Cheraw chronicle. (Cheraw, S.C.) 1896-2005, March 18, 1915, Image 2
The Gall of the!
(Cumberlands |
By Charles Neville Bock
With Illustrations
from Photographs of Scenes
in the Play
CCop/ritiu. (013. by W. J. Watt k CoJ
4
SYNOPSI8.
On Misery creek, at the toot of a rock
from which he has fallen, Sally Miller
finds George Lescott, a landscape' painter,
unconscious, and after reviving him.
goes for assistance. Samson South and
Sally, taking Lescott to Samson's home,
are met by Spicer South, head of the
family, who tells them that Jesse Purvy
has been shot and that Samson is susA#
flomann rioniPS it.
The shooting of Jesse.Purvy breaks the
truce in the Hollman-Bouth feud. Sameon
reproves Tamarack Spicer for telling
Sally that Jim Hollman is on the trail
with bloodhounds hunting the man who
shot Purvy. The bloodhounds lose the
trail at Spicer South's door. Lescott discovers
artistic ability in Samson.
CHAPTER V?Continued.
The two men had lost an hour
tiuddled under a canopy beneath the
cannonading of a sudden storm. They
had silently watched titanic battalions
of thunder clouds riding the skies In
gusty puffs of gale and raking the
oarth with lightning and hail and
water.
"My God!" exclaimed the mountain
boy abruptly. "I'd give anything ef
t could paint that."
Leecott rose smilingly'from his seat
before the easel and surrendered his
palette and sheaf of brushes.
"Try It." he Invited.
For a moment Samson stood hesitant
and overcome with diffidence;
then, with set lips, he took his place
and experimentally fitted his fingers
about the brush, as he had seen Lesoott
do. He asked no advice, He
merely gated for a while, and then,
dipping a brush and experimenting for
his color, went to sweeping in his primary
tones. Samson, even though he
was hopelessly daubing, and knew it,
was sincere, and the painter at his
elbow caught his breath and looked on
with the absorption of a phjphet, who,
listening to childish prattle, yet recognizee
the gift of prophecy.
"TJaet's the way hit looks ter me,"
'the boy Baid, simply.
"That's the way it is," commended
"""^*~^^^Mt^SlS55^ttS35aon^roS35ir1
rat the nearer hills, then he .rose.
Tjcq done," he said, "hain't a-goin'
'ter Tool with them thar trees an'
things. I don't know nothing erbout
I can't paint leaves an' twigs
nan' birdsnests. What I like is mountings
an' skies an' sech-like things."
L-escott looked at the daub before
him. A less trained eye would have
aeen only the daub, just as a po^r
of horseflesh might see only I
awkward joints and long legs in a
weanling colt, though it be bred in the
purple.
".Samson." he said, earnestly, "that's
*11 there le to art It's the power to
feel the poetry of color. The rest can
be taught. The genius muBt work, of
course?work, work, work, and still
work, but the gift is the power of
eeing true?and, by God, boy, you
have it. You'vtf got what many men
have struggled a lifetime for, and
failed. I'd like to have you study with
zne. I'd like to be your discoverer,
look hye."
The painter sat down, and speedily
went to work. He painted out nothing.
He simply toned, and, with precisely
the right touch here and there,
softened the crudeness, laid stress on
the contrast, melted the harshness,
and, when he rose, he had built, upon
the rough cornerstone of Samson's
laying, a picture.
"That proves it," he said. "I had
only to finish. I didn't have much to
undo. Boy, you're wasting yourself.
Come with me, and let me make you.
We all pretend there is no such thing,
'? thoeo rinva an fihppr CPnillS" hllf
deep down, we know that, unlees there
is, there can be no such thing as true
art. There is geni.us and you have
it." Enthusiasm was again sweeping
him into an unintended outburst.
The boy stood silent. Across his
countenance swept a conflict of emo
tions. He looked away, as if taking
counsel with the hille.
"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
my land, an' raise the money. . . .
I reckoi. hit would take passels of
money, ?rouldn't hit?" He paused, and
his 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,
he shook his head. v
"No," he stolidly declared; "every
man to his own tools. This here's
mine."
Yet. when they were again out
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 wae broken by
a guffaw of derisive laughter. They
looked up. to find at their backs a semi
circle of scoffing humanity. Lescott'
impulse was to laugh, for only th
comedy of the situation at the m<
raent struck him. A stage directoi
setting a comedy scene with that mof
ancient of jests, the gawking of boob
at some new sight, could hardly hav
improved on thie tableau. At the fror
stood Tamarack Spicer, the returne
wanderer. His lean wrist was stretche
out of a ragged sleeve all too short, an
his tattered "jimmy" was shoved bac
over a face all a-grin. His eyes wer
'blood-shot with recent drinking, bi
his manner was In exaggerated an
cumbersome Imitation of a rural mas
ter of ceremonies. At his back wer
the raw-boned' men and women an
children of the hills, to the number c
a dozen.
I "Ladlee and gentle-men," announce
Tamarack Spicer, in a hiccoughin
voice, "swing yo' partners an' sasha
forward. See the obly son of the lat
Henry South engaged in his mar-vt
lous an' heretofore undiscovered occr
pation of doin' fancy work. Ladies ani
gentle-men, after this here show i
concluded, keep your seats for the cor
cert in the main tent. This here fa
I
nrvi
'^BBK^v. :^fl|
"Ye're a Truce-Bustln', Murderir
Bully.**
mous performer will favor ye with i
little exhibition of plain an' fane:
sock-darnin'."
After the first surprise, Sameon ha<
turned his back on the group. He wa
mixing paint at the time and he pro
ceeded to experiment with a fleeting
cloud effect, which would not outlas
the moment. He finished that, and
reaciung lor toe paieue-Knne, scrapei
nTT.JUi
trousers^ legs! Then, he deliberate!;
rose..
Without a word lie turned. Tama
rack had begun his harangue afresh
The boy tossed back the long loci
from his forehead, and then, wit!
an unexpectedly swift movement
crouched and leaped. His right fls
shot forward to Tamarack Spicer'i
chattering lips, and they abruptl;
ceased to chatter as the teeth weri
driven into their flesh. Spicer's heat
snapped back, and he staggered agains
the onlookers, where he stood rocking
on his unsteady lege. His hand swep
instinctively to the shirt-conceale;
holster, but, before it had connected
both of Samson's fists were playing i
terrific tattoo on his face. The in
glorious master of the show dropped
and lay groggily trying to rise.
The laughter died as suddenly ai
Tamarack's speech. Samson steppe<
back again, and searched the faces *i
the group for any lingering sign o
mirth or criticism. There was none
Every countenance was sober' and ex
pressionless, but the boy felt a weigh
e\f uniiifaro/1 Hlconnrnval onrl ha crlami
defiance. One of the older onlooker
spoke up reproachfully. ,
"Samson, ye hadn't hardly ought to
a-done that. He was jest a funnln
with ye."
"Git him up on his feet. I've go
somethin' ter say ter him." The boy'i
voice was dangerously quiet. It wai
his first word. They lifted the fallei
cousin, whose entertainment had gon<
astray, and led him forward grumbling
threatening and sputtering, but evint:
ing no immediate desire to renew hoa
tilities.
"Whar hev ye been?" demande<
Samson.
"Thet's my business," came the fa
miliar mountain phrase.
"Why wasn't yer hyar when then
dawgs come by? Why was ye th<
only South thet runned away, whei
they was smellin' round fer Jessi
Purvy's assassin?"
"I didn't run away." Tamarack"
blood-shot eyes flared wickedly. "
knowed thet ef I stayed 'round hya
with them damned Hollmans stickin
their noses inter our business, I'd hur
somebody. So, I went over inter th?
next county fer a spell. You feller
mout be able to take things offen th
Hollmans, but I hain't."
"Thet's a damned lie," said Samson
quietly. "Ye runned away, an' yi
runnea in me waier 50 mem aawg
couldn't trail ye?ye done hit becausi
ye shot them shoots at Jesse Purv;
from the laurel?because ye're a truce
bustin', murderin' bully thet shoots ol
his face, an' is skeered to fight." Sam
son paused for breath, and went 01
with regained calmness. "I've knowei
all along ye was the man, an' I've kep
quiet because ye're my kin. If ye'r
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 taki
ye by the scroll of the neck, an' draj
ye plumb into Hixon, an' stick ye ii
the Jailhouse. An' I'm a-goin' ter tel
the high sheriff that the Souths spit:
ye outen their mouths. Take hin
awav." The crowd turned ?nd lef
to the place. When they were gone, I
e son seated himself at his easel* aj
>- and picked jup his palette.
[t * CHAPTER VI.
iS
e Lescott had come to the mount
anticipating a visit of two weeks.
J accident had resolved him to she
d it to the nearest day upon whlcl
d felt capable of making the trip 01
k the railroad. Yet June had en
e July had bu.-ned the slopes from
,t erald to ruseet-green; August
d brought purple tops to the Iron*
]. and still he found himself llnge
e And this was true although he it
d nfzed a growing sentiment of dl
d proval for himself. In Samson
thought he recognized twin gift)
d spark of a genius too rare to> t?
g lowed to flicker out, and a potent!
y for constructive work among his
e people, which needed for Its perfec
y. only education and experience.
i. "Samson," he suggested one
d when they were alone, "I want yo
s come East. You eay that gun is'
L. tool, and that each man must stic
t. his own. You are in part rt$b<
part wrong. A man uses any tool
ter lor understanding other tools,
have the right to use your brains
talents to the full."
The boy's face was somber in
intensitv of his mental strucele.
his answer had that sullen ring w
was not really sullennesa at all,
self-repression.
"I reckon a feller'g biggest rigl
to stand by his kinfolks. Unc' Spi<
gittin' old. He's done been good
me. He needs me here."
1 "I appreciate that He will be c
later. You can go now, and come 1
to him when he needs ypu more
what I urged meant disloyalty to ;
people, I could cut out my tongue
fore I argued for it You muit
lieve me in that I want you to*t
the fullest sense your people's tot
I want you to be not only their f
son?but their Moses." T. f:
The boy looked up and nodded^,
"I reckon ye alms ter be trlei
all right," was his conservative
sponse.
The painter went on earnest
"I realize that I am urging thini
whiph your people disapprove; but
,? only because they misunderstand:
they do disapprove. They aro,t?^d
Samson, to see the purple thatijj
i tains have when they fasr Awnn;
y .want you to go where ypu .^ah
the purple. , If you are the eort df; i
] I think, you won't be beguiled.
3 won't lose your loyalty. ' You-Woil'
i- ashamed of your people." I
I "I reckon I wouldn't
t said the youth. "I recken^^^M
, no better folks* nowhar."
i 'I'm sure of it. There are-1
I immutably changeless
themselves for a hundred ye<^H
day te at its . I
i know what I'm talting al^^H
i state of Kentucky is lodkin^na '
'The state must develop, and it li !
t alone that it can develop. Ilei i'
s virgin forests and almost inex u
Y ihle coal veins. Capital is tt ra
9 from an orange squeezed dry, an< *
1 ing about for fresher food. CafeUfel
t seen your hilla Capital is inev|ti
I relentless, omnipotent Where It Coi
t it makes its laws. Condition^ i
1 have existed undisturbed will^ai
. The l^v of the feud, which militia
i courts have not been able to at
. will vanish before capital's breach
, the mists when the sun strikes'tt
Unless you learn to ride the wi
j which will presently sweep oveV j
1 country, you and your people wll
f under. You may not realize It,
f that is true. It is written." 1
The boy had listened intently, hi
the end he smiled, and in his exj
t sion was something of the soldier
1 scents battle, not without welcome
i "I reckon if these here fellers
a-comin' up here ter run things,
r drowned out my folks, hit's a r
' good reason fer me ter stay bereholp
my folks."
t "By staying here, you can't J
s them. It won't be work for guns,
3 for brains. By going away and <
i I ine back armed with knowledge.
a can save them. You will know he
, play the game."
"I reckon they won't git our 1
i- ner our timber, ner our coal, witl
we wants ter sell hit. I reckon ef 1
j tries thet, guns will come in ha
Things has stood here like they is i
fer a hundred years. I reckon we
keep 'em that-away fer a spell lonj
u But it was evident that Samson
e arguing against his own belief; tha
a was trying to bolster up his re<
e tion and impeached loyalty, and
at heart he was sick to be up and
% ing to a world which did not des
1 "eddication." After a little, he wi
r his hand vaguely toward "down
i' low." s
t "Ef I went down thar," he questk
a suddenly and Irrelevantly, "woul
s hev' ter cut my ha'r?"
0 "My dear boy," laughed Lesco
can introduce you in New York stu
i, to many distinguished gentlemen
e would feel that their heads had I
s shorn if they let their lock* gel
a short as ycurs. In New York,
yr might stroll along Broadway garbe
>- turban and a burnouse without gi
* ltr nvnitintr onrhnHv I fhitilr mv
1 1J WAVIVIU5 UU/ MVUJ . A ilium Ul/
i- hair is as long as yours."
i "Because," doggedly declared
1 mountaineer, "I wouldn't allow,not
t ter make me cut my ha'r."
e "Why?" questioned Lescott, ami
, at the stubborn inflection.
"I don't hardly know why?"
e paused, then admitted with a giar
; though defying criticism: "Sally 1
i hit that-away?an' I won't let not
1 dictate ter me, that's all."
s The leaven was working, and
i night Samson announced to his u
t from the doorstep that he was "at
1
. i
5 3 ; 7
Sam* In' ferbout goin' aw?j rer a spell., an' a
gain, seein' the world." h
The old man laid down his pipe. He C
east a reproachful glance at the
painter, which said clearly, though c
? without words:
tain*, "i have opened my home to you and S
HI? offered you what I had, yet In my old a
irfeu age you take away my mainstay." a
h ha "i 'lowed you was a-studyin' erbout li
it t^f^thet, Samfcon," he said, at last. "I've a
ded;; done thex beet fer ye I knowed. I t<
em- kinder 'lowed thet from now on ye'd do
had the same fer me. I'm gltttn' along in f<
reed, years right smart ..." k
ring. "Uncle Splcer," Interrupted the boy,
icog- "I reckon ye knows thet any time ye c
leap- needed me I'd come back." If
i he The old man's face hardened. e
i; a "Ef ye goes," he said, almost sharp- E
s aE iy# "i won't never send fer ye. An7
ality time ye ever wants ter come back,' ye a
own knows ther way. Thar'll be room an' n
-ting victuals fer ye hyar." S
j "I reckon I mout be a heap more
da?' useful ef I knowed more." U
Q to Tve heerd fellers say that afore, s
your git hain't never turned out thet way ti
k to with them what has left tie mount- a
Jh lngs. Mebby they gets mors useful, a
bet* but they don't git useful ter us. Either: o
AUammAa Knr.lp a + oil Ar mohhv a*
*ww Uio/ UUU I tULUC UfltA at ail, w* H
and they comes back full of newfangled notions?an'
ashamed of their kinfolks. h
the Thet's the way, I've noticed, hit gen'- g
and ally, turns out." s;
hlch Samson scorned to deny that such y
but might be the case with him, and was 'e
silent. After a time, the old man went si
it le 0n again in a weary voice, as he bent g
jer's down to loosen his brogane and kick
| ter them noisily off on to the floor: 11
s "The Souths hev done looked to ye si
>lder a good deal, Samson. They 'lowed they a
Sack could depend on ye. Ye hain't quite a
It ,twenty-one yet, an' I reckon I could a
pour refuse ter let ye sell yer prop'ty. But
>,be- thar hain't no use tryin' ter bold a
be- feller when he wants ter quit Ye si
3in dont 'low ter go right away, do ye?" b
er. *T hain't plumb made up my mind > ti
Jam- ter go at all," said the boy, shamefacedly.
"But, ef I does go, I hain't y
) a-goln'- ylt I hain't spoke ter nobody b
>41y. but you about hit ylt." t<
Lescott felt reluctant to meet his si
host's eyes at breakfast the next morn- ti
ing, dreading their reproach, but if a
[s of Spicer South harbored resentment he d
it is meant to conceal it, after the stoic's Y
that code. 'There was no hint of constraint ic
lose, in his cordiality. Lescott felt however, pun
that In 8amson's mind was working
l the leaven of that unspoken accuiar i3
ee tion of disloyalty. He resolved to s
n?U make a final play, and seek to enlist ti
Won Bally in his cause. If Sally's hero-wor- 0
iWbe ship could be made to take the form of g
JL ambition fot* Samson, ehe might be tl
brought to relinquish him for a time, a
and urge his going that he might re- h
|^HLturn strengthened. He went down to ti
Bthfe creek at the hour when he knew s
would be maklhg her way thither u
tnf FflnnHiri, iW P
^BTIvOihtLCt Q(
B As she approached, she was singing,
m land the man watched her from the die-1 v<
Be tance. Be was a landscape painter and ja
Tf$. not a master of genre sr portrait Yet. g<
bete he wished that he might, before going, ir
are pafnt Sally. fl<
ittsi- fMlss Sally," he began, "I've discerning
ered something about Samson." k
ast- Her blue eyes flashed oinlnously. e<
has "Ye can't tell me nothln' 'bout Sam- hi
ibis, son;" she declared, "wl thou ten hit's
tnes> somethln'nice." ir
that "It's something very nice," the man hi
tlsb. reassured her. a
and "Then, ye needn't tell me, because 1
>ate, already knows hit," came her prompt n,
like and confident announcement. a.
tern. LesCott shook his head, dubiously. i
ives "Samson Is a genius,-' he said. k
pour "What's thet?" tl
1 go "He has great gifts?great abilities a]
but to become a figure in the world." s]
She nodded her head, in prompt and ^
it at full corroboration.
>res- "I reckon Samson'll be the biggest h:
who man In the mountings some (jay." M
i. "He ought to be more than that." ^
air Suspicion at once cast a cloud across hi
an' the violet serenity of her eyes. . hi
lght "What does ye mean?" she de- bi
-an' manded.
"I mean"?the painter paused a mo- tl
help ment, and then said bluntly?"I mean ,d,
bUt h
tt, I ?| Have Opened M> .icme to You and
di?8 offered You What I Had, Yet In My w
w^? Old Age, You Take Away My Main)een
stay."
t as rr
you that I want to take him back with me
d 10 to New York."
eat- The girl sprang to her feet with her cl
own chin defiantly high and her brown
hands clenched into tight little fists,
the Her bosom heaved convulsively, and
>ody her eyes blazed through tears of anger, si
Her face was pale. c<
lsed "Ye hain't!" she cried, in a paroxysm tc
of fear and wrath. "Ye hain't a-goin' tt
He tor do no sich?no sich of a damn m
e as thing!" She stamped her foot, and A
ikes her whole girlish body, drawn into sj
>ody rigid uprightness, was a-quiver with hi
the Incarnate spirit of the woman de- fo
one fending her home and institutions. For H
ncle a moment after that, she could not w*
udy- speak, but her determined eyes blazed ct
declaration of war. (I tu as .loofb
e had posed her as the Spirit of tile
lumberlands.
file waited until she should l>e
aimer.
"You don't understand me. Miss
ally. I'm not trying to take Samson
way from you. If a man should lose
girl like you, he couldn't gain enough
1 the world to make up for it. All I
rant is that he shall have the chance
3 make the beet of his life."
"I reckon Samson don't need no
Dtched-on help ter make folks acnowledge
him."
"Every man needs his chance. Hs
an be a great painter?but that's the
;ast part of it. He can come back
quipped for anything that life offers,
lere, he is wasted."
"Ye mean"?she put the question
rlth a hurt quaver in her voice?"ye
lean we all hain't good enough for
amson?'
"No. I only mean that Samson wants
d grow?and,he needs space and new
cenes in which to grow. I want to
ike him where he can see more of the
rorld?not only a -little section of the
rorld. Surely, you are not distrustful
f Samson's loyalty? I want him to go
dth me for a while, and see life."
"Don't ye say hit!" The deflanoe In
er voice was being pathetically tanled
up with the .tears. She was
peaking In a transport of grief. "Don't
e say hit Take anybody else?take
sm all down thar, but leave us Samon.
We needs him hyar. We've jest
ot ter hatfe Samson hyar."
She faced, him still with quivering
ps, but in another moment, with a
udden sob, she dropped to the rock,
nd burled her face In her crossed
rms. He went over and softly laid
hand on her shoulder.
"Miss Sally?" he began.
She suddenly turned on him a tear*
tained, Infuriated face, .stormy with
lazing eyes and wet cheeks and
'embling lips.
"Don't touch me," she cried; "don't
e dare ter touch me! I hain't nothln'
ut a gal?but I reckon I could 'moet
iar ye ter pieces. Ye're jest a plsen
sake, anyhow!" Then, she pointed a
emulous flpger off up the road. "Oil
way from hyar," she commanded. "1
on't never want ter. see ye again,
e're tryln' ter steal everything I
>ves. Git away, I tells ye!?git away
-begone!"
"Think it over," urged Lescott, quietr.
"See if your heart doesn't say I am
amson's friend?and yours." ' Ha
lrned, and began making bis way
ver the rocks; but, before he had
one far, he sat down to reflect upon
le situation. Certainly, he was not
ugmenting bis popularity. halfour
later, he heard a rustle, and.
lrning, saw Sally standing not far/)ft.
he was hesitating at the edge of the
nderbrush, and Lescott read in her
"I reckon?I reckon I've got tear"ask"
ore pardon," she said, slowly and wftfc
.bored utterance. He looked up to
5e her standing with her head droopig
and her fingers nervously pulling a
nwo* tn nlATM
^ ^
"I reckon I hain't a plumb fooL I
now 5 thet Samson's got a right tar
Idlcation. Anyhow, I knows he' wantt
It"
"Education," said tfie man, "ldn't gotg
to change Samson, except to pake
Im finer than, he Is?and more
ipable."
She shook her head. "I haJnt got
o eddlcation," she answered. "Hit's
goin' ter make him too good fer me.
reckon bit's a-goin' ter jest about
111 me. . . Her lips twisted
temselvee Into a pathetic smile* again,
ad her chin came stiffly up. "But,"
3e added, determinedly, "thet don't
lake no diff'rence, nohow."
Yet when Samson that evening gave
Is whippoorwlll call at the Widow
[tiler's cabin, he found a dejected and
|iserable girl sitting on the stile, with
er chin propped In her tWw hands and
er eyes full of somberness and fore ding.
"What's the matter, Sally?" queaoned
be, anxiously. "Hes that lowawn
Tamarack Splcer been round
ere tellin' ye some more stories ter
ester ye?"
She shook her head in silence
sually, she bore the brunt of their
nversations, Samson merely agree
ig with, or overruling, her in lordly
revlties. The boy climbed up and sal
eside ber.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Wisdom From Thomas.
The thoughtful look on young Thorn
j' face betrayed that he had a few
* *- Mm
UeBllOnS IU usa. /id iuuu ao u
oardman bad gone, be asked them.
"Mother," said he, "do you like tfl
[bs Mrs. Boardman?"
"No, dear."
"Do you think Mrs. Boardman likes
kiss you?"
"I don't think she does."
"Then why do you and she always
[88 when you meet?"
"I don't know, dear."
"Don't you think Mrs. Boardmaa
ould rather you didn't kiss her?"
"I have no doubt of it."'
"Wouldn't you rather Mrs. Boari
c-n didn't kiss you?"
"Oh. very much rather."
"Then," said young Thomas, cod
usively, "that must be why."
Ancient Servants.
Francis Grierson, the English mq
cian and author, writes of th? Frenol
jmposer Auher in the Century 'or Oo
iber that "if.I were asked to lann
le most typical Frenchman I evsi
tet I should not hesitate to nam?
uber." The composer at the tinti
joken of was eighty-five, and amoni
is idiosyncrasies was his preferenci
r servants of equally advanced yeani
e had five domestics, "the youngest
horn he called the baby, being tfcf
>achman, who was se?*nty-flvs"
*
ImMnoNAL
StlNWSOlOOL
LESSON
(By E. O. SELLERS. Actlog Director of
Sunday School Course, Moody Bible Institute,
Chicago.)
LESSON.FOR MARCH 21
JONATHAN AND HIS ARMORBEARER.
LESSON TEXT?I Samuel 14:1-11
GOLDEN TEXT?Let us put on the armor
of light.?Rom. 13:12.
Samuel's review of his life of integrity
his charge to the Israelites, God's
testimony of displeasure over their
persistent desire to have a king, and
Samuel's words of comfort and assurance
as found in chapter 12, form
an interesting connection with last
Sunday's lesson. In chapter 13 we
have the record of Israel again in dis
tress and of Saul's folly In his assuming
the priestly office (vv. 13, 14).
I. Saul's Distress, w. 14. That
Saul's disobedience, just indicated, had
incurred God's displeasure, we know.
It evidently had its effect upon the
people also, for his army had dwindled
during the intervening fifteen or eighteen
years, from 330,000 (ch. 11:8) to
a feeble 600 (v. 2). They were further
handicapped |>y a lack of weapons
(ch. 13:19-23). Deserted by Jehovah,
by Samuel, Jehovah's priest, and by
nearly all of his enthusiastic subjects
(see 11:12) Saul was "in the uttermost
part of Oibeah" hiding under a pomegranate
tree (see vv. 11, 22 and 13:6).
This may refer to his being at Rimmon
(Judges 20:4347). In thtd retirement
Saul retains Ahiah (v. 3) as' priest,
thus keeping up the, outward' form of
worship. This priest Is hpt referred to
as Jehovah's. He wsa a grandson of
Phlnehas, one of Ell's wicked sons,
and as such was not to be a successor
in the high priest's office (cil. 2:3036).
Such an outward form of "dead
works" cannot take the place Of a Ur- Ing
faith. For Saul to consult the oracle
of the TJrim and Thummlm. Worn
by the priest and later to call up familiar
spirits, showa his lack of spiritual
apprehension. The references
made to Sanl's conduct (obhptera 12,
13) are an indication of his character
and emphasi%? the psalmist's words
as found in Ps. 119:11,105.
II. Jonathan's Victory, w. 4-13. But
God had one leader to whom hp could
speak, Jonathan, who la one of the
finest and most attractive characters ' in
the whole Bible. This episode is
ITT?i,_\ v. .
among tne moat Driuiani in xue ur j
Jonathan's dealings with David. There
seems to be a suggestion that Jonathan
h*>d lost confidence in tils father,
for neither he nor the people
. knew where Jonathan had gone.
Verses' 4 and 5 vividly picture the
nature of the location wherein* Jonathan
undertook this feat Jonathan
clearly counted upon the fleshly covenant
sign as ground upon which to
expect help and victory over his enemies,
who lacked such a sign (v. 6).
The army of the Philistine# had been
divided'into three sections fCh. 13:
17), and this gave Jonathan his opportunity.
The garrison at Michmash
was on the opposite side of the ravine
from Geba, Saul's headquarters.
Hidden by the cliffs it was quite easy
to approach the Philistines. It is an
interesting and enlightening conversation
recorded as ensuing on that Jon* - M
aej. M
Jonathan?K may be that the Lord
will work for us; for there is no restraint
to the Lord to save by many or
by few (v. 6).
Armorbearer?Do all that la in tnine
heart, behold I am with thee.
Jonathan?We will pass . *. ?
over, and will discover ourselves.
The test, as recorded in verses 9
and 10 was a real one and a revelation
of Jonathan's shrewdness. Nor
to be invited up by the Philistines
would suggest a desire they may have
had to cover up any weakness. To be
aBked to "come" suggests their selfconfidence.
Today's Message. Two young men
of faith saved a nation sunk in despair
and disgrace. They inspired confidence
in God and his promises. "Youth
for battles, old age for counsel" but
there are times that demand action
more than conference and consideration.
Courage is only of value, however,
when based upon much training,
devotion to God, the interests of others,
and a clear vision. It is not a
?- ..thnan Pnliraefl
mere nasn iu moo paiun?;.
is contagious; Jonathan's feat set on
fire the soul of a nation. Read again
the roll of honor in the eleventh chap*
ter of Hebrews. The highest courage
is not physical but moral. This courage
is open to all, but it is intelligent'
'ly grounded upon God's sure revelation
in his word and in the person of
his Son, our Lord. "And his armorbearer
after him."
Jonathan did not go alone. On the
other hand it is not probable this young I
lad would have gone up those rocks I
had not Jonathan led the way; be- I
cause one went before him. he was I
able to scale the fortress. God alone I
knows the heights to which we may I
attain, but does not ask us to go alone. I
nor expect us to do the impossible. I
The greatest heroes are not military, I
they are Christian heroes, who put
on the Christian armor and whose 3
"strength is the strength of ten be- I
cause their hearts are pure." Such I
I Heroes are 1101 aismayea ai iu? n
tempt and gibes of the enemy. I