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mmaaam^msm A FALLEN IDOL »Pp if «glM! 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 N •/ tytts CNNSYLVA /N NCWVOAlM !A LA \ ■W—O—E 39 too \\-m / f f? £ ri I ‘OHIO i_„___: r? I » ! 'h y . <#rv/ te •u *viricMt»rr rviuc "fw ( X WlTrtAUawKft Ik r jr </ T /••./^NlWMAAKtT Cj © / /V PHAftniiOHWN* ■ :: A? : KENTUCKY) <?- r' UKTOI4 , V-J -C'' J /TOACCNVIUt S«wt RtXlMftTOtf H*NJ l • % / 'V AOANOXC. 0 * /. X ,v \ flOCXo’MOVNTm V* J j v -------r---- LTCNNCSSCC N o R vT V H -1 © 1 ’ - , •VIWJTON-SMtn ' k Kt«*ciumte r ,m ~ 6RCtN*aM» i ■<^c\ L/-.S.) W. £: : r* 6Alt»NIA - r n t —i.—. ’> XlKlWU flMIN ■ v 5 h . JMaTA»9U**W.. _ -t\ M —ROUTt or THE— \ f IAV9NIA \ newtork-aiunta highway lAW*(N(t- 'ii'rtwtN \ VHU t&P m ? OOVTIANTA * car O V' N A 6 consul r 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.