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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 USE HERALD WANT ADS, 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. USE HERALD WANT ADS FIVE