The Exeter Advocate, 1897-7-1, Page 2ley WILLIAM RHYCIONO
'When the,cariy spring set in Audine
was allowed to come downstairs. The
first sight of Mrs. Neville,. shortly after
her return to consciousness, had so dan-
gerously excited her, that they were not
allowed to meet again; and' without the
comfort of feeling that she could be of
use, the time seemed preternaturally long
,to the poor woman. A mild, warm spring
set in; there were brilliant days, suoh as
often come for a short time in March,
when Andine first came down into the
drawing room. Mrs. Neville did not
venture to ask her whether she might
see her; and Colonel Fitzjames, having
forgotten the fact of her seclusion, did
not say anything about it; and, as the
hour drew near at which the little invalid
was to appear, she felt her heart beating
very fast with anxiety and anticipation.
She had rearranged the room completely
—it hardly looked the same: a large sofa,
flanked by a screen, was drawn up to the
window; a little table covered with books
and suowdrops close to it; a pretty lace
quilt -all to look as bright and cheerful
as possible.
She was stili standing inspecting all
her arrangements, when. Burns game in
to see if everything was ready. When she
saw Mrs. Neville she stopped and would
have r etrcatedith a
w very stiff curtsy;
but Mrs. Neville stopped her, involun-
tarily twisting her hands in her nervous-
ness.
"Burns, do you think I might see
Miss Fitzjames? Would it hurt her now?"
"I can't say, ma'am."
"But what do you think? I do so long
to see her! but I would not do her harm
for the world,"
"No ma'am, halm enough has been
done already," said the nurse.
"Oh, do tell mel I dare not do it on
my own responsibility"—and the tears
rose to her eyes.
"I can't take it upon myself to say,
ma'am," repeated Burns.
"And has she never asked for me?
never mentioned my name?"
"She talked of you incessantly, enough
for me to understand perfectly well what
she meant, bat never to ask for you."
Burns, why are you so unfriendly to
me? you are changed."
Burns was trembliug with suppressed
feeling. "I can't gay, ma'am; things
have changed, and t em as causes things
to change, should not wonder, to find
therri so.''
"But In nothing have I changed to
you," said Mrs. Neville, haughtily; but
' Burns's feeling would no longer be 'con -
'
trolled.
`Mien are not like women, ma'am, and
I can see it's all dead and buried like
with the Colonel; but I can never for-
give you—not if a thousand years passed.
' over my head, and you asked pardon
every day of the thousand. To take and
deceive my young lady, and she a
motherless child! I beg your pardon,
ma'am; and if you are offended I can-
not help it, for you brought it on your-
self"—and without waiting for an answer
• Burn,: curtsied and left the room..
Mr. Neville's first feeling was intense
indignation, but to her crushed spirit
soon came the relief of tears: she was
reaping the sad fruits of ill -doing. She
would not attempt to see Audine after
that, until one day she recieved a mes-
sage from the invalid herself, begging
her to a mne to her.
As she, was going, Colonel Fitzjames
met her and asked her to speak to him
in the library first. He looked nervous
and hesitating, as if he hardly knew
how to begin.
"What have you got to say to me,
George?" she said. "If it is to warn me
not to agitate Audine, I will tell you be-
forehand that I will 'he very careful."
"The fact is, Mrs. Neville," he began,
fixed, , "that one stro g idea has remained
in Audine's mind, teat she is in fact,
that her engagement to your son stands
as it did."
Mrs. Neville started; he went on: "It
is a difficult thing to say, and I would
not hurt your feelings if I could help it,
but I cannot allow such an engagement.
I was a fool to trust her out of my own
sight. I do not mean to distress you,"
he said, seeing that she had covered her
face with her hands, "but I must beg of
you to do all in your power to undo the
mischief—to make her feel that she is
absolutely free. Do not speak to her about
it unless she begins. Now, shall we go?"
Mrs. Neville followed him; her heart
was too full for speech. Just outside the
"THE FACT IS, HES. NEVILLE," HE BEGAN.
door she paused to take breath. How
would Audine receive her? What would
she say and do?
In another moment she found herself
kneeling by the sofa, warmly kissed, and
struggling hard to suppress her tears.
Not till she was seated quietly opposite
to her did Mrs. Neville see how much
Audine was changed; it was more than
the lose of her long hair and the soft pink
of her cheek could effect. Though she
was as ,charming as ever, perhaps more
so, her life had lost -something out of it
that would never come back --she was
no longer a child.
They passed a quiet still evening to -
ether, Colonel Fitzjames reading the
" ,e
Antiquary aloud, Audine pretending
to knit, but leaving the white wool idle
in her lap, When the clock struck nine,
Colonel Fitzjames went away to pall
Burns to help him to carry her upstairs;
he hadc
S serol left
the y room when Au -
dine held out her thin little hand and
said, "Where is hfr. Neville, aunt Mary?"
Mrs, Neville never had much presence
of mind, and now she lost it altogether;
she oovered her face with her bands, say-
ing piteously—
"Oh, Audine, I do not know!"
She was terrified out of her senses, for
Audine fell back heavily and fainted
away.
To call for help, to be hastily pushed
aside out of the way, was the work of a
momeut, and she found herself alone,
Audine did not again leave her room
for seine days; she was incessantly ask-
ing about Godfrey, and they invented all
sorts of answers. Her anxiety made her
too acute for deception,- and the doctor
considered it a matter of grave import-
ance that her mind should be set at
rest, and still there was nothing to say.
Mrs. Neville, no longer admitted to
Audine's presence, became so miserably,
irritably atudous, that at last she could
no longer bear it, and she made up her
mind to go to London to Garwood, and
wait there for tidings of her son.
All agitation and excitement were to
be kept from Audine; the doctor warned
Mrs: Neville that this was of paramount
importance, and it seeemd to strike her
with an additional pang, she had so
longed to unburden herself to Audine, to
entreat her pardon. She passed one whole
morning in bitter tears, theu she deter -
pained that she would go away in the
night without any farewell. She told her
plan to Colonel 1 itzjames, and he
thanked her with a warmth which it was
sweet toher e to remember afterwards. So
when all were asleep but her own ser-
vants
and Colonel Fitzjames, Mrs. Ne-
ville stole up to Audino's room for one
last look,
She felt as if her heart was bursting as
she looped on the sleeping girl,, her little
face so white and fragile, the slender
hands clasped over her head, so thin and
transparent that every blue vein was vis-
ible. Her chest heaved with sobs, she fell
on her knees and prayed as she never
prayed before; and as Colonel Fitzjames
led her away to her carriage, she groped
with her hands, as if blind to all but
the intensity of her own pain.
CHAPTER SIV.
The keen cold air blew on Mrs. Ne-
ville's face as she . drove up the Thames
embankment; it was so cold and chilly
that she drew her shawl tightly round
her. The river stirred and shivered under
the air, and as yet there was no busy
life, no hurrying to and fro in the
shadowless twilight. Gaunt and grim
rose the great figure -heads in Girwood's
Yard. A strange wonder passed through
Mrs. Neville's mind, whether, when the
whole city slept, these great figures re-
ceived the power of speech, and told each
other tales of the days gone by.
She rang the bell, dismissing her cab,
and the door was opened at once by the
owner of the house. He seemed to show
no surprise at seeing her, but said in a
whisper, • "I have brought him home;
will you come to him at once?"
"Ah, thank God! and how—" she
stopped, for Garwood shook his head sor-
rowfully and walked on before her. It
was dark in the passages, and the candle
ho carried across the yard seemed a
strange contrast in its red garish light to
the cold blue air..
On to the studio they went;, then Gir-
wood whispered, "I have had the ring
removed; do not contradict a word he
says, I beseech you."
He slid back the door and went in.
The studio was brilliantly illuminated,
as it used to he, and all the vases were
full of tulips and other spring flowers. In
the midst of it, before the fatal statue,
stood Godfrey. He was in deep mourn-
ing. When he saw ' is mother he smiled
a strange pathetic :mile, and began to
speak in a voice as if he were speaking
in a dream—
"When the world was young, Hera
came down from heaven, divinely beauti-
ful and good, and I wed her with a
golden ring, two thousand years ago,
mother—two thousand years ago. And
while she remained upon earth . all was
joy; wars ceased in all the lands, and sor-
row vanished away."
Mrs. Neville watched him in tearless
agony.
"But when the ages rolled on, and
daylight merged into evening, and the
twilight of the won i began, her spirit
left me and she is now a cold and lifeless
stone. Look"
"God help met" cried the unhappy
mother. He paid no heed to her words
but went on:-, •
"I cannot tell how it was—whether it
was a dream, a wild vision of the night
—but the room was all fuel of faces and
a voice cried 'She is deed. I heard them
call her name once, tvtire, thrice! 'Au -
dine I Audine l Audine!' and then when
I looked they had borne her away and I
was alone with that." He stretched out
both hands to the statue. "And that lives
not, breathes not, speaks not; it is a life-
less, soulless stone. But twilight grows
into darkness, and the night of the world
will soon begin."
The great dread of her life had come
upon Mrs. Neville, reason had forsaken
her son.
She took rooms close to Girwood's
Yard, and spent every day in that agon-
le watch for some sign of improve-
ment, some gleam of hope in his condi-
tion.
They telegraphed these short lines to
Colonel Fitzjames: "Found Godfrey here;
shall remain with him."
The relief was veer great. He hastened
at once to Audine with the news, and it
was wonderful to see what rapid progress
she made towards recovery when the
anxiety -was over.
The doctor now strongly urged that
they should go abroad. To Audine the
idea of journeying iu Italy was perfectly
delightful, She had never traveled and
her anticipations of all the wonders•ehe
was to see made her brother fear she might
be disappointed; but this new turn to her
thoughts was a great boon, and made her
almost forget' her troubles.
Colonel Fitzjames sent for books for
her: Mes.Jameson's "Lives of the Saints,"
Murrays, and Baedekers. All were, how-
ever, thrown aside when she had got pos-
session of "The History of Christian Art,
which she studied with extreme delight.
There was no reason to put off their
start. They proposed to spend the rest of
April and all May in Florence; and when
it grew too hot to remain in Italy, to go
up to the Lakes and. finish it by a tour
in Switzerland.
CHAPTER XV.
The brilliant sun shone down on the
streets of Florence, a cloudless sky of
exquisite blue, and the air full of the in-
effable_ sweetness of an hall ee May..
Audine had enjoyed herself beyond
her greatest expectations—scenery, gal-
leries, all was one continued source of
delight. Her health t had improved, her
mind developed, and Colonel Fitzjames
had every reason to be proud of the ad-
miration his lovely young sister excited
wherever she appeared.
It was growing too hot for Florence,
they must turn their steps to the cooler
and Moro bracing Switzerland; but yet
they lingered on—these hot days were
so delicious. They lied finished their self-
appointed task of sight-seeing, and now
had only to enjoy • themselves; going
again to each favorite resort when and
as often as they pleased,
Two days before the day appointed for
their departure, Colonel Fitzjames re-
ceived a long letter from Mrs. Neville.
Its black seal made him at once hide it
from his sister's sight; but after reading
it through, he determined to conceal
nothing from her, : but tell her as gently
end considerately as he could that poor
Godfrey's troubled spirit was at rest.
Audine was seated at ilio window look -
Ing on the sunlit Arno; her eyes were
dim with crying as her brother read
%loud her dear old friend's letter:—
"My Dear. George -Perhaps you may
have seen in the papers my loss—the
3eatb of my .Godfrey. Perhaps Audine
buows, or it may : be that you have
thought it best to conceal it from hor;
Tome day you may be able to show her
this. If I write incoherently you must
not blame nae. He is lying iu the studio,
end I have justbeen in there to say my
last good -by, and a. this vory moment
ihey are hiding him
away from my
sight. After to -morrow is over I shall be
better. He looks so beautiful in death:
calm and still as marble, and all the wild
pain gone from his face, the deep lines
from his brow. You heard, perhaps, of
thea awful ever that came m on of the o de-
lirium of indescribable horror. Three
days before his death the fever left him,
and when the sanity came bank to his
eyes, the doctor said, 'He must die.' My
heart would have broken then, but it
has become like . a stone in my breast,
and I seem to have outlived its life.
"On Friday morning the delirium
ceased, and all day long he lay holding
my hand, now and then saying soft lov-
ing words, always watching every move-
ment that I made.
"All Saturday he lay half asleep, and
his pulse growing very faint. On Sun-
day a clergyman Dame in, and Godfrey
seemed to listen to his words, but he
did not speak; perhaps he no longer had
the power.
"Garwood brought in a great nosegay
of flowers, and about eleven o'clock the
church -bells began to ring, far and near,
and all down the river side, and Godfrey
listening smiled. They had not ceased
when the priest knelt down and read
that prayer, the last: when the last words
were said, his lips were moving. I heard
three times, 'Audine I Audine l Audine 1'
and all was over.
"They have laid him in his coffin, they
are hiding hien from my sight; he was
all that God had left to me on earth,
Oh, George, do you think He will let me
die soon?
"Kiss Audine for me. You will not.
keep me from her when you both come
home? Oh, what shall I do? what shall I
do? Your affectionate
MARY NEVILLE."
Colonel Fitzjames laid. down the let-
ter, for Audine was sobbing in his arms..
"What shall we do, Audine?"
"George, she must come to us I she
must never leave us nowt"
And so it was. Thepoormother, broken
in health and spirit, rejoined her friends
to be comforted by their loving care.
Girwood, no longer young, took a
morbid horror of the stone -yard near the
river, and he sold the business. Mrs. Ne-
ville, who could never endure the sight
of Godfrey's ill-fated statue, entreated
him to find a purchaser for it for his
own benefit, which, after some years of
hesitation, he consented to do. The new
owner carried the statue far away to dis-
tant lands; but wherever she was seen
rose up a tribute of admiration for the
genius that had created anything so beau-
tiful as Godfrey's White Queen.
THE END.
The Unexpected.
Noted Anarchist (in midst of violent
harangue)—We come to dis country to
better our conditions, and vat do dey offer
us de very first ding? Vat, I say?
Voice (in the rear of the hall)—Soap.—
New York Weekly.
Herbert Was Rash.
He -June is the month of weddings,
isn't It?
She—Oh, Herbert, why didn't you speak
earlier and give me more time to get
ready?— Cleveland Leader.
The Large Part.
Chollie (who has tried on the professor's
hat)—Aw, professor, my head is larger
than yours.
Professor—Yes, on the outside.—Chi-
cago Journal.
Too Expensive.
"Why did you discharge that last girl,
wife?"
"Because everything she cooked was
eaten right up. Mine lasts."—Detroit
Free Press.
It Was Only Natural.
She—He toldthose jokes verydramatic-
ally.
He—Naturally. He got them from the
theater programme.—New York Journal.
Her View of Gas.
` 'Ow much do you charge for pull-
ing out a tooth, young man?"
"One shilling -and 5 shillings with
gas."
"Five shillings with gas! Then I'll
come again tomorrow when it's day-
light. "-Punch.
A SUMMER MILKHOUSE.:
Convenient In Localities Where a Natural
Spring Is Wanting.
For any of our northern states in the
summer time a milkhouse built like the
one in the illustration would be very
tonvenient. It is adapted to situations
where there is no natural spring, but
where the water must be pumped around
the milk.
A man who has tried a small' house
of this kind says of the one he built: It
is 6'feet square and 6 feet high at the
eaves, which is large enough for the
milk of two or three cows. The house
is 'built under a large grape arbor, about
20 feet from my kitchen pump. The
milk tank, which is 12 inches deep
and 14 inches wide at the top, ex-
tends along the north side. It has a
screen Dover, which may be covered
with cloth in very hot or dusty weather.
A table with a shelf underneath occupies
the southeast corner. :A space just above
the level of the tank, 2 feet wide and
SUMMER tIILEHOUSE.
extending on all sides of the house, is
covered with wire screen. Shelves above
the screen and below the tank give
snffioient room for milk and butter
dishes. The milk is set in pails. A gal-
vanized iron pipe leads from a small
tank at the side of the pump down 18
inches below the surface of the ground,
across the 20 foot space and up again to
the level of the milk tank. An overflow
pipe at the other end of the tank oar -
ries off the water after it has reached
the proper height in the tank. .Another
pipe, at the bottom of the tank, is used
for emptying it when desired. The door
in the southwest corner is of wood, but
could be of screen if preferred. Board
shutters cover the screens in rainy
weather. The water in the tank may 'be
changed at any time by pumping water
into the small tank at the well.
Pasture Not Enough.
Fresh and succulent grass stimulates
the production of milk beyond what the
nutriment it contains will warrant. It
is juicy and watery and lacks substance
to such a degree that this large produc-
tion of milk will rapidly reduce the
strength, vitality and carcass of the
Dow, so that she cannot long continue
this extra flow of milk unless she has
some more substantial food to go with
this fresh grass to keep her np in condi-
tion.
The farmer makes a great mistake
when he abruptly drops off his hay and
grain feed as soon as the cows go out to
grass in the spring. He would probably
see very little difference in the amount
of milk given for awhile, whether he
fed grain and hay with the grass or
nit, and for that reason many have
Dome to the conclusion that when they
did feed grain on early pasture it was
thrown away, and they received no ben-
efit from it. But the one who does so
feed will find that his cows will keep
np their strength and condition much
better than those not fed, and later in
the summer and fall and even the next
winter will be giving a much better
Sow of milk, so that when he comes to
foot up his account at the end of the
year he will find that for every dollar's
worth of extra feed his cows had while
on fresh grass he has received back at
least $2.
It has been our practice for years to
feed to all cows giving milk a small
grain ration all summer. The advisa-
bility' of feeding grain on pasture after
the grass has come to have plenty of
substance in it may, with some show
of reason, be questioned, but not so in
the spring. At that time it is folly not
to feed.
We have experimented to some extent
to try to determine what grain food
was best to feed on pasture. We have
tried wheat bran, but many cows do
not seem to care for it much when the
grass is plenty, and some will refuse to
eat it. They seem to crave something
more concentrated. Corn and oats they
liked muob better than bran, and clear
cornmeal better yet, but best of all
gluten feed.
Now, what we think is the verybest
feed fcr cows on pasture is about five
pounds of cornmeal and gluten feed—
half and half—daily to each cow giv-
ing a fair flow of milk. Besides this
they should have before them every
time they are put in the stable to milk
some good early cut clover hay. They
will eat some every time, no matter
how good the pasture is.—Exchange.
Tub Silo For Twelve Cows.
In answer to a question, The Rural.
New Yorker says:
To keep 12 cows on ensilage from
Nov. 1 to April 1 and feed them 40.
pounds each per day would require about
72,000 pounds. A tub silo 12 feet in.
diameter to contain this amount would
need to be 16 feet high. The inch boards
would not be practicable • to use in the
construction. They would be so elastic
that the weight of the ensilage would
be likely to cause springing between the
hoops, and this would allow the air to
enter, and the ensilage would be spoiled.
If the hoops were put close enough to
prevent the springing of the inch
!boards, the cost would be greater than
the additional expense necessary to se-
cure the 2 by 6 plank. Purchase 2 by 8
plank 16 feet long, and have the edges
beveled for .a silo 12 feet in diameter.
CREAM SELLING.
A Profitable Part of the Milk and Butter
Business.
One of the most profitable features of
dairying is selling Dream, either to
the ioe cream manufacturer, who will
take a large dairy's total output, or to
a retail trade of one kind or another.
While a good cream trade is very profit-
able, it is one of the most difficult to
bold unless the utmost care is exercised
to supply a sweet, pure article in every
ease and to know exactly what your
particular trade demands. For an ioe
cream trade the cream does not need to
contain more than from 18 to 22 per
cent of fat; cream for dessert purposes
needs from 25 to 30 per cent fat, as
cream containing less than 25 per cent
fat will not whip, and extra, heavy
cream for special purposes varies from
85 to 50 per cent fat. When the per-
centage of fat demanded by a particular
trade is known, care must be taken to
meet that demand, but it is obviously
unnecessary, and the dairyman cannot
afford, to sell a richer Dream than he
guarantees. To be surethat one is liv-
ing up to his guarantee, it is necessary
to test each run of cream, as there is
almost always a greater or less varia-
tion in the richness of cream as it runs
from the separator or as it is skimmed
day by clay. The most convenient man-
ner in which to do this, perhaps, is to
skim the cream rather rich, and then re-
duce it to the required percentage of
fat
lk
the addition of skimmed ml
by h
The formula for this is very simple.
Divide the totaluof (obtain-
ed
nt fat a (o n
ed b multiplying the total pounds of
Dream by its fat test) by the desired
percentage of fat in the cream. The quo-
tient will be the pounds of cream test-
ing the desired percentage of fat. To
ascertain the amount of skimmed milk
to add, subtract from this amount the
original pounds of cream.
Example.—Seventy-threepounds of
cream testing 33.5 per cent fat is to be
diluted to cream testing 21 per cent fat.
Seventy-three times 88.5 per cent
equals 24.4 pounds of fat.
Twenty-four and four -tenth pounds
fat divided by 21 per cent equals 116
pounds of cream testing 21 per Dent fat.
One hundred and sixteen minus 73
equals 43 pounds of skimmed milk to
be added to 73 pounds of cream testing
88.5 per cent fat.
It should be borne in mind that in
testing cream an 18 cubic centimeter
pipette should be used instead of the 17
cubic centimeter used in testing milk,
otherwise the results will be too low,
and not quite so much acid should be
used as in testiug milk.
If the fat chars or burns, it shows
that the acid is too strong or that too
muoh is used, and in this case less
should be used. --H. Hayward in Na-
tional Stockman.
Milkman Carried Scarlet Fever.
A case has been recently reported
where an epidemic of scarlet fever was
traced to a certain milk route, and an
investigation showed that a son- of the
dairyman who supplied the milk had
had an attack of this disease, and when
he was recovering (the most dangerous
time as far as spreading the disease is
concerned) he was allowed to help milk.
Such cases as this cannot be too
strongly condemned. Not only is there
danger of sickness and death, but every
dairy man feels to a certain extent the
effects of such things, for the public is
easily frightened, and a decreased de-
mand for milk almost surely follows
any epidemic that may be traced to the
milk supply. While as a matter of fact
we believe that there is far less danger
in the milk supply than is supposed, yet
we cannot be too careful in things of
this kind. -
Dairy and Creamery.
- For farmers in upland regions where
the soil is poor either the Ayrshire or
the Dexter cow is suitable, although
there are as yet practically no Dexters
in America. The Dexter cow is always
red or black, with white upon her ud-
der and underbody. She is a good milk-
er and also makes excellent beef. This
breed of cattle are in shape like the
Shorthorn In size they are about like
the Ayrshires.
When starch and glucose are made
from corn, the refuse left becomes what
is called by dealers in cow feeds gluten
meal. It consists of the seed germ of
the corn grain, the bull and so much
starch as has not been taken out at the
factory. Gluten meal contains the most,
nutritious part of the corn grain and is
one of the richest foods in nitrogen that
is at command of the dairyman. It is
one fourth protein, or nitrogenous sub-
stance, one-half sugar and digestible
starch and a little more than 11 per
cent digestible fats. The rest is refuse.
But gluten is a highly concentrated
food and must be fed with its own
weight of something else. A mixture of
four to five pounds of gluten meal with
as much wheat bran makes, in addition
to ensilage and bay, a very good ration
for a dairy cow. There is no doubt that
gluten meal is a profitable feed for
dairymen engaged in milkmaking.
There are those, however, who declare
it injures the flavor of butter. Only ac-
tual, experiment can determine this. It
is to be remembered, too, that the care-
lessness and uncleanliness of workmen
at the starch or glucose factory some-
times ruin the gluten and make it ut-
terly unfit for the cows' food. In such
ease the cows themselves frequently,
understand their business well enough.
to refuse to eat it. .Again, gluten meal
Is adulterated by dealers and rendered
unfit for feed.`
Here is a mixture that will keep off
the horn fly for some time. Into a quart
of fish oil stir two tablespoonfuls of
crude carbolic acid and apply to the
parts of the cow moat infested by the
fly. Remember that the flies deposit
their eggs upon fresh manure heaps.
Break these up or sprinkle lime upon
them. In case of large herds of cows a
dipping vat with the mixture of oil and
carbolic upon the surface of enough,
Water to swim the oattle through would
be the. best arrangement.
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL.
LESSON 1, THIRD QUARTER, INTER-
NATIONAL SERIES, JULY 4.
Text of the Lesson, Acts avi, O-iS-Mem.
ory Verses, 13-15—Golden Text, Ps, cxix,
130—Commentary by the Rev. b, bis+
Stearns,
6, 7. "Now, when they had gone through-
out Phrygia and the region of Galatia
and were forbidden of the Holy Ghost to
preach the word in Asia, after they were
come to Mysia, they essayed to go into
Bithynia, but the Spirit suffered them
not." Our last lesson in this book intro-
duoed us to the apostles at the conference
in Jerusalem, from which Paul =dB
nabas, with Silas and others, returned to
Antioch and continued there teaching and
preaching the word of the Lord (Acts xv, I
85). After some time they start on their;
second missionary tour, Barnabas taking
Mark and sailing for Cyprus, and Paul
taking Silas and starting through Syria,
and .Cilioia, confirming and establishing
the churches. At Lystra, where Paul had
been stoned and left for dead on his first
tour, he takes Timothy with him, of whom
he afterward says, "I have no man so dear
unto me" (Phil ii, 20, margin). As they
continued journeying and preaching
through Phrygia and Galatia they thought
to turn southward and afterward north-
ward and give the glad tidings in Asia
and Bithynia, but were in each case pre-
vented by the Spirit from so doing. The
Spirit sent them forth on His business fox
Christ, and, being willing to be controlled
by Him, He controlled them and for some
good reason kept them at this time from
going into these two provinces, that He
ih sendtheme.
m t elsewhere.
8. "And they, passing by Mysia, came
down to Treas." Hindered on the right
and left, they found that the open door
was straight ahead, and so kept on to the
sea at Troas. "Thine ears shall hear a
word behind thee, saying: This is the way.
Walk ye in it when ye turn to the right
hand and when ye turn to the left" (Isa.
sax, 21). To be sure that the Lord has a
purpose in your life, according to Eph.
10, and that Ho willsurely perform it ac-
cording to Isa. xiv, 24, make one quiet
before Him, not daring to murmur even
though with aching heart and streaming
eyes we say, "Even so, Father," "My
Jesus, as Thou wilt."
9. "And vision appeared to Paul in
the night. There stood a man of Mace-
donia and prayed him, saying, Come over
into Macedonia and help us." In a dream
or vision of the night God has often spoken
to men (Job xxxili, 15) and will yet, if
necessary, though Ho generally guides by
His Spirit either in His word or in the
events of daily life. The right attitude is
to "Watch the way" and "Watch to see
what Ho will say" (Nab. ii, 1; Hab. it, 1),
then meekly walk in the way which He
opens before us, "Doing as occasion serve
us, for God is with us" (I Sam. x, 7).
10. "And after he had seen the vision
immediately we endeavored to go into
Macedonia, assuredly gathering that the'
Lord had called us for to preach the gospel'
unto them." Being willing to be guided
by the Spirit, they were sure this was the
Spirit's guiding. If we are willing and
earnestly desirous to be led of the Spirit,
we may be perfectly sure that every hin-
dranon and every opening is of Him. No-
tice that they knew what help the T ee ple
of-Mrieedpnbe 'needed,•and tiint_;lFas Jnee-..
what they had to give—the gospel or food
tidings of the grace—tf—Gba incywere not
on a lecturing or an entertaining tour, but
only and wholly on business for God, to
win souls to Christ.
11. "Therefore, loosing from Troas, we
came with a straight course to Samothra-
oia, and thenext day to Neapolis." This
lesson should bo taught with the map be-
fore the scholars that they may see that
Paul and his company now crossed from
the continent of Asia to Europe; that Ne-
apolis was the seaport of Philippi, and Sa-
mothraoia an island about half way from
Trees to Neapolis. As in many another in-
stance in the Scriptures, the incidents of
the voyage or journey are wholly omitted.
They set forth and they arrived aro all the
Spirit sees fit to record. From the heaven-
ly standpoint, journeyings take no time,
for they run and return as a flash of light-
ning (Ezek. 1,14).
12. "And from thence to Philippi, which
is the chief city of that part of Macedonia'
and a colony, and we were in that city]
abiding certain days." There seems tp be
no welcome for them, no one specially ex-
pecting them, and yet they are in the land"
to which they had been, called, and doubt-,
less they gave themselves up to prayer that
the same Spirit who brought them thither
would now use them. They not only abode
in the city, but they abode in Christ.
13. "And on the Sabbath we went out
of the city by a riverside, where prayer was
wont to be made, and we sat down and
spake unto the *omen which resorted
thither." It would seem, then, that the
first preaching of the gospel in Europe was
at a woman's. prayer meeting, Mary, the
mother of our Lord, and other women were
assembled with the apostles for prayer dur-
ing the waiting days between His ascen-
sion and Pentecost (Acts i, 14). It is prob
able that upon the women also the Spirit
came as tongues of fire, and as there were
present in the city at that time strangers
from Rome, there may also have been
some from Macedonia. However, it came
about, here are some worshipers of the
true God who had evidently been crying
to God for more light, 'and now God has
sent it. The same God who sent Gabriel
to Daniel and Simon Peter to Cornelius
sent Paul and Silas to Macedonia,
14. "And a certain woman named Lyd-
ia, a seller of purple, of the city of Thya-
tira, which worshiped God, heard us;
whose heart the Lord opened, that she al-- —v
tended unto the things which were spoken
of Paul." Here is a business woman from
Asia, for Thyatira was in Asia (Rev. 1, 11),
who was for the time living in Philippi,
and was evidently one of those chosen in
Christ before the foundation of the world
(Eph. i 4; II Tim. i, 9). It was worth
while going to Europe to find her. She
was probably another hungry soul like
Cornehue. Wherever on earth the eyes • el
the Lord see a real thirst for Him, He will
find a way to supply that thirst. "Blessed
are they that hunger, for they shall be
Elect" "He satisfleth the longing soul."
15, "Anel when she was baptized and
her household, she besought us, saying, If
ye have judged me to be faithful, to the
Lord, come into my house and abide there.
And she constrained us." Her lieart be-
came a home for the Lord and her house a
home for His disciples. There were prob-
ably four at least in Paul's party, for Tim-
othy had joined them at Lystra, and it
looks as if Luke had joined them at Troas. 1
Contrast the "they'' of verses 6 to 8 with
the "we" of verses 10, 11. Contrast the
spirit possessing the damsel of verses 16 to
18 with the Holy Spirit now possessing
Lydia and her household, and remember
we are controlled by one or the other, ei-
ther
the Lord or the devil