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Tiie Gall of the ICiimborlands By Charles Neville Buck With Illustrations ' from Photographs of Scenes j in the Play (Copyright. 1913. by W. J. Watt & Co.) T SYNOPSIS. On Misery creek Sally Miller finds George Lescott. a landscape painter, unconscious. Jesse Purvy of the Hollman clan has been shot end Samson Is suspected of the crime. Samson denies It. The shooting breaks the truce In the Hollman-South feud. Jim Hollman hunts with bloodhounds*the man who shot Purvy. The bloodhounds lose the trail at Spicer South's door. Lescott discovers artistic ability In Samson. While sketching n/ith 1 osmtt nn the mountain. Tama rack discovers Samson to a Jeering crowd of mountaineers. Samson thrashes him and denounces him as the "truCe-buster" who shot Purvy. At Wile McCager's dance Samson tells the South clan that he is going to leave the mountains. Lescott goes home to New Tork. Samson bids Spicer and Sally I farewell and follows. In New York Samson studies art and learns much of city ways. Drennle Lescott persuades Wilfred Horton. her dilettante lover, to do a man's work in the world. CHAPTER IX. Christmas came to Misery wrapped In a drab mantle of desolation. At the cabin of the Widow Miller Sally was sitting alone before the logs. She laid down the slate and spelling book, over which her forehead had been strenuously puckered, and gazed somewhat mournfully Into the blaze. Sally had a secret. It was a secret which she based on a faint hope. If Samson should come hack to Miseryvhe would come back full of new notions. No man had ever yet returned from that outside world unaltered. No man ever would. A terrible premonition said he would not come at all, but, If he did? If he did?she must know how to read and write. Maybe, when she had learned a little more, she might even go to school for a term or two. v The cramped and distorted chirogrmphy on the slate was discouraging. It was all proving very hard work. The girl gazed for a time at something she saw in the embers, and then a faint smile came to her lips. By next Christinas she would surprise Samson with a _ utter ..tt-ihould virf"'"blll&'iw*ghoald be arT'lsn't." " \ 1 r * > The normal human mind is a res<en<olr which fills at a rate of speed Tegulated by the number and caliber of its feed pipes. Samson's mind had long been almost empty, and now from 'to many sources the waters of new things were rushing in upon it that under their pressure it must fill fast, or alve away. *' "He was saved from hopeless complications of thought by a sanity which was willing to assimilate .without too much effort to analyze. The boy from Misery was presently less bizarre to the eye than many of the unkempt bohemians he met in the life of the studios, men who quarreled garrutously over the end and aim of Art, which they spelled with a capital A--and, for the most part, knew nothing of. He retained, except within a small circle of intimates, a silence that passed for taciturnity, and a solemnity of visage that was often construed into surly egotism. He still wore his hair long, and, though his conversation gradually sloughed off much of its idiom and vulgarism, enough of the mountaineer stood out to lend to his personality a savor of the crudely picturesque. Meanwhile he drew and read and studied and walked, and every day's advancement was a forced march. Lescott, tremendously Interested in his experiment, began to fear that the boy's too great somberness of disposition would defeat the very earnest ness from which it sprang. So one morning the landscape-maker called on a friend whom he rightly believed to be the wisest man, and the greatest humorist in New York. "I want your help," said Lescott. "I want you to meet a friend of mine and take him under your wing in a fashion. He needs you." The stout man's face clouded. A few year3 ago he had been peddling Lis manuscripts with the heart-sickness of unsuccessful middle age. Today men coupled hi3 name with those of Kipling and De Maupassant. One of his antipathies was meeting people who sought to lionize him. Lescott read the expression, and, before his host had time to object, swept into his recital. At the end he summarized: "The artist is much like the setter pup. If it's in him, it's as instinctive as a dog's nose. But to become efficient he must go a-field with a steady veteran of his own breed." "I know!" The great man, who was also the simple man, smiled reminisceutly. "They tried to teach me to herd sheep when my nose was itching tnr- nirri rrmntrv Rrincr on vour man: I want to know hira." Samson was told nothing of the benevoient conspiracy, but one evening shortly later he found himself sitting at a cafe table with his sponsor and a stout man, almost as silent as himself. The stout man responded with some'hing like churlish taciturnity to th'. half-dozen men and women who came over with flatteries. But later, when the trio was left alone, his face brightened, and no turned to the boy from Misery. "Does Billy Conrad still keep store at Stagbone?' Samson started and his gaze fell in amazement. At the mention of the name he saw a cross-roads store with rough mules hitched to fence palings. It was a picture of home, and here was a man who had been there! With glowing eyes the boy dropped unconsciously back into the vernacular of the hills. "Hev ye been tbar, stranger?" The writer nodded, and sipped his whisky. "Not for some years, though," he confessed, as he drifted into reminiscence, which to Samson was like water to a parched throat. When they left the cafe the boy felt as though he were taking leave of an old and tried friend. By homely methods, this unerring diagnostician of the human soul had been reading him, liking him. and making him feel a heart-warming sympathy. It was not until much later that Samson realized how these two really great men had adopted him as their "little brother" that he might have their shoulder-touch to march by. And it was without his realization, too. that they laid upon him the imprint of their own characters and philosophy. "I have come, not to quarrel with you, but to try to dissuade you." The Hon. Mr. Wlckliffe bit savagely at ms cigar and gave a despairing spread to his well-manicured bands. "You stand in danger of becoming the most cordially hated man in New York?-hated by the most powerful combinations' in New York." Wilfred Horton leaned back in a swivel chair and put his feet up on his desk. For a while he seemed interested in his own silk socks. "It's very kind of you to warn me," he said, quietly. The Hon. Mr. Wickliffe rose in exasperation and paced -the floor. The smoke from his black cigar went before him in vicious puffs. Finally he stopped and leaned glaring on the table. "Your, family has always been conservative. When you succeeded to the fortune you showed no symptoms of this mania. In God's name, what has changed you?" "I hope I have grown up," explained the young man, with an unruffled smile. "One can't wear swaddling clothes forever, you know." The attorney for an instant softened his manner as he looked into the straight-gazing, unafraid eyes of hi* client. "1^ 'rorn your babyftowSfwiadviReclyq u r laiu*;* "oelifrt you were born. You have, by the chance pf birth, come Into the control of great wealth. The world of finance is of delicate balapce. Squabbles in certain directorates may throw the Street into panic. Suddenly you emerge from decent quiet and run amuck in the china Bhop, bellowing and tossing your norns. xou maaewar on those whose Interests are your own. You seem bent on hari-kari. You have toys enough to amuse. Why couldn't you stay put?" "They weren't the right things. They were, as you say, toys." Tha smile faded and Horton's chin set itself for a moment as he added: "If you don't think I'm going to stay put?watch me." "Why do you have to make war? to be chronically insurgent?" "Because"?the young man, who had waked up, spoke slowly?"I am reading a certain writing on the wall. The time is not far off when, unless we regulate a number of matters from within we shall be regulated from without." "Take for instance this newspaper war you've inaugurated on the police," grumbled the corporation lawyer. "It's less dangerous to the public than these financial crusades, but decidedly more so for yourself. You are regarded as a dangerous agitator, a marplot! I tell you, Winfred, aside from all other considerations the thing is perilous to yourself. You are riding tor a ia.ii. rnese men wnum juu aic whipping out of public life will turn on you." "So I heai. Here'3 a letter I got this morning?unsigned. That is, I thought it was here. Well, no matter. It warns me that I have less than three months to live unless I call off my dogs." It is said that the new convert is ever the most extreme fanatic. Wilfred Horton had promised to put on his working clothes, and-he had done it with reckless disregard for consequences. At first, he was simply obeying Adrienne's orders; but soon he found himself playing the game for the game's sake. Political overlor<l3. assailed as unfaithful servants, showed their teeth. From some hidden, but unfaLling. source terribly sure and direct evidence of guilt was being gathered. For Wilfred Horton, who was demanding a day of reckoning and spending great sums of money to get it, there was a prospect of things doing. Adrienne Lescott was in Europe. oho n-nnia return nnrt Hnrltin kJUWU OUU "UUJU 1 VVU* M * ? anw. %VM meant to show that he had not buried his talent. For eight months Samson's life had run in the steady ascent of gradual climbing, but in the four months from the first of August to the first of December, the pace of his existence suddenly quickened. He left off drawing from plaster casts and went into a life class. - In this period Samson had his first acquaintanceship with women, except those he had known from childhood? and Ms acquaintance with the men who were not of his o*Vn art world. Tony Collasso was an Italian illustrator who lodged and painted in studio-apartments in Washington Square, South. His companions were various, numbering among them a group of those pygmy celebrities of whom one has never h'eard until- by chance he meets them, and of whom their intimates speak as of immortals. * To Collasso's studio' Samson was called one night by telephone." He had sometimes gone there before to sit for an hour, chiefly as a listener, while the man from Sorrento bewailed fate with his coterie, and denounced all forms of government over insipid Chianti. But tonight he entered the door to find himself in the midst of a gay and boisterous party. The room was already thickly fogged with smoke, and a dozen men and women, singing snatches of current airs, were interesting themselves over a chaflng dish.': The crowd was typical. A few very minor writers and artists, a model or two, and several women who bad thinking parts In current Broadway productions. At eleven o'clock the guests of honor arrived in a taxicab. They weje'Mr. William Farbish and Miss Winifred oiau, nttviii? tuuitt, ao tucjr cApiaiuvu, v direct from the theater where Miss Starr danced in the first row, they c were in evening dress. Samson mentally acknowledged, though with Instinctive disfavor for the pair, that both were, in a way, handsome. Collasso drew him aside to whisper Importantly: "Make yourself agreeable to Farbish. He is received in the most exclusive society, and is a connoisseur of art. If he takes a fancy to you, he will put you up :.t the best clubs. . I think I shall sell him a landscape." The girl was talking rapidly and loudly. She had at once taken the center of the room, and her faghter rang in free and egotistic il peals above the other voices. , "Come, said the host, "I i kali present you." ' : The boy shook hands, gaa lag with his usual directndBs into tl is showgirl's large and deeply-penci W eyes. Farbish, standing at one side with his hands in his pockets, lobked on with an air of slightly bored detachment. His dress, his mannerisms,: his bearing, were all those of the man Who has overstudied his part. They jterjp too perfect, too obviously Agkrsed through years of social cllmHjt, but that was a defect Samson ^ka not yet prepared to recognize. Someone had naively coun^kfented ^ Miss Starr^ shoulders, and she'"turned jMWuptly i and vivaciously to the fiatWer; ? "It is nice, isn't it?" ifhh pfattm "It may look a little up-Btag<y for a gill 1 who hasn't got a line to read into ? the piece, but these days one must get the spot light, or be a dead one. * It reminds me of a little run-in I had 1 with Graddy?he's our stage-director, you know." She paused, awaiting the 1 invitation to proceed, and, having re-1 ( ceived it, went gayly forward. "I was * ten minutes late, one day, for rehearsal, and Graddy came up with that sar- 1 castic manner of his, and said: j'Miss Starr, I don't doubt you are a perfectly nice girl, and all that, but it lather gets my goat to figure out hojv, on a salary of fifteen dollars a iveek, you come to rehearsals in a million ( dollars' worth of clothes, riding in a f limousine?and ten minutes lite!'" 5 She broke off with the eager little 1 expression of awaiting applause and, having been satisfied, she addei: "I 1 was afraid that wasn't going to get a 1 laugh, after all." She glanced inquiringly at Sanson, 1 who had not smiled, and who wood 1 looking puzzled. 1 "A penny for your thoughts, Mr. ' South, from down South," she chal- 1 lenged. "I guess I'm sort of like Mr. Grad- 1 dy," said the boy, slowly. "I w^s Just 1 wondering how you do do it." ' He spoke with perfect seriodsneBs, ( and, after a moment, tne girl mroKe into prolonged peal of laughter] "Oh, you are delicious!" Bie exclaimed. "If I could do the Ingenue like that, believe me, I'd make) some j hit." She came over, and, lajing a hand on each of the boy's shoulder's kissed him lightly on the cheek. "That's for a droll boy!" she said. "That's the best line I've heard pulled lately." Furbish was smiling in quiet amusement. He tapped the mountaineer on the shoulder. "I've heard George Lescott speak of you," he said, genially. "I've rather a fancy for being among the discover- j crs of men of talent. We must see more of each other." Samson left the party early, and with a sense of disgust. Several days later. Samson was - in I AOrtntf'o otuHin I* nrfl j noor. 1 iliUIIC 111 l_jcnv.*-rn? o oiuuivi tiuo n>/u> i iug twilight, and he had laid aside a ' volume of De Maupassant, whose simple power had beguiled aim. The door 1 opened, and he saw the figure of a 1 woman on the threshold. The boy rose somewhat shyly from his seat, and stood looking at her. She was as richly dressed as Miss Starr had been, but there was the same difference as between the colors of the sunset sky and the exaggerated daubs of Collasso's landscape. She stood at the door a moment, and then came forward with her hand outstretched. 1 "This is Mr. South, isn't it?" she : asked, with a frank friendliness in i her voice. I "Yes, ma'am, that's my namje." I "I'm Adrienne Lescott," said the J girl.. "I thought Id find my brother here. I stopped by to drive him uptown." I i j i Samson had hesitatingly taken the a gloved hand, and Its grasp was firm e ind strong despite Its ridiculous mallness. t "I reckon he'll be back presently." 1 rhe boy was in doubt as to the proper t jrocedure. This was Lescott's studio, c md he was not certain whether or not <3 t lay in his province to invite Les- c :ott's sister to take possession of it. t Possibly, he ought to withdraw. " is f deas of social usages were very vague. 1 "Then, I think I'll wait," announced t he girl. She threw off her fhr coat, c ind took a seat before the open grate, a rhe chair was large. Mid swallowed s ler up. # e SamsoD wanted to ioolfr at her, and f vas afraid >hat this would be impolite. ? 3e realized that he had seen no e eal ladies, except on the street, and t iow he had the opportunity. k "I'm glad of this chance to meet J rou, Mr. South," said the girl with a a imile that found its way to the boy's leart. After all, there was sincerity a n "foreign" women. "George talks of \ r-ou so much that I feel as if I'd known ? rou all the while. Don't you think I c night claim friendship with George's 1 tiends?" a Samson had no answer. He wished i o say something equally cordial, but r he old Instinct against effusiveness v led bis tongue. "I owe right smart to George Les- r :ott," he told her, gravely. "That's not answering my question," 1: the laughed. "Do you consent to beng friends with me?" 1 "Miss?" began the boy. Then, real- b zing that In New York this form of t tddress Is hardly complete, he hast- t tnfed to add: "Mias Lescott, I've been t lere over nine months now, and I'm a ust beginning to realize what a rube p am. I haven't no?" Again, he broke s iff, and laughed at himself. "I mean, haven't any idea of proper manners, [" tnd so I'm, as we would say down lorae, 'plumb skeend' of ladles." * ' -? *- * 1* n_ rnitfl I A8 ne accused uimaeu, oauinuu nao ooking at ber with unblinking direct- < less; and she met bis glance with / tyes that twinkled. ^ "Mr. South," she said, "I know all I ibout manners, and you know all | ibout a hundred real things that I I want to know. Suppose we begin g eaching each other?" 1 IJ Samson's face lighted with the rev- 8 lutionizing effect that a smile can I jring only to features customarily fl lolemn. I "Miss Lescott," he said, "let's call | hat a trade?but you're gettin' all ' be worst of it To start with, you night give me>a lesson right now in low a feller ought to act, when he's . alkln' to a lady?how I ought to act ^Hftaugh made t*c situation as rrnf minutes later,' Lescott entered. B "will." he Bald, with a smile, "shall \ intJnuqe you people, or have you t ilreiljy done it for yourselves?" li "Olj," Adrienne assured him, "Mr. s South and 1 are old friends." As she t eft the room, she turned and added: a 'The second lesson had better be at a ny house. If I telephone you some 1 lay when we can have the school-rooni v :o ourselves, will you come up?" Samson grinned and forgot *o be t jashful as he replied: t "I'll come a-kitin'!" 8 CHAPTER X. t ? I Early that year, the touch of autumn c :ame to the air. Often, returning at f mndown from the afternoon life class, i Samson felt the lure of its melancholy e iweetness, and paused on one of the i Washington Square benches, with nany vague things stirring in his nind. He felt with a stronger throb ( :he surety of young, but quickening, ibilities within himself. Partly, it was ( :he charm of Indian summer, partly i sense of growing with the days, but. Uso, though he had not as yet realized ;hat, it was the new friendship into which Adrienne had admitted him, r md the new experience of frank cam- , iraderie with a woman not as a mem- r Der of an inferior sex, but as an equal r mpnp&nion of brain and soul. He had E 1 neiiollw nlnno ho. . ieeil iitrr uilcii, auu uou?..j ?? ;ause he shunned meetings with strangers. Until his education had advanced further, he wished to avoid social embarrassments. He knew :hat she liked him, and realized that t was because he was a new and virile :ype, and for that reason a diversion? a sort of human novelty. She liked iiim, too, because it was rare for a nan to ofTer her friendship without making love, and she was certain he would not make love. He liked her for the same reasons that every one 3lse did?because she was herself. Of late, too, he had met a number of men at Lescott's club. lie was mod5stly surprised to find that, though lis attitude on these occasions was always that of one sitting in the background, the men seemed to like him, and, when they said, "See you again," at parting, it was with the convincing manner of real friendliness. One wonderful afternoon in October, when the distances were inisttiung, and the skies very clear, Sain30n sat across the table from Adrienne Lescott at a road house on the Sound. The sun had set through grbat cloud battalions massed against the west, and the horizon was fading into darkness through a haze like ash of roses. 1 She had picked him up on the Ave- 1 nue, and taken him into her car for I a short spin, but the afternoon had beguiled them, luring them on a little farther, and still a little farther. When they were a score of miles from Man- s hattan, the car had suddenly broken a down. It would, the chauffeur told them, be the matter of an hour to effect repairs, so the girl, explaining to the boy that this event gave the \ nffalr the aspect Mt adventure, turned c ind led tne way, on toot, to the aaatset road house. "We will telephone that we shall late, and then have dinner," she aughed. "And for rae to have dinner vlth you alone, unchaperoned at a :ountry inn, Is by New York standards lelightfully unconventional. It borders ?n wickedness." Then, since their atitude toward each other was so riendiy and innocent, they both aughed. They had dined under the rees of an old manor house, built a ientury ago, and now converted into in inn, and they had enjoyed, themselves because it seemed to them sleasingly paradoxical that they should led in a place seemingly so shabby;enteel a cuisine and service of such ixcellence. Neither of them had ever teen there before, and neither of them mew that the reputation of this estabishment was in its own way wide? ind unsavory. The repairs did not go as sn.oothly is the chauffeur had expected, and, vhen he had finished, he was hungry. >o, eleven o'clock found them still :hatting at their table on the lighted awn. After awhile, they fell silent, ;nd Adrienne noticed that her cpmtanioq's face had become deeply, alnost painfully set, and thut his gaze vas tensely focused on herself. "What is it, Mr. South?" she denanded. The young man began to speak, n a steady, self-accusing voice. "I was sitting here, looking at you," le said, bluntly. "I was thinking iow fine you are In every way; how here is as much difference in the tex* ure of men and women as there is in he texture of clothes. From that utomobile cap you wear your slipiers and stockings, you are clad in ilk. From your brain to the tone of "I Waa Thinking of My People.? onr voice, yon are.woien"<nrStfl?r ilk. I've learned lately that' silk Isn't reak, but strong. They make the test balloons of it" He paused and augbed, but his face again became ober. "I was thinking, too, Of your aother. She must be sixty, but she's > young woman. Her face is smooth ,nd unwrinkled, and her heart is still n bloom. A*. the same age, George icn't be mucl older than he i? now." The compliment was so obviously lot intended as compliment at all hat the girl fl ished with pleasure. "Then," weri. on Samson, Lis face ilowly drawing with pain, "I was hinking of my own people. My nother was about forty when she lied. She was an old woman. My ather was forty-three. He was an old nan. I was thinking how they with* ired under their drudgery?and of the nonstrous injustice of it all." . (TO BE CONTINUED.) 3L0 CRAFT OF ODD DESIGN Mesopotamia Boat, Known as Kufa, Known to Have Been In Um Before Christian Era. The Kufa, a curious circular boat nade of basketwork, and - seen nol'Vinra oloo In thn vnrlll Is a COEQ on sight in Mesopotamia. The fer ymen charge only a cent each paatenger. There is one good point about hese strange craft?they are not easIy upset. Their carrying capacity also s great, and the kufa men pack in heir passengers like herrings in a barel. 1 had the good luck to take a phoograph of the actual building of a tufa on the banks of the Tigris river, lays a writer in the Wide World. They tre made of date palm branches voven together with rope, made out of eaves of the same palm, thickly plasered on the outside with bitumen. They range from four to twelve feet n diameter. Nowhere but on the rigris and lower Euphrates rivers can >ne see these curious craft, which lerve principally for the transport of lassengers, country, produce and leasts of burden across the river, ^bout three men are required to make i kufa of respectable size, and it akes them some twenty days to build t. Like the kelek, the kufa is of jreat antiquity, for both these strange iraft were in use long before the time >f Christ. The evidence or tnis is in lisputable, for on the bas-reliefs taken rom the palace of Sennacherib both :raft are clearly represented. Depends on the Well. "Truth lies at the bottom, of ? veil," quoted the Sage. "Not if It lappens to be an oil well," corrected he fool. Warmed By Snow. The earth, under a thick coating of mow, is ten degrees warmer than tht iir Immediately above the snow. Tough Spider Weba. So. . of the spiders of Jam have vebs so strong that a knift it ft luirad to out then. hhmonal SUNMfSOKE Lesson ~ (By E. O. SETTERS, Acting Dlra^flflM Sunday School Course, Moody stitute, Chicago.) ^essoat^or^pml^^^^h DAVID ANOINTED LESSON' TEXT?I Samuel 16:4,fl^^H| GOLDEN TJEXT?Man lookett^^^^^H outward appearance, but JehovahrM^^^^V on the heart.?I Samuel 15:7 R. V. After the events recorded In last Sunday's lesson Samuel retired to Ramah never again to see Saul's face. Samuel "mourned" (15:35) 1. e., be-walled and lamented the deposed king. It was noble for Samuel thus to be grieved over Saul's sin; still, Qod bad work for him to do. There Is a sorrow that "worketh repentance" which is pleasing in the sight of Qod, hot that idle sorrow which spends itself in unprofitable mourning is detrimental to man and a hindrance to the kingdom of God (ch. 8:7; 15:1) Men may fail but the kingdom goes forward. We do not interpret verse 8 as suggesting any subterfuge on Qod's part but rather that God refused to, pay any attention to Samuel s fear * God answers fear by giving us duties to perform and in their performance we are delivered from our fears. I. David Chosen to Be King, vv. 4-10. Saul, the clamorous choice of the people, was not succeeded by David?"the man after God's own heart"?for several years after this lesson God's will in this matter was shown to Samuel progressively: (a) in chapter 13:14 Samuel is informed that God hath sought "a man after his own heart;" (b) in 16:1 he is told to go and find the king whom God had provided; (c) in verse 12 Samuel is at last definitely told whom God has selected. This selection is in accordance with the prophecy made centuries before regarding the kingly scepter (Gen. 49:10). Of course it was high treason, this adt Samuel was about to perform, and Saul yet had many friends and supporters (v. 2). God seems to'have permitted Samuel to use one avowed purpose to conceal the real one, but "such a course is one to use but sparingly" (Maclaren). God can and does protect those whom . he sends (Pa 34:7) and "man is immortal, till his work is done." Just what or how did not concern Samuel ? uD'iud.-Oca's step at a time was sufficient and la taking each step Samuel was to tell rt-l the exact truth. Thus God guides and tests his servants. Samuel was a judge as well as a prophet (ch. 7:16) and the people of Bethlehem were agitated at hla arrival. It may be, too, that these elders were tearful of incurring the displeasure of SauL There was no occasion for fear, as Samuel's purpose was to sacrifice and his mission one of peace even as the angelic messenger! who quieted the shepherds with their message of "peace" when 'great David's greater son" was ushered into the world. Jesse was a grandson of Ruth the Moabitess and also a descendant of Rahab the harlot On his father's side he belonged to the strong tribe of Judah. He was evidently a man of some wealth, certainly in his children. After the sacrifice and before the feast Samuel ia made acquainted with the sons of Jesse. The first, Eliab, was tall and good to look upon and at once Samuel fixed upon him as the certain choice 'for Jehovah. II. David Anointed King, v\u 1113. Seven sons are set aside and yet Samuel did not hear the voice of God's approval. In seeming dismay he asks, "Are here all' thy children?" Jesse seems to have made a careless and reluctant reply that the youngest was away from home tending sheep. Thereupon Samuel asserts that "we will not sit down (to the sacrificial feast) till he be brought hither " It la from such lowly positions that God la constantly promoting men to positlona of responsibility and prominence. Witness Carey, Livingston, Moody and a hundred others past and present. David at this time was about fifteen years old (Beecher). His name means "darling," significant of the affection of his mother, whose name is unknown, but to whom David twice makes reference (Ps. 86:16; 116:16). David was- short, compared with his brothers, but had bright eyes (v. 12 marg.) and a fair face?a "comely person" (v. 18). David was agile and strong and though seemingly scoffed at by his brothers and neglected by his father it did not pervert his good nature nor turn him from the performance of bis duties. Samuel did not crreet David as he had greeted Saul, he may have been dispappointed. This gives emphasis to the words in verse 12, "Arise anoint him: for is he." David is anointed, set apart, for the kingship, but is not equipped nor does he enter upon his offices till later. In this he is a type of Jesus who shall yet reign on David's throne. Verses 13 and 14 tell of the developing contrast in the lives of Saul and David. David the young king, potential only at this time, is a great inspiration to the young of all ages in that, (1) He did his lowly work thoroughly; (2) While doing it he sought to cultivate and improve himself (v.18); and (3) He gave himself wholly to God; hence the record "and die Lord is with him" (r. IS). i