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HomeMy WebLinkAboutExeter Advocate, 1900-4-19, Page 2tiA LTOS RCYAANCE.. BY J C,3 Er4 e$ TR ANGIE, wom-reQ., (Copyright, 1859. by the Author,] And then the thought came to her. Why tell him at all? Why eay anything about it? Wily break tap and destrey their intense happineas? Nothing could be wider apart than the lives led by Nclward Conway and Alan Stacey's wife. Why admit that she had seen the news that part of the crew of the Ari- khama had beep rescued? Just now, when Alan was showing signs of over - Work and about to take a holiday, it would be cruel to deal him such a blow A few weeks Imager in her sunshine would make no difference to anybody but herself. Alan would never know— Edward Conway need never know— that she had been aware all along that three men belonging to the Arikhama had been rescued off an taninhabited island in the Pacific ocean. Why should she say anything? Why shatald she not at least let Alan finish his book—the greatest book he had ever done—take his holiday, and, if the blow fell then—why, be would be the better prepared to meet it. It would be bad enough if Ed- ward Conway discovered her and the secret could not be kept any longer. Having thus made up her mind to keep the news which had reached her to herself, she acted immediately. She destroyed the torn sheet of the paper , She hrew it into the fi,re. and thrust the part which remained carelessly into the rack with the other journals, trusting to her own wit to keep Alan from wishing to look at it during the day. It was an off day with the young lady wbo typed to her dicta- tion, so that she was free of any tie of work She set herself to do some nee- dlework in order that she might look oc- cupied wizen Alan made his appearance, and she sat near the window stitching industriously, while her mind went Over and over again each shreds of self justification as she could find to salve her conscience. She told herself thet it was not as if she had gone into an ir- tegular union with her eyes open. She had truly and honestly believed lierself to be Edward Conway's widow, and 'her marriage with .Alan was her real marriage. What was it they said? "I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of jedg- men t, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, if either of pea know of any impediment why ye may not law- fully be joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it." Then came these impressive words.. "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder." Surely, surely, God had join- ed them; surely, surely, it bad been by the permission of God that such a blaze of pure and innocent joy and glory had come into her life; surely she would be doing right to continue such a union. The nroat fanatical and bigoted lover of conventionalism could never wish that she should go back to live the life of shame and degradation which had been hers during those few months after her firet marriage—after that barbarous sale of herself into which she had been driven by circumatances absolutely beyond her control. Alan Stacey came down presently, and when Mary noticed how haggard and ill he was looking she thanked heaven that she had kept the news of Edward Conway's survival to herself. She 'exerted herself in every possible way to please him, coaxing him to eat wheo lanchtinie came and being seem- ingly in the gayest and brightest of spirits Bu t nothing served to rouse him from the dull depression which seemed to have taken possession of him. "I believe you ought to have staid in bed," she said at last as he sat mop- ing and shivering over the fire. "No; I'm laotter up," he answered, 'The book is weighing on your mind. dearest. "Horribly," he replied, "horribly I feel as if I should never finish it." "Oh, don't say that! You've been burning the candle at both ends, You cannot do this work and go to fancy dress balls at the stun° time. Why not let us slip away and finish it quietly somewhere? Supposing that we pack up and go to some quiet little place where we catt work in peace and corn - fort, and after that we will go off on oar long holiday." He caught at the suggestion eagerly "That's a good idea, Mary, " he re- plied; "that's a very good idea. You'll take little Miss Winning,ton down with you 2'' "Oh, yea, because there's a good lot tO do yet. Oh, yes, wo would have her down there with tia. But the change, the freela air, the Sea, the restfulnees, would all be very good for you and wonld help yon to finish it veith half the effort it Would be if We Staid at ileum. Shall wo go off at once?" "As epon es ever you like," he re - plied " \Vienne snail WO go? Let tie try on part of cornwall. "Well, (leer, there's that little, place that the Alec Dngdelee went to. They Said the inn was bo eomfortable and the cooking eo good and the little place eo primitive awl yet so sweet, and boating and fishing and cycling and all that sort of thing you could do in pee- fection. Don't you tbink that would do for us? Ynes know we cannot have a place too quiet until we are through the book" "1 think it walla do eplendidly Couldn't we telegraph today and go down tonaorrow ? Have we any engage- Inents?" "We have no dinners; nothing that we couldn't easily break." "Have we the addrese of the inn?" "Oh, yes; it is called the Yoevya Arms.' " She rang the bell and the 'went to the writing table to get the book of tel- egraph forms. "I roust send a wire to Miss Win- nington. Of course, if she is not quite able to come tomorrow, she might corne down the day after, which perhaps wonld be rather better Oh, John, we are going down to Cornwall tonlorroW for a week or two, I'veant you to send some telegrams off at once and to ar- range all Mr, Stacey's things." "Very good, ma'am. You will take the machines down?" "Oh, yes! And what about your fish- ing rod, Alan? There is very good fish- ing down there, so the Dugdales said, "Then I had better take nay tackle.' "Will this do, Alan? 'Have you rooras vacant, two bedrooms, two sit- ting rooms? Wanted for toraorrow. lim- ply paid."' "That will do," said he. She sail -titled also a message to Miss Winniugton. and when John had de- parted and she was looking down the engagcusent book to see whether any noted of exense would be necessary Alan Stacey got up and began walking rest- lessly about the room. At last he stop- ped in front of her table. "What are you doing now?" he asked. "I was just looking, whether I should have to write to any one—excuses, you know." He stood with Ms hands thrust deep down into his trousers pockets eying her approvingly. "You're a wonderful little woman, Mary," be said in a very tender tone. She smiled at at him and put out her hand to touch his. "I'm glad you think so," she said in rather a quavering voice. "Oh, my dear, my dear, I always think so I ' he said passionately. "It was the tackiest day of my life when I met you." "And what," said she, "do yon think that it rnest have been for me?" She was at that moment on the very point of breaking down and telling him everything. Then the sound of the sob in her own voice frightened her, No, she could not, niust not, dared not, tell him just now—now, when he had the weight of a great book upon his mind, the anxiety of a large contract before hins, when he was in a measure nerve hroken and anxious and depressed. No; she must keep the secret, at least for a time. It would be selfish to do other- wise. She owed it, even if it was a sin, as a small return for all that Alan Stacey had poured out at her feet. She owed it to him. In this instance silence was her duty. CHAPTER XIV. FROM THE CORNER WINDOW, As the train steamed out of Padding- ton station on the following day Mary gave a great sigh of relief, and .Alan Stacey, whose spirits had gone up as high as the day before tbey had been low—for he was, like all people of buoyant dis- position, subject to great alternations of tensperament—anaved his seat over to the one beside her and put his arm round her waist ' "Little woman," he said, "it is aw- fully jolly to be going out of London again, isn't it, even although we are not going, for a holiday? By Jove, that was a good idea of yours. What a wise little head you've got! I should have gone on fagging my heart out in that used up atmosphere, and you came with your wonderful woman's wit and solved the question in an instant You women are wonderful creatures." She did not say very much. She nes- tled up close against him with curiously mingled feelings On the one hand she felt that she was leaving her troubles behind her; on the other that she was only putting off the evil day for a little time. She felt that she wns safe and yet, that she was insecure. She had gained breathing time, a resting place, but that bus day she would have to tell Alan Stacey the truth was as inevitable as that one day she would bane to die. "By the bye, did you remember to tell John to send the papers after us?" "No, I did not tell him," said Mary. She flushed up a vivid, guilty scarlet, foe, truth to say, she had purposely re- frained from instructing the intelligent John on this point. "Ohl Well, of course we can easily write and tell him to send them, '' said Alan. "All the same, I don't know whether newspapers are not rather a bore than other wise. "Yon see," said she apologetically, "eve generally go to hotels where there are papers, 'Oh, yes, yes, yes, it's all right. I dare say we shall bo much better with- out them if we find that the Powys Arms is not so ineettrioUe as to have a ILondon paper Let us try it at all events. 1 So they started on their pilgrimage without SO nnich as a neily paper to toll them what was going o0 in the woeld. It seemed strange to iviary herself that she was not more eager to know ftirthee news or filo ahryivors of the Arilthatna, bet she was truly happier not to know. From that moment ahe filing hereell into the present with an energy widen vses inteneelY and Alan Stacey was more hopeleeelY in love with her than ever, She had arranged with Miss Win- aingiion to be in readiness to eome if she ehould send fax her, eo that they made acquaintance with the little Cur - 'Ash fishing village without the re- straint of a third person. They were like two happy children. The weather was lovely, the air soft and eweet, and they tramped over the golden sands and prowled aanong the rocks, as if never a care existed in the world or ever could do. "Yon like this place, sweetheart?' he said to her on the evening of their first day. "I love it," sho answered. "I shonld like to stay here always, Alan, I don't believe that a place like the Sycamores is good for you. It is too fiat, too much ehut iia; there is not air enough fax a brain worker. Let us give up London and settle ourselves in some such place as this, where we can live more of the ideal life and make up the waste as fast as we create it, I believe it would be good for both of ns. There is that sweet old place we passed among the trees to- day Fancy having that for one's own. Fancy asking one's London friends to come down and spend a week in such a place as this! What joy it would give!" "Yes, but Should we have any Lon- don friends to ask if we aettled our- selves here altogether?" "Why not? You have friends all over the world. You are not dependent upon London. Of course you would have your friends just the same." "And you would really like to leave Fulham, to have no resting place in town 1" "I am afraid I would, Alan. Yon see, I ani not like you. Yon were born to it You are well used to the rush and turmoil of life. I feel sometimes as if I could not get air, as if I were choking." "Everybody feels it in London, my dear, and when you've got/air and are not choking yon feel bored to death; you feel you would give anything to be back again in the place where things hum, to be in the thick of the fray. It is vegetation to spend all your life in a quiet place, even a paradise like this. But I tell you what we naight do. I've had my doubts about the Sycamores for souse little time. We might move into a flat—comparatively small—and take a cottage down here solely fot work. That would pay better than setting up our tent in any such place as this alto- gether." "A cottage one could turn round in, Alan." "Oh, yes! I take it house rent is not very expensive here. At all events we will look round at all the cottages and aee -what kind of places are going. And we must see first whether I can work in the dead stillness of a country life. Somebody or other called it 'dead still- ness,' didn't they? I once wept down into the country to do a very special bit of work that I wanted in a hurry. I went down with Goggle Eyes to a earns in Surrey. I came back at the end of a week dead beat, and indeed I never passed a week in such a continnal din in my life I Did you know before elsat horses never go to sleep?" "Oh, nonsenE;e1" "It is trne,' said he soleranly. "Horses never get to sleep, or, if they do, they walk in their sleep. My bedroom was at right angles with the eta Nee *sere tbe farm horses lived. They kick - el the walls and the mangers and the floor all night long. I need to go in and look at thetn foddered down knee deep in straw, all still, silent, quiet, except for the 'stilling- of the chains through the iron rings of the mangers Bur as soon as I got into bed they all began. and they were never still for one min- ute until cock crow—never! At half past 8 or earlier the poultry yard began. .And then between the coming of the laborers and the flirting of the young women—I don't know what they did. because the men did the milking—and tbe stentorian voice of the farmer bel- lowing his ordees I never got any rest at all, Goggle Eyes slept through it. He said it was heavenly, it was so tran- quil, I believe Goggle Eyes would sleep through the last judgment." However, the Powys Arms proved to be an ideal working place for Alan Stacey. He flourished and throve, and the work grew apace, and Mary was more than ever set upon establishing a . little seaside home of their own, a little retreat to which they could at any mo- ment retire from the world. At the end of three weeks the book was finished, and little Miss Winning -- ton went back to London. Alan Stacey and Mary, however, staid on at the curious, old fashioned inn, spending their days in boating and fishing and trying to make up their minds in what part of the world they should geed their holiday, If he had a preference, it was for a yacht, but Mary did not fall very enthusiastically into the scheme, and he had always a lingering fear that she might have a special reason for not wishing to be on the sea. Therefore he forbore to press her to consent to this arrangement, for Alan Stacey wonld have done anything rather than in any way have reminded Mary of the great tragedy which had freed her from her first husband. They talked of the Italian lakes, of the regularly beaten Riviera track and lastly of Biarritz, with excursions over the Spanish fron- tier. Upon that they practieally decid- ed, yet they lingered in the little fish- ing village from sheer inability to tear themselves away. And during all this time they had never seen a London newspaper. Sev- eral times Alan Stacey had said in joke that they might as well be dead and buried for all the news they had of the world, and almost every day he declared that he meet write to John and tell hint to send on the papers But as Mary did not write it somehow remained un- done, and they continued in their ig- noraece of passing events. So nearly a month slipped by. when they were sitting on a rock we tebi ng the son sink slowly dome into the Water said Mary, "but it has been charmine hem 1 don't," with a great sigh—"fdon't think that the time has been wasted." "My dear child, no time could he wasted to me that has been spent with you. What a thing to say1 Of course it has not been wasted. This place has served our turn well, but we both want change, you as well as 1 Donrou know, two or three times lately I have thought you looking quite careworn. and you baVe nothing., ' looking at her anxious- ly and searchiagly----"you have nothing to be careworn about?" "Nothing," said Mary: She coulcl feel the sob in her throat; she wonder- ed that he did not hear it. "I think yon are right, she said, after a mo- ment, "and that it is time thar we were moving on. Von have quite decid- ed on Biarritz, Alan?" "As well as any other place, We have never been there. They say it ia bright and gay and exbilarating. If we don't like it, we can MOVO OD SOIlle- where elsa " "Then we will go home tomorrow 1" "I think we may as well," he replied. So she set about packing up her fete belongings. She had taken only the most plain and simple serge gowns with her. A single trunk held everything that she had. She packed a good deal that evening, and in the morning she got up early and finished it off before breakfast time. "I will just run down to the village," said Alan, "and settle up with Jan Trevethick, and by that time you will be ready for breakfast." "Yes, I shall be ready," said Mary, aniline at him. Tr° BE COMM:MD.1 t,itg PUT THE WAITER TO FLIGHT. Hiperience In Hotels Taught the Drummer How to Deal With Him.' A large man with a jolly, smooth shav- en visage walked into a restaurant in the business district and ordered a steak a la creole. In due time it arrived and was deposited piping hot on his table, where- upon the large man proceeded to tuck a napkin under his collar and attacked the dish with a quiet 'gusto that was exhila- rating to witness. He had disposed of perhaps a third and was working his way steadily through the remaiqer when his waiter sauntered up from *hind and leaned confidentially over his shesulder. "Steak all right, sir?". he a.sed in a tone of professional solicitude. ; "Eh," exclaimed the large man, l' °king startled, "what's that?" "I just asked whether the steak w s all right," replied the waiter. The large man laid down his knife dpd fork. "What do you think is the meteor with it?" he inquired in an anxious dertone. ' "Why—why—nothing, I guess," said the waiter, beginning to get disconcerted. "I was only asking, you know." e "But atet prompted you to ask?" urged the other. "I insist upon knowing what excited your suspiciontetbat this steak was not what it sheuld-lie?" "Oh, I dunno," ntuitered the waiter miserably. "I justetaked, that's all." "But I had maelecno complaint," mused the large man/knkting his brows and facing around' in his chair. "There's some mystgrf; here, sure. Did, you ask as a matter,ef private curiosity or as a"-- Beforie he could conclude the sentence the waiter broke away and fled headlong to the kitchen, The large man chuckled and resumed his attack OD the steak. "It's like this," he said later to a man who had witnessed the incident and was curious about it. "You see, I'm a drum- mer, and I live mostly at hotels and res- taurants. There are lots of things about such a life that wear on a man, and one of them is the way some waiters keep worrying you all through a meal for fear you'll forget they're on earth when it comes time to settle and tip. There is no earthly reason why any waiter should ever inquire whether a dish is satisfac- tory. If it isn't, the guest will notify him; and he's there to remedy it. So when one of them begins asking me con- fidentially whether this or that thing is all right I usually squelch him with the little formula you have just listened to. It never fails to put 'ern to flight."—New Orleans Times -Democrat. - Smoke Signals. Tem—I believe Jack is engaged. Dick—What make you think so? Toni—He's taken to smoking 5 cent ebeare.—Types. Masculine Intuition. She—There is one thing more I must know, Mr. Hankinson, before I can an- swer your question. Are you in favor of granting to woman her natural and inalienable right to vote, or do you be- lieve in still grinding her under the heel of masculine tyranny? He—Well, Dorothy, dear, I don't know, of course, how you feel about #, but I have always been in favor of woman suffrage, She—Then, George, I am yours. ---Che cago Tribune. Niee .....7.711111•110..1111, Mrs. Newlywed (to cook, Whom she has just engaged at registry office)— You see, my husband is so verygiartle- Mar about his food. Cook (sympathetically) — Ther all alike, mem. My old man was just the "We really ought to reake a slme: I never coolsed nothiek to please move, sweetheart'' said Alan one afteenoou In Pay , HOUSES FOR HOGS tcomrniziLlsfrritoo: DoiryNuitil ansstis EN- 4 WARMIli. tr• . , 6.6.........40.40••••••.......4 No animal on the farni can be shel- tered more cheaply and satisfactorily at the time of parturition than the brood sow, says John M. Jamison in The National Stockman. This state- ment will cover a greater part of the large Swine producing area of the Unit- ed States. Two Important features only are to be considered as absolutely necessary—warmth and dryness. These can be had by the use of different ma- terials, cheap or expensive, as suits the fancy and pocketbook of the builder. A single shelter or house for each sow we think much preferable to the struc- ture that will hold several agimals. It is advisable for a herd of brood sows to farrow as near the same time as possi- ble. When this is accomplished, the houses can be put two or three :d; apart and will answer the purpose as ee well as if a greater distaneenntevd there are dividing fences between them. It Is hard to get a lot of sows separated so far apart but that they will hear the herdsman when he com- mences to feed anti all be on the alert. This expectation for a share of the feed is against the large house that will accommodate a nuniber of sows, as a sow will often leave the nest at farrow- ing time to go to the feed trough, usu- ally to the detriment of her litter. If separated from her companions far enough for them to be fed without disturbing her, it is much better. Again, if separated in this way, it le much easier to keep litters from mix- SINGLE NOUSE' FOR sows. Ing until such a time as there is, no danger of the strong pigs stealing from the weak. In a herd of sows there is often one that is not as good a milker as the oth- ers. In a case of this kiud nature does not limit the number of pigs to suit the supply of milk. She is as apt to pro- duce as nunaermis a litter as the best milker in the herd. The result is that those little fellows are always hungry and spend much of the time pulling at their mother. If the sow is in a house with several others with litters, these hungry, restless fellows will Cause much unrest with the others. We have often noticed that when one litter of pigs begins to trail after their dam for their feed the litters of the herd are almost sure to take up the cry and in a short time all the sows are down and the pigs sleeking. When the sows and their litters are separated until the pigs are at least 1 month old, it is much easier to feed each sow properly and get the eeegs to. eating. And, more than this, it is conducive to hater thrift and, health. • For single houses to be used in this way we should.want them portable or of material that could be torn to pieces and, removed when not in use. The latter is the least expensive and within the reach of every farmer 'able to own two or more brood sows. Hogs Need E.xereise. Breeding hogs need a little exercise every slay to keep them in the very best condition, says The American Culti- vator, but how are they to get it in this climate, when the yards and all sports out of doors are covered with S1101,V for three mouths at a time? Lf even, a wheelbarrow load a day of good fresh horse manure is thrown in a yard for any three that are yarded together, they will spend muelt time in rooting it over, especially if they find a grain of corn or a few oats in it often enough to keep them interested. We do not want fattening hogs to have anything to induce them to root, nor would we allow the breeding stock to sleep on the manure heap, which is one of the reasons why we do not advise keeping hogs in a barn cellar. Another is that we do not like a manure 'miler tinder the barn. The barn cellar, if there is one, may do to store roots in and to put away carts, plows and other heavy tools if it is dry enough, but then we would like a good cement tioor.for It. Another reason is that we want the animals to have sunlight when they can, and if the hogs are in a separate building with an open yard they will be out a great deal when the weather Is pleasant, even In winter, if It is cold. We want to keep the SOW gaining a little every day from the time she is bred until she farrows and yet to guard against her being too fat. This can easily be regulated by the food given, if a little care is taken. Goat Culture. Goat culture in the United States is enjoying a boom. The hardy, thrifty nature of these animals has made them wen adapted to the climate and con- ditions of the southwest, where great herds of them are raised. It Is esti- mated that there are 300,000 Angora goata In this country. The average fleece weighs 'about three pounds, though some exceptional clips have reached 18 pounds. There is a good market for the fleece and .skine, and the carcass, what fat, is not a bad substitute for Mutton. The incluetry has grown rapidly within the past few years and is. tio longer confined to the west and sonthwest —Drovers! ,Jour- nal. 111111 SUNDAY SCHOOL LESSON IV, SECOND QUARTgR, INTER- NATIONAL SEITi.eiS, APRIL 22. Text of ille Lesson, /Luke i1X, 1-10. siQou,,pry verses, 9, 10 --Golden Test, PH. CM. /3 -- Commentary Prepared by the Rev, D. M. Stearns. ICOpyriOlt, 1900, by D. 5,1, Stearns.] 1, "Now when He had ended all His satenes in the audience of the people, He l,iltored into Capernaum," This city be - venni His center he Galilee, from which 1 le went forth, to which He returned and where He wrought many of tvosks and said that if Sodom had had the same privileges it would not have been destroyed, but that Capernaum, hav- ing been eealted to heaven thy her privi- leges), ehoted be brought down to hell —because she did not profit by them fMath. xi, 23). Whether the name sug- gests that this was the villege of Nahutu, the prophet, or not we cannot say, but as Nainun signifies "coniforn"and also p0111111100' 11 it is interesting to think of the comfort that would have come to Caper - n5 um it may she Innl truly repented and received (jhsist Jesus and in Him the Father of Mercies and the God of all comfort !II Cor. i, 3). ' 2. "And a certain centurion's servant, who was dear unto him, was sick and ready to die." In last week's lessor/ it xvas an only daughter %vim was the prey or the adversary, sick and dying. Now it is a faithful servant of a Roman cen- turion. This dear servant makes us think of Abraham's servant, t� whom he intrusted all that he had; and of Joseph as the slave of Potiphar, having full chargidof all that he had; also of Onesi- ems, who became so dear to Paul that he said to Philemon, "Receive him as my- self" f Phi. IT). , 3., "And when he heard of Jesus he sent unto Him the elders of the Jews be- seeching Him that He would come and heal his serva.nt." The account in Mat- thew reads as if the centurion himself came to Jesus, but this account in Luke gives us to understand that all Was done through' those whom the centurion sent. There ia DO diserepaucy, for that which one does through another who represents bim is certainly done by himself. Com- pare 11 Coe v, 20. Some one must have told. else how could the centurion have heard? He may have heard of the evil spirit east out of the man in the syna- gogue or of the healing of Siruon's wife's mother and thus 1111Ve had faith wrought in him, for faith cometh by hearing about God and His works (Rom. x. 17). 4, 5. "He lovetb our nation, and he bath built us a synagogue." Thus spake these messengers, telling Jesus what a good and worthy man the centurion. was. They did not know the centurion, they did not know themselves, and they did not know God. They did seem to know that their own Scriptures taught that "all our righteousuesses are as filthy rags" and that whatever God does He does it not for our sakes nor for our good- ness, but for His own name's sake (Isa. leis, 6; Dent. vii, 7; Ezek. xxxeet 22; Jer xiv, 7). He does not look for good or worthy*people for whom He may do somewhat. for there are none apart from His righteousnesses, but for the helpless and needy who have faith in Him. 6. 7. "1 am Dot worthy that Thou shouldst enter under my roof; neither thought I myself worthy to come unto The." As Jesus went with the messen- gers and came near to the centurion's house he sent friends ne Jesus with this MeSSflf.Te. „He knew himself and knew our Lord better than the Jews did. All sense of fitness or worthiness on our part only praises a barrier between God and our souls. He resisteth the proud, but gives grace to the humble (I Pet. v, 5). We are not worthy. No one under heav- en is worthy. The Latnie of God alone is worthy. whether it be to open the little book (Rev. v, 1-7) or to redeem a S0111 Or 10 do the very least thing that can be ac- ceptable in the sight of God. Apart from Filth there is no life, and there 'can be no acceptable service (I John v, 12; John xv, 5). "Say in a word, and my servant shall be healed." This centurion must have been a friend of or have known the nobleman of Capernamn, whose son was healed with a word from Jesus While He was yet at Cana (John iv, 46-53). 3. "For I also am a man set under au- thority, having under rue soldiers." He had superiors whom he obeyed, and he had rimy under biro who obeyed him. He was accustomed to obey and to be obey- ed. If mortal men shall be obeyed, how lunch more shall the Son of God be obey- ed? And if evil spirits obey Hine surely He can control disease. He had atready done it for many in this very city of Ca9l.)eJrriesauusrain* arveled at him and said unto the people, I say unto you 1 have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel. He might well expect to find faith M Is- rael, for He had not dealt with any other nation as He had with them. I -Ie alone by His great power had brought them out of Egypt, had divided the sea before them, had fed there from heaven for 40 years, had given them the land of Ca- 'naan, a land flowingwith milk and hon- ey, so that they as a people had every reason to place unbounded confidence in Him, but the faith He looked for He found not in Israel as He found it in this gentile centurion. In Luke xviii, 8, Ile asks the question, When the Son of Man cometh, shall He find faith on the earth? He probably refers to His coming in glory (Math. xxv, 31) with His saints. In Math. viii, 11, 12, it is written that our Lord here said that many would come from east and tvest and enjoy the kingdom with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, while many who expected to en- ter the kingdom would be cast into outer darkness. If we have faith in God,'We shall enjoy the kingdom with Film. ' 10. "Aud they that were sent, return= ing to the bouse, tonna the servant whole that had ,beeu sick." attain viii, 13, says that "Jesus said unto the centurion, ,Go thy way, and as thou hast believed, so be it done unto thee. And his servant was healed in the EielfSaMe hour." See Math. xxi, 22; Mark xi, 23, 244 and 611 the instances vvhere faith brought heatheg . and blessing. Think of Daniel coining out of the lion's den with no manner of but upon him heestuse he believed in his God (Dan. vi, ,23). Thiik of Asa con- quering a mighty host of Ethiopians be- cause he relied on the Lord (II Chron. xvi, 8) and say where is faith in God to- dayI Do we know anything of this sim- ple, absolute confidence in God which asks and receives (John xiv, 13, 14), which fears n� man beau se it fears God, which seeks no favors from teen because of reli- IIDCP 11900 the most high God, possessor of heaven and earth; which, because of abidiug in Hini asks and receives what It will Om (!od may be glorified (John zv, 7, Pi).