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Exeter Advocate, 1909-07-29, Page 21~— THE 1IESSAGE OF RELIGION Learn to Live, Not for the Fools That Perish, But for the Real Self, That Which Is Eternal "They go from strength to strength." ---Psalms Ixxxiv., 7. Education is the duty of every one. Many will he quite unable to withdraw from business and spend years in studious seclusion ; neces- sity will drive them forth to the shop and the store, but life will never permit them to cease to grow or forgiso them if their powers lie dormant and undeveloped. They must either grow or dio. No accidents of birth or place make this law less binding on us; each according to his powers must seek larger pcw•ers, each according to his world roust make a larger world. The more talents life places in our hands the inure will the uni- verse demand of us at last, but never will less than was given be demanded nor oven as much be suf- ficient. The saddest sin of all is failure here, to stagnate in life, to cease to grow and to begin to die, to fall back into the animal and almost lute the vegetable kingdom. Death is already the lot of those who will not seek more life. To become merely a machine in the shop or a cash box in the office is to miss your chance in life, to fail utterly at liv- ing, no matter how iuuch you may succeed at being a dead piece of business machinery. The great message of religion is just hero; it is ever saying to a man, you have values that are not in things, you have possibilities and powers that cannot be measured in terms of things. LIFE IS YOURS; • +144114444+4 ++4444+44 Forffie Kids SoLe•1 ♦ ♦♦♦ *4+494+4 +++++++Nil+++ Lord Elmslie of Oxley was a tyrant. Though a Privy Councillor _and one of the most distinguished judges who ever sat on the Bench, that first sentence stands. He was was a giant in body and mind. In the chair of justice his law was faultless, his judgments merciless. of life about them. Tho great writers, musicians, preachers, thinkers, aro great be- cause they are our teachers; they open up new worlds to us, they aid us to enrich our lives. But ele- ments of greatness lie about us in the common things of life. Our nearest neighbors have something for us; every man is a soul ; in each mean we may, as we will, find either the great and the inspiring or the trivial and life destroying. In every circumstance of life lies either enriching or impoverishing, just as wo may approach it ; its con- tent is for us to determine. Daily duties may be seen as a part of great and glorious service for all the world or may bo as treading at the devil's mills. Ho who drives a nail into a packing case may see that ho is.serving the universe and sc reach his life out into its great breadth, or he may see himself as a slave at a soul dwarfing task. THE TEST OF EVERY DAY and of every life is just here; is a man so living as to make life mean more and to make his life wtorth morel No dreams of heavenly bliss can set us free from this obligation to gain more life, and no specula- tions about the worth of our own soul can set us free from the obli- gation to live so as to have a life worth giving to our world and effici- ent powers with which to serve our day. Ho who has found the joy of the life that goes from strength to strength, that treats of the food of the spirit, that companions with tho all things and circumstances are but great of all ages, that finds more its tools and agencies. life and rejoices in being able to Salvation is growth, sin is fail- give more life, he who finds lifo ure to grow, missing our possibili- more abundant springing up within ties. turning aside from life's true at every step of the way, has no and high aims and permitting that fears as to life beyond ; the potency which dulls the fine faculties, sears of the present is the promise of the over -sensitiveness to the things of future. the soul, and prevents the life from Somehow in the life that thus finding its fullness. grows, that finds in all about it the This is the real joy of living, to sources of strength and the avenues know more, feel more, see more, of service, there comes a sense of to enter into a larger universe, to a larger, all embracing life, the life i e able to do more and to be able of a father of spirits, the fullness to give more of the self and of one's et a power and affection toward service to our day. Greatness comes which one presses, in which is found from such growth, and such great- the hope and aim of all life, the ness lies within the power of all. source and end of being and in that Few may climb the pedestals of sense of life all living finds unity fame, but all may open the heart and reason. and the invagination to tho wealth HENRY F. COPE. TILE SUNDAY SCHOOL 1\ 11:11\ 17II)\.11. !.!sill\, A l t:. 1. 1.ees' n 1 . ('lose of ei. Paul', 11ts- •i•i;i,ir) Journey. Gulden .1 i.11 it le: : ;,t, I Corinth, the Vanity Fair of the l;enien Empire. l'orinth, the cen- ter of goverr,nient, commerce, and essint ss, as Athens was of learning, literature, and art, was situated on the isthmus which joins the two great divisions of Greece. The city has been called "Tho Star of Hellas," "The Eye of Greece," "The Bridge of the :Sea," "Tho (:ate of the 1'eloponnesus," "The Vanity Fair of the Roman Empire." It had an almost ideal situation for commerce. It attracted strang- ers from all over the world on ac- count of its delightful climate ; the Isthmian games to which contests Paul refers twice in his letters to the ( orinthians (1 Cor. 9: 21; 2 Cor. 2: 11-10); and its position as the center of government, where riches could be gained by dishonesty and oppression ; and the seat of unre- strained sensual pleasure, and of every kind of licentiousness and ex- cess. Vice and profligacy here held high revels, with a shamelessness consecrated by tht. rites of their fal-e gods. 11 Paul's Labors Among the Corinthian Jews. - Vs. 2-6. I. His Opportunity. This great city with Its worldliness, and absorption in pleasure. its rigorous and varied life, its infnite needs. gave Paul a great eppe.rtunity. it is jest the kind est place %hien attracts minis- ters and missionaries. And yet the difficulties were so immense, the ob- stacles so insurmountable that it is no wonder that Pate camp to them feeling his "weakness. and in fear and in Hutch tremnling" (1 ('or. 2: 81, and nd eded the t ision of cheer (v. 9). 2. His Four Friends. Pfeil had a strong, social nature, and felt the value of friends. He could say -"f ani wealthy in my friends," and he obeyed the precept. "Urafple them to thy soul with hooks of steel." 2. Ile found a certain sew. Paul al•••.:%s began with the Jews. as the best possible opening for his work Kamcd Aqui:a, a tentmaker. A flan of some eralth, born in Pontus. ltt cluing business in f(eeme, till lately he had been driven from Italy by the decree e,f Claudius Cesar, Eric Brewster was handsome, clever, and ambitious, but lie was as an insect that crawled compared with Lord Elmslie. Yet one night Eric Brewster stood in his lordship's library and spoke bravely. "I regret disturbing your lord- ship, but my business is of much importance to me. It may be of some importance to you. I wish your consent to my marriage with your niece, Miss \1'tngower." The old lion glared from beneath hisbushy eyebrows. "Say it again. "I wish your consent to my mar- riage with your niece, Miss Win- gower." "On the hypothesis that you are sane, 1 shall give you a formal re- fusal. Madness is the only explana- tion of your impudence. Your in• come last year was probably two hundred pounds. Did you think that sum warranted you asking the hand of Lord Elmslie's niece'!" "I have already won her heart and her hand. It was your ap- proval I asked." "I shall arrange Miss Wingower'a future for her, and with greater security for her happiness and com- fort than you can offer." "It, does not become mo to reci- procate your insulting suggestions and vulgar speech; but I may say I anticipated this. As in duty bound, 1 came to ask your approval of the marriage Cora and 1 have already agreed upon. You refuse it. That is a difficulty I could easily sur- mount; but it will probably weigh with Cora. This amount of my in- come concerns her alone, and she is satisfied. But it is fruitless raising these questions now. I accept while 1 regret your decision. Good night; and I apologize for intrud- ing upon you on such a disagree- able errand I" Lord Elmslie was unmarried. His only sister had died early, leaving a baby daughter whom his lordship took over much as he might have taken over any other form of souvenir. Cora 1Vingower was reared in an atmosphere of nurses and hirelings. She was denied nothing but affec- early in A.D. 52, banishing the tion—the thing the child most hung - Jews, and had carried his business Bred for but could not define. to Corinth. \Vith his wife Priscilla. She grew to beautiful womanhood. As Aquila is called a Jew, but Psis- Then some motherly persona in - cilia is not, it has been inferred that sisted on taking her in hand; and, she was a Gentile. As she is usual- , in that society which Lord John ly, by Paul, mentioned first in } Ettnslie had long shunned and scorned, his niece found friends eager to be as prodigal of love as site. When Erie Brewster and Cora \Vingowcr met, the experts pro- phesied things. The two young peo- ple loved instantly and intensely. Eseryono agreed it would be an ideal match. But the shadow of Lord Elmslie hung over it all. Cora had always regarded her guardian from afar and with awe. The night he asked her into the lib- rary was the fees time their separ- ate identities had really come into contact. "Young l3rewstcr has Leen here asking permission to marry you. 1 refused." "I am sorry." "11 you have been encouraging hint you probably owe him an apology, which please pay. As for your marriage, I shah arrange It for you—and on a sounder economic basis." "You needn't. I am going to marry Eric Brewster." "1 hope you realize what you owe to your guardian at the end of all these years." "I owe obedience, and I shall render it so long as you ext it. All I say is that yca are not more convinced that I shall not marry Eric tnan I am that I shall marry no other." No man would have dared speak so to John Elmslie. This slip of 't girl did it without a tremor of her %vice or a quiver of her eyelids. :,peaking of the husband and wife, it has been inferred that she was of higher social rank, better edu- cated and of moro marked ability than her husband. But it is worthy of note that both are always men- tioned together. iie was the husi mess man who by his ability and suc- cess made it possible for his wife Priscilla to devote herself to reli- gious work. It may be for this ren - son, as the one most directly in touch with the religious work, that she is mentioned fitet. They were true yoke fellows, and both are mentioned as instructing the elo- quent :!popes in the gospel truths. Paul while in Corinth was the guest of this family (v.3). 5. In addition to these friends, Silas and Titnutliees came from Macedonia. They had Leen left at Berea, when Paul was compelled to leave (Acts 17 : 13 151. Timothy- had been sctvt to lhessalnnica (1 Tiles. 3: 6), and from Philippians 4: 15 wo judge that he hnd visited Philippi also. Paul's friendly heart was cheered by their presence. Timothy also hrouAnt him glad tid• ings of the faith and love of these churches and of their longing to see him, so that he was comforted con• corning them in all his distress and affliction through their faith. The Philippians also sent him aid, which, like Joseph's wagons to Jacob, brought proof of the abund- ant harvest of faith and love in the i'hil,ppian church. The Circumstances in whieh Paul Worked. 1. Ile earned his own lit - ing by wnrkiug at his trade. it ens Jewish tae% . int every boy be taught some kind et trade for his support. Ill. Paul's Work Among the Corinthian Gentiles.—Vs. 7.22. Paul's preaching place was in the house of a man named (v. 7) Jestus. one that worshipped God. n Centile believer in the one true God, but not r' few, whose house jnined hard to t''e svnngogue. Ilere would be a pe petite] invitation to the Jews, while at the sante time the Centiles world feel welcome to go there. Paul Fnrouragrd. P. Then spake the Lord (.!esus) to Paul in the night by a vision. as at other crises of his life (Acts 16: P: 22: 17: 27: 23). At we hate reen this ons enc of the tno.<t trying crises of Peer i life. Sick in body. striving agoir.st the bitterest ergani?ed elpesitien. lookintr in the face. ..1 eliflir'tltirs liko hla••k nvonntains in n marl: night. Paul needed a frc-1.. clear, "You can go. Time may teach you that happimcss attends the wisdom of age rather than the rutuance of youth." It was a different Cora Wingower who met Eric Brewster in St. James's Park next day. Her defi- auce was turned to despair. "Never mind, Erie. It means on- ly the deferring, not the destroy- ing, of our hopes. Uncle is adam- ant. But ono thing will be more constant than he. -filet is my love fur you. I must remember he has been kind to me." "He hue been kind to you in a cruel way. Ho has given you noth- ing but what money can repay. 1 shall discharge the debt. let es marry without his consent. It will not abate my joy a lot.' Heroics were easy. But there was a strong tinge of the Puritan in ('ora's nature. An open rupture with her uncle was not to be thought of, so she shook her head and shed tears, while Eric Brewster said things concerning Lord Elmslie that constituted a severe strain on the loyalty of the famous judge's niece. undoubted revelation of God's will and God's presence. Compare the visions which the apostle John saw when in the midst 1' persecutions which could be re- presented only by great earth- quakes, the sun darkened, the moon turned into blood, the stars falling from heaven. death and hell and famine, the star wormwood, the smoke of the bottomless frit, till men sought death and could not find it, and desired to (lie, hat death fled from them. Then how the 'i- sions of the mnrtyrs with crowns. and white robes, singing songs of redemption, "Blessing And glory and wisdotn and thank-aivi.,g and lesn•'r and power and might be (nt., our Cod ford er and cater" ; and ti miens of the tearer/led earth, the perfect sucere s of tice rause for uhith they save t),eir live•. gw^ ,newt.' rend lieu,- islet n=<urance. They d•► tic sa;i:c for us to -day. lighted court. Tho harsh voice of Lord Henske sounded sepulchral amid the death -like silence. The cross earned with bated breath to the -.surds that sent Joe Murdoch '.o a shameful doom. Joe took it gator, though a trifle pale. As the warders led him tc the cells below a child's voice rose entreatingly, Joe turned and took the eager burden. Noah smiled and looked back curiously at thc mute and motionless/ s3:eetatori wtitclting the innocent child past out of sight. in the arms of ow whom his fellows had branded v murderer. Eric Brewster dined alone that night, yet in spirit he wile with the more alone wan on whore the shadow of a scaffold had fallen. "A woman in the library to see yon, sir., Eric was surprised at the appear- ance of his tisitor--a rustic of the poorest type, trembling with fear. yet transparent honesty in !tet eyes. "\%'hat can madam '" "Von are the gentleman that was telling them Joe Murdoch was in- nocent. They should have belie%ed you. Maybe it's myself should be in Joe's place. And 1 want your oath no ill will befall me. For I have no learning, and it's a cower- ing creature I ant." Erie was puzzled. Was she a crank or had she really a message? He soothed her and urged her to tell her story. "I ant Mrs. Carpi!). I live in lone cottage two miles from Bener- town. I knew 111r. Jenner, and Joe Murdoch never killed him. I know he didn't, for I saw it dune. The murder day was greying. 1 had been at Benertown, and was seek- ing home when I saw a man coming. I laid behind the hedge till he should pass, for it's a wild part, and a woman's feeble. But when the man carne to where I hid he halted. A few minutes more and Mr. Jenner came along with a stagger in his step. Ile didn't know the stranger at first, but after a bit he seemed to understand. The stranger, a big, powerful pian, talked quiet and solemn. 1 heard nothing but, a woman's name. It was Ethel. At last, Mr. Jenner oh: it's drunk he was—laughed in a silly way, and coupled a low name with the name of Ethel. It was his last word. In a flash the big roan had him by the throat and on the ground. Then, swift and savage as any beast, he seized the drunken man's feet, swung the body in the air, and brought the head down crashing on the stones. He did it a second time, though the first had clone its work. Then he threw the body behind the stone heap and walked away. A thought seemed to strike hint and he cane back. He rifled the pock- ets, tore off every scrap of jewel- lery, then he vanished though the opposite hedge. Silence, and me and the dead than : I was too terri- fied to move. Ere strength return- ed to my limbs I heard a child's voice. Joe Murdoch came by, the little thing running before) him. Joe picked up something shiny from the ground. 1t was Mr. Jenner II. Percy Jenner was murdered on the lone road between Benertown and Jenner Hall. He was the last and least worthy of his race. His sweet -featured, gentle wife was worshipped by everyone. But as Percy Jenner in- creased in years he increased in ini- quities. He oscillated between the Hall and Benertown, where he con- sorted with his unequals in every- thing save drinking capacity. Ho left the town one afternoon to walk home us usual. His dead body was found behind a stone heap some hours later. Robbery was clearly the motive. Everything of value had been taken. The head had been dashed with terrific force against the stones. It was the work of a strong man as well as a bad one. A pro •able culprit was soon secured. An elderly pian, an un- attractive specimen of the tramp. was found in an outhouse. He was accompanined by a pretty little girl of three years, in whose possession was found Mr. Jenuer's silver pen- eil-case. Joe Murdoch protested his inno- cence. That, of course, was the usual farce within the tragedy. Ile admitted coming along the Benertown road, nut he had seen nothing save the shining trinket in the rcadw•ay, and he had given it to his grandchild as a plaything. The mills of justice started grind- ing. They ground Joe Murdoch ex- ceedingly small. He had sojourned in many a jail. Penal establish- ments had enjoyed his unwilling patronage. Prison governors testi- fied to his incorrigibility. Joseph admitted these things without em- barrassment, but lie protested that his hands were innocent of human blood. "I wouldn't 'a' done it for the kid's sake. She's kept me going straight for months." Joe's tribute to his nen integrity was ineffective. But the child ex- cited public interest. She was Norah Ewart. Her ancestry on the paternal side was lost ; i►er girl - mother had died in a workhouse some way back, and Joe had be• come sponsor to his daughter's ch..d. They were tramping the endless road together and the child's hap- piness was patent. Whatever the color of Joe Murdoch's soul, his place in little Norah's heart was secure. She would not bo separ- aced from him. The noose might soon be placed around that neck— meantinie the baby fingers entwined it confidently. It was a black ease; but it was against all precedent to send a man to the fate ho probably deserved without at least a pretence of a fight. The solicitors asked Eric Brewster to take the defence. His interest was at first purely professional, but closer intimacy impressed him. Joe's protests counted noticing; set Eric Brewster felt that, despite his rude and inde- fensible rode of ethics, Joe would, in happier circumstances, have been a white man. :!gain and again Erie felt that Joe had been unlifted by the child's influence, had caught a glimpse of better things through her pure eyes. "1 11 do my best for you, Joe. It may console you though it will not help you, to know that I hon- estly believe you innocent. But the odds are against you ; and the heav- iest odds will he on the Bench in the person of Lord Fimslie. But be of good courage -all that is humanly possible will be done. Next day in a crowded court they began to play for the high stake of a human life. Eric Brews- ter had neter encountered Lord Elmslie since that night in the libr- ary ; hut. in the first moves, he re- cognised that his lordship was in his worst mood. Everything jnrred. There was no mercy on the Bruch. Not...ng sbort of a miracle would dislodge from lord Elmslie's mind the intention of sending J.e Mur- doch to the scaffold for a crime he couldn t prove ho had not ct.romit- ted. Erie tried every artifre. He n'tid'iied every bit of evidence. ..Meme of it he barfly brui-,'I Ile veldt(' meth to his own repe.tation, but melting to the prison. is le.pes At the end of the long ties .toe Merdo,th steed rep in the direly• I do for you, kid's sake. I know you are inno- cent. 1 can lay hands on the guilty. But are you willing to de a stretch ,f penal for the kid's sake 1 If you will bear the brunt of this crime, iskiug no questions, 1 guarantee .hat your life will be spared. your .nipri-ounuent comparatively short, five thousand pounds will be put to Norah', credit. she eehtl become the ward of ins wife --all you o'er re- wind or dreamt for her will be realized if only you will suffer and he silent. \Vill you I" Joe rat mute. Ile was not. pon- terireg his decision ; he was indulg- ng his joy. 'You don't look mad, Mr. Brews- ter. 1'11 leave you to prove true vhat you tell me. Do 'time' for the ;id's sake! Gloiv: Fulfil half the pings you promised for her and I'd ,wing from the scaffold with joy." The rest was detail. Ten minutes ;laced for that. Then Erie Brews- e.r went from the prisoner's cell to tis judge's mansion. Lord Elmslie was frigid. Erie Brewster e -as unceremonious. "For two days I have never rest- ; for two night I have never slept. But I have succeeded in piecing together a story your lord - ;hip may care to hear. Forty years Ago Ethel Dunswold had a lover whom she loved. Though he was clever. be Was poor. For that cause her parents disapproved hien. They fa'ored Percy Jenner, who had caught but wealth to commend him. Their chattel was for sale, and Jen- ner bought it. For forty years Ethel Dunswold suffered the mar- riage—the wife incapable of loving, the husband unworthy of being loved. Meantime Percy Jenner's rival had gone his solitary way. It proved a high and brilliant ono. But he never met and never forgot the woman. He heard how she suff- ered and lie suffered with her. One day, when the pain of past joy was keen within hint, he decided to go to Percy Jenner and demand an ac- count and reckoning. On the Benertown road the rival encount- ered his victim. The pent-up pas- sion of forty years broke loose at the hateful sight. In a few minutes Percy Jenner was dead. The mur- dered crossed the fields to the little station of Kyston, and was in Lon- don, unknown and unsuspected, be- fore the hue and cry was out. 1 am sorry to go through these details, my lord. I know they are familiar to you. There is only one detail you do not know. On your last birthday your ncice presented you with a set of gold sleeve -links. 1 was with her when she purchased them. I see you are not wearing them. They are broken. But you may still have them repaired. There is the missing part. It was found near the body of Percy Jenner after he had been murdered—by Lord (Ainslie 1 ' The silence was intense. Each man steadily regarded the other. Lord Elmslie opened and closed hies desk. A revolver glistened in his right hand. "You arc clever," ho said, "but I will cheat you of your triumph. I have thought of doing this a thousand times before and since. This occasion will suit admirably. pencil -care that the murderer had My papers are all in order------" dropped. Joe gave it to the child ' "For Heaven's sake, don't! Tho passedand on, to ens. How Ig crept home tt1 know it 1 ve seenpart Jois e Mitt dock I have not. Fear kept Inc tongue-tied. I told him as much as I thought right, thought Joc would be free. Now and 1 have made terms which I im- plore brought you all the proof f' you to keep. Save Murdoch have that my tater is true. When from the hangman, imprison him the murderer lifted the body, he for as short a term as posible, set - used such violence that one of Isis in. five thousand on his grand - sleeve -links burst. Pert of it rolled child, and he will bear the brunt. 10 my hand. Ere I left 1 secure.l It is not justice, hut Joe is quits it. '!'lore it is, sir; though smell pleased. Remember Cora; spare use it can be to you.'Ler the shame of your suicide. Use dazed listener took the brink tour great influence at the Homo Office; write the Secretary now. To -morrow 1 shall arrange formali- ties for Norah Ewart's future. The prim of my service and silence yoa can guess. (ern and 1 will marry next month with your consent. Not even she will ever know the story; it will belong to you and me alone." Most people will remember that shortly after his niece's marriage to Mr. Eric Brewster, the great Lord Elmslie suddenly retired and spent the remaining three years of his life in deep seclusion. By his will he left £5,000 to his niece's word, Norah Ewart. Fifteen years later Norah Ewart. was the loveliest debutante of her season, and ere the close of it she had made one of the best matches. A strange incident took place at her gorgeous wedding. As the bride was leaving the church, a white• haired, rough looking old man knelt on the pavement and rever- ently kissed the fringe of her gown. Mr. Brewster instantly sent an at- tendant to detain old Joe, hut be was gone for ever, and the incident. remained to mystify the bride all her life. On the night of the wedding Mrs. itrewster was radiant with joy ab the happiness of the waif w h., Iiad become dear to het .+s any daughter. "Do you know, Eric," she said to her husband, "for a long time Norah was curious as to her ante- cedents. \Vhen she grew older I pegged that she would abandon all questioning. And she loyally res- pected my wish. 1 think it was wiser ne: •r to tell her the real "1 lute news for yon, see 1•,:,r fee.}„1 the .lenner murder case 'leek is Fafe. h hese tie. • .1 1 , •. -ter l:a'tily eonrutre& murderer of Percy Jenner et. He regarded it mechanically a moment. Then his hand closed on it swiftly, as if to hide it from her who had given it. "It .s a strange story, and you have done right in telling it. Tell it to no other. and no harm will come to you. Return to your home. Joe Murduch's life is now safe. But for your own sake, as much as for his, keep silence." Mrs. Carpin went out with a re- lieved conscience and a ten -pound note. Eric Brewster returned to his desk and set the sleeve -link before him. A long time he gazed as if fascinated. Then n great nctivitj possessed him. He hastily gathercel his papers, packed his bag, and left the house Inquirers next clay were informed that Mr. ltreester had been sud- denly called out of town. 11I. Two days after sentence Joc Mur- doch was visited by his counsel. Joe was almost cherful. "You did well, Mr. Brewster. No man could have done more. 1 don't mind the luck being against me. Hanging won't hurt, and Id ratter be hanged innocent than guilty. Why. I'd rather die than live, but for the kid's sake. What will become of her 1 They'll make Ler a parish brat. Perhaps some- one w•11 he cruel to her, and i w"e"t he by to prevent them. I'd be guilty of murder then, Mr. Brewster. By high Neaten, i wool(! ' dont indulge 1►op.•s of ret: r • e you hear the rtrauge prole ,.d brim;. 1t-'ar me t:e tee ere!, et 1 . • f,• meant was not the real fects of :•'r i., ,'1 sir► rale.h.ondon 1::•:...,.