Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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The Call of the | Cumberlands I PiBy Charles Neville Buck if sssssssssssss^~ With Illustrations fe? from Photographs of Scenes in the Play SSSSS^SS i (Copyright, ism. by W. J. Watt & CoJ ' 4 SYNOPSIS. On Misery creek, at the foot of a rock from which he haa fallen, Sally Miller finds George Lescott, a landscape painter, unconscious, and after reviving him. goes fort assistance. Samson South and flally, taking Lescott to Samson's home. , are met by Splcer South, head of the family, who tells them that Jesse Purvy hag been shot and that Samson Is suspected of the crime. Samson denies It. J: The shooting of Jesse Purvy breaks the 5 truce in| the Hollman-South feud. Sam: ??o reproves Tamarack Splcer for telling 2, Sally that Jim Hollman Is on the trail jt "with bloodhounds hunting the man who i ?hot Purvy. The, bloodhounds lose the ^ ~ trail at Splcer South's door. Lescott dlsI covers artistic nhlHfv In Samson. f * ?-? CHAPTER V?Continued. The two men had lost an hour . huddled under a canopy beneath the cannonading of a sudden storm. They had silently watched titanic battalions thunder clouds riding the skies in ; gusty puffs of gale and raking the ; earth with lightning and hail and V water. "My God!", exclaimed the mountain \ boy abruptly. 'Td give anything ef I could paint that" Lescott rose dmflingly from his seat before the easel and surrendered his . palette and sheaf of brashes. "Try it," he invited.. \ v V, Fbr a moment Samson stood hesiy tant and overcome with diffidence: then, with set lips, tie took his place and experimentally fitted his fingers about the brush, as . he had seen Lescott do. He asked ho advice. He merely gazed, for a while, and then, dipping a brush and experimenting for , bis color, went to sweeping in his primary tones. Samson, even though he i was hopelessly daubing, and knew It. was sincere, and the painter at his i elbow caught his breath and looked on ,v with' the absorption of a prophet, who, I listening *to childish prattle, yet recog{, nines the gift of prophecy. v ?Thet's the way hit looks ter me," , the boy said, simply. g. "That's the way it is," commended ? \ ;liis critic. '). For a while more Samson worked K af TinoMi* Kllla than ha rnaa B UVUi V4 UiUU, fcUt^U UW ?Vi>W* j k ^I'm done," he said, "hain't a-goin' I ter foo! with them thar trees an' r things. I don't know nothing erbout I thet. I can't paint > leaves an* twigs K an', birdsnests. What I like is mounB tinga an' skies an* sech-llke things." K' lieacott looked at the daub before |f him. A less trained eye would have K seen only the daub, Just as a poor B^juifee of horseflesh might see only B&nrkward joints and long legs in a P weanling colt, though it be bred In the r1' purple. L ^Samson," he said, earnestly, "that's (K; to to art It's die power to WL- iqI the poetry of color. The rest can K Litaught The genius must work, of Bourse?work, work, work, and still Djpork, but the gift is the power of ^Seeing true?and, by God, boy, you v lucre it You've got what many men have struggled a lifetime for, and failed. I'd like to have you study with me. I'd "like to be your discoverer. : Look here." The painter sat down, and speedily went to work. He painted'out nothT Ing. He simply toned, and, with pre< cisely the right touch here and there, "Ye'ro a Truce-Bu?tin'f Murderin' Bully." r* j; softened the crudeness, laid stress on K the contrast, melted the harshness, j * and, when he rose, he had built, upon K' the rough cornerstone of Samson's K. Joying, a picture. Kt. "That proves it," he said. "I had K only to finish. I didn't have much to B 'udo. Boy, you're wasting yourself. V Gome with me, and let me make you. k We all pretend there is no such thing, K in these days, as sheer genius; but, K deep down, we know that, unlees there Ms. there can be no such thing as true ' art There is genius and you have H it." Enthusiasm was again sweeping B him into an unintended outburst. The boy stood silent Across his B' countenance swept a conflict of emo tions. He looked away, as if taking counsel with the hills. "it's what I'm a-honin' fer," he ad mitted at last. 'Hit's what I'd give half my life fer. ... I mout sell f my land, an' raise the motey. . . . ft J reckon hit would take passels of ViJi- ?i. UI4 on Ua ? money, wouiau i un; u? y* ocu, auu bis eyes fell on the rifle leaning against the tree. His lips tightened in sudden remembrance. He went over and " picked up the gun, and, as he did so. be shook his head. v "No," he stolidly declared; "every man to his own tools. This here's mine." Yet, when they jvere again oot sketching, the temptation to play with brushes once more seized him, and he took his place before the easel. Neither he nor Lescott noticed a man who crept down through the timber, and for a time watched them. The man's face wore a surly, contemptuous grin, and shortly it withdrew. But, an hour later, while the boy was still working Industriously and the artist was lying on his back, with a pipe between his teeth, and his halfclosed eyes gazing up contentedly through _ the green of overhead branches, their peace was broken by a guffaw or derisive laugnier. xne.v looked up, to find at their backs a semicircle of scoffing humanity. Lescott's impulse was to laugh, for only the comedy of the situation at the moment struck him. A stage director, setting a comedy scene with that most ancient of jests, the gawking of boobs at some new sight, could hardly have improved on thie tableau. At the front stood Tamarack Spicer, the returned wanderer. His lean wrist was stretched out of a ragged sleeve all too short, and his tattered "jimmy" was shoved back over a face all a-grin. His eyes were blood-shot with recent drinking, but his manner was in exaggerated and cumbersome imitation of a rural mas ter of ceremonies. At his back were the raw-boned men and womeir and children of the hills, to the number of a dozen. "Ladies and gentle-men," announced Tamarack Spicer, In a hiccoughing voice, "swing yo' partners an' sashay forward. See the only son of the late Henry South engaged in his mar-velous an' heretofore undiscovered occupation of doin' fancy work. Ladies and gentle-men, after this here show <3 concluded, keep your seats for the concert in the main tent. This here famous performer will favor ye with a little exhibition of plain an' fancy sock-darnin'." After the first surprise, Samson had turned his back on the group. He was mixing paint at the time and he proceeded to experiment with a fleeting cloud effect, which would not outlast the moment. He finished that, and, reaching for the palette-knife, scraped his fingers and wiped them on his trousers' legs. Then, he deliberately rose. Without a word he turned. Tamarack had begun his harangue afresh. The boy tossed back the long lock from his forehead, and then, with an unexpectedly swift movement, crouched and leaped. His right fist shot forward to Tamarack Spicer's chattering lips, and they abruptly ceased to chatter as the teeth were driven into their flesh. Spicer's head snapped back, and he staggered against the onlookers, where he stood rocking on his unsteady legs. His hand swept instinctively to the shirt-concealed holster, but, before it 'had connected. UULU U1 oauiouu O u old yvci c yiaj lug a terrific tattoo on hie face. The Inglorious master of the show dropped, and lay groggily trying to rise. The laughter died as suddenly as Tamarack's speech. Samson stepped back again, and searched the faces of the group for any lingering sign 6f mirth or criticism. There was none. Every countenance was sober and expressionless, but the boy felt a weight of unuttered disapproval, and he glared defiance. One of the older onlookers spoke up reproachfully. "Samson, ye hadn't hardly ought ter a-done that. He was jest a funnln' with ye." "Git him up on his feet I've got somethin' ter say ter him." The boy's voice was dangerously quiet. It was his first word. They lifted the fallen cousin, whose entertainment had gone astray, and led him forward grumbling, threatening and sputtering, but evincing no immediate desire to renew hostilities. "Whar hev ye been?" demanded Samson. " I Dei B my uutsmesa, cauiw ma lamtliar mountain phrase. "Why wasn't yer hyar when them dawgs come by? Why wae ye the only South thet runned away, when they was smellin' round fer Jesse Purvy's assassin?" "I didn't run away." Tamarack's blood-shot eyes flared wickedly. "I knowed thet ef I stayed 'round hyar with them damned Hollmans stlckln' their noses inter our business, I'd hurt somebody. So, I went over inter the next county fer a *J>ell. You fellers mout be able to take things offen the Hollmans, but I hain't." "Thet's a damned lie," said Samson, quietly. "Ye runned away, an' ye runned in the water so them dawgs couldn't trail ye?ye done hit because ye shot them shoots at Jesse Purvy from the laurel?because ye're a trucebustin', murderin' bully thet shoots off his face, an' is skeered to fight." Sarason paused for breath, and went on with regained calmness. "I've knowed all along ye was the man, an' I've kept quiet because ye're my kin! If ye're got anything else ter say, say hit. But, ef I ever ketches yer talkin' about me, or talkin' ter Sally, I'm a-goin' ter take ye by the scroff of the neck, an' drag ye plumb into Hixon, an' stick ye In the jailhouse. An' I'm a-goin' ter tell the high sheriff that the Souths spits ye outen their mouths. Take him away." The crowd turned and left the place. When they were gone, Samson seated himself at his easel again, and picked up his palette. CHAPTER VI. Lescott had come to the mountains anticipating a visit of two weeks. His accident had resolved him to shorten it to the nearest day upon which he felt capable of making the trip out to the railroad. Yet June had ended; July had burned the slopes from emerald to ruseet-green; -August had brought purple tops to .the ironweed, and still he found himself lingering. And this was true although he recognized a growing sentiment of disapproval for himself. In Samson he thought he recognized twin gifts; a spark of a genius too rare to be allowed to flicker out, and a potentiality for constructive work among his own people, which needed for its perfecting only education and experience. "Samson," he suggested one day when they were alone, "I want you to come East. You eay that gun is your tool, and that each man must stick to his own. You are in part right, in part wrong. A man uses any tool better for understanding other tools. You have the right to use your brains and talents to the full." The boy's face was somber In the ; - intensity of bis mental struggle, and a his answer had that sullen ring which b was not really sullenness at all, but self-repression. b "I reckon a feller's biggest right Is ii to stand by his kinfolks. Unc' Spicer's S gittin' old. He's done been good ter u me. He needs me here." ci "I appreciate that. He will be older ir later. You can go now, and come back tl to him when he needs you more. If tl what I urged meant disloyalty to your ti people, I could cut out my tongue be- n fore I argued for it. You must be- S lieve me in that. I want you to be in si the fullest sense your people'syleader. a: I want you to be not only their Sam- b: son?but their Moses." a: The boy looked up and nodded. ft "I reckon ye aims ter be friendly, tl all right," was his conservative re- S sponse. w The painter went on earnestly: c< "I realize that I am urging things of which your people disapprove, but it is ai only because they misunderstand that U they do disapprove. They are too close, r Samson, to see the purple that mountains have when they are far away. I want you to go where you can see the purple. If you are the sort of man a I think, you won't be beguiled. You won't lose your loyalty. You won't be | ashamed of your people." j "I reckon I wouldn't be asnamea," raj said the youth. "I reckon there hain't I no better folks nowhar." ^ "I'm sure of it There are going to f be sweeping changes In these moun- tains. Conditions here have stood as immutably changeless as the hills themselves for a hundred years. That day ie at its twilight. I tell you, 1 know what I'm talking about The state of Kentucky is looking this way. The state must develop, and It is here " alone that it can develop. Here are virgin forests and almost inexhaustible coal veins. Capital is turning from an orange squeezed dry, and cast- *? intr nhmit for fresher food. Canltal has mi seen your hills. Capital is inevitable, relentless, omnipotent Where it comes, it makes its laws. Conditions that have existed undisturbed will vanish. The law of the feud, which militia and n< courts have not been able to abate, will vanish before capital's breath like P' the mists when the sun strikes them. Unless you learn to ride the waves 61 which will presently sweep over your country, you and your people will go under. You may not realize it, but S( that is true. It is written." 8C The boy had listened Intently, but at the end he smiled, and In his expres- rc sion was something of the soldier who scents battle, not without welcome. al "I reckon if these here fellers air ai a-comin' up here t?r run things, an' drowned out my folks, hit's a right good reason fer me ter stay here?an' holp my folks." "By staying here, you can't help t&em. It won't be work for guns, but for brains. By going away and con?ing back armed with knowledge, you can save them. You will know how to ni play the game." "I reckon they won't git our land, ner our timber, ner our coal, without we wants ter sell hit. I reckon ef they tries thet, guns will come in handy. 01 Things has stood here like they is now, fer a hundred years. I reckon we kin j? keep 'em that-away fer a spell longer." ^; But it was evident that Samson was "" arguing against his own belief; that he , was trying to bolster up his resolu- ? tion and Impeached loyalty, and that J at heart he was sick to be up and go- h ing to a world which did not despise "eddlcation." After a little, he waved his hand vaguely toward "down be- oj low." tc "Ef I went down *har," he questioned tt suddenly and irrelevantly, "would I h hev' ter cut my ha'r?" j "My dear boy," laughed Lescott, I tl can Introduce you in New York studios f ts many distinguished gentlemen who a would feel that their heads had been 8j shorn if they let their locks get as a short as yours. In New York, you might etroll along Broadway garbed in c turban and a burnouse without greatly exciting anybody. I think my own C{ hair is as long as yours." "Because," doggedly declared the gi mountaineer, "I wouldn't allow nobody ter make me cut my ha'r." "Why?" questioned Lescott, amused at the stubborn inflection. "I don't hardly know why?" He , paused, then admitted with a glare as though defying criticism: "Sally likes hit that-away?an' I won't let nobody dictate ter me, that's all." The leaven was working, and one night Samson announced to his uncle from the doorstep that he was "studyin' erbout goin' away fer a spell, an' seein' the world." The old man laid down his pipe. He cast a reproachful glance at the Q painter, which said clearly, though without words: q "I have opened my home to you and offered you what I had, yet in my old age you take away my mainstay." "I 'lowed you was a-studyin' erbout thet, Samson," he said, at last "I've ^ done ther beet fer ye I knowed. I U] kinder 'lowed thet from now on ye d do b, the same fer me. I'm gittin' along in ,<j years right smart. . . a] "Uncle Spicer," interrupted the boy, tfl "I reckon ye knows thet any time y9 needed me I'd come back." The old man's face hardened. "Ef ye goes," he said, almost shamly, "I won't never send fer ye. An7 time ye ever wants ter come back, ye knows ther way. Thar'll be room an' victuals fer ye hyar." "I reckon I mout be a heap more s' useful ef I knowed more." 0 "I've heerd fellers say that afore. al Hit hain't never turned out thet way gl with them what has left the mountings. Mebby they gets more ueeful, but they don't git useful ter us. Either they don't come back at all, or mebby ^ they comes back full of newfangled no- st tions?an' ashamed of their kinfolk3. P1 Thet's the way, I've noticed, hit gen"- P1 ally turns out." ^ _ ... ... samson scorned to deny tnai sucn might be the case with him, and was di silent. After a time, the old man went if 011 again in a weary voice, as L'e bent fc down to loosen his brogans ar^ kick ni them noisily off on to the floor: "The Souths hev done looked to ye 01 a good deal, Samson. They 'lowed they ai could depend on ye. Ye hain't quite tc twenty-one yet, an' I reckon I could "I refuse ter let ye sell yer prop'ty. But ai thar hain't no use tryin' ter hold a 01 feller when he wants ter quit. Y'e don't 'low ter go right away, do ye?" "I hain't plumb made up my mind di ter go at all/' said the boy, shame* m facedly. "But, ef I does go, I hain't fli goin' ylt. I hain't spoke ter nobody a at you about hit ylt." l! Lescott felt reluctant to meet hla v ost's eyes at breakfast the next morn- t lg, dreading their reproach, but, If plcer South harbored reeentment, he f leant to conceal It, after the stoic's h ade. There was no hint of constraint 1 his cordiality. Lescott felt, however, c lat In Samson's mind was working li le leaven of that unspoken accusa- e on of disloyalty. He resolved to I lake a final play, and seek to enlist ally In his cause. If Sally's hero-wor- v hip could be made to take the form of n mbition for Samson, she might be S rought to relinquish h:lm for a time, Qd urge his going that he might re- t lrn strengthened. He went down to s le creek at the hour when he knew t ally would be making her way thither v 1th her mlHk pall, and Intercepted her v Dining. o As she approached, she was singing, v ad the mart watched her from the disince. He was a landscape painter and b | ' I I Havn Opened My Home to You and d Offered You What I Had, Yet In My ^ Old Age, You Take Away My Main* H( W 3t a maHter of genre or portrait. Yet, . 3 wished that he might before going, <: ilnt Sally. "Miss Sally," he begac, "I've discov*ed something about Sameon." Her blue eyes flashed ominously. ? "Ye can't tell me nothin' 'bout Samjn," she declared, "witbouten hit's ? jmethin' nice." "It's something very nics," the man 'assured her. "Then, ye needn't tell me, because I u Iready knows hit," came her prompt e id confident announcement. c LesCott shook his head, dubiously. "Samson ii3 a genius," he said. , ' "What's tiet?" 1 "He has great gifts?great abilities ? > become a figure In the world." She nodded her head, in prompt and ? ill corroboration. "I reckon Samson'U be the biggest * an in the mountings some day." e "He ought to be more ttian that" 11 Suspicion at once cast a cloud across te violet uerenity of her eyes. "What does ye mean?" she de- h landed. c "I mean"?the painter paused a mo lent, and then said bluntly?"I mean e iat I want to take blm back with me a > New. York." I The girl sprang to h?r feet with her 1 tiin defiantly bigh and her brown t in da clenched into tight little fista. a er bosom heaved convulsively, aDd s sr eyes blazed through tears of anger, c or face* \enn nnlfl "Ye hain't!" she cried, In a paroxysm t ! fear and wrath. "Ye hain't a-goln' j >r do no sich?no slch of a damn E ling!" Sho stamped her foot, and yt er whole girlish body, drawn into t gid uprighitness, was a-quiver with ^ ie incarnate spirit of the woman de- mding her home and Institutions. For t moment after that, she could not ^ leak, but her determined eyes blazed declaration of war. It wau as though f b had posed her as the Spirit of tho i^mberlands. ^ He waited until she should be c ilmer. j, "You don't understand me. Miss ^ illy. I'm not trying to take Samson ^ ,vay from you. If a man should lose ?? OULDN'T ATTEND TO BOTH \ rocery Clerk Found That Putting Up F Orders and Talking Baseball \ Didn't Go Together. The manager of a large Portland 3re.) grocery store took great pleas- c re in relating a few "plays" pulled oil f y one of his clerks. This clerk is a r !an." One of those absorbed, wild c ad woolly baseball lovers who can c .lk, expand and argue the great s ime at any time and anywhere. His s jties at the store keep him anchored I lost of the time, though on special s ;casions he is assigned to the teams, f Among his duties is to put up or- b srs for customers in the high-toned c action of the city. While he was en- ii igea in mis worn uie uiuci ua; wu-i ! his chums (also a "fan") came in ii id they began to talk baseball. The t rocery clerk kept on putting up the li ders, but his thoughts were all on t lat important subject, baseball. ii In the course of his argument he c ent to the shelf and got a case of v arch Instead of a package of sugar:: P at up tomatoes instead of potatoes, b at in a bag of flour In place of an or- II ?r for lard; read maple Jiirup Instead li condensed milk, and would have -awn molasses into the kerosene can some one had not called him awajir a moment as he started for the n n olasses oarrei. For a time this wa3 the way that hist t -ders went out ancl It caused a rlol: f mong three or four of the best cus- t imers. He is still a good deal of f, d 'an," but he is not going to put uy ii iy orders while engrossed In his fav- a rite subject. f( e Unless a man 1b skilled In the art 01: t ispensing it, he can burn a lot ol! a oney without starting m ich of a con- r i^ration. - a 'L ' J" ' / .. i gi rl like yon, be couldn't gain enough a the world to make up for It. All I vant Is that he shall have the chance o make the beet of his life." "I redkon Samson don/t need no otched-on help ter maki folks acaiowiedge him." "Every man needs his chance. /He an be a great painter?but that's the east part of It. He can come back quipped for anything that life offers. < iere, he is wasted." "Ye mean"?she put the question flth a hurt quaver In her voice?"ye aean we all hain't good enough for lamBon?' "No. I only mean that Samson wanta o grow?and he needs stface and new ! cenes In which to grow. I want to ake him where he can eee more of the porld?not only a little section of the rorld. Surely, you are not distrustful f Samson's.loyalty? I want him to go ' rtth me for a while, and see life." "Don't ye say hit!" The defiance In ier voice was being pathetically tanked up with the tears. She was peaking in a transport of grief. "Don't e say hit. Take anybody else?take am all down tbar, but leave us Sam* on. We needs him hyar. We've jest ot ter have Sameon hyar." She faced him still with quivering ! [ps, but in another moment, with a udden sob, she drqpped to the rock, ' nd buried her face In her crossed ,rms. He went over and softly laid . hand on her shoulder. "Miss Sally?" he began. * 1 She suddenly turned on him a teartalned, infuriated face, stormy with : dazing eyes and wet cheeks and I r ambling lips. 1 1 "Don't touch me," ehe cried; "don't i e dare ter touch me! I hain't nothln* 1 nit a gal?but I reckon I could 'most ear ye ter pieces. Ye're jest a plzen nake, anyhow!" Then, she pointed a remulous finger off up the road. "Git way from hyar," she commanded. "I lon't never want ter see ye again. Te're try in' ter steal everything I aves. Git away, I tells ye!?git away -begone!" "Think it over," urged Lescott, quiets'. "See if your heart doesn't say I am Samson's friend?and yours." He urned, and began making his way ver the rocks; but, before he had ;one far, be sat down to reflect upon he situation. Certainly, he was not ugmenting his popularity. A half10 ur later, he heard a rustle, and, timing, saw Sally standing not far off. Il.e was hesitating at the edge of the mderbrush, and Leecott read in her yes the effort it was costing her to j ome forward and apologize. i '/I reckon?I reckon I've got ter ask ] ore pardon," she said, slowly and wlttt 1 abored utterance. He looked up to ] ee her standing with her head droop- , ng and her fingers nervously polling a , lower to pieces. ) t "I reckon I hain't a plumb fool. I j mows thet Samson's got a right ter ] ddication. Anyhow, I knows he ttants ] ilt." i "Education," said the man, "Isn't go- 1 ag to change Samson, except to make 1 dm finer than he Is?and more j apable." 1 She shook her head. "I hain't got < to eddicatlon," she answered. "Hit's < rfi.oin' ter make him too good fer we. 1 reckon hit's a-goin' ter Jest about 1 till me. . . Her lips twisted j hemselvee Into a pathetic smile again, 1 .nd her chin came stiffly up. "But," ] ho added, determinedly, "thet don't , aake no diff'rence, nohow." Yet, when Samson that evening gave j its whippoorwill pall at the Widow < ililler's cabin, he found a dejected and j niserable girl sitting on the stile, with , ler chin propped in her two hands and 1 ler eyes full of somberness and fore- j odlng. 1 "What's the matter, Sally?" qaes- j fnnoH ho nnrlniislv. "Hes that low lown Tamarack Spicer been round , tere tellin' ye some more stories ter , ester ye?" ! She shook her head In silence. ( Jsually, she bore the brunt of their ] onversatlona, Samson merely agree- j ag with, or overruling, her In lordly ( revltles. - The boy climbed up and sat | etiide her. (TO BE CONTINUED.) (VOIJLD AID COTTON GROWERS rlour-Milling Firm Urges Its Custom* ers to Accept Deliveries of Prod- ( uct in Cotton 8acks. In order to Increase the demand for J :otto.a, one of the largest flour-milling Irms In America haa directed itB oanagers and salesmen all over the , ounl.ry to urge Its customers to ac- . ept deliveries of flour that are hipped in cotton Instead of jute , acks. Hitherto Jute imported from j ndia has been used extensively for , hipments of flour, both to home and , oreign markets. The sacks employed , iold 140 pounds each. If the trade J an be induced to accept shipments , a cotton sacks holding 98 pounds < ach, therCswill be a marked increase j ti the demand for home-grown cot- J on, and the action of the flour-mill- j ag firm is regarded as a long step in , his direction. Anything that will , mprove the financial condition of the ( otton growers, it Is pointed out, nil increase ine volume oi ineir casu , urchases and thus bcueflt general ' usiness conditions. For this reason . t la believed that the trade will not ' islst on the jute sacks used hitherto. { Indication of Debility. \ The normal feeling after a good j light's sleep should be one of vigor- l us refreshment, which continues ( hroughout the day with the usual ' atigue, not exhaustion, at the end of he day's work. A condition of very . ifferent sleniflcance Is that of feel- _ ng exhausted in the morning, even fter an apparently good night's Bleep, i ollowed by a feeling of well-being, or ven exhilaration toward the end of j. be day. This condition is pathologic- , 1, aid indicates that the system is t un down and debilitated, and needa ? Mention. ; . '! inidmiom smoke Lesson By E. O. SELLERS, Acting: Director of Sunday School Course Moody Bible Institute, Chicago.) LESSON FOR FEBRUARY 14 SAMUEL CALLED TO BE A PROPHET. LESSON TEXT?I Samuel 3:1-13, 19, 20. GOLDEN TEXT?Speak, Jehovah; for hy servant heareth.?I Samuel 3:9, R. V. Samuel was the last judge and the irst of the order of prophets. His ame means "asked of God," and he ras dedicated to God (1:11) as a Nazirlte. In fulfillment of his mother's row he was brought to the temple ivhen he was a young child (1:24), Josephus says, at twelve years of age. rr ti. f /O . 1 1 n\ |a rmuuttu s soug ui rejui<jm& \a.x-xvs *? :he expression of a great y soul and a choice piece of literature. Samuel lad the advantage of being well born, but after studying Ell's household we ire not so confident as to the environment amid which he was placed. . I. Samuel's Vision, vv. 1-10. The roung child entered heartily Into the :emple worship and duties as directed t>y the aged priest, Eli. This man was lot faithful in giving the people the word of God. "It was rare" (margin) md the result was that "there was no frequent vision" (R. Vi). The word 'm also "precious" (v. 1; Ps. 19:9, 10), though when it is as common as It is in this land men frequently set but little store by it. God will judge men for such laxity even as he judged rarool (A-mrva 11 121 A vision Is a knowledge of a need and of the resources at our command. Ell and tils sons had no vision and a people lacking In this direction perish (Prov. 29:18). Jehovah is about to 'make known to Israel his will and in so dong he passes over this Indulgent father md chooses the child Samuel. Teachableness and obedience are the chief characteristics of childhood and these traits count for more with God than Joes age or experience (Matt. 11:25, [ Tim. 4:12, Matt. 21:6). Samuel had lot acquired the conceit of youth, he fras faithful to his duties, respectful to tiiB elders and did not boast of his iccomplishments nor of the special revelation which came to him. Samuel slept in the holy place of the "saired tent" near Ell, for the' great temple was not yet built. As such he Is a type for the Christian (Ps. 27:4). [t was there that the Lord revealed himself to him (John 1:14 R. V. marsin). One of Samuel's duties as the spedal attendant of Eli was to open the house of God every naming, also to tend the sacred lamp which burned from evening to morning (Ex. 27:20, 21). As he attended to these duties Sod made himself known to Samuel (v. 4). God frequently calls men and they are not at home but have gone into the far country. Samuel knew Grod as every devout worshiper knew iiim, but had not yet received a direct revelation, hence he "did not yet know Jehovah." Thlrfkitig, at once of the priest, Samuel ran to receive orders ar to render service. Had he disregarded the voice he would not In the end have received his clear revelation. To have closed his ears, turned over for further sleep or to have risen hesi-' Latingly would, in all probability, have prevented any further calls (Prov. 1:24, 25. 28). Qod wants, for special services, those who make glad response to hisifirst call (Isa. 6:8; Luke 9:59-62; Acts 9:6). Three times the call comes and three times Samuel makes reply. There are three periods in the unfolding lire that are most susceptible to the leading of the Holy Spirit. Nine to twelve, fourteen and fifteen, seventeen and eighteen are particularly open to impressions, especially if the child has had a religious atmosphere and training. 1 The teacher needs to be ever alert to take advantage of these opportunities to unfold and enforce the claims of Christ and to challenge an immediate decision of the soul. Happy are they who like Samuel hear and recognize, even though it be a progressive revelation, the voice of Jehovah, and hearing, obey it. There is littte need at present for the audible voice, for we have the word and the still small voice of the Holy Spirit. The voice Samuel heard became a vision (v. 15). The Bible everywhere assumes that God speaks to men. We do not find him so much by searching for him, for he is made known ("manifested") in the person of his Son (I John 1:1, 2; John 17:6). God's calls to service may come at any period, but frequently they come very early. Hudson Tay [or. founder or tne wonoerrui Dmna Inland mission, received his call at' seventeen. Eli in times past must have heard Jehovah speak, else he would not have recognized who it was that was speaking to Samuel (chapter 2:27). Samuel's call was to service, to be a prophet. Our commission is to witness and to serve (Mark 16:15). Samuel received Jehovah's word not it Eli's side but in his own resting place; so God would speak to us when In our own place where he has put us. [t is well for us to be sure we are truly hearing the voice of God (John 1). II. Jehovah's Verdict, vv. 11-13, 19, 20. The chapter following tells of the iefeat of Israel, the capture of the irk and the death of Eli and his sons, rhese were the things "at which both :he ears of everyone that heareth it 5hall tingle." The word of Jehovah stands fast, and what he speaks that le perforins "from the beginning even into the end" (Luke 21:32, Numbers : 1U). ine wora ot jenovan to samlel about the house of Eli was one :alculated to strike terror and silence nto the lad's heart. Eli was not igno ant of the wickedness of his sons [2:27-36). Eli learns from Samuel Jelovah's message. Eli was a great and jood man, submissive to God's will, )ut he was a weak man, rather than ust piously resigned. He might beter have prayed for mercy and itreagth to deal with his wicked sons. ? :?? ? . > WHY CRIP IS DANGEROUS. It requires a good tonic laxative to keep the body of the patient .as strong a8 possible to counteract the effect ofthe poisons created by the grip bacillus. An expectorant tonic with some V>" laxative qualities !s the'safett .'remedy. Such 18 Peruna, Mrs. Gentry Gates, 8219 First Ave., East Lake, Ala., write*: *1 had a bad case of grip. I tried Peruna and it cured me. I can safely say it IS a fine medicine.1* Mr. George B. Law, 13% N. Frank* lin St., Brazil, Ind., writes: *1 am g satisfied that Peruna Is a wonderful remedy for grip, ind I do most heartily endorse and recommend it." FAMILIAR WITH THAT EXCUSE M Youthful Bride Thought Hubby Really Might.Be a Little More ) " Upto Date. : "The women of Europe, when told they're not fit to govern, have a good answer ready?they point to the Tar;, \. which ; man government ' brought ! about." The speaker was Miss Edith Wynne Mathison, the beautiful actress and suffragette. She continued: . "A good answer that As good ks the young bride made. 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