in France the passengers nearly all smoke upon their journey, and the station clerks give you a light with all the politeness imaginable. We had a very full train of thirdclass passengers ere we arrived at Paris, which we did in about four hours, and I found myself, for the first time, in the capital of le grand Nation, busily engaged in endeavouring to find my way to the Rue Fauxbourg St. Honore, where I had been recommended to stay at Drake's English Hotel.

After an ineffectual attempt to find my way, I was obliged to employ a garçon to guide me, which he did, to many places I need not then have gone to, in order to enhance the price. I arrived at Drake's about six o'clock, and partook of an excellent dinner at the table d'hôte, and afterwards went to a masked ball, in the Rue de Valentino, and was much amused by the spirit with which the assumed characters were supported by the motley throng, and by the excellent dancing I witnessed, among which, of course, was the Polka. My first night in Paris was not a quiet one, for either the excitement, or the spring bed upon which I lay, caused me to awake in the night with the impression upon my mind that some one was in my room with the intention of robbing me; whether or not there was any cause for this feeling I know not, but my eyes, and ears were greatly mistaken if there was not. I aroused up a black man who acted as boots at the hotel, and we searched the room with a light, but could find no one; still, however, there were two doors from which any one might have escaped, although the respectable character of the house almost forbade the suspicion.

I remained nearly a week in Paris, which is an exceedingly fine city, unequalled, I believe, for its public buildings and exhibitions, and for the facility of admission to them; they are all gratuitous, and in the majority of cases, open to the public; and where they are not quite free, the passport of a visitor, with a politeness upon the part of the authorities we might well copy in London, never fails to procure admission to any public buildings. Taken as a whole, I think Paris vastly inferior to London, either for the grandeur of its shops, the paving, draining, or lighting of its streets, or many other matters of personal comfort, or convenience; but I am compelled to admit, that in very many points, it is as far superior to London, as it is inferior to it in those parts to which I have alluded. This is probably explained by the great difference in the national character; our lively Gallic neighbours love display and show in all their doings-the Englishman loves quiet and comfort. Thus, the public buildings, the shows and exhibitions of Paris, far exceed our own; but the French are utterly deficient in all that domestic feeling, and that love of home, and home comforts, which make the fireside of an Englishman so dear to him. The French tradesman and artisan delights in his leisure hours to lounge in the Café, or the Champ d'Elysees, where, attired in his cheap but smart-looking clothes, he luxuriates in his cigar, his eau de vie, or vin l'ordinaire; and delights to contemplate and descant upon the splendour of le grand capitole aux Paris, in as different a style as possible from those of his own class in England: still they are in one point our superior in personal conduct, you rarely see a Frenchman intoxicated. At the time I was there, Paris, with all its boasted police, was exceedingly unsafe, for robbery and murder took place nearly every night in the public streets; for the gens de armes do not patrol the streets as they do in England, but remain quietly at the guard house until they are fetched to quell any disturbance that may have taken place; and woe to the man who fetches them when there is no occasion for their services, he is sure to be imprisoned for his pains.

The Morgue, or dead house, at Paris, is one of the most peculiar sights of the city. In this place, all who meet a violent death, are placed for the purpose of identification; the bodies are stripped quite naked and washed clean, over and upon them runs a continual stream of cold water, and over their head are suspended the clothes, &c., in which they were found, and there being no coroner's inquest in France, the bodies, unless claimed in a certain time, are buried at the public expense, and no more is thought about them. I saw several while I was there.

The palace of the Tuilleries, the Louvre Gallery, 1300 feet long, filled with the most beautiful paintings and sculpture that the world perhaps can produce in one collection-Pere le Chaise, a large and splendid cemetry, containing the tombs of thousands of illustrious dead, Abelard and Heloise among the number-the monument in the Place de Bastile, to the memory of those who fell in the destruction of the Bastile, and whose names are inscribed in gold upon the column-the immense elephant there-the column of Napoleon, in the Place de Vendome, and which bears upon it, in fine sculpture, the whole of Napoleon's victories-the noble triumphant

arch, said to be the finest in the world-the Palace of the Luxembourg and its galleries--the Jardin des Plants and its thousands of curiosities-the Hotel Dieu, or God's Hospitalthe Hospital des Invalides, where the coffin, sword, and hat of Napoleon, are shown to the visitor-Notre Dame, with its tremendous bell and tower, (the bell weighs 1300 cwt., and is called le petite Louise,)—the Palais de Justice -the Parthenon-the Hotelte de Veille, in the Place de Greve, where the guillotine stood in the days of the revolution, and where the gutter ran with the best blood of France-l'Ecole de Médicin―le Chambre des Deputes -the fine old Palais Royale—the ancient gates of Paris, Porte St. Martin and St. Dennis -the splendid new church of la Madeleine, just completed, in a style of magnificence and richness of ornament I have never seen equalled-all, in turn, and numbers of others, equally interesting to lovers of curiosities, or historical recollections, claim the notice of the visitors to this city. To attempt a description would be equally vain and out of place in this work; and besides, Paris and the Parisians are well known to the people of England by means of the many works published respecting them. There is no place in London, certainly, equal to many of those I have mentioned; nor have we a square or street equal to the Place de Concord, with its tessellated pavements, fine groups of statuary, Egyptian obelisk from the pyramids, and its two noble fountains, which are alone worth the trouble of a journey to see. They are formed of colossal groups of bronze figures of Tritons and mermaids, each holding a strange fish, which, apparently in the agony of strangulation, sends up a powerful jet of water towards the centre, where it is caught in a kind of ewer, supported upon the heads of another mythological group, and again rises in various gradations to a great height, and falls at last equally over the vase into the basin at the foot, like a thin glass curtain all around it. Standing between these fountains, you see in each directions, a fine, broad, straight avenue, each exhibiting at the termination one of the finest buildings, or monuments, in Paris. On the one hand, the gardens and palace of the Tuilleriess-on the opposite, the Arc de Triomph, or triumphal arch, and Champs d'Elysees; on the other, the fine structure of the Madeleine Church, with its numerous columns around it, and a fine statue between each two; and opposite to this is the French House of Commons, or Chambre des Deputes. When standing on the banks of the Seine, the coup-d'œil is truly splendid, and can never be forgotten by the spectator, particularly at night, when it is one perfect blaze of light from thousands of lamps, each reflected in the fountains.

I left Paris with some regret, but business would not allow of a longer stay; but before I departed I visited some of the theatres, and was much gratified at Franconis and the Opera comique. I came back by the railway to Rouen, and spent one more day with my friends there, during which time I received the testimonial I have alluded to, which was manufactured expressly for the occasion; and after completing all my arrangements I left that place about ten o'clock on the Sunday evening. I need not say I parted from the brethren at Rouen with much regret, and it will be long ere I forget their kindness to me; for from the time of my arrival, until the time when the diligence left the office yard, their behaviour was kind, generous, and sincere; and I parted from them with feelings of the deepest gratitude, and convinced that their kindnesses have laid upon me obligations which I shall not be able

to return.

The night was exceedingly cold, and the snow fell fast. I was perched up in the banquette, or seat on the top of the roof behind the driver; the cold, the clattering of the horses, and the endless chattering of the driver of the diligence, together with my uncomfortable position, prevented me from going to sleep; but I made myself as happy as circumstances would admit of, cheering myself with the reflection that each mile brought me nearer home. The only place we passed, that I know, was the celebrated Harfleur, and the town of Baalbeck, where I was nearly forced to return to Paris by an officious gens-de-armes discovering my passport to be not quite in form, which was occasioned by the vast trouble they gave me at Paris about this annoying document, which at last I could not get quite properly signed by the prefect de police. I, however, by this time knew how to treat him; but still I felt great trepidation, till I heard bon, bon, Monsieur, en route seller, when I thought I had had a fortunate escape.

We rattled over the drawbridge at Harvre de Grace as the clock struck seven in the morning, and I went to Creed's hotel, in the rue de St. Jacques, as the steam boat did not leave until the afternoon. Harvre, like Dieppe, is a dull, dirty place, devoid of ought to interest the traveller, if we except the market place, pier, and ramparts; from the latter the sea view is very interesting. I dined at the hotel, and was not sorry when the time

arrived for going on board the Calpe steamer, for the voyage home; but I had to submit to a little more extortion, in the shape of fee, before I could get my passport signed for departure.

Of the voyage home I know but little, as after having watched the Harvre lights till they faded away, I went into the cabin, and slept soundly till we entered the harbour at Southampton. The mate of the Calpe, Mr. Smith, was a member of the Order, and showed me all the kindness in his power; but fortunately I did not need much of his kindness, as I escaped in both passages the attack of sea sickness; I was, however, glad upon my arrival at Southampton to avail myself of his advice in obtaining an excellent breakfast. Having to wait the good pleasure of the officer of the custom house before I could regain my bag, &c., I availed myself of the opportunity of seeing this fast improving town, and shortly found Prov. G. M. Hayes, and some other members of that prosperous District. I had not long to stay with them, as I left by the train at one o'clock, and arrived safe at the Nine Elm Station, Vauxhall. The only other adventure I met with was the loss of my carpet bag, which, after going safely so many miles, was given away upon the journey to some other traveller, who, however, honourably returned it, and I received it back in a few days; and thus concluded the longest and most interesting journey of the many it has been my good fortune to take in the cause of Odd Fellowship.

Lord Portman Lodge, North London District.

While I thus with anguish sigh,
Love, for thee,

Oh, what bliss was mine,

When thy hand carress'd me

Oh, what bliss seem'd thine,

When thy father bless'd thee!

Thy voice was buoyant as the spring,
When first she spreads her dewy wing-
Thine eye was as the early dew,

When first the summer rose we view.

The voice has ceased, and closed the wing,
And winter's follow'd on the spring;

The dew is dried, the rose is fled,

And thou my child art cold and dead!

I miss thy happy childish smiles
At morning clear,-

I mourn thy gleesome baby wiles,
When evening's here.

But thou, my child, art blest,
And where the weary rest,

And the wicked cease

Where the heavy laden come,
Wearied to their heav'nly home,
Home of joy and peace;
Where tears shall be forgot,
And woe remembered not.
Maria, may I met thee there,
In that holy happy sphere,
Where thou art a cherub bright,
Dwelling 'mid the realms of light.

Victoria Lodge, Warslow.

J. S.

WHAT IS AN ODD FELLOW?

A SKETCH.

We are born to do benefits. And what better or properer
Can we call our own than the riches of our friends? O, what
A precious comfort 'tis to have so many, like brothers,
Commanding one another's fortunes.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

"MR. ANDERSON, my dear!" said the spouse of a gentleman of that name, laying down a newspaper, over which she had been glancing, one morning just after breakfast, "I see here the description of an anniversary of a Lodge of Odd Fellows. Pray, my dear, can you tell me what an Odd Fellow is? Do you know that I've been very curious about this subject for some time!"

"That's not at all singular, my love!" replied Mr. Anderson, “curiosity, my dear, is a woman's failing, if that quality can be called a failing in a woman, which was never yet known to fail. However, I am not sure that I can satisfy you, for I hardly know myself."

"Mr. Anderson!" rejoined his lady, drawing herself up disdainfully, "I asked you a civil question, and if you could not answer it, it showed your ignorance; and I hope you'll allow that ignorance is a greater failing even than curiosity; or, at all events, that ignorance is a failing which curiosity soon removes."

"Why, my dear," returned Mr. Anderson, "I am clearly of a contrary opinion with you there; for I humbly conceive that in nine instances out of ten, curiosity is impertinence, and impertinence is the most convincing proof of ignorance. But, as you said, you asked me a civil question, and perhaps I was wrong to indulge in comment upon it."

"To be sure you were!" replied the lady, bridling up, "the men are always wrong." "That, my dear," answered Mr. Anderson, slightly smiling, "is doubtlessly ordered so by Nature, that they may have, at least, an opportunity of emulating the virtues of women, who are always right. I dare say, my dear, it's the consequent effect of this principle that produces so much opposition between you and me at times."

As this speech was delivered in Mr. Anderson's blandest tone and manner, the slight irony which pervaded it, if meant, escaped the notice of his spouse, who, suffering a gracious smile to mantle over her countenance, answered, "Ay, that's something like now, Mr. A.; then you do allow that the men only imitate the virtues of the women, just in the same way (if I may be allowed to make use of the simile) as a monkey imitates the actions of a man?"

"Exactly so, my love!" returned Mr. Anderson, "exactly so! as you say, it is but an imitation, and a very awkward one too. I perfectly agree with you, my dear, in thinking that for any man to imitate the actions of his wife, would certainly make him look more like a monkey than a man.' And Mr. Anderson once more smiled blandly.

"Really, my love," exclaimed Mrs. Anderson, "your company is quite agreeable this morning, and so, now do tell me, for I am convinced you know, and know well, what an Odd Fellow is."

"My dear!" answered Mr. Anderson, as far as I know I will inform you; but you must bear in mind that my information is limited. An Odd Fellow, then, is one of an immense body of men, who, feeling and knowing the advantages of co-operation, have wisely united themselves for the obvious purpose of mutual assistance and support. They are governed by laws strictly enforced, and in no instance departed from-these laws, are, as I have been informed, framed upon such just and equitable principles, that even the wish to break through them is seldom or never evinced; and it cannot be doubted that inculcating, as they do, the universal diffusion of peace and social agreement, they must have a sanatory influence over their private morals, and consequently tend by the growth of the principles which emanate from them, to render them estimable in their own little private sphere, and honourable and useful in their public life, let the station in life of the party be what it will."

"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the lady, "you surprise me indeed. You know, my dear, one never hears of any thing out of the way, but one forms in one's own mind some sort of an idea of it-and what do you think mine was?"

"The idea was brilliant, if mistaken, I have no doubt,"-demurely answered Mr. Anderson, at the same time slightly bowing to his lady. "Pray, may I ask what it was?" "Oh yes! to be sure! I had a notion that they were Roman Catholic priests, or in other words, monks."

"And what, for heaven's sake," queried Mr. Anderson, in evident amazement, "could have put such a ridiculous idea into your head,-or, I should perhaps say," he added, perceiving a slight indication of recurring wrath on the brow of his better half, "what could have rendered your brain parturient with so unique and incomprehensible a conception?"

"Why, my dear," returned the instantly mollified Mrs. A., "I'll tell you how it happened. It was the name that set me to thinking; and when I do think, you know, my dear, I generally go pretty deep into a matter."

"The principles of reasoning, my dear, in the female mind," interrupted Mr. Anderson, though in a very quiet and mild way, for indeed he was slightly apprehensive that his "cara sposa" might some time or another stumble upon the latent irony which he was a little too apt to play off upon her,-"The principles of reasoning in the female mind, are often indeed so profound and unfathomable, that were Euclid himself to live over again, I think it highly questionable if he could solve them into their elements, without at any rate adopting the line of demonstration termed the reductio ad absurdum. But you were going to explain, my love?"

"Oh yes, my dear; I was going to explain how I took them to be monks. You know, my dear, they are called Odd Fellows;—and you know too that monks are vowed to celibacy;—very well!-now, any man that's vowed to celibacy must be a single man, and every single man an odd man, and consequently every monk must be an odd man. But a number of odd men living together in fellowship, must be Odd Fellows; and therefore, I hope you'll allow that monks are Odd Fellows. Very well. Now, my dear, all this allowed, there is but one conclusion more to come at, and that is, that if all monks are Odd Fellows, of course, all Odd Fellows must be monks."

"Capital! capital," shouted Mr. Anderson, "most logically argued! I must confess you have surprised me, Mrs. A.; I never conceived from your general method of argument, that I had such a treasure of unexplored wisdom in you. If Ptolemy had had the good fortune to have possessed you for a wife, he would never have asked the Greek geometer for 'a shorter path to science.' You would have levelled all before you, I warrant

you."

"Really, my dear," returned his good lady, simpering, "you quite overpower me with your compliments. But I must confess that there was one thing that puzzled me-that was, their attending our church."

"True, my dear, very true! There certainly was a slight anomaly there; but it is the province of an acute and sound reasoner to reconcile contradictions; and no one, who knows you, my dear, would, for one moment doubt, but that you would be perfectly au fait at any thing in the shape of a contradiction. But you have asked me what an Odd Fellow is, and if you will allow me, I will take you this evening, where, being an eye witness, you shall yourself judge of what material one Odd Fellow is, at least, composed."

To this proposition Mrs. Anderson readily assented, and the carriage was ordered to be at the door at six precisely, about which time, true to his promise, he handed her into it, enveloped in velvet and furs, and for some time they proceeded in silence.

This state of things was not, however, likely to last long with Mrs. Anderson, and accordingly after an, for her, unusual taciturinty, she commenced with, "You are very silent, Mr. A., pray what are you thinking of now?"

"I was thinking," replied that gentleman, "that Fortune is truly represented blind. I wonder, in the course of our short passage through these crowded streets, how many poor wretched beings we have passed, footsore and weary, who would almost give the world for a sound pair of shoes to protect them from the wet which gushes with every step, perhaps ancle high, saturating the miserable relics of stockings which they wear; while we, who possess those comforts, and have not even the necessity to walk at all, can have our carriage to roll on in, and splash the hungry beggar as we pass." ""Tis too true!" replied Mrs. Anderson, sighing, "but". She was interruped by the sudden stopping of the carriage. "Bless my soul!" she exclaimed, "we have soon come to our journey's end."

"We have not yet come to our journey's end," answered her husband, as he handed her from the carriage; "but it is necessary we should walk the rest of the way; for the