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A FALLEN IDOL
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CHAPTER V. 7
Continued.
And while this conversation
being carried on Campion was
retracing his steps across the
for the mere pleasure of recalling
happy hour that had just fled; of as¬
sociating each step with some
ing word or look of his lady's
the lover in “Garden Fancies.” How
lovely she had looked, how sweet and
consoling she had been, how he loved
her. And the afternoon was gone,
and the tender spring twilight
far advanced before he had cooled
sufficiently to remember that
ought to be returning to
Road. He let himself in, not
a passing shiver at the sight of
packing cases by the door—his
jected pictures were inside
and found himself
assisting at an apparently animated
dispute in the painting room between
Bales and his wife, which was
ble from the entrance.
“If you don’t tell him, Marire, 1
shall, that’s all.”
“You will, will you, carry
against your own wife? Do, then.”
“I've got my dooty to do, and,
seein’ as I ain’t mixed up in it
way I feel no 'esitr.tion in doin’ of it. •
"Let me leave it on master's table,
Bales, :,nd say nothink—he won't no¬
tice anythink.”
“Won't he, Mrs. Bales?” said
Campion, showing himself at the
of the pain*irg room. “Why?”
Mrs. Bales put her hand to her
side. “Oh, sir,” she fauered,
didn't go for to do it.”
“There’s a woman all over,”
marked her devoted husband, "goes
and drops a letter down behind a cab¬
inet, where it might ha’ been lost al¬
together if I hadn’t come across it in
cleaning up.”
"I didn’t drop it down, neither, so
that’s how much you know,” retorted
Mrs. Bales. ”1 went o,ut of my way
to be careful, as it so happens, for it
came while you was out, and I put it
so it would ketch your eye, sir, and
to keep the draught from blowing it
away, I put it down with the corner
of that Hingian bust there, and that’s
the truth if I was to die!”
"Say what you like, Marire,” per¬
sisted the inexorable Bales, “you
can t get over the fact that I found
the letter down behind tho cabinet.
You can t trust women with no docu¬
ments, Mr. Campion, sir; their brains
ain't constructed for it.”
-Irs. Bales brought it out from un¬
derneath her apron. “I do hope it
ain’t of any importance, sir.”
Campion took the letter, which was
directed to him in a hand that
strangely resembled his own; the
postmark showed that it had been
delivered about a mouth ago.
it contained the first letter he
had written to Sybil after his change
of fortune, and for some time he
could not understand how this could
be, till it occurred to him that, in his
haste and excitement, he must have
inadvertently written his own name
and address'on the envelope in mis¬
take for Sybil's.
So there was the failure of one let¬
ter accounted for; was the non-deliv¬
ery of the other capable of an equal¬
ly simple explanation? He resolved
to question Bales more closely.
"You remember the letter I gave
you to post some days ago,” he said;
‘did you notice the direction?”
“You gave me many letters to
post,” said Bales gruffly; “was this
any partickler one?”
“It was one I gave you when you
■were taking this thing here down
stairs to be washed.”
“Oh,” said Bales, “the day I fell
down the kitching steps and cut my
head open. I remember.”
“Well, you told me afterward you
had posted it, you know.”
“in course I posted it—if I said
so.”
“No Bales,” put in his wife, “not
the day you broke your head against
the himage—not that day you didn’t.”
“What arq you cackling about, Ma¬
rire—how do you know what I did?”
“Because you never stirred out of
the house all that day; you mostly
laid on a chair and groaned, and
swore, you did, till I thought some¬
thing would come for you.” And
Mrs. Bales concluded by declaring
her conviction that he had the letter
somewhere about him still.
“Oh, you think so?” snarled the in¬
sulted man. “I’m not one of your
sort, though; there’s something on
reliable about me — you'd like to
make out I was no better than your¬
self, I dare say. Well, you won’t do
It. ”
“You might examine your pockets,
though, Bales,” suggested Campion.
“Oh, I’U do that cheerful. I ain't
afraid — there, you see, nothing in
that, is there, sir? Nor in tlpt, Ma¬
rire? Nor in—well, I needn't go on,
I should think?”
“No,” said Campion, “for. unless
I’m mistaken, there’s the latter.”
“What did I tell you?” cried Mrs.
Bales.
“I can’t account for it, sir,” said
the chapfallen Bales, “except that a
trifle of that kind will slip through a
split head, do what you will—there's
no call for you to snigger, Marire.
If you’d had my excuse I shouldn’t
have blamed you.”
Campion dismissed the couple to
continue their bickerings below, with¬
out expressing, or indeed feeling, any
great annoyance. Now that he
Sybil had met the fate of his
had become unimportant.
The second letter was correctly
dressed. he found, but had -»ot passed
through the post at all.
CHAPTER VI.
The Private View.
Let not my beloved love lie called idol idolatry, show.
Nor my as an
The hour was at hand to
Campion had been looking forward
so impatiently; it was about 2 in
afternoon when he turned into Old
Bond street from Picadilly.
A searching glance into the
chief rooms told him that those
came to see were not arrived as yet;
the place was in possession for
present of a few enthusiasts
were apparently unaware that
were making an eccentric use of
tickets in looking at the pictures.
But even these did their
with the temporary air of
studying a railway
and kept a furtive watch for
ances whom it might be desirable
recognize or be recognized by.
Campion, from the entrance
he stood could make out the frame
his portrait, which hung, as
had told him, in the best position
the opposite end of the room; how
adapted itself to Us surroundings
could not tell, as the glass which
tected the cknvas caught the light
a way that left the painting invisible.
But it was attracting an
that at such a place and time
flattering to a degree; a small
was always in front of it, and
passed it by with indifference.
Be was stepping hack until he
reached the proper point of view,
then all at once his soaring
dence dropped headlong like a
bird, as he saw the face of the
trait for the first time since it had
left his studio.
Was he mad or dreaming, or
was this horrible thing that had
pened to it? The bewitching face
which he had bestowed such
labor he now saw distorted as by
mirror of some malicious demon,
without losing a dreadful resem¬
blance to the original. Gradually
realized how subtle and
those alterations were, how
creamy warm hue of the cheeks with
the faint carminetinge had faded
a uniform dull white, and the
cately accented eyebrows which,
bined with the slightly Oriental
ting of the eyes, had given such
quancy to Sybil’s expression, were
clined at an ultra-Chinese
while the wide,
eyes were narrowed now and
tered with a shallow shrewdness.
Worst of all, tho smile with
sweet pretense of mutinous mockery
had spread into a terrible simper,
self-occupied, artificial and fatuous.
No longer did the idol on his can¬
vas serve to mark a contrast—it chal¬
lenged a comparison, and alas! not
unsuccessfully, for in appearance it
was distinctly the more pleasing of
the two. Its former ugliness had
been skillfully toned down, its flat
features rendered less uncouth, its
complexion transparently pure, and
its expression one of calm dignity
profound but unostentatious ben¬
evolence.
They made a grotesque pair, and
the resemblance of this strange look¬
ing girl to the quaint carved thing at
her elbow seemed to have been
worked out in a spirit of brutal cyni¬
cism, which found a repulsive pleas¬
ure in insisting upon so ludicrous
degrading an analogy.
Who could have worked this devil¬
ish transformation? Not he. He
would re&'st the very thought—yet
who else?
He advanced to meet Mrs. Stani¬
land and Sybil with a leaden uespon
dency.
Mrs. Staniland failed to notice him
for some time—engaged as she was
in a leisurely survey of people who
looked so like celebrities that they
were probably nothing of the kind,
but at the first sight of his agitated
face she laughed, not by any means
unpleased.
“Why, bless me!” she said.
“What are you looking like that for?
I’d no idea I was so alarming. Come!
if I was a little bit ruffled when we
last met, you ought to know better
than to take all I said literally.
There, we'll bear one another no
malice, and now you can go and talk
to Sybil. Well, Lionel, and how are
you ? ”
Sybil * as standing near, looking
radiantly lovely in the pretty spring
costume which set off her slender,
supple figure to such advantage.
“Now, you know where you must
take me first,” she said, joyously, and
then the sparkle in her eyes made a
last expiring leap.
“I can guess,” he said, thickly.
How was he to prepare her?
He stood before her downcast and
troubled. Something seemed to have
removed them immeasurably apart,
and Sybil felt that her lover had
never appeared to such disadvantage.
There was a scarcely perceptible safd:
change in her manner as she
“If my portrait isn’t here, after all,
why not tell me, Ronald?"
“It is hung,” he said, his lips
catching against one another as he
spoke; "only-^-” Aud ha f. r v,:;J
hopelessly.
Babcock Intervened her with an
air of graceful consideration. “The
truth is,” he explained, “I've been
telling Campion that he really ought
not to allow you to see the portrait
in its present state. Believe me, my
dear child, it is better not.”
"I should prefer to have a reason,
please,” said Sybil.
"What is this ail about—not see
the portrait!” exclaimed Mrs. Stani
land, “and pray, why are we to be the
only exceptions?”
"There have been alterations,”
said Campion.
“So you told ine yesterday,” said
Sybil. "But you said they would be
a surprise for me.”
“Which,” Babcock observed softly,
“I should hardly call an over-state¬
ment. ”
"Stuff and nonsense!” said the old
lady. "If the portrait is good enough
to be exhibited at all, I can’t see why
we shouldn’t be allowed to ook at it.
And Mrs. Honiton said it was admir¬
able. So if you won’t come with us,
Sybil and I must go alone, that’s all.”
"Let us go, Sybil,” said Campion,
desperately, and he led the way with
her to the fatal spot.
“If I were not perfectly certain I
shall have nothing to do but admire,”
said Sybil, “I should not come, but
indeed it’s too absurd of you, Ronald,
to lose confidence in yourself and in
me like this."
“Do you think so?” he said.
“Wait.”
Her pride was wounded by this
strange response. What had altered
him from the buoyant and ardent
Ronald of only yesterday? Could
this be the moment she had looked
forward to so confidently?
She stood for some moments before
cruelly elaborate caricature of
herself, and Campion at her side
could almost hear the blood surging
up into his brain.
At last she turned. Her eyes
were misted over as with pain, and
her face was a shade paler, but she
smiled, and he alone read the proud
contempt in the curve of her lips.
“It is not—not quite what I ex¬
pected to see,” she said, “but it is
very clever, and a complete surprise.
It would not have been at all right to
prevent me from seeing it.”
Then she turned from him to Bab
cock, who had come up with Mrs.
Staniland in tho meantime, “And
now,’’ she said, “suppose we go and
3ee something else.”
They moved away, Babcock noth¬
ing loath, and were followed a little
way by some whose curiosity was
still unslaked, and who would have
followed further but for the entrance
of a renowned beauty, with superior
claims to their attention.
Campion was left behind with Mrs.
Staniland, who was sternly taking in
every unfortunate detail of her
niece’s portrait, with pursed lips and
an occasional “Humph!” of indig
nant disgust, “Well, sir,” she said
at last, “have you anything to say for
yourself?”
“Only,” he said, “that. I have no
idea how it comes to look like that.”
“And this horrible image — what
made you put that in? Was it to
gratify me?”
“It was a mistake,” he said. “I
never thought till too late."
She turned away. He saw her
pause and put up her glasses in
search of Sybil, and then the crowd
closed on her and he was alone.
He stood staring blankly at his
picture, straining his eyes for some
evidence of an alien hand, with a
dreadful haunting fear that if he
looked long he would be compelled
to recognize it as all his, yet unable
to tear himself away.
CHAPTER VII.
A Painful Interview.
Campion was shown into the pleas¬
ant morning room, bright with daffo¬
dils and narcissus, where—as he had
earnestly hoped — he found Sybil
alone. She was standing by the man¬
telpiece, and ho thought she had been
crying, though her eyes were dry as
they rested on him for an instant.
He had rr^eant to go to her side at
once, but something in her glance
checked him, and he stood near the
door waiting for her to speak. At
last she said, in a rather muffled voice
and without looking at him, “You
might have warned me.”
“Of what?” he said.
“That I was—like that.”
“But—good heavens! you are not
like that. How can you think so?”
She gave a dfifeary little smile. “Of
course I don’t think so, really. I
know I’m not so hideous as that—you
thought so yourself once—but if I’m
not, what made you paint me so?”
“I never did paint you so,” he said,
eagerly.
“Can you prove it?” she said, and
her face seemed to lighten up with
sudden hope. “Oh, if you can only
show me I am wrong—-that it couldn’t
possibly have been you--”
He knew too well—the unhappy
man—that such evidence as could be
had would probably be unfavorable.
He dared not appeal to proof.
“Sybil,” he said, brokenly, “at
present I can’t. I may never be able
to prove that. I have only my word
—but is hot that enough?"
“No,” she said, “not now—not af¬
ter yesterday.”
“If you can misunderstand me so
cruelly,” he said, “I suppose it must
end here.”
“Yes, it must end,” said Sybil.
“Please go now; I cannot bear much
more. ”
“And to think how happy I was
yesterday about this time,” he said.
“Yesterday! Two hours ago—I was
happy then. And now?”
To be Continued.
The gold mines of ancient Egypt
have been re-opened by EngliJh cap¬
ital.
< 3 oob IRoabs.
THE NATIONAL HIGHWAY FROM
NEW YORK TO ATLANTA.
The Route Has Just Been Definitely
Selected.
After a thorough inspection of the
various routes between New York
and Atlanta, the route for the “Na¬
tional Highway” between the two cit¬
ies has been definitely selected. The
first public tour between North and
South has just been held over this
route. During the summer a thirty
horse power steamer made three trips
between New York and Atlanta over
as many different routes, and with
the aid of the data thus obtained the
official route has just been marked
•ut by the path-finding cars—a forty
horse power steamer, using kerosene
as fuel, and a twenty horse power
gasoline car. The steam car started
from New York on September 23 and
made a record trip southward, reach¬
ing Atlanta on September 30. The
gasoline car started northward from
Atlanta, and the two machines met
at Martinsville, Va., and from that
point proceeded southward together.
This path-finding trip was the first
extensive public road performance of
the White gasoline car, and it made a
splendid showing, keeping quite the
same pace as its larger factory mate
over the mountains of Virginia and
through the sand, mud and fords of
Georgia and the Carolinas. In such
splendid condition was the gasoline
car at the finish of its arduous 1100
mile journey that it was sold at a
premium immediately after its arrival
at Atlanta. The steamer also came in
for its share of public attention, part¬
ly because it made the trip southward
faster than it had ever been made be¬
fore by a motor car, and partly be¬
cause its use of kerosene as fuel was
an innovation in much of the country
through which it passed. The road
directions covering the National High¬
way were compiled by R. H. Johnston,
of the White Company, who drove
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the steam car from New York to At¬
lanta.
The route of tho New York-Atlanta
National Highway leads across Staten
Island, then to Trenton, crosses the
Delaware River at that point and
thence proceeds to Philadelphia.
From Philadelphia the route leads al¬
most due westward to Gettysburg
via Lancaster arid York. At Gettys¬
burg the route turns southward to
Hagerstown, thence to Shepherds
town. West Virginia, and from there
to Winchester. From this point the
route follows the famous Shenandoah
Valley pike to Staunton. From
Staunton the route proceeds south¬
ward via National Bridge to Roanoke.
South of Roanoke is a stretch of
about fifty miles across the mount¬
ains where the worst roads of the en¬
tire route are encountered. As soon
as the highway enters Noi-th Caro¬
lina better conditions are found, and
there are good roads almost all the
way across the State via Winston
Salem, Greensboro and Charlotte.
Greenville and Anderson are the prin¬
cipal towns in South Carolina through
which the route passes, and entering
Georgia the route proceeds via Roys
ton, Winder and Lawrenceville to At¬
lanta, the total distance from New
York being 1050 miles.
Yoakum Takes Strong Stand For
Good Reads.
The .thousands of people who are
giving careful thought and support to
the Good Roads Movement in the
United States will be interested in the
exceptionally practical co-operation
from a somewhat unexepeeted source.
Mr. B. F. Yoakum, who has vigor¬
ously maintained, for the Rock Isl
and-Frisco lines, that the interests of
the farmer and the railway are inter¬
dependent, and that those things
which benefit one must necessarily
benefit the other, has adopted some
very practical and original methods
to demonstrate his belief that the
railway and the farmer are natural
partners, and that the fullest success
of both depends upon proper co-op¬
eration.
The following from one of the New
York dailies indicates one of his
methods of emphasizing the economic
value of good wagon roads through¬
out the Southwest, which is served by
his lines:
“B. F. Yoakum, chairman of the
executive committee of the Rock Isl
and-Frisco lines, gave a party
presidents of farmers’ unions from
Texas, Arkansas, Louisiana and
an automobile ride over the
roads of New Jersey, New
Rhode Island, Massachu¬
Connecticut and New York, to
them what sort of roads they
to have in their native States.
automobile trip started from the
Hotel at Philadel¬
phia on Tuesday, September 22, un¬
the auspices of Frederick Gilky
son, chairman of tho New Jersey
Commission. Governor Fort
the guest of honor and delivered
short address on good roads to the
party at lunch at the Bartlett Inn,
Lakewood, N. J. The New Jersey
ended September 23, and the
left on the night train for Con¬
N. H., where the trip over the
England roads commenced. The
Governor of New Hampshire accom¬
the party part way. The route
from Concord to Nashua, Nashua
Boston, Boston to Providence and
to New Haven, and con¬
four days. The State High¬
Commissioner and a corps of en¬
accompanied the party irt each
to explain the roads. Mr.
accompanied the party on
the Now Jersey trip. Governor
Draper, of Massachusetts, was ten¬
dered a dinner by the good roads
party and members of the State High¬
way Commission in Boston. ’
The Current Issue, of Austin, Tex.,
on Mr. Yoakum’s plan,
“It is well known that on the grad¬
ed roads in the States over which the
party traveled, one horse will do the
same work as three or four on the
roads of Texas or Oklahoma.
In every State the commanding im
portance of good roads is recognized,
. just , , What kind to decide on and ,
how to go at the work to get the best
results for the least outlay is a prob
not so readily solved.
“In many localities road building is
new deal to the people.
“In comparatively new States they
have be3ii so busy making a living,
new sections of country un¬
cultivation, establishing homes
schools and churches and the
immediate necessities of civ¬
life, that they have managed to
along with any old kind of roads,
up in the slam-and-jam way that
all community road working
few days each year.
“But for several years there has
a disposition everywhere to se¬
something better.
“Commendable progress has been
too, in various counties in this
but all are forced to admit that
roads construction is only in the
stage here. The same is
of Oklahoma, Arkansas and
Hence there could hardly
anything more conducive to a bet
understanding of the subject and
sharpening the interest of the peo¬
in it than such a trip over the
pikes and graded highways
the heads of farmers’ organizations
Mr. Yoakum has just personally
“There is no need in this connec¬
to attribute to. him any extraor¬
altruism or philanthropy in
he has done.
“It is a practical business affair be¬
business associates or partners,
he said at Tulsa.
“Of course, the farmers adjacent to
roads will get their products to
somehow over any kind
wagon ways; but Mr. Yoakum
that first-class wagon roads
for better farming, and for put¬
every available acre under the
for ease and facility in moving
crop encourages and stimulates the
of more and better crops.
“The same section with good wagon
will give the railroad more
out and in than with bad
roads.
"What builds up the country and
its lands and resources to the
advantage also builds up the
business, and no man knows
better than B. F. Yoakum.
“He advances the railroad's inter¬
if he can help in advancing the
interests.
"That’s what he said in his notable
and that is what he is trying
briag out in a sensible and prac¬
v/ay.”
The attitude of the executive head
a great railway system is signifi¬
and should serve as a new im¬
to so important a movement.
Streets running north and south
the best health records.
Tho
Sunday=School
INTERNATIONAL LESSON COM
ME NTS FOR NOVEMBER 28.
Subject: Paul on Self-Denial—World's
Temperance Lesson, Rom. 14:
10-21—Golden Text: Rom. 14:
21—Commit Verses 19, 20.
TIME.—Sprihg, 5S A, D.
PLACE.—Corinth.
EXPOSITION.—I. Judge Not One
Another, But Help One Another, 10
.15. Therearethreethingsto mark well
in v. 12. (1) Who is to give account
—“each one of us.” Not one of us
shall escape that account. There is
not a man so great or obscure that he
will not be summoned. Are you
ready? (2) To whom are we to give
account—“to God.” That is the
dreadful thing about it and that is
the blessed thing about it. It is
dreadful to some because God is so
holy; dreadful, too, because He is
omniscient and His all-seeing eyes
look us through and through, and no
deed has been so covered, and no
thought or imagination so hidden,
but He knows them all. To Him xve
are to give account, and there is no
deceiving Him, and there can be no
false returns. It is blessed to some
because God is so loving, ?o just, so
tender, so discerning: Because “He
knoweth our frame.” and because He
is the One who redeemed; and how¬
ever poor and bad the account, has
been, we are glad to render it to Him.
I am glad that I am to render my ac¬
count to God, not to man. (3) Of
whom is each to render account—“of
himself.” Many of us act as if it was
of some one else we were to render
account. Those who are making the
inconsistencies of others an excuse
for not being Christians themselves
fetter ponder these words ° °"n carefully.
to Goa, wesnoula stop judging a one an
othor Food ig a very proper thing .
others may lav down laws for u 3 as
to what we should eat or not eat,
that have no warrant in God's Word,
and we may very properly laugh at
these man-made laws. Yet love is
the ruling principle of a Christian
life, and if our doing something that
in itself it is perfectly proper to do,
fs going to grieve some brother and
above all, lead him into sin and ruin,
how can we do it? Better have our
liberty curtailed magnify than have his soul
lost. If we our liberty to
the sacrifice of our brother’s soul we
‘‘walk no longer in love.” A true
Christian will forbear many things
about which in themselves he has no
compunctions of conscience lest he
destroy him “for whom Christ died.”
If. The Kingdom of God is Not
Meat and Drink, But Righteousness
and Peace and Joy in the Holy Ghost,
16-23. Liberty is given us but we
may so use it that it is evil spoken
of and becomes a source of evil. The
real proof that we are in the kingdom
of God and that the kingdom of God
is in us, is not found in our scrupu¬
lousness, or lack of scrupulousness,
In eating and drinking, but in our
manifesting righteousness in our
lives, having peace in our hearts (ch.
15:13). and manifesting it toward
our fellow men (v. 19; ch. 15:18),
and being filled with joy “in the Holy
Ghost.” Many of those whom I have
known who were most scrupu¬
lous regarding what they drink,
have given least proof of being
in the kingdom by the test of this
verse. The object of our pursuit is
t.o be, the things which make for
peace, the things whereby we may
build one another up. How many of
our pet hobbies we must lay on the
shelf if we obey God’s cornnfand in
verse 19. They do not make for
peace and they do not build up. But
we are so fond of them and delight to
draw them out on every occasion. It
is better, however, to obey God. Peace
and growth are far skiiftjl more important in
the church than hair-splitting.
The true. Christian principle of total
abstinence is found in verse 21. It
applies to the question of the use of
Intoxicating liquors. It applies also
to a great many other things. It will
go far toward settling many questions
that are troubling Christians as to
whether they should do this or that.
It is not merely a question as to
whether the thing is wrong in itself,
or whether you will be hurt yourself
by it, but the real question is, will
any one be injured, made to stumble,
by my doing it? I cannot have meat
or drink or any other indulgence as a
lover of my fellow men and a follow¬
er of Jesus Christ if thereby I destroy
the work of God. I know that all
meats are clean, but I know that
many cannot eat them with a clear
conscience and they are evil for that
man. If any one else will be injured
by my indulgence, no matter how in¬
nocent the thing itself may be, and
how harmless it may be to me, I will
not do it. It is well to have faith,
but it is well to have the love that
has faith to itself and does not injure
others by the exercise of its own
faith. “Happy indeed is the man
who eondemneth not himself in that
thing which he approveth.” But if a
man does that about which not only
others condemn him, but about which
his own conscience has doubts, then
he is condemned indeed. “Whatever
is not of faith is sin.” This is a broad
and searching definition of sin. You
may keep saying to yourself, “I do
not believe this thing is wrong. A
great many good people do it,” but if
you yourself have doubts in your
mind about it, if you are not absolute¬
ly clear it is the will of God, then it
is sin in you. The question is not, are
you sure the thing is whoDg? The
question is, are you perfectly sure it
1* right?
Easy Money.
Kid wilh the weed—Yis, boys, I
:-aw the show at the circus. I carried
tie manager’s grips up from de sta¬
tion. blacked hie boots, brushed his
clothes; run half a dozen errends fer
him, an’ peddled hand bills fer six
hours an’ he give mo a ticket fer
nothin.’
It is doubtful if even the flying
machine will enable us to occupy our
air castles.