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  • The Masonic Magazine
  • March 1, 1879
  • Page 20
  • TIME'S CHANGES.
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The Masonic Magazine, March 1, 1879: Page 20

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    Article KILLED BY THE NATIVES. ← Page 9 of 9
    Article TIME'S CHANGES. Page 1 of 1
Page 20

Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.

Killed By The Natives.

I must not be taken as acquiescing in the absolute accuracy of the learned constable ' s legal proposition because I did not at once proceed to controvert it . I bade my entertainer farewell and went on my way musing . It was only the other day I passed through Little Stuart Place again in taking a near cut north-south-west . I looked at my oyster shop , but the shutters were up : nailed to the centre one was a black-bordered card on which was legibly inscribed in a fair

commercial hand , — " Closed to-day in consequence of the funeral of the late proprietor . " " Rest , rest , perNn-bed spirit ! " as Hamlet pathetically adjures his father ' s ghost . His tormentor had kill d him at last , then . Like Captain Cook , he had been killed by a native—if those imported aliens can be politely held to be entitled to the indigenous appellation—an Anglo Portico nativeat all events—the last oyster had slain the opener .

, I have in my possession the very club with which the above eminent navigator was brained . Every savant ought to have one . No collection can he cons ' c . ered complete without it . When I look at my South Sea weapon , I think of my franoic host , and it suggests that of him also , ephuistically , the epitaph might be written , " Killed by the Natives !"

Time's Changes.

TIME'S CHANGES .

BY MATTloJ W . TOBKEY . Tn . i 3 songs we sang in other years They greet us now no more ;' The loves that roused our hopes ancl fears Are vanished now , ancl o ' er .

The friends we love are scattered wide , Familiar scenes are changed ; Ancl hearts that once were true and tried Are lifeless or estranged . The lip tl e sweetest smile that wore ; The cheek that bloomed most

fan-; The voice that charmed us long before , With music rich ancl rare ; The eyes whose lightest glance could still Our hearts with love enthrall , Whose smile could bless , whose frown could kill , Are changed or vanished all .

The way was bright before us then , The coming day seemed fair ; We mingled with our fellow-men , With hearts to do ancl dare . The hopes of youth are faded now , Its fevered dreams are past :

Ancl time , upon our furrowed brow , His silvery shade has cast . We , too , are changed , but not in heart ! Old times may do his worst ; He cannot from remembrance part The Things we loved at first .

The eyes may dim , the cheeks grow pale , The snows of age may fall , Tet shall our memories never fail To beed affection ' s call .

“The Masonic Magazine: 1879-03-01, Page 20” Masonic Periodicals Online, Library and Museum of Freemasonry, 10 May 2025, django:8000/periodicals/mmg/issues/mmg_01031879/page/20/.
  • List
  • Grid
Title Category Page
Monthly Summary. Article 1
BY-LAWS OF AN OLD LODGE. Article 2
THE GREAT PYRAMID. Article 3
TORTURED BY DEGREES. Article 5
THE COUNTRY. Article 6
THE RELATION OF THEISM TO FREEMASONRY. Article 7
FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY. Article 10
WHIST. Article 11
KILLED BY THE NATIVES. Article 12
TIME'S CHANGES. Article 20
BEATRICE. Article 21
LES FRANCS-MACONS. Article 23
THE GRAVE OF WILL ADAMS. Article 28
THANKFULNESS.—A CONFESSION. Article 30
AN ALLEGORY. Article 31
THE PROPOSED RESTORATION OF THE WEST FRONT OF THE CATHEDRAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN'S, Article 38
GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE.* Article 39
NOTES ON LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART. Article 45
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Page 20

Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.

Killed By The Natives.

I must not be taken as acquiescing in the absolute accuracy of the learned constable ' s legal proposition because I did not at once proceed to controvert it . I bade my entertainer farewell and went on my way musing . It was only the other day I passed through Little Stuart Place again in taking a near cut north-south-west . I looked at my oyster shop , but the shutters were up : nailed to the centre one was a black-bordered card on which was legibly inscribed in a fair

commercial hand , — " Closed to-day in consequence of the funeral of the late proprietor . " " Rest , rest , perNn-bed spirit ! " as Hamlet pathetically adjures his father ' s ghost . His tormentor had kill d him at last , then . Like Captain Cook , he had been killed by a native—if those imported aliens can be politely held to be entitled to the indigenous appellation—an Anglo Portico nativeat all events—the last oyster had slain the opener .

, I have in my possession the very club with which the above eminent navigator was brained . Every savant ought to have one . No collection can he cons ' c . ered complete without it . When I look at my South Sea weapon , I think of my franoic host , and it suggests that of him also , ephuistically , the epitaph might be written , " Killed by the Natives !"

Time's Changes.

TIME'S CHANGES .

BY MATTloJ W . TOBKEY . Tn . i 3 songs we sang in other years They greet us now no more ;' The loves that roused our hopes ancl fears Are vanished now , ancl o ' er .

The friends we love are scattered wide , Familiar scenes are changed ; Ancl hearts that once were true and tried Are lifeless or estranged . The lip tl e sweetest smile that wore ; The cheek that bloomed most

fan-; The voice that charmed us long before , With music rich ancl rare ; The eyes whose lightest glance could still Our hearts with love enthrall , Whose smile could bless , whose frown could kill , Are changed or vanished all .

The way was bright before us then , The coming day seemed fair ; We mingled with our fellow-men , With hearts to do ancl dare . The hopes of youth are faded now , Its fevered dreams are past :

Ancl time , upon our furrowed brow , His silvery shade has cast . We , too , are changed , but not in heart ! Old times may do his worst ; He cannot from remembrance part The Things we loved at first .

The eyes may dim , the cheeks grow pale , The snows of age may fall , Tet shall our memories never fail To beed affection ' s call .

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