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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Advocate, 1899-4-27, Page 2BET1N t, w0 LOVES. 1tIT BERTHA Y. t7L.t.X- (Continued,), "It must be," thought Sir Clinton, "that she has married and gone abroad. IC conceit account for it in any otter way." He code out after lunch„ end aceept- sd aa: invitation to dine at Lord Mar- Loeb's, '"dust at quiet bachelor party," said Ws lordship. "1 like a bachelor's dinner myself- You etta say what you like, and you are not compelled to waste the beet part of your time in attending en ladies." At a. bachelors dinner there was some hope; as a rule, ladies were pretty freely discussed on such occasions. Sure - Or they would,, among others, mention Emyr Malt The dinner wee a gay one; piquant tittle kite of seandal were daintly die - tossed, m, reputation went with each glass of wine.. the principal divorce easee of the day were freely talked of, probable divorce eases were earn—amen. krerltesr engageme;its plainly commented open; in fact, the discus Mitt was wen- eutly pleasant, and each gentleman re- tired much edified by it. Yee he never even heard the mime of Lade May. Se, when the (limier was over end the laugh, mused by tate test repartee had died away, when the guests had ail departed, Sir Cinema said to himself the: lie would just 'milk mend by Otitic House and see if any- thing was to be diseovexed of Lade Ile lighted his cigar and went. Cliffe grouse was all in darkness, Haw Pirie heart beat as he looked at the familiar windows, the door, the pretty bak oaiiai,. Was elle there, his fair, lost love? He stood for some time opposite trite house, then he walked up and down. the pavement, then he flung hisa gg e sway with a low cry. "hlrent Heaven:" be said, "wbett it dupe I euxr- Have I forgotten that I em p married ied num--a married man -,and the dearest little wife in all the world te wilting for me away among the sloe end olives? Ate I sax weak or 5,a mead. that even the air of this place drivels rite mad -gab,? I will go home and *cite te Daisy." He walked down the broad, beautitui tared; ettrsiages containing beautifully greased and Jeweled women flashed past acini; the night was odorous, we nets could it be that she had aot been to London for the season at all, and so had faded from tbe fickle mind of the fickle world? Ile dipped his pen in the ink, sighing to himself, trying to retell his scattered thoughts, saying to himself that he had to write to Daisy. Surely the *pact of unrest was on hien; he had written so far as "My dear Daisy," when be was dreaming again. Sir Clinton rose from his chair; "'Chis will not do," he said; "I have no excuse for such folly. I declare be- fore Heaven that I am ashamed of my- self. I have been how many hours iuu London? and yet during that time I have thought of no single thing except Lady May. This will not do. I had beter go back to France again." But it was useless attempting to write. Sir Clinton Adair went abruptly out of his study; he must write on the marrow; he would go to the drswing room and nod. He went, hating 'himself for his weak- ness and folly, yet unable to conquer them. S ew, aaveet with the breath of flowers, &azimut with the perfume of the iroung green leaves; a thousand stars shone to the sky -sweet, pure eyes that ironed dawn on him with their holy light, gad eeeuted to stop the mad fever thrilling in his veins. He would go hoose and write to Daisy +-•aiweet, winsome Daisy, Who had loved MB so dearly. 'What ueed even to &Haste * thought on false Lady May? ,A llrbote world lay between them now. Oven'. if he were to meet her face to him it would not be worth his while to *op and address her; she was nothing tie hien now. Yet --turd his heart beat lentil a great throb of passionate delight -yet she had not married the Duke et lliaeeatrn after all, "I am glad that i tame to England." to said, "if it be only for the sake of knowiva that; not, of course, that it matters in the least to me, not the least. but I can pleased to know it; if I loot. he hes not won." So he would go home and write to Daisy. He wondered, just a litttle, if site had gone to the opera -Lady May Lr- meant --there would be no harm in Iookang round. Ile went in; he looked mond the boxes, where he saw some of the loveliest faces in England, but no needy May. "/ should like to see her just for *nee," tie thought, bis mood changed try acinti teal disappointment. "The deeire go see her has been like a thirst; one took el her might queuch it. I should Eike to see her just for once." If be were to meet her, be said to himself, he would look coldly ea her race and pass her without word or .slang or, better still he would stop, held out his hand in greeting to her, speak coldly, quietly, and, after some few minutes, introduce his wife's name. What would pique her most; women never lake to know that they have lost tiewer, they never like to know that si victim bus escaped them. And he amid to himself, with a light, bitter, attacking laugh: "She shall see how completely I have • uscataed from her." t EIe went home at last to write to ifitaiey. Sir Clinton Adair's town house eras a beautiful one; it was called Lie. Hate House, as it had once been in- habited by the earl of that name. As Poen as his engagement to Lady May read become a certainty, be purchased _Lifdnlr' House and fitted it up most a ragnificently; he had lavished a small Onetime on it; even then it did not seem Ito turn good enough for his fair young nave, tele entered his magnificent house With a feeleag of desolation not to be eneereseed in words. Of course there wits every comfort, every luxury -Sir Clinton cared for , none of it. There was an iced claret imp prepared for him; he moved it tm- :('ysAientiy away; he dirt not care for it; 'lice was saying to himself that if he had weer heard lir name, he should have n contented. a tele Wreait into his ow•n study, the room at he had intended, even when mar- te sine entirely for himself; here • would be cnay towrite to Daisy - teem was nothing to distract hie thoughts. "E shall not want anything, Adolphe," he mid; "it is not late. not ten o'clock; r long the 'hours are. I will ring *hen I require you; I have some letters Ike write." At lime be was seated at the 'writing - feeble, nem* him a fair, white street of "pier,: pens and ink, He mast tell Hulse hee tut bud arrived safely, and, of comae, add a few words to say how moth Lim missed cher--riot' would p,a rr tta Annie kindness; he would before`be v €;:&Be tile akarhe gin. Hol gem h tt letter-vt-rit ng been so great a fleJs :ce to hits? He lay back in his Fredet, ;owing again; how strange that sssi nate spoke of her, that of ail the stere and bails discussed there was tlo utsettlee made of fpr. He had beard raft. ate partkular marriages, no one es&tiloppll to be missing from the circles; CHAPTER XXVI, A hemp WOMAN nr)teema. The lamps were not all lighted la that beautiful room. It was a room thee would have chormed an artist; no gaudy coloring, uo vulgar gilding, no in- artistie mass of colors. So fax as a room could be a poem, this was ope. It was almost all white --white silk, white lace, intermixed with a pale ;shade of amber, There were few pietures, but they were of the best. The chief charm of the room was, perhaps, its profusion of iiowers ...they were everywhere, gre t>t steads of white byaeinths, vases filled with rich gladiolus, heliotrope and Ter- i ena; it was a grateful paradise of per- fume. One of the lamps was lighted, and tilled the large room with a :soft, pnariy LOW through which the Sowers gleam- ed palely. Two of the windows were opened, and one saw the tall, green trees steetehin; far and wide, the blue sky, with its golden stars. Sir Clinton drew an easy -chair near to the open window, and sat down to Wine those pale, golden stars said muck to him. How long he had been there he did not know, when hie valet, Adolphe, cratered Oa* roots. "Sir Clinton." he said, "there is a lady elan swishes to see Tote" "A lady!" he said, rather startled by the intelligence; 'at this hour?" "It is only just ten, sir," said Ad- ramie. d-o plie, "and the lady wishes me to say she bee come from some distance, and her business is imperative," "There .must be a mistake," be sale, composedly. "I know no lady who would come trout a distanee; I know no business that is imperative. Does she give no name, Adolplie?" "No, Sir Clinton, she would not give name or earl," "Do you knew her?" he asked again. "Rave yen seen her befo'r'e?" "I cannot tell, Sir Clinton. She wears a thielc veil, and speaks in a strange, muffled voice. I cannot toll whether I. bave seen iter or not." Sir Clinton looked, as the felt, annoyed. "'*here is no peace in Lenden," ire said. "Some :absurd subscription foe a barnair, or some nonsense of the kind. I suppose I must see her." "I thunk so, Sir Clinton," was the de- liberate answer; "she semis like one who will not go until she has seen you." "A duchess naaquerading, or a coun- tess in seerch of recruits for a ball," said Sir Clinton to himself. Adolphe stood respectfully waiting, yet eyeing his master with keen curio arty. "Show her In," said Sir Clinton, ab- ruptly, "A.nother time say I am not in -I am in no humor for follies." Adolphe bowed he would hare bowed just toe same had Sir Clinton refused to see her; he was one of those well- trained servants, who have eyes, yet do not see --ears, yet never hear -sense and reason, yet never apply them to the affairs of their masters. He was not gene very long, when he returned he ushered in a tali, slender, black figure. He did not linger, as some servants would have done, full of curiosity, under the pretense of arranging a blind or a chair. He bowed and quitted the rcom, closing the door after him. Sir Clinton rose, and bowed somewhat stiffiy. "I beg your pardon," he said; "I real- ly am quite at a loss to know—" Then he paused; there was something familiar to him in that tail, slender: figure -true, it was arraped in a large traveling cloak, and a thick veil cover- ed the face -an indefinable something that caused his heart to beat and his pulse to thrill. FIe went one step nearer to her, Hien fell back in his chair. "I am frightened," he said, holding up his hand. "I am sore sewed." The next Moment she was kneeling at his feet, fair, white arms clasped round his arm; a lovely, fair young face was gazing with passionate joy into bras. "Clinton, Clinton! do you not know me?" she cried. "Speak to me, dear. I have been praying and waiting for months and years to see you again. I have been praying, and waiting and ganging! Where have you been, love- wbere have you been?" Teams were fast falling from the beautiful eyes; the sweet lips that he remembered as so scornful and so grand were quivering; the lovely face that he have never touehed,save once, was near his, and the white, tender arms round hint. Was he read? Was it a dream? Was he asleep?' "May!" he said, wonderingly. "Lady -Lady May!" "Nay," she said, "not Lady May, brut Sour own May --the May who fouud out when yon had gone from her that her whole life was bound in yours; the May who has longed for your retrial as the flowers long for dew. Oh, my love, I thought i had lost you." She laid her fair, flower-like face on his, lianas and kissed them. He tttouglit himself still en a dream. She ;`tightened the clasp of her white arms round his, and he thought, he was dreaming stili. The dark, traveling -cloak fell to (We boor, and he saw the graceful, slender figure. She had thrown the hat and veil aside; he saw the golden head and beautiful face; he thoul;ht still tit he was des s dream. ' His head veerls, Ns brain buxom, his heart beats.; Re- member how be had :loved her, how he Chad worshipped her, and she was here, kneelliet at his feet, denote( tiler hands, kissing them with ber beautiful lips, she who had been hiss idol. "You will never call me proud or cold again?" she says. "Oh, Clinton, how could you go away, and stay away so long? Oh, love, how could you leave me? You must have known than I should be sorry. I own fraukly that I was quite in the wrong. I ought never to have acted in that wretched play.. I did not enjoy it, believe me, Clinton, not in the least. I was miserable all the time, thinking of you, love, thinking of you." Again she kisses the hands so tightiy clasped in her own, and again he makes no answer --he is too stunned, too be- wildered for that., "If you had not been quite so angry, love, T should have told you some even- ing how sorry I was, but you scolded me, and I am proud. I had been spoiled by too much flattery, but I never thought you would leave nip, love-- uever." He is beginning to reeover now, and he says, in a trembling voice: "Is it you, really yon, May?" "Yes, really; and, Clinton, I made np my mind that, let you remain away as long as you would, I would wait for you, and T come here and kneel by you until you promise to forgive me." He makes no answer; if it were te save his life he could not speak one word, She does not seem to require, it. -i. nave peen so nuatappy, sue sem, imply, "Miss Loekwood said I de. served to be, and I have been. t do not think I have ever enjoyed one single moment since that night. Sir Clinton, any love, my love! I have come to hum- ble myself before you, to lay all my Pride at your feet, to beg of you to forgive me, and to love me a little bit." She looked so beautiful, so bewitcihlug in her sweet, shy fondness, her cou- trition, her smiles, and her tears, that he grew bore ani more bewildered, Ire is 4ost-hopelessly last. "I promise you," she said, "that if you will forgive me, I will be as humble ss hitherto I have been proud; I will be submissive to every wish of yours -- obedient as a child. You will forgive me, love, will you not?" She looked up at him, then, and the lovely eyes were full of passion, and love, and tenderness; they were just such a look as once, in his wilds' t dreams, he had hoped to win from her; and they were suck glorious eyes, so large, so liquid, so bright, he was him- self again for one half aninute, so he gazed in their beautiful depths. Teen, speaksieg slowly, as though be were barely conscious of his words, he stye: "Then you lire not married, May?" "Idarriedl" she repeated, with a. little laugh, her eyes gleaming through her tears. "glow could I be married while you were away? I may have been naughty and saucy, cold and proud, but It never entered my mind to marry any one but you, Clinton, -never!" "I thought you were mut-tied to the Duke of Basemen. I am sure that I saw something about it in the paper -an announcement of it." "You must also have seen the con tradiction," she said. "1 was very aegry about it. I marry the Duke of RosecarnI Not I, were he fifty taimeet a duke. I never thought of marrying any one but you, Clinton." "I never read the contradiction," be said, "And you staid away because you thought I had married the duke? Shaun on you, Clinton) You told me once thaat woman played at lore; you see now how false it is. You, on a mere news paper report, believed me married, and I have been all the time as true to you as the stars to their course. Wbieh of us has played at love, you or I?" Ile did not answer her, for he could hardly yet realize the bewildering bliss of tier presence, the reality of her sweet, Eby careses, her loving, tender wards. He ventured to touch her hand; it was more to see if it were real than any- thing else. She glanced up at him shyly. "1 was cold to you, proud and hard, and :unkind -nay, I was cruel; but I waa only a foolish girl, and I liked to exercise my power over you -I think I gloried in it -and my coldness, my pride has made you so much afraid of me that you dare hardly touch my hoard. Oh, Clinton, Clinton, may love, whom I wounded so cruelly, bend your head - stoop down, love, and kiss my lips -the lips that should have burned with the cruel words they said to you'!" He could not refuse; no thought of refusal came to tem; be was simply la -at and bewildered, afraid lest he should wake and end it all a dream. For the second time in his life his lips touched here, and then all the passionate love of his heart seemed to wskea and burst into passionate flame. "My darling, my darling!" he cried, holding the blushing, flower-like Race between his hands, drinking in its love- liness se a man dying of thirst drinks water. "My darling!" he repeated, for he seemed to hare lost the power of using words freely. She wailed throngb her tears. "No.v I am content," she says. "You seemed so strange at first that I felt afraid you would not be friendly; but you are my friend, my lore, are you not?" For answer he kisses the red, sweet mouth, the white forehead, the lovely cheeks, tette golden hair, the white hands -kisses them as a dying mother kisses her only child. "The idea," she continues, in a low, sweet tone, "of you even thinking that I would marry the duke! You will laugh at me, Clinton, without doubt, hat do you remember the evening you first kissed me, after I had promised to marry you?" "I remember," he said. "Well, that kiss I considered as you did, that it was our betrothal. You thought the Duke of Rosecarn kissed nye in the play; he never did --it was osily pretense; he dared not. And listen, love, listen -you lave been away a long time, yet you may take the kiss from my lipe you laid on them -ten 'They have never been touched since by man, woman, or thud; I have kept them, love, for you." What can he do but bend down egiiin and do what she bids, take the kiss' back again. Them he remembers that the is kneeling, and he says: "May, my darling, let me End you a chair." ND late .) PORTABLE SELF FEEDER. Ingegiogs Structure In Ore on as Illinois Farm. C. R. Gardner of McDonough county. lila, describes in The Breeder's Gazette a self feeder in successful use on his farm. The framework ie all bolted to- gether. as nails would not withstand the strain when pulling the feeder from field to field by four horses, The rnnnere are made of heavy 8 by 10 oak plank. each 16 feet long, and placed 6% feet apart. The ends. of the runner* are PLAN or saw Furl= rounded at both ends, so that the feeder may be palled either way. Nine 2 by 4 joists each 9 feet long are bolted on to the runners about two feet apart. These joists are then fastened together by 2 by 6 joists which project over the runners far enough to support the feed trough. The trough is built about the width of scoop. This permits of easily remov- ing the grain from the trough should you choose to do so. This. however, is seldom done. Used in this way, how- ever, the feeder makes a very cheap granary The bottom of the feeder is built high in the middle and slopes to the feed trough on either side. The roof projects a little over the sides and measures about 14 feet from eave to eave. .A. door or cover is provided at either side for the feed trough. If one has cows in the lot at night. but wishes calves to eat grain from the feeder dur- ing the day. he can simply drop the lid when the cowa are in the lot and raise it on turning them out. Calves can then eat oats or shelled corn or what- ever you may have in the feeder for them. Cut the rafters for the floor out of 14 foot 2 by 4's. making them each 8% feet long Thirty-six rafters of this sort will be needed for the bottom and the drop on sides. After the feeder is sided up with ship lap or flooring the roof of 1 by 8 sheet- ing is then put on, which is afterward covered with shingles. It is a good idea to put several braces across the feeder from eave to eave. Bolt these to the upright 2 by 4's. Strength will be given to the structure by manning a one-half inch rod the length of the feeder and making it fast just below the grain doors. The feeder is about 10 feet long and has a capacity of about 1,000 bushels of corn, Total cost, including lumber, labor and hardware, will be about $50 or $60 From 50 to 60 head of cattle can be fed at one of these feeders. In adjusting the slides at the feed trough I place them so that I can jest run my finger under them at the bottom. The cattle then have to lick the grain with their tongue. They get but small quantities in this way and clean it up before reaching in for more. Feeding from these troughs results in their thoroughly masticating the grain. Timid cattle will come up to the trough after the fighters have bad their fill In order to show the value of the self feeder I herewith give the data con- cerning the feeding of 87 head of pure bred Angus steers and heifers. They were put to the feeder filled with oats on Nov 15, 1896, eating what oats they wanted through the day and nurs- ing the cows at night. Dec.. 15 they were weaned. In March shelled corn was put in feeder on top of a few bush- els of oats. The feed then until May was oats and corn. Corn was fed from sV14 hal<1 ier EXTERIOR OF SELF FEEDER. this time on until they were taken to the stock show in November, 1897. Fifteen steers, about 19)months old, were shown there. They averaged about 1,140 pounds and sold at $5.40. They dressed out 62.86 per cent beef The re- maining e maining 17 heifers and 5 steers were shipped Den 14, 1897; weighed 1,045 pounds at an average age of 17 months and sold at $5.40 and dressed 62.6 per cent. These two lots were fed nothing but corn. oats, bay, grass and rock salt. We visited the feeder but once in- ten weeks, when we put in feed. and an oc- casional trip was necessary to supply rock salt. Frozen Meat. Fresh meat may, as all farmers know, be kept a long time if thorough- ly frozen. It should. however. be hung in pure, cold air until a thaw comes, when it ehould be at once cooked or 'salted. Freezing the meat bas opened its pores to air, and so soon *8 this be- gins to be tainted putrefaction soon sets in. Hence the pork that bas once frozen through is harder to keep than that which was packed when only the alai - 'al but wan .ant: alit it. THE NATURAL SIZE. A Veteran Ponitrysnan'a Protest Against Forcing For Large Birds.. In the Dec. 15 number of Farm Poul- try you have an article on "The Natu- ral Size, which contains as much good gospel for practical poultrymen as 1 have ever seen in like space.. There is no doubt that there is a con- tinuous call for White Wyandottes of extra size and weight. It mostly comes, in my experience, from young fanciers and those who keep only a few hens and who know little about poultry in the sense of profit makers in a practical market way. The demand is fostered most largely by a class of judges in our poultry chows who sacrifice the standard weight bird in favor for one of heavier weight and larger frame: It seems to me that where the standard calls for 7% pounds for a cockerel, one weighing 8% or 9 pounds would be as far off as one weighing only 7 pounds, but the larger bird invariably gets the ribbon, with- out there is some defect so glaring it cannot be passed There can be no question that the medium sized Wyandotte is the true type of business bird. They will lay more eggs, a larger percentage of the eggs will hatch and more chickens can be raised to maturity. We believe this to be true of all breeds --when we begin to force the size we begin to weaken the vitality and lower the egg yield andpower of reproduction. If this is true, it would seem reason enough why they should be bred to not overstandard size. if not a little ander. When to this we add the fact that it injures the breed as a market fowl, there is still greater reason why the size should be kept where it is. As you have so many times said and as every man who has ever made a busi- ness of handling dressed poultry knows without telling, the demand is not for the large, oversized carcass, but for a medium sized fowl or chicken, plump and meaty and not overfat. Hens weighing 4 to 5 pounds each and chick- ens from 7% to 9 and not over 10 pounds par pair are tbe quick selling sizes and most in demand for fine fami- ly trade. This being the fact, and .it can easily be proved, where is the sense in pushing to heavier weights and lank- ier frames a breed, or variety of a breed, which is acknowledged to be the most practical market bird now in ex- istence? There is a certain class of new inen in the business whose first ambi- tion, as soon as they can tell one breed from another, is to originate something new or else to monkey with some of the already established breeds, and al- ways to the detriment of the breed. The White Wyandottes stand today as the best all round up to date business birds living. They are gaining ground in every section of the country and are bound to lead wherever choice poultry and a plentiful supply of eggs, are the considerations for which fowls are kept. But if the practical man must neces- sarily sacrifice color of leg and skin. to get good show specimens it is to be hoped that in the future he shall not have to also sacrifice the other impor- tant market features in order.to satisfy the eye of the judge, who is apt to know much of the Greek and Sankrit of the business, while he is sadly shaky on the everyday alphabet. -George H. Pollard in Farm Poultry. Poultry Notes. The only way to succeed with poul- try is by giving fowls attention, proper food and a good warm house, and keep- ing young stock. either pure bred or grade. Potatoes, onions, carrots, beets, tur- nips and cabbage make good winter food for bens. Cinders from burned bone as well as raw bone are good for the poultry. Send all refuse table scraps to the chicks. They like a variety of food. Every farmer's family should have a good flock of hens. There are possibili- ties for a good education for the son or daughter with the product of a fair sized, well cared for flock of poultry. Give the layers a little cayenne pep- per in a warm mash made of vegeta- bles, wheat bran and meal two or three times a week. A bone cutter will soon pay for itself. Give the biddies bone - meal twice a week and watch the re - 'turns in the egg basket. Keep geese, ducks and turkeys in dif- ferent compartments from the hens. A small flock, with plenty of room and well cared for, will yield larger re- turns than a large flock left tcr shift for itself or crowded into small gnartera. Keep only the best of the flock for breeding purposes. Aim to improve. not to retrograde. There is no secret in getting plenty of eggs in winter. Good, young stock, good, warm quarters, a variety of good food and plenty of exercise, with fresh warm water to drink and cleanliness to insure good health in the flocks, are all there is about it. THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. LESSON V, SECOND QUARTER, INTER- NATIONAL SERIES, APRIL 30. Text of the Lesson. John xiv, Memory- Verses, 25, 2O—Golden Text, John xiv,16-COMutefitary Prepared by the Itev. D. B. Stearns. Why Fresh Bones Make Eggs. The different parts of ordinary mar- ket bones upon analysis were found to contain in abundance the ingredients. which go to make up the growing chick and in wonderfully close proportion the different parts of the complete egg. The leen meat and gristle form the white of the egg and about 16 per Dent of the yolk. The marrow and other fat on the bones anpply the remainder of the yolk. The linie phosphates in the bone yield all the necessary lime salts for the shell and the requisite phos- phates for the interior of the egg. --.0. C. Pickering in Farm and Home. Langshan Cinlb. Langshan breeders in the state of 1I1- Iinois not members of. the American Langshan club are requested to send their names end addressee and they will receive by mail a pamphlet giving the rales of the club, a list of members and its objects and advantages. Address the vice president for Illinois, W. W. no- els. oels. Svas&sten, Lia [Cr, 1899, I)M.. Stearns.) 15. "opy"If yeightlove Illbey, veep. My command,- monts." In verses 21, 28, also of this les- son, we, having the keeping of His word or eoznznandments as the evidence of our love to Ilia, are taught the necessity of having His word dwelling richly in us (Col. iii, 16) if we would prove that we do levo Him. Wo da not thing: it tiresome to read guitar a long letter from ono whore n o truly levo or to read it many times,. but many Christians Sind it tiresome to read even a ehapterfrom the word of God, and to read a whole book would be an un- bearable tis$. i6. "And I will pray the Father, and Ho shall give you another comforter, that Re may abide with you forever." In chap- ter xv, 26, Re is called the Spirit of Truth, and as such Re testifies of Christ. r In chapter xvi, 7-15, He convinces: of sin, righteousness and judgment, guides tato k— ali truth and glorifies Christ by showing unto us things to carne, the things that are Christ's. He also makes intercession in us, while Christ at God's right hand makes intercession for us (Rea. vat, 26, 84), 17. "Be dwelleth with you and sball be in yen." Ye are the temple of Plod, and the Spirit of God dwelleth in you (1 Cor. 111, 16), When once Re comes to dwell to us, as He does when we are born again, So never leaves tie even though we often grieve Him, Ho loves to the end. But how much better we might know Hirai Row He would fill us and how znuah Re would tell us if we would yield fully' to H.im and cease to grieve Him by aur worldly ways and un-Christlike conduct! 18. "I will not leave you cozufortless tor orphans --margin]. I will come to you." Ho will surely collie again, and every sor- row onrow shall be forgotten in that bright morning of Itis return when we shell see and share His glory, and until Ile does coma the comforter will prove Himself a real comforter to all who are willing to receive Rim heartily, Our Father is the Father of mercies and the God of all com- fort (II s ), 19. ""ratora1, l3ittl4e while, and the world seetir hie no more, but ye see Me; because I live yo shall live also." His life insures ours, He is able to save evermore because Re ever liveth (Heb, v11, 25, margin). Re is our life, and as the ono who was dead, but is alive for evermore, having the key* of bides and of death, Ile says unto us, "Fear not" (Bev.. i, 17, 18). As the moon reflects upon us the light of the sun rafter be has gone from our sight, because she still sees him, so we ever seeing Jesus by faith should ever reflect His light. 20, "At that day ye shall know that I am in My Father and ye in Me, and >r in you." Beloved, now aro wo the children of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall bo, but we know that when Re than appear wo shall be like Flim, for we shall seo Iiiru as He is, and this hope set on Elm is very purifying (I John til, 2, 8), Then our ;whole spirit, soul and body will be blameless at tate coming of our Lord Jesus Christ (I These. v, 23, B. V.). May Christ be more fully formed in ua now to • the glory of God (Gal, iv, 19). 21. "He that bath My commandments and ecopeth them, he it is that loveth Me, and he that loveth Me shall beloved of My Father, and I will love him and will man- ifest Myself to him." A spectra love te Christ receives special love from tho rather and special manifestations of Christ frorn Himself. The Lord always reveille Him- self to Itis people by His word and Spirit, even as Ho did to Samuel (I Saar, iii, 21). 22. "Lord, how is it that Thou wilt manifest Thyself unto us and not unto the world?" This question is from the other Judas, not Iscariot. Igo scones to say, If we can see you, wby cannot others? H. thought only of the outward, like Nice - denims and the woman at the well He did not understand as yet the spiritual, things seen only by spiritual people, the revela- tion of tho heart of God to the heart of man. See I Cor. 11, 13, R. V. 23. "Jesus answered and said unto him, If a man love Me, be will keep My words, and My Father will love him, and Wo will come unto him and make Our abode with him." In verse 17 Ile said that the Spirit would dwell in us, but now He adds that both the Father and Himself would come, too, and make their abode in those who love and keep His word. The word "abode" in this verse is just the same as the word "mansion" in verse 2, a little Greek noun of four letters and not used anywhere but in these two verses. How wonderful that these bodies of ours may become mansions in which the Father, Son and Holy Spirit will condescend to dwell! 24. "He that loveth Me not keepoth not My sayings, and the word which ye hear is not Mine, but tho Father's which sent Me." How often He tells us that the words are not His, but the Father's! (Verse tit chapter xii, 49.) From the age of 12, not before, Ho Sivas about His Father's business (Luke 11, 49), and in all His life the Father spoke and wrought through Him. He was a vessel wholly for God, and He asks us to present our bodies a living sacrifice (Rom. iii. 1). 25. "These things have I spoken unto you, being yet present with you." They were some of His very last words ere He left them, and His whole heart's desire must have gone out to them in thew words. He longed to have them know Himself and His Father better, that they might be full of joy,. even His own joy, and in Him have peace (xv, 11; 'i vi, 24, 88; xvii, 13). Yet He knew that only by the Spirit could they fully understand, and so He said that it was better for Him to go, that tiro Spirit might come and open their eyes and convince them (svi, 8). 26. "He shall teach you all things and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said, unto you." This. He said of the Comforter, the-FIoly Ghost, and He said, "Whom the Father will send', in My .name." Therefore the Spirit la here wholly on. His business, and when we are willing to be wholly on His business the Spirit will surely fill us. As the dieoi- pies thought of the very many things RI had said to them and probably longed to recall every word what a comfort this assurance must have been I 27. "Peace 1 leave with you, My peace I give unto you, not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be i troubled, neither let it be afraid." ; We can have nothing apart from Christ. Thla peace is in Hina. He is our pease and, staid on Him is perfect peace (chapter zti, 88; Eph. it, 14; lea. xxvi, 8).,. The world gives a kind of peau by pleasant circum- stances, and when they fail the peons 11 gone; but Flo gives peace within whore aft at+utts era nee*.