to her complexion, figure and circumstances, at least in the estimation of the judicious of either sex. As for the mere dandy, who is nothing without dress, and very little with it, it is worse than lost time to dress for him.

RECIPE FOR A LADY'S DRESS.

Let your ear-rings be attention encircled by the pearls of refinement; the diamonds of your necklace be truth, and the chain christianity; your bopearls of gentleness; your finger-rings som-pin charity, ornamented with the be affection, set round with the diamonds of industry; your girdle be|| that bane of all virtue, a populous simplicity, with the tassels of good city? Surely the studious man cannot humour: let your thicker garb be vir-enjoy his dear loved meditations tue, and your drapery politeness; let your shoes be wisdom, secured by the buckles of perseverance.

FOR THE MASONIC REGISTER. THEOPHILUS AND ACASTON.

amidst scenes of anxious business, or unphilosophic pleasure; or humanity continue its generons feelings uncontaminated, where every object around him affords the gloomy evidence of triuhiphant vice, or suffering virtue; where the noisy mirth of the hymenial banquet, and the heart-pier

A beautiful summer's morning had invited Theophilus, at an early hourcing cries of funeral sorrow, strike the

to rise from his bed, to taste the sweet refreshing breeze, (in company with his venerable tutor ;) the sun, just emerging from the horizon, began to shed his reviving light and heat around our hemisphere, while all nature seemed to greet his appearance with gratitude and joy. The variegated carpet of nature seemed more bright, the effluvia from the trees, now in blossom, more delicious, and the feathered songsters of the woods to chant their matin lays with more animation than he had ever observed before: he felt like a philosopher who had studied, all his life, in the deserts of Siberia, and had read often, but, for the first time, tasted the pleasures of a more indulgent clime.

"What pleasure, respected ACASTON," cries he, "can be equal to that I now enjoy. The glare of midnight assemblies, the parade of the rich, or the grandeur of the most elegant mansions or cities, are triffing in comparison with those charms that are found in nature. Could art contrive a sight more noble than the rising sun, beyond those lofty hills, whose tops are already illumined by his vivifying rays? Can the most expert gardener plan a more elegant retreat from its perpendicular rays, than what can be derived from those trees, that have spontaneously risen in elegant disorder, or can the best orchestra afford such soft and

enchanting music, as that which arises from every surrounding bush? Why do men desert the simple cot, the cultivated farm, or the umbrageous shelter of softly melancholy groves, for

ear at the same time: and where the gay or gloomy cavalcade meet us at every turn. I have been much in large cities, have studied the views and dispositions of their inhabitants, and the result has been, a fixed dislike to their low cunning and mercenary pursuits. Often have I wished that my destiny had placed me as a resident of some more benign planet, whose happy inhabitants have no occasion to blush for the vices, or weep for the miseries of their fellow-creatures."

"If you ever attain to such a happiness," replied his tutor, "it must indeed be in some other planet; the rural retreat has, with the busy city, its peculiar temptations, and human nature has the bias and propensity to cherish them; there are likewise some temptations that are natural to both. Biblus is as much a drunkard, and a knave, in one as in the other, for he carries with him the same inclinations and views; and while these are his ruling passions, they will tyrannize over him when opportunity offers. To a mind contaminated by avarice, it is the same, whether he empties the purse of the affluent, or grinds the face of the poor. He seizes with avidity, similar in its principle, the earthen vessel, or straw bed of the cottager, as the silver utensils, or down couches of the luxurious; and is as much the tyrant of the plain as he would be of the city, if heaven had cursed them with his residence."

"Are there then no pleasures to be derived from the shady groves and sweet retirement of rural life ?"

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Beneath this turf that form reclines
Which late had youth and beauty too,
And the cold grave that heart confines,
Where every plant of virtue grew.

But ah, the kindred spirit 's fled,

And wither'd leaves bestrow thy grave;
Save where the wild flow'rs lift their head,
And o'er thy lonely mansion wave.

Say, if thy spirit hovers near,
And listens to my plaintive lay?
For oft thou 'st check'd the falling tear,
And drove my youthful cares away.
Thy children too, no more shall claim
Thy kindness and thy guardian care;
Lisping I heard them call thy name,
But ah! no mother answer'd there!

Near yonder willow's drooping shade,
Methinks I
And now it flits along the glade,
thy shadowy wy form-

And flies

see

to meet the coming storm.

"Charlotte!"-thy voice is silent still, Tho' fancy seem'd to catch the sound :Twas but the noise of yonder rill

That faintly murmurs o'er the ground.

gay to my sight,

Imagination painted
Thy pleasi pleasing image
Yet quick the vision speeds away,
Dissolving in the shades of night.

But soon I'll leave this dreary clime,
Whose shores are wash'd by sorrow's wave,
Launch from the crumbling banks of time,
And land with thee, beyond the grave.

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Yet surely it cannot be love! No, I am not, &c.

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FROM THE AMERICAN MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
THE SABBATH.

Sweet to the soul the parting ray,
Which ushers placid evening in,
When with the still expiring day,
The Sabbath's peaceful hours begin;
How grateful to the anxious breast,
The sacred hours of holy rest!

I love the blush of vernal bloom,

When morning gilds night's sullen tear;
And dear to me the mournful gloom
Of Autumn-Sabbath of the year,
But purer pleasures, joys sublime,
Await the dawn of Holy Time.
Hush'd is the tumult of the day,

And worldly cares, and business cease,
While soft the vesper breezes play,

To hymn the glad return of peace;
O season blest; O moments given
To turn the vagrant thoughts to Heaven!

What though involv'd in lurid night,

The loveliest forms in nature fade,
Yet 'mid the gloom shall heavenly light,
With joy the contrite heart pervade;
O then, great source of light divine,
With beams ethereal gladden mine.

Oft as this hallowed hour shall come,
O raise my thoughts from earthly things,
And bear them to my heavenly home,
On living faith's immortal wings-
Till the last gleam of life decay
In one eternal Sabbath Day!

FROM THE ABERDEEN JOURNAL.
HEAVEN.

There is a land of calm delight,

To sorrowing mortals given;
There rapturous scenes enchant the sight,
And all to soothe their souls unite;
Sweet is their rest-in Heaven.

There glory beams on all the plains;
And joy, for hope, is given;

There music swells in sweetest strains,
And spotless beauty ever reigns;
And all is love-in Heaven.
There cloudless skies are ever bright,
Thence gloomy scenes are driven;
There suns dispense unsullied light,
And planets, beaming on the sight,
Illume the fields of Heaven.

There is a stream that ever flows,
To passing pilgrims given;
There fairest fruit immortal grows;
The verdant flower eternal blows

Amid the fields of Heaven.

There is a great, a glorious prize,
For those with sin who've striven:
'Tis bright as star of evening skies,
And, far above, it glittering lies;
A golden crown-in Heaven.

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FROM THE FRENCH OF LADY GUION.
DIVINE LOVE.

Sweet tenants of the grove!
Who sing without design,
A song of artless love,
In unison with mine;
These echoing shades return,
Full many a note of ours,
That wise ones cannot learn,
With all their boasted pow'rs.

Oh Thou! whose sacred charms
These hearts so seldom love,
Although Thy beauty warms,
And blesses all above;
How slow are human things,
To choose their happiest lot!
All-glorious King of kings,

Say, why we love Thee not?

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

We have received our friend Atwater's letter from Circleville, Ohio, in which he states that he has delayed his promised communication, on the antiquities of that country, a short time, in order for further investigation, "by which it will lose nothing in the end." We hope the delay will be short, as many of our readers look for his communication with anxiety.

"Temporal and spiritual love contrasted," contains most excellent sentiments, but is of too great length for our limits."

Several communications were received, just as the last sheet of this number was going to press. They shall receive atten

tion.

HOYT & BOLMORE, PRINTERS, 70 Bowery, New-York.

AMERICAN MASONIC REGISTER,

AND

Ladies' and Gentlemen's Magazine.

BY LUTHER PRATT.

Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. And now abideth FAITH, HOPE, CHARITY, these three; but the greatest of these is CHA

RITY.

[No. III.] FOR NOVEMBER, A. D. 1820. A. L. 5820.

MASONIC.

OF FORMING A NEW LODGE.

Any number of master Masons, not under seven, resolved to form a new lodge, must apply, by petition, to the grand Master; stating that they are regular Masons, and are, or have been, members of some regularly constituted lodge or lodges; that feeling anxious for the prosperity of the fraternity, they are willing to exert their best endeavours to promote, and diffuse the genuine principles of Masonry: that, for the conveniency of their respective dwellings, and other substantial reasons, they are desirous to form a new lodge, to be named and have nominated and do recommend A. B. to be the first master, C. D. senior, and E. F. junior wardens: that, in consequence of this resolution, they pray for a warrant of constitution, to empower them to assemble as a regular lodge, on the of every month, at , and then and there to discharge the duties of Masonry, in a regular and constitutional manner, according to the original forms of the order, and the laws of the grand lodge; that, the prayer of the petition being granted, they promise a strict conform

L

St. Paul.

[VOL. I.]

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FORM OF A WARRANT..

S. GRAND WARDEN. GRAND MASTER.
J. GRAND WARDEN. D. GRAND MASTER.

WE, The grand lodge of the most
ancient and honourable fraternity of
free and accepted Masons, of the state
of
, in ample form assem-
bled, according to the old constitu-
tions regularly and solemnly establish-
ed under the auspices of prince ED-
WIN, at the city of York, in Great

* A dispensation, authorizing the petitioners to assemble as a legal lodge, for a specified term of time is generally issued previous to the granting of a warrant. In some jurisdictions, the grand and deputy grand masters, respectively have power of granting such dispensations, during the recess of the grand lodge. Lodges working under dispensations, are considered merely agents of the grand lodge, in which their officers have neither vote nor voice.

as

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