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By HAROLD Illustrated from Scenes i Same Name by the Tha (Copyright, 1014, b; SYNOPSIS. Stanley Hargreave. millionaire, after <i miraculous escape from the den of the gang of brilliant thieves known as the Black Hundred, lives the life of a recluse for eighteen years. Hargreave one night enters a Broadway restau rant and there comes face to face with the gang's leader. Bralne. After the meeting, during which nei ther man apparently recognizes the other. Hargreave hurries to his mag nificent Riverdale home and lays plans for making his escape from the coun try. He writes a letter to the girls' school in New Jersey where eighteen years before "he had mysteriously left on the doorstep his baby daughter. Florence Gray. He also pays a visit to the hangar of a daredevil aviator. Brainc and members of his band sur round Hargreave's home at night, but as they enter the house the watchers outside see a balloon leave the roof. The safe is found empty?the million which Hargreave was known to have drawn that day was gone. Then some one announced the balloon had been punctured and dropped Into the sea. Florence Hargreaves arrives from the girls' school. Princess Olga. Braine's companion, visits her and claims to be a relative. Two bogus de tectives call, but their plot is foiled by Norton, a newspaper man. By bribing the captain of the Orient Norton lays a trap for Bralne and his gang. Princess Olga also visits the Orient's captain and she easily falls into the reporter's snare. The plan proves abortive throusrh Braine's good luck, and only hirelings fall into the . hands of the police. After failing in their first attempt the Black Hundred trap Florence. They ask her for money, but she escapes, again foiling them. Norton and the countess call on Flor ence the next day, once more safe at home. The visitors having gone. Jones removes a section of flooring and from o noviiv ?nWo? ?i ho* Pursued bv mem bers of the Black Hundred who have been watching his movements, he rushes to the water front. A thrilling race in motor boats ensues. Jones drops the box into the sea and with his automatic sets fire to the pursuing boat. CHAPTER VI ?Continued. "Maybe It's just as well you did," said Jones moodily. "I know this place. The housekeep er used to be my nurse, and if she is still on the job she may be of service to us. You don't think they'll question or recognize me?" "Hardly. I'll put in a word for you. I'll say I sent for you. not knowing if we had enough servants to take care of the luncheon." "And now I'll go and hunt up Meg." Sure enough, his old nurse was still in charge of the house; and when her "baby" disclosed his identity she all but fell upon his neck. "But what are you doing here, dressed up as a waiter?" "It's a little secret, Meg. I wasn't invited, and the truth is I'm very desncratelv in love with the youns lady in whose honor this coaching party is being given. And . . . maybe she's in danger." "Danger? What about?" "The Lord only knows. But show me about the house. I've not been here in so long I've forgotten the run Fiorcnce Was Chatting With the Count. of it. T remember one roo: with the secret panel and another with a painting that turned. Have they changed them?" "No; it is just the same here as it used to be. Come along and I'll show you." Norton inspected the rooma care fully, stowing away in his mind every detail. He might be worrying about nothing: but so many strange things had happened that it was better to be on the side of caution than on the Eide of carelessness. He left the house and ran across Jones carrying a basket of wine. "Here. Norton; take this to the party. I want to reconnoiter." "All right, m'lud: Say, Jones, how tv? 11 /ill fir, fnil thinlr 1VI tL ! ? I11UI.II uu .viu vwnirw 4U cai 11 ill II11S Job?" comically. "Got along with you, Mr. Norton. It rmi.v bo the time to laugh, and then it ma;' not." "I'm going back into the house and hidft behind a secret panel. I've got my revolver. You go to the stables and take a try at my car; see if she works smoothly. We may have to do some hiking. Where is the countess in this?" VAST .'UNGLES OF PANAMA Described by Traveler as Dense and Myste-io-js as Are Those 5f Africa. There jungles in Panama, stretching a*Vay from the banks of Gatun lak*), as dense and mysterious as those of Africa. The only canal men who *row the jungles intimately are the Finreyors wno have charted the topoj r; phy of the watershed, or who havt ;uade special Investigations MAG GRATH n the Photo Drama of the nhouser Film Company y Harold MacGrath) "Leave that to me, Mr. Norton," said the butler with his grim smile. "Be off; they are moving back toward the house." So Norton carried the basket around to the lawn, where it was taken from t- _ i 1 _ l... r-nrvnnf Ho I ms nanus uy nit: ic^uiai oci?ui??,. sighed as he saw Florence, laughing I and chatting with a man who was a I stranger and whom he heard ad j dressed as count. Some friend of the j countess, no doubt. Where was all this tangle going to end? He wished he knew. And what a yarn he was going to write some day! It would be read like one of Gaboriau's tales. He turned away to wander idly about the grounds, when beyond a clump of ce dars he saw three or four men convers- 1 ing slowly. He got as near as possible, j for when three or four men put their | heads together and whisper animated- j ly. it usually means a poker game or < something worse. He caught a phrase ( or two as it came down the wind, and j then he knew that the vague suspi- i > cion that had brought him out here j j had been set in motion by fate. He j j heard "Florence" and "the old draw- j ing room;" and that was enough. He scurried about for Jones. It was pure luck that he had had old Meg ' show him through the house, other- ; wise he would have forgotten all about | the secret panel in the wall and the j painting. Jones shrugged resignedly, j Were these men of the countess' party? Norton couldn't say. Vnptnn rrndo Viio ViiHine* nlapp in S safety; and by and by he could hear the guests moving about in the room. Then all sounds ceased for a while. A t door closed sharply. ? "No; here you must stay, young lady," said a man's voice. "What do you mean, sir?" demanded the beloved voice. "It means that no one will return to this room and that you will not be missed until it is too late.' The sound of voices stopped ab ruptly, and something like scuffling ensoed. Later Norton heard the back of a chair strike the panel and some one sat heavily upon it. He waited perhaps five minutes; then he gently slid back the panel. Florence sat bound and gagged under his very eyes. It was but the work of a moment to liberate her. "It is I, Jim. Do not speak or make the least noise. Follow me." Greatly astonished, Florence obeyed; and the panel slipped back into place. The room behind the secret panel had barrecj windows. To Florence it ap peared to be a real prison. "How did you get here?" she asked breathlessly. "Something told me to follow you. And something is always going to tell me to follow you, Florence." She pressed his hand. It was to her as if one of those book heroes had stepped out of a book; only book he roes always had tremendous fortunes and did not have to work for a liv ing. Oddly enough, she was not afraid. "Who was the man?' he asked. "The Count Norfeldt. Some one has imposed upon the countess." "Do you think so?" with a strange look in his eyes. "What do you mean?" "Nothing just now. The idea is to get out of here just as quickly as we can. See this painting?" He touched a spot in the wall and the painting slowly swung out like a door. "Come; we make our escape to the side lawn from here." At the stable they were confronted with the knowledge that Norton's car was out of commission; Jones could do nothing with it. Then Norton suggest ed that he make a effort to com mandeer the limousine of the count ess; but there were men about, so the limousine was out of the question. "Horses!" whispered Jones. "There are several saddle horses, already sad dled. How about these people, the owners?" "Oh, they are beyond reproach. They have doubtless been imposed upon. But let us get aboard first. There will be time to talk later. I'll have to do some explaining, taking these nags off like this. We won't have to ride out in front where the picknickers are. There's a lane back of the stable, and a slight detour brings us back into the main road." The three mounted and clattered away. To Florence it had the air of a prank. She was beginning to have such confidence in these two inventive men that she felt as if she was never ! going to be afraid any more. When the Countess Olga saw the | three horses it was an effort not to | fly into a rage. Hut secretly she warned her people, who presently gave chase in the limousine, while she prattled and jested and laughed with her company, who were quite unaware j Y that a drama was being enacted right under their very noses. The countess, while she acted superbly, tore Iter handkerchief into shreds. There was something sinister in the way all their plans fell through at the very i a moment ot' consummation; and that tl night she determined to ask llraine ( a \\ at various points. One of these men \ g j is Mr. O. K. Malmsbury, who is in c charge of the land surveys under u Colonel (Joethals. In speaking of the ; jungle recently, in the New York Sun, [ 0 he said: ja \\ hen I try to become definite about | it j the jungle, 1 realize how little even a ! man who has seen much of it knows ; about its life. There are strong im I pressions of beauty, mystery, and fear, j a lure with a menace, a smile that only half covers a snarl?and every I thing else that I know abocu the jun 3 withdraw from this warfare, which ;raduaily decimated their numbers ithout getting anywhere toward thp oal. Jones shouted that the limousine as tearing down the road. Sorae ling must be done to stop it. He uggested that he drop behind, leave is horse, and take a chance at pot ng a tire from the shrubbery at the Dadside. "Keep going. Don't stop, Norton, 11 you are back in town. I'll manage ) take good care of myself." CHAPTER VII. When all three finally net at the (argreave home Florence suddenly )ok Jones by the shoulders and issed him lightly on the cheek, ones started back, pale and dis jrbed. Norton laughed. He did not feel ne slightest twinge of jealousy, but Do Not Speak or Make the Least Noise." e was eaten up with envy, as the old ives say. "You are wondering if I suspect the rincess Perigoff?" said Jones. "I am." This man Jones was de eloping into a very remarkable char cter. The reporter found himself ide glancing at the thin, keen face of lis resourceful butler. The lobe of le man's left ear came within range, forton reached for a cigarette, but is hands shook as he lit it. There as a peculiar little scar in the cen jr of the lobe. "Well," said Jones, "I can find no vidence that she has been concerned ? "You are suspicious?" "Of everybody," looking boldly into le reporter's eyes. "Of me?" smiling. "Even of myself sometimes." Conversation dropped entirely after lis declaration. "You're a taciturn sort of chap." "Am I?" "You are. But an agreement is an greement, and while I'd like to print lis story, I'll not. We newspaper len seldom break our word." Jones held out his hand. "Sometimes I wish I'd started life ght," said the reporter gloomily. "A ewspaper man is generally improvi ent. He never looks ahead for to torrow. What with my special ar cles to the magazines, I earn be fteen four and five thousand the ear; and I've never been able to save cent." "Perhaps you've never really tried," ;plied Jones, with a glance at his jmpanion. It was a good face, strong i outline; a little careworn, perhaps, lit free from any indications of dissi ation. "If I had begun life as you id, I'd have made real and solid use [ the great men I met, I'd have iade financiers help me to invest my , irnings, or savings, little as they light be. And today I'd be living on , le income." "You never can tell. Perhaps a worn- ; a might have made you think of lose things; but if you had remained uattached up to thirty-one, as I have, le thought of saving might never ave entered your head. A man in my resent, condition, financially, has no ght to think of matrimony." "It might be the saving of you if < ou met and married the right worn n." "But the right woman might be eiress to millions. And a poor devil ke me could not marry a girl with loney and hang oil to his self-re lect." "True. Hut there are always excep ons to all rules in life, except those jgarding health. A healthy man is a ormal man, and a normal man has o right to remain single. You proved aurself a man this afternoon, con tiering that yo;v did not know 1 oc ipied the wheel seat. Come to think over, you really saved the day. ou gave me the opportunity of steer ig straight for the police station, ."ell. good-by." "Queer duck!" mused the reporter s. after telephoning, lie headed for is office. Queer duck, indeed! What game it was going to be! And lis man Jones .was playing it like master. It did not matter that some le can be told in a few isolated in idents that have happened to pass nder my notice. An orchid beckons from the branch f a tree, a pair of wild pigs dash way into the brush, a tiger cat shows s bright eyes for a moment, and, in flash, the heron balances daintily on reed by the river, an alligator slides "om a mud bank into the water, mon eys lark in the trees, a lion growls -such slight things sum up my jun le lore. One hour the sun looks through one else laid down the rules; It was the way in which they were inter preted. Braine heard of the failure. The \ Black Hundred was finding its stock i far below par value. Four valuable men locked up in the Tombs await ing trial, to say nothing of the seven gunmen gathered in at the old ware house. Braine began to suspect that his failures were less due to chance than to calculation, that at last he had encountered a mind which anti cipated his every move. He would have recognized this fact earlier had it not been that revenge had temporar ily blinded him. The spirit of revenge ever makes for mental clarity. There was a meeting that night of the Black Hundred. Four men were told off, and they drew their chairs up to Vroon's table for instructions. Braine sat at Vroon's elbow. These four men composed the most danger ous quartet in New York city. They were as daring as they were desper ate. They were the men who held up bank messengers and got away with thousands. They had learned to swoop down upon their victims as the hawk swoops down upon the heron. The newspapers referred to them as the "auto bandits," and the men took a deal of pride in the furore they had CUICU. Vroon went over the Hargreave case minutely; he left no detail un explained. Bluntly and frankly, the daughter of Stanley Hargreave must be caught and turned over to the care of the Black Hundred. It must be quick action. Four valuable members were in the Tombs. They might or might not weaken under pressure. For the first time in its American career the organization stood facing actual: peril; and its one possible chance of j salvation lay in the fact that no one's | face was known to his neighbor. He, j Vroon, and the boss alone knew who f and what each man was. But the plans, the ramifications of the organ ization might become public property; and that would mean an end to an exceedingly profitable business. The daughter of Hargreave rode horseback early every morning. She sought the country road. She was in variably attended by the riding mas ter of a school near by. "You four will make your own plans." "If she should be injured?" "Avoid it if possible." i o J. J 0?? we nave a. wee uctuu ; "Absolutely." "We risk a bad fall from her horse If it's a spirited one." "Pretend a breakdown in the road," interpolated Braine. "As they ap approach, draw and order them to dis mount. That method will prevent any accident." "We'll plan it somehow. It looks easy." "Nothing is easy where that girl is concerned. A thousand eyes seem to be watching her slightest move." "We shan't leave anything to chance. How many days will you give us?" "Seven. A failure, mind you, will prove unhealthy to all concerned," with a menace which made the four stir uneasily. The telephone rang. Braine reached for the receiver. "A man just entered the Hargreave house at the rear. Come at once," was the message. "Is your car outside?" Braine asked. "We are never without it." "Then let us be off. No one will stop us for speeding on a side street." Fourteen minutes by the clock brought the car to a stand at the curb a few .houses below the Hargreave home. The men got out. The watch er ran up. "He is still inside," he whispered. "Good! Spread out. If anyone leaves that house, catch him. If he runs too fast, shoot. We can beat the police." The man obeyed, and the watcher ran back to his post. He was des perately hoping the affair would ter minate tonight. He was growing weary of this eternal vigilance; and it it-no nnlv his fear of the man known as the boss that kept him at his post. He wanted a night to carouse in, to be with the boys. The man for whom they were lying in wait was seen presently to creep cautiously round the side of the house. He hugged a corner and paused. They could see the dim outline of his body. The light in the street back of the grounds almost made a silhouette of him. 13y and by, as if assured that the coast was clear, he stole down to the street. "Halt!" Instantly the prowler took to his heels. Two shots rang out. The man was seen to stop, stagger, and then go on desperately. "He's hit!" By the time the men reached the corner they heard the rumble of a motor. One dashed back to the car they had left standing at the curb. He made quick work of the job. but he was not quick enough. Still, they gave chase. They saw the car turn toward the city. But, unfortunately for the success of the chase, several automo biles passed, going into town and leav ing it. Checkmate. Braine was keen enough tonight. "He is hit; whether badly cr not re mains to be seen. We can lind tha' out. Drive to the nearest drug stone and ger a list of hospitals. It's a ten to one shot that we land him some where among the hospitals." Hut they searched the hospitals in vain. None of them had that night re ceived a shooting case, nor had they heard one reported. The man had been unmistakably hit. He would not have dared risk the loss of time for trees and bushes, and traces a thou sand patterns 011 the ground; the next, rattle of rain on the leaves is deafen ing. Night falls, and the parrakeets, crickets, frogs, lizards begin their unending chorus; then the howl of ( monkeys adds to the din, and now and again the cry of the wildcat and the growling bark of the mountain j lion makes a man glad that he is be- , side u bright fire with his machete or i gun close at hand. The lion of the Panama jungle is of 1 two kinds?black and tawny. Full i a bit of play-acting. Evidently he had kept his head and sought his lodgings. < To call up doctors would be utter folly; for it would take a week for a thorough combing. This was the sec ond time the man had got away. "Perhaps I'm to blame," admitted Braine. "I should have advised Miles to stalk him and pot him if he got the chance. There's a master mind work ing somewhere back of all this, and it's time I woke up to the fact. But you," turning to the auto bandits, "you men have your instructions. More than Vhat, you have been given a free rein. See that you make good, or by the Lord Harry! I'll break the four of you like pipestems." "We haven't had a failure yet," spoke up one of the men, more courageous than his companions. "You are not holding up a bank mes senger this trip. Remember that. Drive me as far as Columbus circle. Leave me on the side street, between me ugnis, so jl can lane uu who maoii. Later Braine sauntered into Pabst and ordered a light supper. This night's work, more than anything else, brought home to him the fact that his luck was changing. For years he had proceeded with his shady occupations without encountering any memorable failure. He moved in the high world, quite unsuspected. He had written books, given lectures, been made a lion of, all the while laughing in his sleeve at the gullibility of human nature. But within the last two weeks he had re ceived serious checks. From now on he must move with the utmost caution. Some one was playing his own game, waging warfare unseen. A battle of wits? So be it; but Braine intended to play with rough wits, and he wasn't going to care which way the sword cut. He hated Stanley Hargreave with all the hatred of his soul; (.he hatred of a man balked in love. And the man was alive, defying him; alifre somewhere in thie city this very nig^t, with a bul let under his skin. "Is everything satisfactory, sir?" he heard the head waiter say. "Satisfactory?" Braife repeated blankly. "Yes, sir. You struck the table as though displeased." "0!" Then Braine laughed relieved ly. "If I struck the table, it was done unconsciously. 1 was thinking." "Beg pardon, ir! Anything else, sir?" ' "No. Bring me the check." ******* "Your master gives riding lessors?" ' The groom who had Jed the horse t back from Hargroave's eyed his ques-" tioner rather superciliously. "Yes." The groom foadled the ani mal's legs. ? "How much is It?" "Twenty dollars for ft ticket of five rides. The master is the fashion up here. He doesn't cater to any but the best families." "Pretty steep. Who was that young lady riding this morning with your master?" "That's the girl all the newspapers have been talking about," answered the groom importantly. "Actress?" "Actress! I should say not. That young woman is the daughter of Stan ley Hargreave, the millionaire who was lost at sea. And it won't be long The Daughter of Hargreave Rode Horseback Every Morning. before she puts her finger In a pie of four or five millions. If you want any rides, you'll have to talk it over with 1 the boss. He may or may not take ' any more rides. You'd probably have 1 to ride in the afternoon, anyhow, as every nag is out in the morning." ( "Where's the most popular road?" ' "Toward the park; but Miss Har- 1 greave always goes along the river- ' side road. She doesn't like strangers about." 1 "O, I see. Well, I'll drop in this ' afternoon and see your master. They ' say that riding is good for a torpid 1 liver. Have a cigar?" 1 "Thanks." 1 The Ki'ooni proceeded into the sta- 1 bios and the affable stranger took ' himself off. A free rein; they could work it to 1 suit themselves. There wasn't the 1 least obstacle in the way. On the ( face of it, it appeared to be the siin- * plest job they had yet undertaken. |( To get rid ot' the riding master in I ' some natural way after he and the grown, l e stands :?0 inches high. His breast is broad, like that of a bulldog; bis legs are long; his head is square, j but catlike. He growls like a lion, ( but ends with a bark. I never heard t of bis attacking a man, but the na- i lives of the jungle fear him. He t would be a dangerous adversary at close quarters. The only way to be t certain that he will not attack a man s is to try one out. Personally, 1 don't t care enough for the knowledge to r risk the experiment.?Youth's Compan- ( ion, ( girl had started. It wa? dtt? fattlttf off a log. "Susan," said Florence a* she came into breakfast after her exhilarating ride, "did you hear pistol shots last night?" "I heard some noise, but I was so sleepy I didn't try to figure out wQat it was." "Did you, j'ones?" "Yes, Miss Florence. The shots came from the street. A policeman came running up later and said he saw two automobiles on the run. But evidently there wasn't anybody hurt. One has to be careful at night now adays. There are pretty bad men abroad. Did you enjoy the ride?" "Very much. But ther* were spots of blood on the walk near the corner." "Blood?" Jones caught the back of a chair to steady himself. "Yes. So some one was hurt. Oh, let'3 leave this place!" Impulsively. "Let us go back to Miss Farlow's. You could find a place in the village, Jones. But if I stay here much longer in this state of unrest I shall lose faith in everything and everybody. Whoever my father's enemies are, they do not lack persistence. They have made two attempts against my PArtnAr r\r> 10 for thdV Will I i UC1 LJ y auu U1 ?MVV* succeed. I keep looking over my shoulder all the time. If I hear a noise I jump." "Miss Florence, if I thought it wise, you should be packed off to Miss Far low's this minute. But not an hour of the day or night passes without this house being watched. I seldom see anybody about. I can only sense the presence of a watcher. At Miss Far low's you would be far more like a prisoner than here. I could not ac company you. I anr forbidden to de sert this house." "My father's orders?" Jones signified neither one way nor the other. He merely gazed stolidly at the rug. "That blood!" She sprang from her chair, horrified. "It was his! He was here last night, and they shot him! 0!" "There, there, Miss Florence! The man was only slightly wounded. He's where they never will look for him." Then Jones continued, as with an ef fort: "Trust me, Miss Florence. It would not pay to run away. The whole affair would be repeated else where. We might go to the other vnd of the world, but it would not serve us in the least. If. is not a question of escape, but of vho shall vanquish the other. There is nothing to do but re main here and t-ght, fight, fight. We have put four ot them in the Tombs, to say nothing n{ the gunmen. That is what we must do?put them in a safe place, one by one, till we reach the master. T.Cen only may we breathe in safety. But if they watch, so do we. There is never a moment when help is not within reach, no ma<> ter where you go. So long as you d?$ not deceive me, no real harm shall be fall you. Don't cry. Be your father's daughter, as I am his servant." "I am very unhappy!" And Flor ence threw her arms around Sin*? and laid her head upon her friend* shoulder. "Poor child!" Susan, however, rec ognized the wisdom of Jones' state ments. They were safest here. The morning rides continued. To I he girl, who loved the open, it wa3 glorious fun. Those mad gallops f.long the roads, ths smell of earth an l sea, the tingle in the blood, were the second best moments of her day. The first? She invariably blushed when she considered what these first best moments were. He was a brave young man, good to look at, witty, and al ways cheerful. Why shouldn't she like him? Even Jones liked him? Jones, who didn't seem to like any body. It did not matter whether he - *- - iJi~ /vf was wise or noi; a wonuiy puiui w view was farthest from her youthful thoughts. It was her own affair; her own heart. Five days later, as she and the rid ing master were cantering along the road, enjoying every bit of it, they heard the beat of hoofs behind. They drew up and turned. A rider was ap proaching them at a run. It was the head grpom. The man stopped his horse in a cloud of dust. "Sir, the stables are on fire!" "Fire?". All the riding master's savings were invested in the stables. The fact that he had solemnly promised never to leave Florence alone, and that he had accepted a generous bonus slipped from his mind at the thought of fir??, a terrible word to any horseman. He wheeled and started off at breakneck speed, his head groom clattering be hind him. Florence naturally wondered which of two courses to pursue: follow them, when she would bo perfectly helpless j to aid them, or continue the ride and save at least one horse from the ter ror of seeing flames. She chose the latter.' But she did not r*de with the earlier zest. She felt depressed. She loved horses, and the thought of them I Hinca n-niVHon CtahlfS WSS I U?IUS IU w.vov horrifying. ' The fire, however, proved to be in cipient. Hut it was plainly incends- ' iry. Some one had set fir<? to it with 1 i purpose In view. Norton recognized Lhis fact almost as soon its the firo men. He had come this morning wit*! :he idea of surprising Florence. Ho i Evas going out on horseback to joiu I , ;er. His spine grew suddenly cold. A rap! She had been left stone on tha ' oad! He ran over to the garage, s? ured a car, and went hr'moiing out , oward the river road. A trap, and nly by the sheerest Iu:t had h<3 11 mod up in time. (TO HI-: CONTIXt'5"!).) , Detects Listener*. A motor-driven tellta.9 device for larty-line telephones ha* b&<m patent >d, which will give convoking parties he location of any subscriber who nay "listen in" while th^y are using lie line. . The rising receiver hock vt the in erloping station starts a *iotor driven signal wheel which gives the cjde of he station attempting to use the line, rhe motor cannot be stepped or the J :ircuits interrupted until -he ei&'iial 1a :ompleted. toRNAIlONAL StiWSffiOOL LESSON (By E. O. SELLERS, Director Sunday School Course, Moody Bible Institute, Chicago.) ' , i LESSON FOR OCTOBER 11 THE LAST SUPPER. LESSON TEXT?Mark 14:12-25, see also Luke 22:14-25. uuL,ujtiN TUiAT?as onen as ye eat this bread, and drink the cup, ye proclaim the Lord's death till He come. I Cor. 11:26 R. V. I. The Preparation, vv. 12-15. The de tails of the preparation here remind one of the like detailed preparation at the outset of this week when the two disciples were sent for and procured the colt "whereon no man had sat." The "Teacher" had need of the colt. He also had need of this guest cham ber and some unnamed one was ready to answer his call, to supply his need. What a host of such unheralded and unknown, but loving friends he has. Passover has now come, the time ap pointed and predicted, Matt. 26:2. Jesus directs the disciple3 to the room of his own choosing; they were to find it following a man bearing a pitcher. This is suggestive of our following the leading 'of the Holy Spirit. They found this even as he said they would. Jesus never disappoints when he di rects. It is wisest for us to do his bidding and these two proved by their obedience that they were truly his disciples, see John 8:31. Whoever these two disciples were they recog nized their duty clearly in the words, "The Master saith." Remarkable Occasion. II. The Passover, vv. 17-21. Here at eventide Jesus and the twelve sat about the Passover board. As we look back over the pages of history it is truly a remarkable occasion. The A 1 rassover was a perpetual uieuiuruu ui the Exodus. Now, in the dispensations of Divine economy, this is to be its last observance. Jesus had been look ing forward to this occasion, John 6:70, 71, yet In the midst of the fe.ast his soul is filled with anguish, John 13:21. The perfidy of Judas was the bitter ness of the cup, but Jesus only let him go when he must and then only with great sorrow. Judas was disappointed in his dream of a material kingdom and his desire for the possession of carnal pleasures. Greed had grown because given food. Hate, stifled con science, spurned love, a thief, a mur derer, Judas was guilty that moment as he was the next night. III. The Parable, vv. 22-25. From all the records we believe that Judas left the company as soon as he was identi fied, and before the feast was Insti tuted. Jesus ever taught by symbol. We hear much about objective teach ing, Jesus anticipated us all. From the Passover board Jesus took bread, ? and after offering thanks, he brake it, saying as he did so, "Take ye, this is my body." This does not mean the breaking of his body on the cross, for not a bone was then broken, John , 19:36; I Cor. 11:24 R. V. It does sig nify the distribution of his body among all who shall feed upon him. This does not mean the actual physical transformation of the bread into his body. The bread represents his body. and like as bread becomes a part of the physical body, so to eat thus In symbol, he becomes a part of us. There is no question, however, of the actual spiritual presence of Christ in the elements. "Discerning the Lord's body" there is a real feeding upon Christ, John 6:50, 51, 53, 55. To par take unworthily is to be "guilty of the body and blood of Christ," and we eat and drink "judgment" to ourselves, I Cor. 11:24-26. Jesus commands that the observance of this rite shall be continued. It is a covenant which his disciples are to perpetuate "till he come," I Cor. 11:24. The ground of this covenant between a holy God and sinful men, is the shed blood, v. 24, see Heb. 9:18-23. As the blood is the life poured out, so he poured out his life that where sin is, there may be forgiveness and remission, Lev. 17:11. In this symbolic hour the old passed away, that which came in the covenant of the law by Moses. At . the same timA this, the new covenant, is ini tiated, a covenant of grace and truth which is by the Spirit. By the symbol ism of this new feast Jesus revealed his relationship to this covenant and that those who sat and partook with him were sealed to him in consecra tion. His thanksgiving was in the nature of adoration of God and the fact that his profound purposes were about to be realized. This whole epi sode was a feast of triumph. Like as the old Passover was eaten with its mixture of bitter herbs, so this is tinged with the perfidity of Judas and Is encompassed with the sorrows of death. Still, as those who eat the old were girded and ready, so he was ready, did gird himself and serve, and did pass through death, unto a life of Lrlumph. Only One Recourse. The first Passover was the prelude 3f the exodus; this is the prelude of that of which Jesus spoke in convers ing with Moses and Elijah on the Mount of Transfiguration. The blood 3f Christ was shed unto the remission 3f sin, Matt. 26:2S. It is the ground )f God's forgiveness, see Matt. 20:28, Rom. 3:25 R. V., I John 2:2, Eph. 7:7, md many other passages. There is aone otner grouna ior our lurgiveuess ;han the shed blood. It may be old fashioned but it is scriptural and eaves us no other recourse. The symbolism of this holy ordi lance is simple, yet sublime. It is to ae a perpetual proclamation of his esurrection. Ilis death is the central 'act of redemption, the way of liberty or the captives of sin. The supper i3 ueaningless apart from this element, [t is true that in its ouservanco wa emember his grace and glory, the jeauty of his person and the wonder md wisdom of his teaching, yet the supreme significance of the act is his ieath.