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Article MASONIC LIFEBOAT FUND. Page 1 of 1
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Masonic Lifeboat Fund.
MASONIC LIFEBOAT FUND .
LONDON , SATURDAY , JANUARY 30 , 1869 .
In Charles Dickon ' s " Uncommercial Traveller " there is a sketch , which every brother ought to have read . It describes a clergyman doing more than his duty after a shipwreck . We say nothing of the beautiful language in which the writer
chronicles his narrative ; Ave do not intend to speak of the spirit in which the article is Avritten ; nor do we intend being superfluous iu stating anything with regard to the good clergyman . We invite
our brothers , who have read the article , to re-read it . We invite those who have not done so , to read it at once .
The sea , the most mobile of all the Creator ' s works—noAV in tempest , anon in calm—must be known to every Islander , more especially to a British Islander . See it sleeping like a babe upon the parent breasi of its shore , or see it iu sport
gambolling its little waves over each other , up its shell bestrewn beach , where they chase each other like children through the passages of the brown ribbed sand . But see it again , when the angry passion is upon it , when the Avind howls like a
devil in anguish , Avhen the waves crash against the cliffs , like thunder contending with thunder , then we can understand what it is to be at sea in
a tempest . "Experientia docet , " says the old Roman . Let us speak out of our experience . We were accustomed for many years to go to a small fishing hamlet—where the wave was always
howling upon the bar— -and to spend weeks there . We went out in the fishermen ' s boats , night after night . We saw the sun set , the moon rise . We saw the moon wane , and the sun , a broad crimson
shield rise up out of the Ocean . We saw the nets , a fret work of silver thread , rise up into the boat , attached to the rope , a bar of silver . In the threads of the nets there Avere lumps of encrusted jeAvels ,
rubies , diamonds , opals . These lumps were herring . We fell asleep one night , and we were awakened
by the Skipper calling us . When we went to sleep , the Ocean was like a slumbering babe . When we awoke , the sea was flecked with foam . The Ocean wolves were abroad , hell seemed to be let loose , and the boat tossed like a cork in a maelstrom , on
the turn . Bravely did the boatmen go to Avork ; bravely did they weather the storm . The North Easter roared like an engine out of temper , and our Craft jumped , like a ballet-girl , from wave to
wave . Six BOATS BELONGING TO THE FISHING HAMLET WEST DOWN THAT MORNING . Can we paint , or is it possible to describe the awful after . Fathers , mothers , wives , lovers ,
children , clustering on the heights gazing upon that wild waste of waters . See them ! A boat appears ! The creAV are recognised . Listen to the frenzied cries of delight of those AVIIO are near and
dear to them . Ah ! A swirl of the Avave , and the boat splits upon a rock . They cling to the rock , the poor crew . On land they can offer no help . No boat can live on such a sea . They are swept one by one from the sea-Avare to
which they cling , by the ravenous Avaves . Those near and dear to them witness , helpless to save , their deaths . Their bodies are swept ashore , miles from home .
Brethren , this is no fancy sketch , no sensational appeal . We have seen what we have described . We have heard the Avail of the women , the scream of the children . BRETHREN , A LIFEBOAT AVOULD HAVE SAVED THE
CREWS OE THE BOATS . We are the simple narrators of facts . We have seen what Ave narrate . We have not the power to describe all the misery of drowning upon the coasts of our Isles . We trust no brother has had the
experience which Ave have had , of hearing the deadening cry of the widow , the frantic shriek of the sweetheart . No ! Furthermore Ave sincerely trust that no brother will ever be called upon to take the chief place at a funeral—although neither
relative , nor Lord of the Manor , but as a connection of the Lord of the Manor—on the occasion of the burial of one lost in shipwreck . We had to
do so once . Its memory haunts us still .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Masonic Lifeboat Fund.
MASONIC LIFEBOAT FUND .
LONDON , SATURDAY , JANUARY 30 , 1869 .
In Charles Dickon ' s " Uncommercial Traveller " there is a sketch , which every brother ought to have read . It describes a clergyman doing more than his duty after a shipwreck . We say nothing of the beautiful language in which the writer
chronicles his narrative ; Ave do not intend to speak of the spirit in which the article is Avritten ; nor do we intend being superfluous iu stating anything with regard to the good clergyman . We invite
our brothers , who have read the article , to re-read it . We invite those who have not done so , to read it at once .
The sea , the most mobile of all the Creator ' s works—noAV in tempest , anon in calm—must be known to every Islander , more especially to a British Islander . See it sleeping like a babe upon the parent breasi of its shore , or see it iu sport
gambolling its little waves over each other , up its shell bestrewn beach , where they chase each other like children through the passages of the brown ribbed sand . But see it again , when the angry passion is upon it , when the Avind howls like a
devil in anguish , Avhen the waves crash against the cliffs , like thunder contending with thunder , then we can understand what it is to be at sea in
a tempest . "Experientia docet , " says the old Roman . Let us speak out of our experience . We were accustomed for many years to go to a small fishing hamlet—where the wave was always
howling upon the bar— -and to spend weeks there . We went out in the fishermen ' s boats , night after night . We saw the sun set , the moon rise . We saw the moon wane , and the sun , a broad crimson
shield rise up out of the Ocean . We saw the nets , a fret work of silver thread , rise up into the boat , attached to the rope , a bar of silver . In the threads of the nets there Avere lumps of encrusted jeAvels ,
rubies , diamonds , opals . These lumps were herring . We fell asleep one night , and we were awakened
by the Skipper calling us . When we went to sleep , the Ocean was like a slumbering babe . When we awoke , the sea was flecked with foam . The Ocean wolves were abroad , hell seemed to be let loose , and the boat tossed like a cork in a maelstrom , on
the turn . Bravely did the boatmen go to Avork ; bravely did they weather the storm . The North Easter roared like an engine out of temper , and our Craft jumped , like a ballet-girl , from wave to
wave . Six BOATS BELONGING TO THE FISHING HAMLET WEST DOWN THAT MORNING . Can we paint , or is it possible to describe the awful after . Fathers , mothers , wives , lovers ,
children , clustering on the heights gazing upon that wild waste of waters . See them ! A boat appears ! The creAV are recognised . Listen to the frenzied cries of delight of those AVIIO are near and
dear to them . Ah ! A swirl of the Avave , and the boat splits upon a rock . They cling to the rock , the poor crew . On land they can offer no help . No boat can live on such a sea . They are swept one by one from the sea-Avare to
which they cling , by the ravenous Avaves . Those near and dear to them witness , helpless to save , their deaths . Their bodies are swept ashore , miles from home .
Brethren , this is no fancy sketch , no sensational appeal . We have seen what we have described . We have heard the Avail of the women , the scream of the children . BRETHREN , A LIFEBOAT AVOULD HAVE SAVED THE
CREWS OE THE BOATS . We are the simple narrators of facts . We have seen what Ave narrate . We have not the power to describe all the misery of drowning upon the coasts of our Isles . We trust no brother has had the
experience which Ave have had , of hearing the deadening cry of the widow , the frantic shriek of the sweetheart . No ! Furthermore Ave sincerely trust that no brother will ever be called upon to take the chief place at a funeral—although neither
relative , nor Lord of the Manor , but as a connection of the Lord of the Manor—on the occasion of the burial of one lost in shipwreck . We had to
do so once . Its memory haunts us still .