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CHAPTER XIX. HE market boy stood at the gate way with his square basket, and Jules had brought out the tray of bouquets, one clear, bright morning, while Chlotllde'B white fingers ar- M ranged them In the most tempting show; when the three were startled by the sudden appearance of a man who, throwing open the folds of his cloak, which had concealed his face, stepped forward from a hidden nook, and spoke gaily: "Good day, my fair gardener! Sell me one of your bouquets, I pray you." Jules saw the deadly pallor which overspread his companion's face, and dextrously bending between them, him self singled out a bouquet and held it toward the stranger. The sharp, keen eye of the latter roved over his features triumphantly; but without remark, he accepted the bouquet, and again turning to the girl he Fnquired the price. She had summoned resolution enough to answer without sign of trepidation. He hunted up the money, took his bouquet, and marched away, never once turning to glance behind. Chlotilde as he called her seized Jules' arm, and drawing him aside, she whispered: "We must fly! not an hour, not a moment, not a second can be lost. It was M. Pierre; he knew me beyond a doubt; I read his malignant triumph on his face. Oh, Jules! let us get to Emile somehow, as speedily a3 posel hle." Jules perceived at once the dangerous emergency. "Get your hat and cloak, Chlotllde; we will go with the boy to find Emile. What can we find to fill our baskets, to give U3 excuse for reaching him?" Chlotllde pointed to her plants. Without another word, Jules hasten ed to dig them up, and set them in the basket; while she entered the cottage for the few articles she dared take with her. Side by side they followed, breath lessly, the lead of the wondering peas ant boy, and went on into the crowd and stir of the city. They were too excited and eager to be aware of the dark browed, villainous looking man, who followed stealthily In their steps never losing sight of them for a mo ment. The streets were alive with a dense throng of people, and it was evident some great event was at hand, by tne gleaming eyes, violent gesticulations, and set faces of the multitude, who all seemed surging in one direction. The guide, in spite of the remon strance of Jules, joined the living tide, with the careless explanation: "We shall be sure to find citizen Emile at the square; the Gray Falcon is always at hand when such sport is going on. It has something to do with the Austrian woman; maybe they are to take oft her head to-day. You're in luck to be in to see the sight." Lady Felicie strove to hide the shud der which ran through her frame at these words, and glanced apprehen sively at her companion. Jules had turned deadly pale, his lips were set, his eyes gleamed fierce ly as he answered: "Tell me where we can find the Gray Falcon's usual resort,, and then you may go your way. We have no time to waste now." The boy laughed coarsely, as the crowd growing more and more dense took them along with it. "You have no other choice," said he; "and there be those in Paris who would take you up right smartly for calling it a waste of time to see the neck of tyranny broken on the shrine f freedom." Jules took the rebuke mildly. The horrors of witnessing the terrible scene his imagination presented, had quite overpowered his fears for personal safety, but now once again returned the remembrance of their own danger. "We shall sell nothing here, Chlo tllde," said he; "If we could only see the Gray Falcon, we might return again to witness the brave sights." A broad shouldered, red-faced vira go, one of a crowd of fiercely gesticu lating Amazons, overheard his words. "What do you expect to do with the flowers, white face? You had better throw them away and take up a pike, There are no fine lords to buy your bouquets now; why do you bring them here?" "Are the fine lords the only ones to enjoy flowers?" answered Jules. "I thought we citizens were to be allow ed to enjoy them now. They are na ture's jewels, she puts them around the cottage more plentifully than before the palace. Take a bunch, citizens, and see how pretty it will make you look; so young and gay, you know." The woman laughed coarsely, thrust out her horny hand for a bouquet, and fastened it at her breast "Well, well, at the best, I can make use of it, for when the proud Austrian lays her dainty head on the block, I'll fling It In. her face. She's used to bou quets, you know, and will appreciate the compliment" Jules echoed her laugh, though his heart was frozen at the brutality of the creature, but his companion turn ed her wild eyes into the woman' face with an expression of utter horror which It was Impossible to misunder stand, i -tP&s It Cl M .1.1 The virago perceived it, and ex claimed angrily: "What ails that simpleton? does she dare to sympathize with the proud ty rants? She's an aristocrat, I'll swear!" Lady Fellclo trembled from head to foot; her fortitude seemed entirely to have forsaken her. Jules hastily pressed her arm In warning, and began to rail angrily. "Yes, yes; she's a silly thing. She's been sick and lost all her sense. She was always afraid of blood; I'm in hopes to teach her yet the difference betwixt aristocratic blood, which de serves to be split, and the honest tide of the people's pulse." "She looks like one of 'em. Stand out, here, wench, and let us make sure; that's too doll-like a face to belong to a citizen's daughter. And she shows her guilt; I'll swear she's one of them." She cleared a little space around them as she spoke, and dragged Fe licie forward. The poor girl, white as any statue, turned her eyes appealingly to Jules, as the Iron fingers left their cruel print upon her tender arms. "Nay, nay; she's a good girl, citizen ess, only for being so frightened," cried Jules; "let her go, I beg of you." By this time other , attention was drawn to the scene, and the hurrying crowd paused to gather around the group, and question the cause of their agitation. "An aristocrat; she would save the Austrian woman!" cried the Amazon, with her grasp still tightening on the arm of the terrified girl. "Away with her then; to the prison with her!" shouted a dozen fierce voices, as the angry eyes glared upon her. "Leave her to me!" exclaimed Jules, pressing forward to her side. "I shall punish her well for this Billy terror." "Make her look on and see the haughty queen's proud head rolling in the dust," shouted another. "Bid her shout with us, Death to the aristocrats! Liberty and equality for ever!" "She can do that. Come, Chlotllde, shout with me!" cried Jules, swinging his cap and sending up a cheery huzza for "Freedom and equality forever!" A man in the crowd stepped forward and looked eagerly and scrutinlzingly into the pallid, but handsome, clear-cut features of the youth. "I'll swear to that face!" muttered he, "it's him, and no mistake." Jules himself caught that searching glance, and though his faco gave no sign, his heart sank in despair. "Let's take them along," said the man; "we'll see for ourselves how the pair enjoy jubilee day." He who had so persistently tracked them all the way from the cottage, ad ded his voice now. "Yes, yes; show them how Marie An toinette finds a necklace sharper than diamonds, the free gift of the people. There'll be some one here, anon, who can tell their true name:." "What! Is the man suspected, also?" asked the woman who had cuased the whole detention. The last speaker nodded acquies cence. Whereupon the whole crowd around took up a fiendish yell, more like the cry of a blood-thirsty, wild beast than the voice of human beings, and began hustling the pair along to ward the spot where the hapless queen was expected to appear. Jules flung his arm around his com panion to steady her steps, and shield her from the rude jostling of the crowd. "It is only a jest, Chlotllde," said he, In as cheerful a voice as he could force himself to assume; "they will discover our Innocence, and let us go. Perhaps some friend will appear to give assur ance of our good behavior and loyal sentiments." She knew what he meant; it was in deed her last desperate hope. If Emile would appear to save them! And yet, how was it possible for any one to save? She asked this question dream ily, as her eye ran along the sea of faces around her, and found no pity Ing eye, no gentle expression of mer cy only flaming, Infuriated, revenge ful countenances. The peasant boy who had acted as guide, after hearing the first words of the crowd darted away. Young as he was, he knew the danger of falling un der the displeasure of these lawless mobs; or of seeming to hold acquaint ance with any one suspected of the ob noxious aristocracy. And almost lifted from their fee(t, amidst jeers and threats, and bitter taunts, Jules and his fair companion were borne toward the fatal guillotine where Louis had already laid down his life. The Place De La Revolution was al ready thronged and there was scarcely standing room left. Horrible jests, violent imprecautlons, demoniac re joicings were tossed to and fro from mouth to mouth. CHAPTER XX. HESE two sensi tive, refined na tures, transfixed with utter loath ing and horror, could give no out ward sign of their detestation of the scene. A dozen piti less eyes were watching every shade upon their faces. They had each other's icy hands, and sternly bore It with all the heroism Jf they could master. It was not possi ble for either to behold their beautiful queen led forward to the block. De spite the scrutiny bent upon them, both Instinctively, closed their eyes, and held their breath through the last terrible moments. The wild Bhout that broke upon the deathly stillness told when the spirit ol Marie Antoinette joined that of her murdered husband. At the same mo ment Felicie fell fainting against Jules shoulder. The struggling mass of peo ple shut out the air, and almost crush ed her unconscious form. He looked around him Imploringly for a single trace of humanity, but found none. Supporting her as well as he could with one arm, he chafed with the free hand her icy fingers and mar bly stiff arms. The same virago whose attention had Interrupted their progress in the com mencement, elbowed her way to him. "You think more of the dainty minx than you pretend, sirrah," she said, an grily; "she's an aristocrat beyond doubt. She must go to the trial, and will take her turn at the axe yonder, I doubt not. Why must she swoon away, when France is made free! Nothing, no queen now. t Liberty and equality forever! Death to the aristo crats!" "She is a young creature, and has no strength; such as she cannot look calmly upon bloodshed, be it friend or foe. Let her go now, I beseech you. She Is the niece of the Gray Falcon; she Is no aristocrat I will vouch for it," exclaimed Jules imploringly. "No aristocrat, with those lady feat ures? and look at her hands! pshaw! citizen." "And do you deny that we may find such lovely faces, and delicate frames among the people?" cried Jules, still more eagerly; "nay, beauty has no par tiality for nobility. This maiden is of humble birth, and yet no princess was ever more lovely In person or charac ter. I assure you she is of the people." Felicie had slowly revived. As he said these words a strong shudder shook her frame. "Perhaps you are right," said the woman, Elowly; "but If the Gray Fal con is her uncle, he should teach hei a little of his spirit. I should like to see some one else who knows her." "Here comes the very one you wish to see, citizeness," said a smooth voice, whose first accent made the Lady Fe licie spring wildly to her feet. "I am well acquainted with the girl; she will tell you so; I will take care of her." Jules knew, without asking, who it was that spoke. M. Pierre had arriv ed to complete their despair. He advanced eagerly and laid his hand upon the girl's shoulder, while he said significantly: "You have nothing to fear now from the people if you come with me peace ably. I have been looking for you a long time; but as you remember of old, I never grow weary of working to se cure my object." Lady Felicie shrank back and clung to the arm of Jules. The brow of M. Pierre darkened, and bending closely to her ear, he said in a savage whisper: "Your life is not worth a Btraw, not safe an hour, if I do not save you. They will tear you limb from limb; beware then how you refuse my aid, how you reject my friendship. Will you come?" All the strength which till now had seemed entirely lost, came back to the girl with the tide of indignation and abhorrence which throbbed in every pulse. (TO BE CON'TIMtJED. I A LOST MINE. Much Time Spout in Seeking for Soeret Treasures. An usual featuie is that a particular Indian (sometimes with a companion or two) used to return from the west every year at a certain moon, ostensibly for the purpose of honoring the graves of his fathers and to use again his ances tral right of hunting the deer and bear among the wild but verdurous hills, says Llppincott's; yet gossiping tar heels hold that really the visits were for the purpose of opening again the concealed mine of lead or silver, whose rich spoil the sons of the forest have been seen bearing off in their packs. Another form of the story relates that a certain hunter (always "won't tell," or now "dead," or "moved west") got all the lead for his bullets from the foot of a mountain above a cove on a certain creek; or an old counterfeiter (now "in the penitentiary" or "fled" into parts unknown) used to coin quarters and halves of good silver (still seen in cir culation), yet was never known to buy silver in any form. Weeks and months were spent each year in searching for these secret treasures. Occasionally the enthusiasm would mount to the height of sending far off somewhere to fetch back the "old hunter." More than once such a one has been per suaded that there was more richness in his bullets than he had supposed; and, regretting vainly the many pounds of good silver lead that he had shot away at deer, coons, geese and other game, he has been brought back to his old haunts. Then, with many a keen eye tracking his goings with his persuading friend, weeks would be spent In bush- beating, cliff climbing and laborious search along rocky shores, about caver nous hills in fens, bogs, and dismal dens In the deep woods, but only to the utter disappointment of all their fond anticipations. The "old hunter" finds that time has obliterated his way- marks; bush and tree and rock and rill lack the familiar aspect, and he whose confused recollections formed the baslj of vast schemes of gain returns to hit distant home dispirited and dishon ored. An onen foe mav Drove a. curse, hul a pretended rViend is worse. Pop. T A T Til" AMl?' S W I? M ON 1 AliJU AXJIU a O-L'-U-ill Vil. SYMPATHY FOR THE GREEKS, SUNDAY'S SUBJECT. From the Textl "I Am Debtor Both to the Greeki and to tho llarbarlani" Roman! Ill 4 Thermopylae and liunk er Ulll. T this time, when that behemoth of abominations, M o hammedanlsm, a f ter having gorged Itself on the car casses of a hundred thousand Armen ians, is trying to put its paws upon one of the fairest of all nations, that of the Greeks, I preach this sermon of sympathy and protest, for every In telligent person on this side of the sea as well as the other side, like Paul, who wrote the text, is debtor to the Greeks. The present crisis is emphasized . by the guns of the allied powers of Eu rope, ready to be unllmbered against the Hellenes, and I am asked to speak out. Paul, with a master intellect of the ages, sat in brilliant Corinth, the great Acro-Corlnthus fortress frowning from the height of sixteen hundred and eighty-six feet, and In the house of Gaius, where he was a guest, a big pile of money near him, which he was taking to Jerusalem for the poor. In this let ter to the Romans, which Chrysostom admired so much that he had it read to him twice a week, Paul practically says: "I, the Apostle, am bankrupt. I owe what I cannot pay, but I will pay as large a percentage as I can. It Is an obligation for what Greek literature and Greek sculpture and Greek archl tecture and Greek prowess hate done for me. I will pay all I can In Install ments of evangelism. I am Insolvent to the Greeks." Hellas, as the inhabi tants call it, or Greece, as we call it, is insignificant in size, about a third as large as the state of New York, but what it lacks in breadth is makes up In height, with Its mountains Cylene, and Eta, and Taygetus, and Tymphres tus, each over seven thousand feet in elevation, and its Parnassus, over eight thousand. Just the country for mighty men to be born In, for in all lands the most of the Intellectual and moral giants were not born on the plain, but had for cradle the valley between two mountains. That country, no part of which Is more than forty miles from the sea, has made its impress upon the world as no other nation, and It today holds a first mortgage of obligation upon all civilized people. While we must leave to statesmanship and di plomacy the settlement of the intri cate questions which now Involve all Europe, and Indirectly all nations, It Is time for all churches, all schools, all universities, all arts, all literature to sound out In tho most emphatic way the declaration, "I am debtor to the Greeks." In the first place, we owo to their language our New Testament. All of it was first written in Greek, except the Book of Matthew, and that, written In the Aramean language, was soon nut into Greek by our Savior's brother, James. To the Greek language we owe the best sermon ever preached, the best letters ever written, the best vis ions ever kindled. All the parables In Greek. All the miracles In Greek. The sermon on the mount in Greek. The story of Bethlehem and Golgotha and Olivet and Jordan banks and Galilean beaches and Pauline embarkation and Pentecostal tongues and seven trumpets that sounded over Patmos, have come to the world In liquid, symmetric, pic turesque, philosophic, unrivaled Greek insteaa or tne gibberish language in which many of the natlpns of the earth at that time Jabbered. Who can forget it and who can exaggerate its thrilling importance, that Christ and heaven were Introduced to us in the language of the Greeks? the language in which Homer had sung and Sophocles drama tized and Pluto dialogued and Socrates discoursed and Lycurgus legislated and Demosthenes thundered his oration on "The Crown?" Everlasting thanks to God that the waters of life were not handed to the world in the unwashed cup of corrupt languages from which nations had been drinking, but in the clean, bright, golden lipped, emerald handled chalice of the Hellenes. Learned Curtius wrote a whole volume about the Greek verb. Philologists century after century have been meas urlng the symmetry of that language, laden with elegy and philippic, drama and comedy, Odyssey and Iliad; but the grandest thing that Greek language ever accomplished was to give to the world the benediction, the comfort, the irraditatlon, the salvation of the Gos pel of the Son of God. For that we are debtors to the Greeks. And while speaking of our philologi cal obligation, let me call your atten tion to the fact that many of the in tellectual and moral and theological leaders of the agea got much of their discipline and effectiveness from Greek llteratu:e. It is popular to scoff at the dead languages, but 50 per cent of the world's intellectuality would have been taken off if, through learned institu tions our young men had not, under competent professors, been drilled in Greek masterpieces. Heslod's "Weeks and Days," or the euloglum by Simon ides of the slain in war, or Pindar's "Odes of Victory," or "The Recollec tions of Socrates," or "The . Art of Words," by Corax, or Xenophon's Ana basis. From the Greeks the world learned how to make history. Had there been no Herodotus and Thucydides, there would have been no Macaulay or Ban croft Had there been no Sophocles In tragedy, there would have been no Shakespeare. Had there been no Ho- mer tnere wuld nave been no Milton. The modem wltS( who are now.or have been out on the divine mission of mak ing the world laugh at the right time, can be traced back to Aristophanes, the Athenian, and many of the Jocosities that are now taken as new had their suggestions twenty-three hundred years ago In the fifty-four comedies of that master of merriment. Grecian mytho logy has been the richest mine from which orators and essayists have drawn their Illustrations and painters the themes for their canvas, and although now an exhausted mine, Grecian myth ology has done a work that nothing else could have accomplished; Boreas, representing the north wind; Sisyphus, rolling the stone up the hill, only to have the same thing to do over again; Tantalus, with fruits above him that he could not reach; Achilles, with his arrows; Icarus, with his waxen wings, flying too near the sun; the Centaurs, half man and half beast; Orpheus, with his lyre; Atlas, with the world on his back, all these and more have helped literature, from the graduate's speech on commencement day to Ruius Choate's euloglum on Daniel Webster at Dartmouth. Tragedy and comedy were born In the festivals of Dlonyslus at Athens. The lyric and elegiac and epic poetry of Greece five hundred years before Christ has Its echoes in the Tennysons, Longfellows and Bry ants of eighteen and nineteen hun dred years after Christ. There Is not an effective pulpit or editorial chair or professor's room or cultured parlor or Intelligent farmhouse today In America or Europe that could not appropriately employ Paul's ejaculation and say, "I am debtor to the Greeks." The fact Is this, Paul had got much of , his oratorical power of expression from the Greeks. That he had studied their literature was evident, when standing in the presence of an audience of Greek scholars on Mars' Hill, which overlooks Athens, he dared to quote from one of their own Greek poets.elther Cleanthus or Aratus, declaring, "As certain also r of your own poets have said, 'for wo are also his offspring.' " And he made accurate quotation, Cleanthus, one of the poets, having written: "For we thine offspring are. All things that creep Are but the echo of the voice divine." And Aratus, one of their own poets, had written: "Doth care perplex? Is lowering dan ger nigh? We are his offspring, and to Jove we fly." It was rather a risky thing for Paul to attempt to quote extemporaneously from a poem in a language foreign to his, and before Greek scholars, but Paul did it without stammering, and then acknowledged before the most dis tinguished audience on the planet his indebtedness to the Greeks, crying out in his oration, "As one of your own poets has said." Furthermore, all the world is obli gated to Hellas more than It can ever pay for its heroics in the cause of lib erty and right. United Europe today had not better think that the Greeks will not fight. There may be fallings back and vacillations and temporary defeat, but If Greece Is right all Eu rope cannot put her down. The other nations, before they open the port-holes of their men-of-war against that small kingdom had better read of the battle of Marathon, where ten thousand Ath enians, led on by Mlltlades, triumphed over one hundred thousand of their enemies. At that time in Greek council of war five generals were for beginning the battle and five were against It. Callimachus presided at the council of war and had the deciding vote, and Mlltiades addressed him. saying: "It now rests with you, Callimachus, either to enslave Athens, or by Insuring her freedom, to win yourself an immor of Marathon, where ten thousand Athe nians, led on by Mlltlades, triumphed danger as they are at this moment. If they bow the knee to these Medes, they are to be given up to Hippias, and you know what they will then have to suf fer; but If Athens comes victorious out of this contest, she has it In her power to become the first city of Greece. Your vote is to decide whether we are to join battle or not. If we do not bring on a battle presently, some factious in trigue will disunite the Athenians and the city will be betrayed to the Medes, but If we fight before there Is anything rotten in the state of Athens, I believe that, provided the gods will give fair field and no favor, we are able to get the best of it in the engagement." That won the vote of Callimachus, and soon the battle opened, and In full run the men of Miltlades fell upon the Persian hosts, shouting; "On! Sons of Greece! Strike for the freedom of your country! Strike for the freedom of your children and your wives, for the shrines of your father's gods, and for the sepulchres of your sires! All, all are now staked on the strife." While only one hundred and ninety-two Greeks fell, six thousand four hundred Persians lay dead upon the field, and many of the Asiatic hosts who took to the war vessels In the harbor were con sumed In the shipping. Persian oppres sion was rebuked, Grecian liberty was achieved, the cause of civilization was advanced, and the western world and all nations have felt the heroics. Had there been no Miltlades. there might have been no Washington. Also at Thermopylae, three hundred Greeks, along a road only wide enough for a wheel track between a mountain and a marsh, died rather than surrend er. Had there been no Thermopylae, there might have been no Bunker Hill. The echo of Athenian and Spartan he roics was heard at the gates ot Luck- now, and Sebastopol, and Bannock burn, and Lexington, and Gettysburg. EsoTllsb Magna Charta, and Declara tion of American Independence, andt the song of Robert Burns, entitled, "A Man's a Man for a' That," were only the long,contlnued reverberation of what was said and done twenty cen turies before In that llttlo kingdom that the powers of Europe are now lm-i posing upon. Greece having again and1 again shown that ten men In the right are stronger than a hundred men In the wrong, the heroics of Leonldaa and Aristides and Themlstocles will not cease their mission until the last man1 on earth Is as free as God made him. There Is not on either side of the At lantic today a republic that cannot truthfully employ the words of the text and say, "I am debtor to the Greeks." But ihere Is a better way to pay them, and that is by their personal salvation, which will never come to them through books or through learned1 presentation, because in literature and Intellectual realms they are masters. They can out-arguo, out-quote, out dogmatize you. Not through the gate of the head, but through the gate of the heart, you may capture them. When men of learning and might are brought to God they are brought by simples story of what religion can do for a soul. They have lost children. Oh, tell them how Christ comforted you when you lost your bright boy or blue-eyed girl. They have found life a struggle. Oh, tell them how Christ, has helped you all the way through. They are In bewilderment Oh, tell them with how many hands of joy heaven beckons you upward. "When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war," but when a warm-hearted Christian meets a man who needs par don and sympathy and comfort and eternal life, then comes victory. If you can, by some incident of self-sacrifice, bring to such scholarly men and wom en what Christ has done for their eter nal rescue, you may bring them in. Where Demosthenic eloquence and Ho meric imagery would fall, a kindly, heart-throb may succeed. A gentleman' of this city sends me the statement of what occurred a few days ago among, the mines of British Columbia. It seems that Frank Conson and Jem Smith were down in the narrow shaft of a mine. They had loaded an iron bucket with coal, and Jim Hemsworth, stand ing above ground, was hauling the bucket up by windlass, when the wind lass broke and the loaded bucket was descending upon the two miners. Then Jim Hemsworth, seeing what must be certain death to the miners beneath,, threw himself against the cogs of the whirling windlass, and though his flesh was torn and his bones were broken, he stopped the whirling wind lass and arrested the descending bucket and saved the lives of the two miners beneath. The superintendent of the mine flew to the rescue and blocked the machinery. When Jim Hemsworth's bleeding and broken body was put on a litter and carried homeward, and some one exclaimed: "Jim, this is aw ful!" he replied: "Oh, what's the dif ference so long as I saved the boys!". What on illustration Is was of suffering' for others, and what a text from which to Illustrate the behavior of our Christ, limping and lacerated and broken and torn and crushed In the work of stop ping the descending ruin that would have destroyed our souls! Try such a scene of vicarious suffering as this on that man capable of overthrowing all your arguments for the truth, and he will sit down and weep. Draw your Il lustrations from the classics, and it Is to him an old story, but Leyden Jars and electric batteries and telescopes and Greek drama will all surrender to the story of Jim Hemsworth's, "Oh, what's the difference so long as I saved the boys?" Then If your illustration of Christ's self-sacrlflce.drawn from some scene of today ,and your story of what Christ has done for you does not quite fetch him into the right way, just say to him, "Professor Doctor Judge! Why was it that Paul declared he was a debtor to the Greeks?" Ask your learned friend to take his Greek Testament and translate for you, in his own way, from Greek into English, the splendid peroration of Paul's sermon on Mars Hill, under the power of which the scholarly Dionysius surrendered, name ly: "The times of this ignorance God winked at; but now commandeth all men everywhere to repent: because he hath appointed a day in the which he will judge the world in righteousness. by that man whom he hath ordained; whereof he hath given assurance unto all men, in that he hath raised him from the dead." By the time he has got through the translation from the- Greek I think you will see his lip trem ble and there will come a pallor on his face like the pallor on the sky at day break. By the eternal salvation of that scholar, that great thinker, that splendid man, you will have done something to help pay your Indebted ness to the Greeks. And now to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, be honor and glory, and dominion and victory and song world without end. Amen. No Two Religion. There never were two true religions. Every true Jew Is at heart a Christian. The word Christ is only another form of the Hebrew word Messiah. Both mean the anointed. All Hebrews who believe in the Messiah may be called if I may make a word Mesalahans, which is just another word for Chris tians. Judaism is the gray dawn of the morning; Christianity, properly understood, is the sun at noonday. Rev. R. S. MacArthur. The Labor Problem. There will be no relief from growing poverty and distress until millions now shut away get back to the soil and be come producers. The solution of the labor problem lies at the end of this road. Rev. A. J. Wells.