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SUNDAY, JUNE 15.
A Man in The Open
A Mama in
the Open
By
Roger Pocock
Illustrations by
Ellsworth Young
Ocpyrignt, 1212, tho Bobbft-MerriU Oompao?
Copies containing the pre
vious chapters of this story
can be had at The Herald Of
fice,
(Continued from Yesterday)
chapter v.
The Burning Bush.
Among the Indians, before a boy
gets rated warrior, he goes alone afoot,
naked, starvin’ thirsty, way off to the
back side of the desert. Thar he just
waits, suns, weeks, maybe a whole
moon, till the Big Spirit happens to
catch his eye. Then the Big Spirit
shows him a stick, or a stone, or any
sort of triflin’ common thing, which
is to be his medicine, his wampum,
the charm which guards him, hunt
ing, or in war.
Among them Bible Indians you’ll re
member a feller called Moses, out at
the back side of the desert, seen the
Big Spirit in a burning bueh. Later
his tribe set up a medicine lodge, and
the hull story’s mighty natural.
This Indian life explains a lot to
men like me.
Many find peace in death, only a
few in life, and I found peace tbar in
the wilderness, the very medicine of
torn souls, fre3h from the hand of the
Almighty Father.
And I found wealth. Seems there’s
many persons mistaking dollars for
i )me sort of wealth. I’ve had a few
at times by way of samples, the things
which you’re apt to be selfish with,
or give away to buy self-righteousness.
Reckoning with them projuces the
feeling called poverty. They’re the
very stuff and substance of meanness,
and no man walks straight-loaded.
Dollars gets lost or throwea away,
or left to your id ext of kin, but they’re
not a good and lasting possession. I
like ’em, too.
I found peace, I found wealth, yes,
and found something more thar in the
wilderness. Sweet as the cactus for
est In blossom down Salt River Is
that big memory.
It was after I’d found the things
Of happy solitude. I’d gone to work
then for the Bar Y outfit, breaking
the Lightning colts. We was out a
Ifew weeks from home, taking an out
fit of ponies as far as the Mesa Abaho,
and one night camped at the very rim
rock of the Grand Canyon. The Nar
vajo Indians was peevish, the camp
dry, grass scant, herd in a rafish
mood, and night come sudden.
I’d just relieved a man to get his
supper, and rode herd wide alert, I
scented the camp smoke, saw the
spark of fire glow on the boys at rest,
and heard their peaceful talk hushed
In the big night. They seemed such
triflin’ critters full of fuss since dawn,
so small as insects at the edge of
nothin’, while for miles beneath us
that old, old wolfy Colorado River was
playing the Grand Canyon like a fid
dler. But the river in the canyon
seemed no more than trickle in a
crack, hushed by the night, while over
head the mighty blazing stars—point,
swing, and drive, rode herd on the
milky way. And that seemed no more
than cow-boys driving stock. Would
God turn His head to see His star
herds pass, or notice our earth like
some lame calf halting in the rear?
And what am I, then?
That was my great lesson, more
gain to me than peace and wealth of
mind, for I was humbled to the dust
of earth, below that dust of stars. So
a very humble thing, not worth pray
ing for, at least I could be master of
myself. I rode no more for wages, but
cut out my ponies from the Lightning
herd, mounted my stud horse William,
told the boys goodby at Montecello,
and then rode slowly north into the
British possessions. So I come at last
.to this place, an old abandoned ranch.
There’s none so poor In dollars as to
envy ragged Jesse, or rich enough to
want to rob my home. They say
there’s hidden wealth vyhar the rain
bow goes to earth—that’s whar I live.
par; two
CHAPTER !,
Two Ships at Anchor.
Kate’* 'Narrative.
My horse was hungry, and wanted
to get back to the ranch. I was hun
gry too, but dared not go. I had left
my husband lying drunk on the kit
chen floor, and when hb woke up it
would be worse than that.
For miles I had followed the edge
of the bench lands, searching for the
place, for the right place, some point
where the rocks went sheer, twelve
’Jdindred feet into the river. _The£e
must be nothing to break the fall, no
risk of being alive, of being taken
hack there, of seeing him again. But
the edge was never sheer, and per
haps, after all, the place by the Soda
Spring was best. There the trail from
the ranch goes at a eharp turn, over
the edge of the cliffs and down to the
ferry. Beyond there are three great
pines on a hpadiand, and the cliff is
sheer for at least five hundred feet.
That should be far enough.
I let my horse have a drink at the
spring, then we went slowly on over
the soundless carpet of pine needles.
I would leave my horse at the pines.
Somebody was there. Four laden
pack-ponies stood in the shade of the
tree®, switching their tails to drive
away the flies. A fifth, a buckskin
mare, unloaded, with a bandaged leg.
stood in the sunlight. Behind the
nearest tree a man was speaking. I
reined my horse. “Now you, Jones,”
he was saying to the injured beast,
"you take yo’self too serious. You
ain’t goin’ to Heaven? No! Then
why pack yo’ bag? Why fuss?”
I had some silly idea that the man,
if he discovered me, would know what
business brought me to this headland.
I held my breath.
His slow, delicious, Texan drawl
made me smile. I did not want to
Emile. The mare, a very picture of
misery, lifted her bandaged, frightfully
swollen leg, and hobbled into the
shade. I did not want to laugh, but
why was she called Jones? She
looked Just like a Jones.
“The inquirin’ mind,” said the man
behind the tree, “has gawn surely
astray from business, or you’d have
know’d that, rattlers smells of snake.
Then I asks—why paw?”
The mare, with her leg 3 all
astraddle, snorted in his face.
“Sugar is it? 'Why didn’t you say
so befo’?”
Jones turned her good eye on the
man as though she had just discovered
his existence, hobbled briskly after
him while he dug in his kitchen boxes,
made first grab at the sugar bag, and
got her face slapped. The man, always
with his eye upon the mare, returned
to his place, and sat on his heel as be
fore. “Three lumps,” he said, hold
ing them one by one to be snatched.
I "You’re acting sort of convalescent,
j Jones. No more sugar. And don’t
be a hawg!”
; The mare was kissing his face.
“Back of all! Back water! Thar
i now, thank the lady behind me!”
And I had imagined my presence
still unknown!"
“How on earth,” I gasped, “did you
I know I was here?”
The man’s eyes were still intent
‘ upon the wounded mare. “Wall, Mrs.
1 Trevor,” he drawled.
“You know my name? Your back
has been turned the whole time!
You’ve never seen me In your life—>
at least I’ve never saen you!”
j “That’s so,” he answered thought
; fully. “I don’t need tellln’ the sound
j of that colt yo’ husband bought from
me. As to the squeak of a lady’s pig
skin saddle, thar ain’t no other lady
rider short of a hundred and eighty
three and a half miles.”
What manner of man could this be?
. My colt was drawing toward him all
the time as though a magnet pulled.
He stood facing me, the bag still in
his hand, and my colt asking pointed
ly for sugar. Very tall, gaunt, deeply
tanned, perhaps twenty-five years of
age, he seemed to me immeasurably
old, so deeply lined was his face. And
yet it was the face of one at peace. I
had been away since daybreak, and
now the sun was entering the west.
As to my purpose, that I felt could
wait.
So I sat under the pines, pretending
to nurse Jones while the shadows
lengthened over the tawny grass, and
orange needles flecljed fields of rock,
out to the edge of the headland.
The man unsaddled my horse, un
loaded his ponies, fetched water from
the spring of natural Apollinaris, but
when, coming back, he found me light
ing a fire, he begged me to deelst, to
rest while he made dinner. And I
was glad to rest, thinking about the
peace beyond the edge of the head
land. Yet it was interesting to see
how a man keeps 'house in the wilder
ness, and how different are his ways
from those of a woman. No housewife
could have been more daintily clean,
or Bhown a swifter skill, or half the
silent ease with which this woodsman
made the table-ware for one, enough
to serve two people. But a woman
would not clean a frying-pan by burn
ing it and throwing on cold water. He
sprinkled flour on a ground sheet,
and made dough without wetting the
canvas. Wou'd I like bread, or slap
jacks, or a pie? He made a loaf of
bread, in a frying pan set on edge
among glowing coals, and, wondering
how a pie could possibly happen with
out the assistance of an oven, I forgot
all about that cliff.
The thing I had intended was a
crime, and conscience-stricken, I
dreaded lest he ehould speak. I could
not bear that. Already his camp was
cleaned and in order, his pipe filled
and alight, at any moment he might
break the restful silence. That’s why
I spoke, and at random, asking if he
were not from the United States.
His eyes said plainly, "So that’s the
game, eh?” His broad smile said,
"Well, we’ll play." He sat down,
cross-legged. “Yee,” he answered, "I’m
an American citizen, except,” he added
softly, “on election days, and then,”
he cocked up one shrewd eye, “I’m
sort of British. Canadian? No, I
cayn’t claim that either, coming from
the Labrador, for that’s Newf’nland, a
> day’s march hearer 'home.
“Say, Mrs. Trevor, you don’t know
my name yet. It’d Smith, and with
my friends I’m mostly Jesse.”
“If you please, may I be one of your
friends?”
“If I behave good, you may. No
harm in my trying.”
The moment Jesse Smith had given
me his name, I knew him well by rep
utation. Comments by Surly Brown,
the ferryman, and my husband’s bitter
hatred had outlined a oaugerous char
acter. Nobody else lived within a
day’s journey.
“That’s my home,” said Jesse. “D’ye
see a dim trail jags down that upper
cliff? That’s whar I drifted my ponies
down when I came from the States.
I didn’t know of the wagon road from
Hundred Mile House to the ferry,
which runs by the north end of my
ranch.”
“And the tremendous grandeur of
the place?”
“Hum. I don’t claim to have been
knocked all in a heap with the scen
ery. No. What tdok holt of me good
and hard was the company—a silver
top b’ar and his missus, both thou
sand pounders, with their three young
ladies, now mar’ied and settled beyond
the sky-line. There’s two couples of
prime eagles still camps along thar
by South Cave. The timber wolf I
trimmed out because he wasted around
like a remittance man. Thar was a
stallion and his harem, this yere fool
Jones bein’ one of his young mares.
Besides that, there was heaps of 111’
friendly folks in fur, hair, and feath
ers. Yes, I have been right to home
since I located.”
“But grizzly bears? How frightful!”
“Yes. They was frightened at first.
The coarse treatment they gets from
' hunters, makes them sort of bashful
with any stranger.”
“But the greatest hunters are afraid
of them.”
“The biggest criminals has got mo3t
scare at police. B’ars has no use for
sportsmen, nor me neither. My rifle's
heaps fiercer than any b’ar, and I’ve
chased more sportsmen than I has
grizzlies.”
“Wasn’t Mr. Trevor one of them?”
Jesse grinned.
“Tell me,” I said, for the other side
of the etory must be worth heariug.
i “Wall, Mr. Trevor took out a sum
| mins agin me for chasing him off my
ranch. He got fined for having no gun
license, and no dawg license, and not
paying his poll-tax, and Cap Taylor
bound him over to keep the peace. I
ain’t popular now with Mr. Trevor,
whereas he got off cheap. Now, If
them b’ars could shoot—”
I hadn’t thought of that. "Can they
be tamed?” I asked.
"Men can be gentled, and they needs
taming most. Thar was three grizzlies
sort of adopted a party by the name
of Capen Adams, and camped and
traveled with him most familiar. Once
them four vagrants promenaded on
Market Street in ’Frisco. Not that I
holds with this Adams in misleading
his b’ars among man-smell so strong
and distrackful to their peace of mind.
! But still I reckon Capen Adams and
me sort of takes after each other. I’m
only attractive to animals."
"Oh, surely!” I laughed.
But Jesse became quite dismal. "I’m
not reckoned,” he bemoaned himself,
“among the popular attractions. The
Neighbors shies at coming near my
: ranch.”
“Well, if you protect grizzlies and
hunt sportsmen, surely It’s not surpris
, ing-”
i “Can’t please all parties, eh? Wall,
perhaps that’s how" the herd Is graz-
I lng. Yes. Come to think of It, I re
member oncet a Smithsonian grave
robber comeß to inspeck South Cave.
He said I’d got a bone yard of ancient
| people, and he’d rob graves to find
I out all about them oiden times. He
! wanted to catch the atmosphere of
j them days, so I sort of helped. Rob
i bing graves ain’t exactly a holy voca
| tion, the party had a mean eye. a Ger
: man name, and a sort of patronizing
I manner, but still I helped around to
get him atmosphere, me and Eph.”
“Who’s Eph ?”
“Oh, he’s just a silver-tip, what sci
entific parties calls ursus borribilis
ord. You just cast your eye whar the
trickle stream falls below my cabin.
Dye see them sarvis -berry bushes
down below the spray?”
“Where the bushes are waving? Oh,
look, there’s a gigantic grizzly stand
ing up, and pulling the branches!”
“Yes, that’s Eph.
“Well, as I was tellin* you, Eph and
me is helping this scientific person to
: get the atmosphere of them ancient
1 times.”
"But the poor man would die of
fright!”
j “Too busy running. When he reached
Vancouver, he was surely a cripple
though, and no more use to science,
j Shall I call Eph?”
"I think not to-day,” said I, hurriedly
rising, “for indeed I should be getting
home at once.’’
Without ever touching the wound,
he had given me the courage to live,
had made my behavior of the morning
seem that of a silly schoolgirl; hue
still I did not feel quite up to a social
introduction. I said I was sure that
Eph and I would have no interests In
common.
“So you’ll, go home and face the mu
sic?” said Jesse’s wise old eyes.
“My husband,” said I, “will be get>
ting quite anxious about me.”
Without a word he brought my
horse and saddled him.
And I, with a sinking heart, con
trasted the loneliness and the horror
THE AUGUSTA HERALD, AUGUSTA, GA„
which' was called my “home” with ail
the glamour of this man’s happy soli
tude.
He held the etirrup for me to mount,
offered his hand.
“Do you never get hungry,” I asked,
"for what’s beyond the horizon?”
He sighed with sheer relief, then
turned, his eyes seeing infinite dis
tances. "Why, yes! That country
beyond the sky-line’s always calling.
Thar’s something I want away off. and
I don’t know what I want.”
"That land beyond the sky-line’#
called romance.”
He clenched his teeth. “What does
a ship want when she strains at an
chor? What she wants is drift. And
I’m at anchor because I’ve sworn off
drift.”
At that we parted, and I went slow
ly homeward, up to my anchor. Dear
God! If I might drift!
CHAPTER 11.
The Trevor Accident.
N. B. —Mr. Smith, while living alone,
had a habit of writing long letters to
his mother. After his mother’s death
the habit continued, but as the let
ters could not be sent by mail, and
to post them in the stove seemed to
suggest unpleasant ideas, they were
stowed in his saddle wallets.
Dear Mother in Heaven:
There’s been good money in this
hero packing contract, and the wad in
my belt-pouch has been growing till
Doctor McGee suspeclts a tumor. He
thinks I’ll let him operate, and sure
enough that would reduce the swell
ing.
Once a week I take my little pack
outfit up to the Sky-line claim for a
load of peacock copper. It rum three
hundred dollars to the ton In horn
silver, and looks more like jewels than
mineral. Iron Dale’s cook, Mrs. Jub
bin, runs to more species of pies and
cake than even Hundred Mile house,
and'after dinner I get a rim-fire cigar
which pops like a cracker, wiiile I zlt
in front of the scenery and taste the
breath of the snow mountains. Then
I load the ponies, collects Mick out
of the cook house, which he’s partial
to for bones. Iron slings me the mail
pouch, and I hits the trail, I aim to
make good hush grass in the yellow
pines by dusk, and the second day
brings me down to Brown’s Ferry,
three miles short of my home. From
the ferry there’s a good road in win
ter to Hundred Mile House, so I tote
the cargoes over there by sleigh.
There my contract ends, because Tear
ful George takes on with his string
team down to the railroad. I’d have
that contract, too, only Tearful is a
low-lived sort of a person, which can
feed for- a dollar a week, whereaß
when I get down to the railroad I’tu
more expensive.
Your affectionate son, JESSB.
Rain-storm coming.
P. S.—Yes, Its a good life, and I
don’t envy no man. Still It made me
sort of thoughtful last time as I swung
along with that Jones mare snuggling
at my wrist, little Mick snapping rear
heels astern, and the sun just scorch
ing down among the pines. Women is
infrequent, and spite of all my expe
riences with the late Mrs. Smith—
most fortunato deceased, life ain’t all
complete without a mate. It ain’t no
harm to any woman, mother, if I Just
varies off my trail to survey the sur
rounding stock.
Mrs. Jubbin passes herself off for
a widow, and all the boys at the mine
take notice that she can cook. Apart
from that, she’s homely as a barb-wire
fence, and Bubbly Jock, her husband,
ain’t deceased to any great extent, be
ing due to finish his sentence along in
October, and handy besides with a
rifle.
Then of the three young ladles at
Eighty Mile, Sally is a sound proposi
tion, but numerously engaged to the
stage drivers and teamsters along the
Cariboo Road. Miss Wilth, the school
ma’am, keeps a widow mother with
tongue and teeth, so them as smells
the bait Is ware of the trap. That’s
why Miss Wilth stays single. The
other girl Is a no-account young per
son. Not that I’m the sort to shy at
a woman for squinting, the same being
quite persistent with sound morals,
but I hold that a person who
scratches herself at meals ain’t never
quite the lady. She should do it pri
vate.
There’s the Widow O’Flynn on the
trail to Hundred Mile, —she’s harsh,
with a wooden limb. Besides she
wants to talk old times in Abilene. I
don’t.
While I’ve mostly kep’ away from
the married ladies, and said “deliver
us fiom temptation” regular every
night, there was no harm as I came
along down, in being sorry for Mrs.
Trevor. Women are reckoned mighty
cute at reading men, but I’ve noticed
when I’ve struck the complete polecat,
that bo's usually married. So long as
a woman keeps her head she’s wiser
than a man, but when she gets rattled
she’s a sure fool. She’ll keep her
head with the common run of men,
but when she strikes the all-round
stinker, like a horse runs into a Are.
she ups and marries him. Anyway,
Mrs. Trevor had got there.
Said to be Tuesday.
Trip before last was the first time
I seen this lady. Happens Jones reck
oned she'd been appointed inspector
of snakes, so I’d had to lay oft at the
spring, and Mrs. Trevor comes along
to get shut of her trouble. She’s hun
gry; she ain’t had anything but her
prize hawg to speak to for weeks, and
she’s as curious as Mother Eve. any
way.
(To Be Continued Tomorrow)
DieSILU^SIONBO.
“What do you mesn, sir?'’ asked th«
indignant, maiden as she extricated her
self from her eager lower's arms.
“That you are my chance for happl
"es-,” he crifld, rapturously, “and I al
ways embrace an opportunity.”
“Nay." she returned coldly, “In this
case you were but hugging a delusion.’’
—Weekly Telegraph.
DENY HIM
LL DENY OS
IF WE
HEWi
Repudiation of Christ Is a Grow
ing Sin, Says Pastor Russell,
SOUNDS NOTE OF WARNING
Faith Is Waning—Learned and Rich
Already Faithless—The Common Peo
ple Becoming So Rapidly—The Rich
Substitute Pleasures—The Poor Have
No Substitute—Together the Ingraft
ing of Hopelessness With Intelli
gence Means Anarchy—Old Creeds
No Longer Endurable—Tho Gospel of
tho Kingdom the Only Hope.
Dallas, Texas.
June B.—The wide
ly known Pastor
C. T. Russell,
spoke twice here
today. We report
his discourse from
Ihe words of St.
Paul, “If we deny
Him, He also will
deny us.” (2 Tim
othy 2:12.) The
address which we
are not reporting
was the more pnb-
Uc one. The Pastor is in the sixties,
white-haired, and of kindly, earnest
speech which convinces the hearer of
liis sincerity. He said;
One of old prayed. “Give me neither
poverty nor riches; * * * lest I lie full,
and deny Thee, and say. Who is the
Lord? or lest 1 bo poor, and steal, and
take the name of the Lord my God in
vain.” (Proverbs 80:8, 0.) Great riches
have come to the world within the
past sixty years, especially in Europe
and America. Instead of the hearts of
the prosperous uplifting with gratitude
to God, the tendency seems to be away
from God, and especially aw\y from
His Son, and away from all special
thought of a share in His redemptive
work, or a need of it. The pleasures
of this life crowd out all pleasure
In respect to future hopes and pros
pects.
There was a time when miserliness
and hoarding seemed to have control
cfl all business men. But with the
growth of wealth have come saner and
more reasonable views of justice. The
folly of merely accumulating money
and leaving it to others to squander
has Impressed men of wealth. The
rich of America and Europe are giving
themselves more leisure In the prime
of life, and giving room for others to
take their places in the commercial
world. However, especially in Ameri
ca. there seems to he a restlessness
which, turned aside from business,
leads Into headlong pleasure seeking.
It cannot be disputed that activity is
life, that Inactivity spells death. None
could wish that our great business men
would become sluggards. Our wish
should rather be that their matnrer
years might be gratuitously devoted to
the promotion of philanthropic plans
for the aid of the lower classes, along
social and economic lines. It is our
conviction (hat millions of money be
sides their own would (low into such
hands for disbursement along broadly
economic lines. The motives would
be distrusted unless tho projects were
conducted on the highest plane of be
nevolence, with open accounts.
There is room for such benevolence'
In every land, but nowhere Is It more
needed than in countries under British
and American control—where commer
cialism has absorbed some of the ablest
talent, leaving comparatively little op
portunity for tile loss progressive. All
over Great Britain and in nearly every
state of the Union there are splendid
opportunities for such beneficent
works. When these civilized lands
have been blessed, there are thp teem
ing millions in India, which merely
exist under conditions not fit for a
good dog.
All these are our brethren of the one
blood. St. Paul declares. No one will
dispute the necessities of tho case. Tlnj
sympathetic are greatly appalled with
tho thought of the amount of money
and labor that would be necessary to
cope with the conditions. Met.hinks
that Heaven looks interestedly on to
noto how our showers of blessings anil
riches are affecting our hearts, said the
Pastor.
The Responsibility of Knowledge end
Riches.
lam not. Judging the wealthy. lam
merely sounding a note of warning, as
the Apostie Paul urged, saying, Warn
those who are rich In this world that
they trust not In uncertain riches. (1
Timothy 6:17.) I believe that amongst
the rich there are many noble, benevo
lent Christian hearts which are In per
plexity as to what to do or not to do,
with their time and their riches. I am
merely offering suggestions based upon
my observation In all parts of the
world. The need Is tremendous.
It seems to me that the Lord, in
pouring upon the professed Christian
people so great wealth as has come to
them In recent years Is proving them,
testing them. Inasmuch as they do
or do not do according to their oppor
tunities and Judgment, they will bear
or not hear the Master’s "Well done,
thou good and faithful servant” Let
us make no mistake. The poor and
less prosperous and less educated are
fast following the example set by tin
satisfied. Pleasure-seeking Is the trend
of the whole world. God Is being ?*r
gotten by the poorer, as wel! as by the
wealthier, ami the end of the lane Is
USE HERALD WANT ADS
uot far off—“a time of trouble such as
never was since there was a nation”—
worldwide anarchy.—Daniel 12:1.
Churchianity Not Christianity.
With the awakening of true Chris
tianity—heart Christianity—has come
a substitute: namely, Churchianity.
For years Christian faith has been
gradually declining, under the attacks
of Higher Criticism, Evolution, and un
der the neutralizing influence of the
love of pleasure. Gradually uue Bible
doctrine after another has been quietly
dropped, while Churchianity has been
brought to the front more and more as
a form of godliness, but wholly desti
tute of its power.
Conditions in Great Britain and
America are serious indeed, yet not to
he compared with the conditions of the
Germanic and Latin naUons. In
France probably not more than two per
cent, of the population have any real
faith, iu Germany probably less than
ten percent. In America probably not
more than twenty per cent., and in
Great Britain probably not more than
thirty per cent, still trust in the living
God, and a still smaller per cent, re
gard the Bible us His Inspired Message,
and seek to bo guided thereby. How
short a distance the world has to go to
ignore it entirely!
Are the Masses Not Christians?
To the question, the Pastor said, two
answers might lie given: one answer
might be that nil civilized people claim
to bo Christians, in other words, the
term Christianity has hqpn substituted
lor civilization in tho miftds of tho peo
ple. As one gentleman replied to this
question: “We are certainly not Jews,
nor heathens, I reckon therefore we
must be Christians.”
The other answer to tho question,
the Pastor said, was that a Christian
Is one who professes to believe the
teachings of Jesus and His Apostles,
and who professes consecration, in his
daily life following those teachings and
the example which illustrated them.
This, the Master’s view of Christian
ity, and the Apostolic view, the Pastor
declared to lie his own view. Let us
see, ho said, to what extent the teach
ings of Christ and /ho teachings of the
Bible are still believed.
How few believe that. Jesus existed
as a spirit being before He was born
of a virgin in order to become the
“Man Christ Jesus”—ln order to lie
qualified (o give Ilia life a Ransom
price for the forfeited life of Adam!
How few believe that He really did
die at all! What the majority believe
on tho subject seems to bo that He
merely appeared to die on the cross,
but really was as much alive as ever
In some spiritual sense. How few be
lieve that He really arose on the third
day—the majority seemingly believing
that in some way the Bible account is
untrue; and that if Jesus arose at all,
He experienced that resurrection on
the cross!—Luke 24:46; Acts 10:40.
Or coming down to tho effect of
Christ's death as respects the forgive
ness of sins, said the Pastor, how few
have any serious conviction that they
need a Savior, or that they could not
come to God, if they wished to, without
n Redeemer, without a sacrifice, with
out an Advoonte with the Father! It
would appear as though the attempt of
the last fifty years to ignore doetrlues,
Instead of coireotlnff the doctrines of
the past In the present light on the Bi
ble bas been a great mistake, which Is
now bearing its Injurious fruit in that
very few Christian people know defi
nitely what they believe or what the
Bible teaches on any subject.
The effect of nil this on the rising
generation is disastrous. They see the
doctrines of nil denominations discred
ited in pulpit and pew, and especially
in the colleges. They perceive that the,
Bible is classed with the creeds, and is
claimed to he their foundation. This
Is the alarming mistake. The sooner
wo get rid of the creeds of the Durk
Ages, the better for us. But If we
lose the Bible, are we not In danger of
losing nil that has tended to steady
our civilization—the foundation of all
our faith and hope beyond the present
life?
The Loan Is Greater to Some.
The majority of mankind, with
strong auijnal tendencies which need
to he curbed, require an incentive for
that curbing. Kuch an Incentive the
Bible gives In Its promise of everlast
ing life. But Ibo misstatement of our
creeds Is, that all have eternal life with
out Iho Life giver, and that the ques
tion merely Is whether wo will spend
that eternal life In Joy or In misery.
This proposition has become so trans
parently Illogical that It Is generally re
pudiated. Human justice falls to ap
predate as justice at nil an arrange
ment which would create a race with
the foreknowledge and foreintention
that nearly all of thut race would suf
fer torture throughout eternity. In pro
portion as that theory advocated In the
creeds of the Dark Ages is still pro
claimed, In that same proportion Intel
ligent. minds repudiate everything, and
denounce all religious teachings as
priestcraft.
The average man needs the Message
of life and hope which the Gospel
holds out for him In tho future In or
der to make the trials, the discourage
ments and the sorrows of the present
life endurable, and in order that these
may operate In him, may serve him as
lessons In character development.
In Kingston. Jamaica. I learned that
class distinctions, hatred arid animos
ity are growing, and that the minis
ters of tho Christian Churches there
are having more and more difficulty In
maintaining an Interest In religions
matters, more and more difficulty in
securing audiences. Yet when my sub
ject was announced. Indicating a hope
beyond the grave. Kingston’s largest
auditorium was packed solid, nearly as
many standing as had seats, and as
many more were turned away—about
four thousand altogether. The local
clergy were astonished, and tried to |
i
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account for such wonderful interest in
religion.
Finally the minister of the Anglican
Church remarked to the Presbyterian
minister and myself that the secret of
the matter lay In the I was
preaching to the people a Gospel of
Hope. I quite agreed with this, and
trust that the ministers in Kingston
may be encouraged to proclaim the
same God of Love, the same Gospel of
Hope heyoud the grave—a hope for
the saintly of becoming joint-heirs with
Christ in His Kingdom; a hope for tho
remainder of the race, that they will
receive only just and reasonable
stripes, or punishments for sins, pro
portionate to their wilfuiness—and
that withal the Lord's arrangement is
graciously to grant all mankind an op
portunity of restoration to human per
fection In a world-wide Eden. All this
is to ho brought about through Mes
siah’s Kingdom, and that Kingdom is
nigh, even at the door.
The Maw Factor—Education.
, The Pastor declared thas ho well un
derstands the altitude of the rich and
the learned, and how they discount the
prospects of a social revolution. Rea
soning by analogy from the world’s
experiences in the past, many of the
worldly-wise say, "We are amenable
to the laws, and the laws will uphold
us and will take care of those disposed
to anarchy. Revolution may not come;
tiie struggle may be altogether avoid
ed; but if it come to the worst, brains
and money will surely rule. If It shall
lie necessary to shoot down in cold
blood some of the anurchically disposed,
we shall be sorry, but we seo no other
way. We see no reason for worry,
however, nor for especially changing
our course. The pages of history sup
port us in this view.”
These able reasoners seem generally
to forget that in one respect the peo
ple of the present time differ material
ly from the peoplo of times gone by.
In olden times the people were unedu
cated, and incapable of anything with
out able leadership. Indeed, the few
educated ones were often honored
slaves, possessed of no political influ
ence or opportunity. All this is chang
ed now. Tho masses are not only able
to read nnd write, and capable of ex
ercising their reasoning faculties, but
they are alert as never hofora in tho
world's history. They, too, are acquis
itive and ambitious.
The history of tho past hH* informed
them of liovv some of the greatest es
tates come Into the hands of those
who now hold them. Instead of being
thankful for their wonderful blessings
and privileges, they are unthankful,
unhappy, greedy for more, just as are
the successful, who have already got
ten possession of much of the earth,
ami of much of the power to use It,
nnd of the channels of trade, etc. Un
restralned by the fears of hell or purga
tory, which once restrained to some
extent their forefathers, these need tho
Gospel of Hope--the very Message
which I ho Bible provides for them.
The Lord’s Gospel of Hope to the
world is now due. and all of God’s peo
ple should be prompt to herald It It
Js tills Gospel of nope for humanity
that was symbolically represented In
the Jubilee year which God provided
for typical Israel. As at the begin
ning of that year the priests were to
announce the Jubilee by blowing upon
silver trumpets, so now the anti
typical Jubilee—the Times of Restitu
tion, Messiah's Kingdom—should be
announced by all the antitypical
priests, nnd will be announced by
those. Is It asked. Wbo are thoee antl
typlcal priests? We reply In the lan
guage of St. Peter. "Ye are a Royal
Priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar
people; that ye should show forth the
praises of Him wbo hath called you
out of darkness Into Hi# marvelous
light.”-l Peter 2:9.
In other words, the Royal Priesthood
aro the true, saintly people of God, not
of sectarianism and the creed# and
churchlunlty. They are not a clerical
class, although, thank Godl some of
the clergy may be amongst them. We
aro to remember, however, that God
never has recognized the distinction
of clergy and laity amongst Ills people.
That waa a human arrangement which
has done much harm. AU of God’s
consecrated peoplo are His priests.
A Curse Precedes the Bleesing.
Let me urge upon all the ministers
and servants of Christ—and that In
cludes every consecrated child of God—
that both tho duty and the privilege
of blowing the Jubilee Trumpet is ours.
Whoever recognizes the present situa
tion as we huvo toduy outlined It, must
feel that the duty is od urgent one.
I-et us not deny the Lord, either In
word or doctrine or conduct, but let
ns confess Him lu all these ways. Let
us more and more appreciate the glo
rious Gospel of Love Divine which
bas. during this Age, been calling the
Church out from amongst the world
under “exceeding great uud precious
promises,” and let us correspondingly
appreciate the grand outcome of this
Divine Plan—the Messianic Kingdom.
Let all who believe In that Kingdom
co-operate with It, In giving the Mes
sage of hope to the world in general.
It Is a great privilege to thus show
forth the praises of the great King,
our Redeemer, and soon to be our
Bridegroom It Is a great privilege to
lay down all that we haye in co-opera
tion with Him and His work.
The Apostle addresses the Church
who have already confessed Christ,
and whom Jesus has already acknowl
edged. His words are full of Import
If we deny our Lord. If we cease to
be His followers, if we repudiate His
Cause. If we prove disloyal to it. He
will disown ns and repudiate us. He
will not grant us the great privilege
of being Fils associates in that King
dom. For according to the Father’s
arrangement that honor Is reserved for
the faithful who follow the Redeemer
through evil report as well as through
good report—through sacrifice to glory.
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