Walkerton Independent, Volume 55, Number 19, Walkerton, St. Joseph County, 3 October 1929 — Page 3

The BLADE of PICARDY

By- - McLAUGHLIN Copyright by The Bobbs-Merrill Co, W. N. U. Service CHAPTER Xlll—Continued —l4— . Anita stood in front of me, catchifng the lapels of my rough coat with dainty fragile fingers. She raised her face and let me look into the deep amber eyes. What I saw there made me catch my breath. | put my arms —reverently—around the slim shoulders, and held her for one brief, delicious ilnstant; while Neville studied his boots and Brugiere looked out the window. “Senorita mia,” 1 said, *I am not worthy of your smallest thought.” “He is not worthy,” cried Brugiere; “did you hear, Neville? We will be upon our way.” Neville put his great arms around me. “Francois,” he said, “we will walk with thee tomorrow—early.” He turned toward La Anita, and, to justify the tears in his eyes, said softly: “Some day 1 will have to tell his mother.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.. “Adios.” she whispered. € * - = & & . ‘We were alone in that gloomy cell, with the agony of parting before us. I took her in my arms. “You did not come to see me In Cuernavaca,” [ reproached her, softly. “How could [? Had you oot spurned me; had you not thrust me aside when I mentioned love to you; did you not say my loves were legion, and that 1 used my love for motives that were questionable? Ah—Dios!” I had—or rather Madrella had; and ft was not in me to try to offer alibi now that her cousin was dead. That cowardly piece of indecision of mine had cost me dear. 1 could have saved Lestrange, could have prevented the stabbing of Lopez, and avoided my consequent odyssey. “Yet you came to my funeral, senorita.” “Aye.” She smiled a little. *“You were a Dbeautiful memory, dear friend.” “And you loved me as a—as a—" I was unable to proceed. *As a—what, Francois?” “In Cuernavaca | asked Brugiere —Brugiere of the golden heart—and he said: ‘Dead, my dear Francois, you are a saint, and therefore greatly beloved; alive— ah, Mon Dieu—you are poison!"” She was silent. ’ “So,” 1 continued, *you came to my funeral.” “Yes, Francois.” “And I would rather be a saint—to you—than poison.” Now she raised her eyes to me again. In their sweet depths lay a light of understanding, of fear, of wonder. *“You tricked me once most grievously, Francois, and gave my pride a lasting hurt. I had gone to your funeral: alive again you had saved me and my uncle and Genera! Juarez in Cuernavaca.” She pressed the soft brown curls against my shoulder. “l1 went to Cuernavaca to. live, Francois, so that I might be near your simple, unmarked grave in the little cemetery. Each day 1 went up there—and my soul called out for you.” Now she was sobbing softly. “I—l heard you,” I said, helpless in my misery. She lifted her face and 1 kissed the shining eyes, the tender tremulous lips. and pressed my face against the soft hair. “I have loved you, Francois,” she whispered, “since that hour when you stood up before the pistol of my cousin; and then when ycu gave me his life—ah . . . Fear seized me—consternation, horror. What was she saying? When | had given her the life of her cousin « » o« and 1 had taken Madrella’s life, The same hand that now caressed the glorious curls had held her cousin’s throat until he died. Could I tell her; could I bear to lose her? I must tell her. “It was 1 who killed your cousin, senorita—not the Indian, Pasqual. | must tell you this, though it breaks my heart to do it.” She smiled into my eyes. *“l love you for your courage, Francois; such courage as you possess is a gift few men have had. Lieutenant Brugiere told me only this afternoon.” “Did he tell you anything else?” I was?&’r‘y that he had not told her of Madrella’s masquerade. “Nothing else, Francois. Poor Pablo! I think, when we love, we are not quite sane. Love is a madness—and Pablo was mad. [ have been, uncensciously, an instrument in his death:; and—and you should have been brothers, you and Pablo.” There was a long silence, a silence in which 1 hardly breathed because of my happiness. La Anita—lovely La Anita—lay against my heart. 1 could hear her soft breathing, and I caught the faint elusive fragrance of her hair, I bhad dreamed of this, and my dream had been a golden glory. Tomorrow, which would bring my death, was an unconsidered thing; the knowledge that she loved mel would give me strength. One hour of life with Anita would pay for a thou- 1 sand deaths. | She sighed. *“Francois, I went to | see I vnez” “YeS? How exquisite was her face! “He offered to sell me your life?” “Humph !” “But the price he required—" i “Ah—my sweet—!” “—was more than you would have | me pay.” | “Oh, God—just for one more day { of life, to kill him; just to get my fingers—” *Never mind, Francois; I think I put a hurt into his soul. When we Spaniards love—or hate—nothing in | life is as great as that love or that | jhate. If Colonel Lopez goes throngh l this nizht without committing some ] jact of fearful folly I do not know ‘ ‘the Spanish mind.” | “Whatever he does, my sweet, ean | mever take this hour away from me; ‘ . |you bave brought a joy into my life i > shall live forever; the very an- | & shall envy me my happiness.” e

She traced, with a dainty forefinger, the deep lines that had come into my face, a mist of tears in her eyes. “How old are yvou, Francois?” “Twenty-eight.” *“And lines of pain In your face . . . and the thoughts of deep solitudes. and mental anguish, and hardship, and bitter disappointment. Ah —dear heart, you have suffered!” “In eight months | have lived a thousand years; I have been an oid man—and now I have come back to second childhood again.” [ laughed. *“You have, at least, lost those awful bruises on your face. Do you re member, Francois, that you tore up the pass of Juarez and gave me Pablo's life again?” I nodded, and she continued: *The sun was just going down; and I kissed you because I loved you, because you knew how to sacrifice, because you were great in forgiveness. I never forgot those bruises, dear, be~cause your face is good to look at. I saw the love in your eyes that day, ~and the thought of it has made me - very happy. Those bruises. Francois - were—were . . . Why, Francois—your face!” ~ “What, my sweet—my darling . . . 1s aught—?” ‘ “Mother of G—d, Francois! Your - face—l?" - I touched it with questioning fin- | gers. “Is anything wrong with fit, ~Anita? If so I am desolated, for it is all 1 have.” - “The man who Kkilled Lestrange, and stabbed Colonel Lopez, had no bruises on his face.” Now my eyes sought the floor, for I could not look upon her unhappiness. *You d-did not tell me—Francois.” “Pablo was dead,” said L, “and we may not—" She came Into my arms again; sobbing, with laughter on her lips, and laughing, with tears In her eyes. “Brugiere of the golden heart has said you are a man!” “Brugiere is generous.” “And you did not scoff at my love, Francois, nor thrust me away from ydu, nor—nor question—?” “Os course not.” “Kiss me—kiss me, and hold me; hold me close to you, for we have so short a time!” So 1 held her while the sobs that had shaken her frail body subsided. Finally she raised her face, smiling’ again. *“Do you love me, Francois?” “An, my sweet—there are not words—l!” “Then—may I drink with thee?” “Assuredly.” - I filled two glasses and gave her - one; and, holding it, she turned toward the window. “Can you see La Cruz from here, Francois—the great convent where Maximilian has his headquarters?” 1 approached the barred window and pointed toward the graceful butk of the beautiful convent that stoed out against the deep blue sky with its tiny points of light. “There it is, dear heart; had I five minutes with his majesty I shouid be saved. He loved me, and I think he would understand.” But she had stayed beside the table, and [ left the window and came back to her. She held her glass of wine with fingers that trembled a little. and she looked at it with a strange mixture of fear and hope and indecision in her eyes. “You will remember, Francois, my own, that I have loved you?” “My angel!” “Then—" Her eyes were smiling. and her lip—unconsciously, 1 believe —formed one word: “Adios!” Now, even as her dainty mouth touched the glass, | stretched forth a hand swiftly and caught bher wrist. Why, I do not know, unless it be that our love was so deep a thing that I could read her thought, A hurt, frightened look came into her eyes. “Please, Francois,” she cried “let me drink.” **No, dear heart.” ““A Spaniard’s love, Francois, is all there is in life. 1 cannot live without you. Let me drink—let me drink and hold me; let me feel your arms around me while 1 die, let me look into your face.” “No, my sweet.” She clung to me. “You must, Francois; the world will die with you: may [ not die also?” “This beautiful world holds much for thee. Anita mia; time—" “Time will stop, Francois, tomorrow. Let us both drink: there is more than sufficient to kill two of us. It is swift and painless. We will drink, Francois, then you will take me in your arms and we will put our lips together, and so—" *“l cannot be so great a coward.” I covered her sweet mouth with kisses. ' “My sweet,” I cried, “we canno* commit this act of madness. You are young and beautiful beyond compare. Time will heal the scars—” “The scars are in my soul, Francois, and time will only add to my unhappiness.” Holding the sweetly pointed chin 1 raised the exquisite face until she must, perforce, look straight into my eves. “j1 ook as we Anila mia; you will find in my eyes, only love for you, only a worship that my soul will hold for you. That love for you has given me courage, has caused me to do things that made you love me; it will not permit me to do the thing that might lead the world to call me coward. We must face—bravely smiling—what befalls; it is our heritage.” “Francois, I shall come each day—and my soul will call to you. You - will hear, dear heart, will you not?” i “Just as I have heard you always, ' s 0 shall I, hear you again” I[l Inldicated the glass of poisoned wine. { “There will be no more of—of this. ' dear one?” i She shook her head. *“No, Fran- - cois; long ago you taught me love, - and forgiveness; now you teach me ' courage. The guard comes—l hear his footsteps. Kiss me, kiss me, ~ Francois—and hold me to your heart again!” i When the guard reached the door of my cell he found her standing

straight and slim, all sweet composure, with a brave smile on her lovely face and a fragile hand held out to me. So she left me, but, long after the soundds of their going had died away, I heard a voice—which might have been the voice of an angel—calling: “Francois, Francois,” and aghin, “Francois!” CHAPTER XIV A Fallen Empire I went to the window and looked out. I studied the stars, and wondered which was the star of my luck. and what I had done thus to have lost its favor. They seemed so near to me, 80 very near Indeed . . .1l the twinkling mantle of the stars and | the wide blue arch of heaven—so | very near to me. : | The graceful outlines of the con- | vent of La Cruz stenciled a pretty | picture against the sky. Windows | were alight; 1 wondered which was | Maximilian’s. I visioned the wvast | preparations for tomorrow's flight. | Fhey would leave me—leave my body | dangling. Yet 1 had done no wrong; | I bad given all my majority to my country; 1 had committed no ecrime | | against the Empire. I had served | faithfully, and for that service I now faced the noose. There had never | been a need for me to serve, for the | extensive De Vigny estate was worth | a fortune, Yet, because of my love | of service to my country, I was here. | What was it Madrella had said? “The gilt on the emperor's crown | grows thin.” And now his majesty. forsaken by the powerful friends in | Europe who had sent him here. | planned a last desperate dash to freedom. And La Anita had prophesied | that Maximilian would face a firing | squad, that the people of Mexico would rise up and crush him. Could | . such a thing be; could an emperor fail; -ould an empire fall? | I found the crude uncomfortable | . bed and stretched my weary body upon it, where 1 lay, passing from a | semiconscious stupor to a troubled sleep. ‘ 1 saw again In dreamy retrospect the sweet Carlotta, ewpress of Mex- | ico, every inch a glorious queen; and 1 saw his majesty, the handsome Hapsburg, who—with his great, graceful height and bhis golden hair and beard—looked more like a Norse god than a man. [ saw the smniling, cynl- | cal face of Madrella—the face of myself as well. He spoke to me: “. but you must be preserved for a less .| kind fate, for the noose awaits you.” Madrella was dead-—dead by my own hands—yet he had prepared the noose for we. [ saw Pasqual and his lovely little Dolores, and I wondered if they knew where 1 had gone. Through all these pictures came and went, like a will-o’-the-wisp, the figure and the face of [.a Anita, and her amber eyes were fathomless wells of love, and her red lips were smiling, and thol slim hands beckoned to me. { And, doubtless hecause of my fear ’ of the ever-tightening Liberal lines, my dreamn went back to the emperor, who had loved me, and who—before I had failed so miserably—bhad trust- | ed me. He was all alone—standing ! in!mm——;m(} the bare encircling hills | of Queretaro cut the sky behind him. | He faced a squad of dark-faced men | with guns, who stood—solemn, silent | —awaiting an order. They raised | their weapons and I saw the spurting | streams of flame. The .great figure | crumpled, half rose, fell, and lay still ' Mon Dieu—they had killed him! 1 | cried out in my agony: “The Emper- | or—they have killed him! They E have—!” : The vivid horror of that drv:uni brought me to sudden, startied wake fulness. 1 lay trembling, [h:mkin:! God that it had been only a dream. | A beam of sunlight, entering the | barred window, shone full on my face. ? 1 got to my feet .lowly, and looked t around, surprised to find familiar things. The night had gone and with } it half the morning, for the sun was | high. How quiet was the world. I I looked out. The convent of La Cruz was still there, and the bare en-! circling hills as well. ‘ Had they forgotten me, or were | they merely waiting? Was this u’ scheme of Colonel Lopez; to wait. | and wait—lletting my hopes run high? | It was such a thing as he might do. # While 1 stood, half dazed and won | dering, I heard a deep voice and the sound of footsteps in the narrow corridor. Now they were coming, coming to take me out and hang me. \WWhat was it Madrella had said? “We tall, long-legzed men wiggle a vast deal on the end of a rope.” That was it. I waited. Courage—that was all I needed: T would show them how to die! So, with eyes upon the floor, [ waited. A key scraped in the lock, a grufl order in Spanish, the guard’s reply, and the door swung open. A vision floated into the cell, a vision in golden tan, with a halo of hair the color of desert smoke, with sparkling, amber eyes, and red, red lips that sash ioned my name, with soft warm arms that went round my neck. “Francois,” she cried, ‘*Francois, my dear!” “Have | died, dear heart—and are yvou an angel? ‘All night I have seen vou. Such sublime loveliness cannot be real!” “Put your arms around me, Francois; does an angel feel—like that? Would the Liss of an angel seem—like this?” “How beautiful you are, Anita! Yet the morning is gone, my sweet, and they—” “\Will never come, Frgncois.” She loosed me so that I might ook upon her and who had come with her. “General Escobedo!” I cried. “In the name of God, senor, how came you here—here within the lines of the Empire?” “There is no Empire, Captain Vigny,” he said. “Am I still in the land of dreams, senor?” “We hold the town of Queretaro, and the garrison—as well as La Cruz. We have taken all.” “But I heard no shot, no firing. Can an army take a city—and a garrison—without a figcht? There are ten thousand soldiers of the Empire in Queretaro. Have they—have they gone?” “They have not gone,” he sald slowly.

“And you have taken all, with no fighting, no casualties?” “One.” He smiled a little. *One casualty; a man has died, and a traltor has been born. A garrison, senor, the heart of which is bad, cannot survive.” “Lopez,” 1 whispered, awed. “Yes, senor; Lopez. lle has delivered into our hands, under cover of the night, the city, the garrison, La Cruz, and the person of the emperor. The Empire is dead.” “And the emperor, general—he is—?” “Quite well, and under nominal guard at La Cruz.” Then the emperor had failed, the Empire had fallen. Ah—the glory and the pity of it all. 1 dropped beside the table and put my arms upon it and my head upon my arms, and I cried as 1 had not cried in twenty vears. And Anita bent over me, and clasped her loving arms around me. “Francols,” she sald, *ll love thee. My brave Francois, who Is so strong —and so weak; so courageous—and so timid; who is so deep and fine—and so simple. Do not you see, dear heart, that this will give you life?” But life was a small thing compared to an empire. Now [ felt the hand of Escobedo on my shoulder. He was Anita’s uncle, and doubtless loved her very dearly; he could not, therefore, have been devoid of tender feelings toward the man upon whom Anita had bestowed the blessing of her love, “Does a great, strong, brave man, Francois,” she continuned, “‘cry?” “The greater they are, Anita mia,” sald Escobedo, “and the braver and the stronger—the easier they ery And the fall of an empire Is a thing to cry over; but there should be, In our hearts, some quickening of joy in the birth of a new republic. When one nation dies another one i{s born.” I got to my feet and extended a hand toward her uncle. “When 1 was a soldier of the Empire, General, 1 played a base trick upon you and General Juarez.” He smiled. *“A very clever trick Indeed, senor; and, had it not been for your act of reckless daring in Cuernavacn—and a few tears from the ir resistible Anita—your life should have paid for it. As it is [ think the new republic has gained a staiwart.” “What of Colonel Lopez?' I Inquired. “We use him.” said Escobedo slow ly, “and kick him out—just as we would any other dog. Lopez is done.” “And—and Maximilian, senor?” | was afraid, for his majesty had cigned death warrants for many Mexfean patriots; and Mexico's treatment in the past of deposed, ambitious rul ers had been most severe. Escobedo’'s volee was grim: *“Maximilian’s life 1s forfeit. When amblition ealls, senor, we answer: and we follow that lure until we have attained our goal or until death shall stop us. e has missed his goal, and only death may put an end to striving. Juarez is just—but hard—and the welfare of his people is his life. I do not think the world can blame us."” Death for the Norse god, dea.h for the kindly dreammer who had given his best, whose soldiers had loved him. whose people had forsaken him! Mon Dien—failure! The Empire bhad reached a miserable ending: the cur tain that was falling upon its closing scene was a pall of death, Yet 1 had gained life—and love: but my heart was heavy, for the favor of Maximilian had been a rich blessing to me. *ls it permissible, general, that 1 see his majesty? He has been an elder brother to me.” Anita turned to her uncle. *“May we both go and see him, and tell himn we are sorrv? For 1 stood before him once—deflant—and prophesied this thing. 1 would go before him now—humble—and tell him that 1 am sorry.” Ah, how sweet an angel—this lady who had given me nher tove! “Assuredly,” said Escobedo. - - - - - - - We found him, that beautiful May morning, in a vast sunlit chamber of the convent., He sat at a walnut table, his handsome face turned toward an opened window which offered a view of the bare brown hills; and in his deep blue eyes lay an expression of hopeless resignation. Doctor Bartsch was with him. - The doctor caught my hand. “Captain.” bhe whispered, *Tranecois . . after all these months! You come back to us from the grave.” “Aye, from the grave indeed,” said I[; “and 1 bring an angel with me.” He bowed over her hand. *“l1 have seen the senorita often, but have never had the honor—" He led us to the emperor, who, recocnizing the senorita, got to his feet. He extended a hand and she took it in both her own. “Your majesty,” she whispered, [le smiled at her, though his fine eves held a haunting hurt. “Senorita, behold the fulfillment of your prophecy !” Now sobbing softly, she went to her knees bhefore him. “Ah, your majesty, your majesty—l would not—" She stopped, and he put his hand. as in benediction, on her head. The gracious lady who had stood, defiant and unafraid, before the mighty Maximilian had become—now that he was broken, helpless, facing alone the ereat tragedy of death—all gentle hu mility, all tenderness, all sweet and womanly sympathy. We waited, and while we waited Maximilian looked at me. In his eyes I found the old love, the old friendliness, the old trust. I was very happy. Maximilian found my band and took it in a warm firm clasp. “Lieutenant Neville and the Belgian lad, Brugiere, have been here, Francois; and they told me a moving tale of faith and devotion and courage and hardship; a tale that made me love thee very much.” “They have been good friends to me, your majesty.” “We have treated our faithful Blade of Picardy badly,” said Maximilian softly, “yet I have the happy consolation, Francois, of knowing that, although you may have lost an empire and an emperor, you have surely gained a queen.” [THE END]

- THE - KITHEN PARINET

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e (O, 1929 Western Newspaper Union.) “So tew people have learned the art of collecting memories. They : collect old cehina and prints and books—all good and pleasant, but fragile and perishable Happy memories are indestructible possessions which nothing can taxke from ‘ us but disease or death.” SEASONABLE HINTS - Cauliflower, so well liked as a vegetable, ranks more highly used in pickle combinations or pickled

alone. The dainty little tlowerets should be carefully separated, washed and drained. To avoid insects turn the head upside down in a pan of salted water—any insects hidden will come out to the surface of the water.

Pickled Cauliflower. — Break into small tlowerets after removing leaves and stalks. Cook in boiling salted water for ten minutes. Rinse in cold water to which a bit of lemon juice has been added. Pack the pieces in sterilized jars, dropping a long chili pepper in each jar for added attractiveness as well as flavor. Fill the Jars with hot spiced vinegar and seal while hot. [Prepare the vinegar as follows: To each quart ot vinegar add onehulf cupful of sugar, one teaspoonful each of whole cloves and broken stick cinnamon, blades of mace, whole allspice, celery seed, peppercorns and two small sliced onions; boil 15 minutes, strain and use at once. One large cauliflower for each quart jar and one quuart of vinegar wili be sufhi'clvm for three-quart Jars if well packed. Apple Butter.—This makes a de Heious spread which the children will enjoy as long as it lasts. Take good flavored early apples, pare, core, and put through the meat chopper together with a lemon, orange, and two ounces of green ginger root. Measure the fruit pulp and add an equal amount ot sugar and a pint of water. Cook gently, stirripg frequently until clear and thick. Can in pint jars. Seal while hot. j Wild Grape Jelly Spiced.—This Is especially well liked to serve with game in the fall and winter: Wash | four quarts of grapes and put inte | the preserving Kettle with one pint of | vinegar, a bag of mixed spices, cloves, és!i‘k cinnamen, and blades of mace. { Bring to a boil, mash and cook until | very soft, then pour into a jelly bag. . Boil the julce 15 minutes, add three | pints of sugar and cook until thick. f.\'v;\! in glasses, i Wild grape jam ils delicious to serve | with meats. Use the half ripe grapes ; (remove seeds) and odd three-quarters {of their weight in sugar. Place in a | kettle with two tablespoonfuls of vinjt':;:r and orange or lemon juice to | start the steam. Bring slowly to the boiling point and cook a half-hour aft- | er boiling commences. ; Apple Relish, ' Take eight tirm tart apples, four | medium-sized onions, one cupful of 1- & e

raisins and one sweet red pepper. Peel and chop the apples as well as the raisins and other vegetables, mix thoroughly. Boil one quart of vinegar, two and onebhalf cupfuls of brown sugar, three teaspoonfuls of salt, four table-

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spoonfuls ot whole mixed spices tied in a muslin bag. When the sirup is formed stir in the other ingredients and cook for one hour slowly. The sauce will be very thick when finished. Seal hot. Ripe Cucumber Pickles.—)Many pre fer these to the watermelon pickles. which are such favorite sweet pickles. Pare ripe cucumbers and cut into long strips, removing the seeds. Cover with a quart of water in which three tablespoonfuls of salt have been dissolved, addinz more water and salt to cover the cucumbers. Let stand several hours then drain and place in cold water. Make a sirup of one and one-half pints of vinegar, one pound of granulated sugar, one-half ounce each of stick cinnamon and whole cloves. Boil five minutes. Drop in the cucumber and cook until it is transparent. Tuck in small pieces of red pepper here and there and place in jars. Boil down the sirup and pour over boiling hot; seal at once. Horseradish Relish. — Take three large grated roots of horseradish, add one tablespoonful of turmeric, a tablespoonful of celery seed, two tablespoonfuls of mustard, one-half cupful | of sugar and enough boiling vinegar to make a pint and a half. Mix well | and bottle. Serve after standing two weeks. This is a sauce which goes | well with cold meats and chops. It | is bitingly appetizing. Chocolate Malted Milk.—Melt two squares of bitter chocolate, add four tablespoonfuls of malted milk dis- | solved and mixed with a little cold water then brought to a boil, add a quart of scalding hot milk, a pinch s of salt and as much sugar as is need--1 ed to sweeten. Serve hot or chilled, with ice. Those who are at all troubled with rheumatism should keep the blood free from acid by a daily use of or- | anges. M Mw&@. , Foiling Counterfeiters ' The medallion, rulings and circular || ornaments on genuine paper money | are mathematically correct, and are | made from a machine upon which $150,000 was spent in the production, | and is therefore beyond the reach of counterfeiters. Engraving by hand | ean never equal this work. ' Variation in Diamonds : Individual diamonds vary greatly In ' | the degree of hardness. There is also ' | a great difference In crystallization.— Pathfinder Mjgazine,

i Improved Uniform International l * Lesson '’ (By REV. P. B. FITZWATER, D.D., Dean Moody Bible Institute of Chicago.) i (©. 1929. Western Newspaper Union.) | l

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Lesson for October 6 RECOGNIZING OUR DEBTS TO OTHERS GOLDEN TEXT—Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others. LESSON TEXT—Mark 12:28-34: James 2:14-17. PRIMARY TOPlC—Helping One Another. JUNIOR TOPlC—Helping One Another. INTERMEDIATE AND SENIOR TOPIC—What Do We Owe to Others? YOUNG PEOPLE AND ADULT TOPlC—Fulfilling Qur Obligation to Others. The sum total of human duty as set forth by Christ in Matthew 22:3440 is love to God and one’s neighbor. This omprehends every conceivable relationship and responsibility of life. The weasure of love to God is the whole capacity of man to love. The measure of love to one’s neighbor is one’'s love for himself. I. Loving God (Mark 12:28-30). Man’'s tirst duty is to God. The word ' which sumns up his duty to God is love. By lovingz is meant a sincere desire st‘nr and a delight ip the welfare of the one loved, and a willingness to do {everythlng possible to further it. Love is not a sentimental emotion, but an {urdem passion which absolutely sways the one who loves. When one is swayed by the passion to please, honor and clorify God, he is loving Him with his whole heart, strength and mind. Teo fail to render full obedience to this, the ftirst and great commandment, is |m be guilty of commirtting rhe great- | est sin. By this test we can readily lestim:lte our freedom from sin. De- | termined by this standard, all are | guilty before God. We should put God | first in business, recreations and re’lutinnships in life, tl. Loving Our Neighbor (Mk. 12:3134). This obligation is like unto the obligation to God In that it centers in ‘ love. The measure of love is not the | same. The measure of love to God {s | the absolute limit of human capacity. é'l‘hut unto our oneighbor is *“as thy|svlt’." Our neighbor is a finite being, | therefore the love is not absolute. ! Who is my neighbor? This is answered | by the story of the good samaritan ip ;l.uke 10:30-37. .Our neighbor is one | who is in need of our help. It is not & | question of where he lives, but of his % need of help. Some of the ways we can ! love our neighbor, as suggzested by the !tuxts selected by the lesson commit- | tee, are: ) By co-operation (Neh. 4:15-23) i The wualls of Jerusalem needed tc | be rebuilt. The task was great and éthe enemies strong. Nehemlah could | not have done it alone, though work-: 4 ing all the days of his life, but “everyEunn unto his work™ made the walls ' n reality 1 a short time. Racial soli | darity is a reality. “No man Illveth { unto himself,” therefore human life ' is lived at its best in co-operation | with one another. This is not only ‘ taught in Seripture, but is illustrated | in the habits of ants. They are small | insects, very weak, yet by joining toigmhor their forces they accomplish | great tasks. l 2. By the strong bearing the infirmities of the weak (Rom. 15:1-7) ‘ By this means we build up each | other. We are given strength, not tc | use for ourselves, but that we majy help sustain the weak. We are not ftc plea~e ourselves, Our supreme ex ample in this is Jesus Christ. If He had pleased Himself, He never woulc have come down to earth, taken oul nature and suffered the shame of the c¢ross. The rich are to help the poor Indeed, some are made rich in order that they may intelligently and sym pathetically render helpful service tc the poor. 3. By rendering lowly service (Phil 2:19). The supreme business of life is ftc serve, not to be served. Christ came not to be ministered unto, but te¢ minister (Mark 10:45), Christ, thougt ! equal with God, humbled Himself tc l become the servant of men. The hu l man mind is naturally selfish, there fore the only way man can possibly | render lowly service to others is tc have the mind of Christ. The only way this mind can be in us is as Christ is in us, the Lord of our lives. This kind of service must spring out of the life of the one who is in Christ and in whom Christ dwells. l 4. By rendering justice to every: one (Col 3:12:49°1). All our fellows have rights which must be recognized to accomplish which the elect of God must put on 8 ' mind of mercy and kindness (Col 3:12). This kind of treatment finds illustration in our home relationships | —wives and husbands, parents and children, masters and servants., Failure to render justice isß a source of discord and confusion. 5. By giving to ethers (Jas. 2:14 19, Christianity shows itself In practical living and charitable giving. To profess.to have faith and be destitute of practical deeds is to give the lie to our profession. ! i A Constant Safeguard l Living as those who have a charge from Christ will be to us a constant 's:lfv_-_'u:xrd. Sorrow, instead of embittering our hearts, will open in them deeper and sweeter fountains; success { will make them watchful; failure, | humble; nay, the commonest things ! will be ministers of good; in them l there will be discipiine for our tem- ' | pers; and from their use we shall obi tain the power of applying h:'.;h"px‘;nciples to little things.—Bishop Wilberforce. Part of Your Religicus Life : Your daily duties are a part of your | religious life just as much &s your devotions.—H. \W. Beecher.

‘ i CH AMPIOGN =3 | holds @ - World’s Records ~ . ! in every \/ | P f 3 | : ‘6‘. u 3{40/ T ; o 8 rj:g’f S Sy LG T - ,'/ I :5,’ - /‘," iy % § - Prvs O 4 5 11.-1 ,IP = - Yipy, l'a a.l's 'Vo O‘\’ 1 L OIQ Qp 15 ; i & .. Y r ) ct o P en. up T o Spa I.tab Qt I]}-0 sll» f g, c 2y, n S ut ugs 1’ ajr Sp, € e ab) Op eed lo (OC‘Q [)i 1 plan sec lb t]J» O'l €s e Tt Cop, a, s %o ~ Q‘i hd 1‘()1. "Idy up, AT lo‘r OQ) ‘7’B b N’ O, AR ;- €s, LEI)O K b * o LU 4(). _—-fi "Q P e Y / T ‘flv,-/,ff . A 5 " : ',’gf ; : ‘l.‘ 4 ) 'B/ Saes = = XTON =E<" Kill Rats urrr ~‘ < SX Without Poison A New Exterminator that Won’t Kill Livestock, Pouliry, Dogs, Cats, or even Baby Chicks K-R-O can be used about the home,barn or poultry yard withabsolutesafety asitcontains no deadly poison, K-R-O is made of Squill, as recommended by U. S. Dept. of Agriculture, under the Connable process which insures maximum strength. Two cans killed 578 rats at Arkansas State Farm. Hundreds of other testimonials. Sold on a Money-Back Guarantee. Insist upon K-R-O, the original Squill exterminator. All druggists, 75¢. Largesize (four times as much) $2.00. Direct if dealer cannot supply you. K-R-O Co., Springfield, O. K=R= KILLS-RATS-ONLY

e—— e —————————————————————— | And Ears Patron—That barber down the street has cut his prices down to 40 cents for a haircut. Barber (after withering silence)— Yeah? Well, a good barber cuts hair and a poor one cuts prices.—Cincinnati Enquirer.

The Right Way to Redye Fine Silks Textile makers always use special \ ’ dyes for silk or wool. | They know that is | the best way. The k] | makers of Diamond i \ 4 | Dyes are the first to *e\ /) | enable home dyers to z | follow this plan. 7 ‘ Next time you want to dye some | of your more valuable articles of | silk or wool, try the special Dia- | mond Dyes in the Blue Package. { They will give these materials | clearer, more brilliant colors than ! any “all-purpese” dye. And they ‘ are just as easy to use as ordinary | dyes. Like the white package Diai mond Dyes, these dves contain an { abundance of the highest quality ,I anilines. The blue package dyes | silk or wool only; the white pack- | age dyes, or tints, any material. | Either package; 15¢, drugstores. Equal Obligations He who bids us leave the gift on { the altar and be reconcilea 1o our ' brother would have us go back and | be reconciled to any duty with which | we may have quarreled.—Mark Guy i Pearse. ‘ No Use | “Pa sayvs there will be a coal short]a;:e by 1940.” “What's the use of | looking for trouble that far ahead?” £ Sonl e

| Flelcrien. | CASToR | C FOR QUICK, : | HARMLESS COMFORT | Children Cry for it i FOR CONSTIPATION, DIARRHEA,FEVERISHNESS WOMAN SICK ' Helped By Lydia E. Pinkham’s - Vegetable Compound : Tittle Rock, Ark.—“l .was sick for three vears after my last baby came.

= I could hardly walk ‘fand could not eat nor sleep as I ] should because I :} was so mervous. I | took seven bottles ‘f of the Vegetablo “§ Compound and used “§ that number of bot- § tles of Lydia E. § Pinkham’s Sanative Wash and #l I am feeling just fine. 1 have a.ltarge

. i family and do the work for ail. Xour | Compound made me a well woman, gnd I have a happy home now. I always try to keep a bottle of the Vegetable Compound in the house and I teil everyone about it for 1 know it will .| help them.”—M=rs. H. A. Apams, R. F. | D. 5, Box 63, Little Rock, Arkansas. W. N. U, CHICAGO, NO. 39--1929.