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  • May 1, 1856
  • Page 22
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The Freemasons' Monthly Magazine, May 1, 1856: Page 22

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

Untitled Article

started , at railWay-speed , down a sewer-like passage , in momentary expectation , indeed , of becoming as helpless victims to the grinding process as the salt by which we were surrounded . In the distance , at length appeared a star-like glimmering , which enlarged upon our

view until we found ourselves wrapped in its dazzling brightness . It was but the fair sky which thus peered with its blue eye into the dark cavern from which we had now emerged . There was Kutcher —it was droll to see how sarcastically he eyed us in our eccentric dress , now so besmeared with party-coloured dirt that , truly , his worst predictions for us seemed to have been amply fulfilled .

Having reassutned our ordinary costume , which we found awaiting us , we started for Halein , now but a short distance , as we emerged from the base of the mountain at whose summit we had entered the salt mines .

What Is Free!

WHAT IS FEEeI

Chains are on earth ' s old form , some fetter elingeth Around the treasured , loveliest , and best ; The busy bee while still his course he wingeth , Murm ' reth of busy slav ' ry , not of rest : Summer , his blushing but imperious sovereign , Calleth her slave from empty hive to come , And yet while over fading blossom hovering , Bids him in haste reseek his winter home . Such are not free !

I watched the flowrets in the sunbeams bending , Each silver leaf seemed kissed by purest light , I heard the monarch Wind his mandate sending , That all should bow their head beneath his might : They slept , for eve had laid her dusky finger On each fair brow and tear-bedewed eye , Wept not the flowers because they might not linger , To bid good night to stars in midnight sky . These are not free !

I watched the grey eve go forth on her wandering , With God ' s own seal to close all nature ' s store , Her fevered lips moved in their mystic pondering , While pausing on old hoary ocean ' s shore ;; Fain would her weary heated footsteps falter , Amid the cool hush which around is spread , But night has come to raise her ruined altar , And sacrifice ere daylight rears her head . These are not free !

Free ! naught is free but that old deep affection , Which makes on well-fixed Memory her rooat , Bidding sometimes each treasured recollection , From the strong chain which binds it be unloosed ; The clinging love which in life ' s wintry weather , Goes forth to search for mem ' ry ' s gems of yore , With trembling but unfettered hands to gather The relics of what was , but is no more . This , this is free ! Emilie M .

“The Freemasons' Monthly Magazine: 1856-05-01, Page 22” Masonic Periodicals Online, Library and Museum of Freemasonry, 11 July 2025, django:8000/periodicals/mmr/issues/frm_01051856/page/22/.
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Title Category Page
TOADYISM. Article 1
MASONIC SONGS.-NO. 6. Article 5
NOTES OF A YACHT'S CRUISE TO BALAKLAVA. Article 6
THREE STEPS IN FREEMASONRY. Article 12
NOTES ON ANTIQUARIAN RESEARCH. Article 14
THE SALT-MINES OF HALEIK Article 19
WHAT IS FREE! Article 22
AN OLD MASONIC LEGEND. Article 23
CORRESPONDENCE. Article 24
INDIAN LODGES. Article 25
THE LATE PROCEEDINGS IN GRAND LODGE. Article 26
REVIEWS OF NEW BOOKS. Article 28
THE MASONIC MIRROR. Article 29
METROPOLITAN. Article 29
PROVINCIAL. Article 37
ROYAL ARCH. Article 54
THE ANCIENT AND ACCEPTED RITE. Article 56
KNIGHTS TEMPLAR. Article 56
SCOTLAND. Article 58
ROYAL ARCH. Article 59
IRELAND. Article 61
INDIA. Article 61
CHINA. Article 62
AMERICA. Article 63
SWITZERLAND. Article 64
SUMMARY OF NEWS FOR APRIL. Article 65
Obituary Article 67
NOTICE. Article 68
TO CORRESPONDENTS. Article 68
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Page 22

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

Untitled Article

started , at railWay-speed , down a sewer-like passage , in momentary expectation , indeed , of becoming as helpless victims to the grinding process as the salt by which we were surrounded . In the distance , at length appeared a star-like glimmering , which enlarged upon our

view until we found ourselves wrapped in its dazzling brightness . It was but the fair sky which thus peered with its blue eye into the dark cavern from which we had now emerged . There was Kutcher —it was droll to see how sarcastically he eyed us in our eccentric dress , now so besmeared with party-coloured dirt that , truly , his worst predictions for us seemed to have been amply fulfilled .

Having reassutned our ordinary costume , which we found awaiting us , we started for Halein , now but a short distance , as we emerged from the base of the mountain at whose summit we had entered the salt mines .

What Is Free!

WHAT IS FEEeI

Chains are on earth ' s old form , some fetter elingeth Around the treasured , loveliest , and best ; The busy bee while still his course he wingeth , Murm ' reth of busy slav ' ry , not of rest : Summer , his blushing but imperious sovereign , Calleth her slave from empty hive to come , And yet while over fading blossom hovering , Bids him in haste reseek his winter home . Such are not free !

I watched the flowrets in the sunbeams bending , Each silver leaf seemed kissed by purest light , I heard the monarch Wind his mandate sending , That all should bow their head beneath his might : They slept , for eve had laid her dusky finger On each fair brow and tear-bedewed eye , Wept not the flowers because they might not linger , To bid good night to stars in midnight sky . These are not free !

I watched the grey eve go forth on her wandering , With God ' s own seal to close all nature ' s store , Her fevered lips moved in their mystic pondering , While pausing on old hoary ocean ' s shore ;; Fain would her weary heated footsteps falter , Amid the cool hush which around is spread , But night has come to raise her ruined altar , And sacrifice ere daylight rears her head . These are not free !

Free ! naught is free but that old deep affection , Which makes on well-fixed Memory her rooat , Bidding sometimes each treasured recollection , From the strong chain which binds it be unloosed ; The clinging love which in life ' s wintry weather , Goes forth to search for mem ' ry ' s gems of yore , With trembling but unfettered hands to gather The relics of what was , but is no more . This , this is free ! Emilie M .

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