To the work for this evening there was lent unusual interest by the presence of a Masonic celebrity, revered in two hemispheres, who had been invited to give us the benefit of the stores of learning for the possession of which he was noted, and of the wise counsel which he ever gave to those younger and less well-informed in Masonic matters. The eloquent speaker having held us spell-bound by his masterful presentation of the teachings of symbolic Masonry, in a flight of oratory carried us back to the days and works of Solomon the King, of Hiram Abiff, and of that other Hiram, King of Tyre; and in the first great Temple which those early Master Masons builded twenty-nine centuries previously, traced for us, in form, size and position of timber and metal--in tool, and time, and work, noble lessons of manhood and virtue; of brotherhood and helpfulness; of contemplation and self-restraint, until each one addressed felt that he, too, was proud of being a Free and Accepted Master Mason, and emulous of being a credit to his ancient craft. In the building of that majestic, beauteous, mystic Temple, “No hammers fell, no ponderous axes rung; Like some tall palm the mystic fabric sprung. Majestic silence!” His descriptive powers, his witching imageries, held us spell-bound. But at one point the speaker paused, saying that here there seemed to be something well worth knowing, but which the centuries had hidden. It was evidently replete with symbolism of highest order; but the key to its mysteries was unfortunately lost. Some day, perhaps, the light of investigation might penetrate the gloom in which the mystery was enwrapped--if, indeed, those better versed in the craft had not already solved the interesting problem. The point referred to was one of those in which occult ratio and mystic beauty of proportion unfold on every hand new virtuous teachings. It was so rich in reminder and suggestion, no matter from what side viewed, that its consideration roused the enthusiasm of all hearers. When the speaker ceased, the quiet little gentleman next me seemed as one filled with inspiration. “... With grave Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat.” In a well-modulated voice which had evidently been one of great power and beauty, he asked permission to endeavor to cast some light, however feeble, upon so interesting a subject. Something in the quiet dignity of his bearing, in the classic precision of his diction, and the graceful modulation of his voice, attracted all with more than usual force to the new speaker. “... his look Drew audience and attention still as night Or Summer’s noontide air.”