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The Call of the Cumberlands 4 By Charles Neville Buck With Illustrations from Photographs of Scenes in the Play (Copyright. 1913. by W. ]. Watt & Co.) 0 SYNOPSIS. On Misery creek Sally Miller finds George Leseott. a landscape painter, unconscious. Jesse Purvy of the Hollman clan has heen shot and Samson is SU8 pected 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 sketchIns with Lescott on the mountain. Tamarack 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 la going to leave the mountains. Lescott goes home to New York. Samson bids Spicer and Sally farewell and follows. In New York Samson studies art and learns much of city ways. Drennie Lescott persuades Wilfred Horton. her dilettante lover, to do a man's work In the world. Prompted by her love. Sally teaches herself to write. Horton throws himself Into the business world and becomes well hated by predatory financiers and politicians. At a Bohemian resort Samson meets William Farblsh. sporty social parasite, and Horton's enemv. Farblsh sees Samson and Drenide dining together unchaperoned at the Wigwam roadhouse. He conspires with others to make Horton Jealous and succeeds. CHAPTER XI?Continued. Samson did not appear at the Lescott house for '.wo weeks after that. He had begun to think that, if his enlnr thorp cnvo omharrnssmpnt to ? the girl who had been kind to him, It were better to remain away. "I don't belong here," he told himself. bitterly. "I reckon everybody 8 that knows me In New York, except 1 the Lescotts Is laughing at me be- c hind my back." ? He worked fiercely, and threw Into c his work such fire and energy that it * came out again converted Into bold- ^ ness of stroke and an almost savage vigor of drawing. The instructor nodded his head over the easel, and c passed on to the next student without c having left the defacing mark of his * relentless crayon. To the next pupil, * be said: ( "Watch the way that man South J firaws. He's not clever. He's elementally sincere, and. If he goes on, the first thing you know he will be a por- 1 character J ^^^^^ WmuvTrtues and vices showing out J through them." ' \ And Samson met every gaze with smoldering savagery, searching for some one who might be laughing at ^ him openly, or even covertly, instead ^ of behind his back. The long-sufTer<n? flcVitlni" lust in him oraveri nnnnr tunity to break out and relieve the pressure on his soul. But no one laughed. One afternoon late In November, a hint of blizzards swept snarling down the Atlantic seaboard from the polar floes, with wet flurries of snow and rain. Off on the marshes where the ! Kenmore club had its lodge, the live j decoys stretched their clipped wings, and raised their green necks restively into the salt wind, and listened. With dawn, they had heard, faint and far away, the first notes of that wild chorus with which the skies would ring until the southerly migrations ended ?the horizon-distant honking of high flying water fowl. Then it was that Farbish dropped In with marching orders, and Samson, yearning to be away where there were open skies, packed George Lescott's borrowed paraphernalia, and prepared to leave that same night. While be was packing, the telephone rang, and Samson heard Adrienne's voice at the other end of the wire. "Where have you been hiding?" she demanded. "I'll have to send a truant /vffl Aon o ftnr vrin " vulval UUVI J vu. "I've been very busy," said the man, "and I reckon, after all, you can't civilize a wolf. I'm afraid I've been wasting your time.' Possibly, the miserable tone of the voice told the girl more than the " words. "You are having a season with the blue devils," she announced. "You've < ben cooped up too much. This wind < ought to bring the ducks, and?" 1 "I'm leaving tonight," Samson told ! her. '< "It would have been very nice of I you to have run up to say good-by," 6he reproved. "Hut I'll forgive you. i if you call me up by long distance. ' You will get there early in the morn- I lng. Tomorrow, I'm going to Philadel- < phia over night. The next night, I ' 6hall be at the theater. (Jo.ll me up ' after the theater, and tell me how 12 lrsv 2t " i Jf'UU 1IIVC K. 1 It was the same old frankness and friendliness of voice, and the same 1 old note like the music of a reed in- 1 6trument. Samson felt so comforted and reassured that he laughed through i the telephone. "I've been keeping away from you." he volunteered, "because I've had a < laps-1 into savagery, and haven't been : fit to talk xo you. When I get back, 1 I'm coming up to explain. And, in the meantime, I'll telephone." 1 On the train Samson was surprised 1 to discover that, after all, he had Mr. William Farbish for a traveling com I panion. That gentleman explained i that be had found au opportunity to ? k play truant from business for a day pr two, and wished to see Samson pomfortably ensconced and Introduced. The first day Farbish- and Samson lad the place to themselves, but the lext morning would bring others. The next day, while the mountaineer was out on the flats, the party of nen at the club had been swelled to i total of six, for in pursuance of :be carefully arranged plans of Mr. Farbish. Mr. Bradburn had succeeded n inducing Wilfred Horton to run lown for a day or two of the sport le loved. When Horton arrived that lfternoon, he found his usually even emper ruffled by bits of maliciously proached gossip, until his resentment igainst Samson South had been 'anned Into danger heat. He did not enow that South also was at the club, ind he did not that afternoon go out o the blinds, but so far departed rom his usual custom as to permit limself to sit for several hours In the dub grill. And yet, as is often the case in careully designed affairs, the one element hat made most- powerfully for the luccess of Farbish's scheme was pure iccident. The carefully arranged meetng between the two men, the adroitly nclted passions of each, would still lave brought no ciasn, naa not wiired Horton been affected by tho flushng effectof alcohol. Since his college lays, he had been invariably absterai>us. Tonight marked an exception. He was rather surprised at the corliality of the welcome accorded him, or, as chance would have it, except or Samson South, whom he had not ret seen, all the other sportsmen vere men closely allied to the pollti:al and financial elements upon which le had been making.war. Still, since hey seemed willing to forget for the ime that there had been a breach, le was equally so. JuSt now, he was eellng such bitterness for tho Kenuckian that the foes of a less per ;onal sort seemed unimportant. In point of fact, Wilfred Horton had ipent a very bad day. The final straw lad broken the back of his usually inruffled temper, when he had found n bis room on reaching the Kenmore i copy of a certain New York weekly >aper, and had read a page, which ihanced to be lying face up (a chance:arefully prearranged). It was an item >f which Farblsh had known, in adranee of publication, but Wilfred vould never have seen that sheet, tad It not been so carefully brought o his attention. There were hints >f the strange Infatuation which a :ertain young woman seemed to enertain for a partially civilized stranger who had made his entree to New fork via the police court, and who vore his hair long In Imitation of a dbllcal character of the same name. The supper at the Wigwam inn was nentloned, and the character of the raceable to Adrienne's 111-jua^ * rlendshlp for the mountaineer, amf le bitterly blamed the mountaineer, tnd, while ke had been brooding on hese matters, a man acting as Far ish's ambassador had dropped into lis room, since Faibish himself knew iii# ^ sSmfc^BtJ8?x ' 'Don't You See That This Thing Is a Frame-Up?" :hat Morton would not listen to his confidences. The delegated spokesnan warned Wilfred that Samson South had spoken pointedly of him, ind advised cautious conduct, in a fashion calculated to inflame. Samson, it was falsely alleged, had tccused him of saying derogatory j things in his absence, which he would liardly venture to repeat in his presence. in short, it was put to Horton to announce his opinion openly, or eat the crow of cowardice. That evening, when Samson wgnt to his room, Farbish joined him. "I've been greatly annoyed to find," :ie said, seating himself on Samson's tied, "that Horton arrived today." "1 reckon that's all right," said Sara:r>n "Ilo'a n mnmhpr Isn't hp?-' Farblsh appeared dubious. "I don't want to appear in the guise jf a prophet of trouble," he said, "but fou are my guest here, and I must nam you. Horton thinks of you as a gun-tighter' and a dangerous man. He won't takes chances with you. If there is a clash, it will be serious. Ho doesn't often drink, but today He's doing it, and may be ugly. Avoid id altercation if you can, but if it -tea?" He broke off and added serl ; " oi.s'y "Tor win have to get bira, or he will get you. Are you armed?" The Kentuckian laughed. "I reckon I don't need to be armed] amongst gentlemen." Farbish drew from hla pocket *1 .magazine pistol. "It won't hurt you to slip that Intern your clothes," he insisted. For an instant, the mountameeq stood looking at his host and with eyes that bored deep, but whatever was in1 his mind as he made that scrutiny he kept to himself. At last, he took the magazine pistol, turned it over in his hand, and put it into his pocket. "Mr. Farbish," he said, "I've been in_ places before now where men were drinking who had made threats against me. I think you are excited aboat this thing. If anything starts, he wfll start it." At the dinner table, Samson South and Wilfred Horton vere introduced, and acknowledged their introductionawith the briefest and most formal nods. During the course of the meat, though seated side by side, each lgv nored the presence of the other. Sam. son was, perhaps, do more client than usual. Always, he was the listener eicept when a question was put to him direct, but the silence which sat upon Wilfred Horton was a departure frooq his ordinary custom. He had discovered in his college.' days that liquor, instead of exhllaratlug him, was an influence under which he grew morose and sullen, and that discovery had made him almost a total abstainer. Tonight, his glass was constantly filled and emptied, and, as he ate, he gazed ahead, and thought resentfully of the man at his side! v When the coffee had been brought, and the cigars lighted, and the aerv-, ants had withdrawn, Hortoc with-the manner of one who had been awaiting an opportunity, turned slightly In hhi: chair, and gazed Insolently at the Kentuckian. Samson South still semed entirely! unconscious of the other's extatencv though In reality no detail of the brewing storm bad escaped him. He was studying the other faces around this table, and what he saw in them appeared to occupy him. Wilfred Horton's cheeks were burning with a dullflush, and his eyes were narrowing with an unveiled dislike. Suddenly, a silence fell on the party, and, as the men sat puffing their cigars, Horton turned toward the Kentucklan. For a moment, he glared In silence, then' with an Impetuous exclamation of din-gust he announced: "See here, South, I want you to know' that if I'd understood you were to l>d" here, I wouldn't have come. It has pleased me to express my opinion of you to a number of people, and now I mean to express it to yon. Uipersot^B /Samson looked aroug^yJH^H^| same instantaoi^^^^^^^H Lter said nothing, the and expressive. It seBg^^HMpT and goad him on, as tnough^p man had said: "You mustn't stand that JBo after him." "I reckon"?Samson's voice was a pleasant drawl?"it doesn't make any particular difference, Mr. Horton." "Even if what 1 said didn't happen to be particularly commendatory 7" inquired Horton, his eyes narrowing. "So long," replied the Kentnckian, "as what you said was your own opinion, I don't reckon it would interest me much." "In point of fact"?Horton was gazing with steady hostility into Sam son's eyes?"I prefer to tell you. I have rather generally expressed the belief that you are a damned savage, unfit for decent society." Samson's face grew rigid and a trifle pale. His mouth set itself in a straight line, but, as Wilfred Horton came ttr his feet with the last words, the mountaineer remained seated. "And," went on the New Yorker, flushing with suddenly augmenting passion, "what I said I still believe to be true and repeat in your presence. At another time and place, I shall be even more explicit I shall ask you to explain?certain things." "Mr. Horton," suggested Samson in an ominously quiet voice, "I reckon you're a little drunk. If I were you, { I'd sit down." Wilfred's face went from red to white, and his shoulders stiffened. He leaned forward, and for the Instant no one moved. The tick of the clock was plainly audible. "South," he said, his breath coming in labored excitement, "defend yourself!" Sahison still sat motionless. "Against what?" he Inquired. "Against that!" Horton struck the mountain man across the face with his open hand. Instantly, there was a commotion of scraping chairs an<J shuffling feet, mingled with a chorus i of inarticulate protest. Samson had risen, and, for a second, his face had ; become a thing of unspeakable pasi sion. His hand instinctively swept j toward his pocket?and stopped halfj way. He stood by his overturned chair, gazing into the eyes of his asl sailant, with an effort at self-mastery , which gave his chest and arms the appearance of a man writhing and stiffening under electrocution. Then, he forced both hands to his back and gripped them there. For a moment, the tableau was held, then the man from the mountains began speaking, slowly and in a tone of dead-level monotony. Each syllable was portentously distinct and clear clipped. "Maybe you know why 1 don't kill you. . . . Maybe you don't. ... I don't give a damn whether you do or not. . . . That's the first blow I've (ver passed. ... 1 ain't going to hit j back. . . . You need a friend pretty ! btd rust new. . . . Fcr certain reason* Tm going to be tbat friend. . . . Don't you see that this thing is a damned frame-up? . . . Don't you see that I was brought here to murder you?" He turned suddenly to Farbish. : "Why did you Insist on my putting that In my pocket"?Samson took out the pistol, and threw it down on the table-cloth in front of Wilfred, where ?it struck and shivered a half-filled wine-glass?"and why did you warn me that this man meant to kill me? I was meant to be your catspaw to put Wilfred Horton out of your way. I may be a barbarian and a savage, but I Can smell a rat?if it's dead enough." For an instant there was absolute and hushed calm. Wilfred Horton picked up the discarded weapon and looked at It in bewildered stupefaction, then slowly his face flamed with Distressing mortification. I' "Any time you want to fight me"? feamson bad turned again to face him, land was still talking in his deadly ?"ov^ont fonlcht vnu pan BUOii. vyiw wavv)/? ?wM.0...p llnd me. I've never been hit before Rlthout h. ting back. That blow has got to paid for?but the man that's Kally responsible has got to pay first. 'I'm Ready Cither to Fight or Shake Hands." Vhen I fight jrou, 111 fight for myself, Ot for a bnnch of damned murderers. . . Just now, I've got other business. Tut man framed thiB up!" He pointed < lean finger across the table into tbe tartled countenance of Mr. Farblsh. tHe knew! He bas been working on ftt^obfor a month. I'm going to case now." Bn started toward Farblsh, Btor rose, and. with an ex Sfl^^Hperf&t insulted, virtue, k indignantly exclaimed, ^Hf^^H^B^ ttilembrol^ine In your Bpoloelze. You j^YbSPB^^pPK1 HBHBed a short distance from Farish, a^ drew from his pocket a rumpled scrap of the offending magaIne page: #?e It m that had offended 1 [orton. "I may not have good manners, 1 [later Far jish, bat where I come from v e know how to handle varmlntB." He t -opped his voice and added for the p otter's ear only: "Here's a little a after on the side that concerns only a l. It wouldn't Interest these other g intlemen." He opened his hand, and a Ided: "Here, eat that!" Farbieh with a frightened glance a the setJace of the man who was advancing upcd him, leaped back, and diew from his pocket a pistol?It was ai. exact counterpart of the one with w iich h??j?ad supplied Samson. !. With a panther like swiftness, the Ktatucklan leaped forward, and struck ui the weapon, which spat one inef ective bullet intc the rafters. There piP! tfi a momentary scuffle of swaying belles and a crash under which the ta >le groaned amid the shattering of, glass and china. Then, slowly, the conspirator's body bent back at the wc fat, until its shoulders were < sti etched on the disarranged cloth. I ahl the white face, with purple veins swBlling on the forehead, stared up be ween two brown hands that gripped its throat , ,'Bwallow that!" ordered the mountai leer. 1'or Just an Instant, the company atosd dumfounded, then a strained unnatural voice broke the silence. * Stop him, he's going to kill the map!" 7?he odds were four to two. and witc a sudden rally to the support of their chief plotter, the other conspirators rushed the figure that stood throttling his victim. But Samson South was in his element. The dammed-up wraih that had been smoldering during these last days was having a tempesAous outlet. He had found men whet in a gentlemen's club to which he lad come as a guest, sought to use nim as a catspaw and murderer. Ak they assaulted him, en masse, he seized a chair, and swung it flail like, about his head. For a few moments, there was a crashing of glass and china, and a clatter of furniture and a chaos of struggle. Samson South stood for a moment panting in a scene of wreckage and disorder. The table was littered with shivered glasses and decanters and chin^iware. The furniture was scattered and overturned. Farblsh was weakly leaning to one side in the seat to which he had made his way. The men .who had gone down under the heavy blows of the chair lay quietly where they had fallen. Wilfred Horton stood waiting. The wholo affair had transpired with such celerity and speed that he had hardly understood it, and had taken no part. But, a_* he met the gaze of the disordered figu/s across the wreckage of a dinner-table, he realized &at now. i 1 i * I ? I 1 with the preliminaries settled, he who had struck Samson In the face must give satisfaction for the blow. Horton was sober, as cold sober as though he had Jumped Into Ice-water, and though he was not In the least afraid, he was mortified, and, had apology at such a I time been possible, would have made It. He knew that he had misjudged his man; he saw the outlines of the r>W an nlalnlv na Samson hsd seen t Mw r*? ^ them, though more tardily. Samson's toe touched the pistol which had dropped from Farbiah's hand and he contemptuously kicked It to one side. He came back to bia place. ''Now, Mr. Horton," he said to the man who stood looking about with a dazed expression, "if you're still of the same mind, I can accomodate you. 1 You lied when you said I was a savage?though Just now it sort of looks , like I was, and"?he paused, then ! added?"and I'm ready either to fight or shake hands. Hither way suits me." 1 For the moment, Horton did not speak, and Samson slowly went on: "But, whether we fight or not, you've got to shake hands with me when we're . finished. You and me ain't going to start no feud. This is the first time J I've ever refused to let a man be my enemy if he wanted to. I've got my reasons. I'm going to make you shake ' hands with me whether you like It or 1 not, but if you want to fight first it's : satisfactory. You said awhile ago you ^ would be glad to be more explicit with ' me when we were alone?" He paused ' and looked about the room. "Shall I 1 throw these damned murderers out of i here, or will you go into another mom ' and talk?" ^ "Leave them where they are," said ' Horton, quietly. "We'll go into the ^ reading-room. Have you killed any of ' them?" ' "I don't know," said the other, curtly, "and I don't care." J When they were alone, Samson 1 went on: "I know what you want 10 ass me about, and I don't mean to answer you. * You want to question me about Miss j Lescott. Whatever she and I have < done doesn't concern you. I will say ' this much?If I've been Ignorant of New. York ways and my Ignorance has 1 embarrassed her, I'm sorry. "I supposed you know that she's too damned good for you?just like she's ' too good for me. But she thinks more of you than she does of me?and she's ' yours. As for me, I have nothing to 1 apologize to you for. Maybe, I have ' something to ask her pardon about, 1 but ehe hasn't asked it. ( (TO BE CONTINUED.) ' ? ( SLEEP WAS NOT FOR* HER | Little One Got What Consolation 8he ' , The parentally Imposed afternoon ' nap has long been childhood's bane. Harry S. Smith, secretary of the park ' board was telling the other day of difficulties of afternoon napping expe- ' rienced by his offspring. A youthful daughter is especially given to insomnia ai me umo m u? ( afternoon when It is insisted that she shall nap. It is no fault of hers She strives strenuously to woo Morpheus, but to no avail. The sleep god is co- J quettish and he comes only when he ] can steal upon his victims. The other afternoon the tot was do- 1 lng her best to sleep. Dutifully she closed her eyes, breathed rhythmically j and counted sheep jumping over the fence, as instructed. Sleep would not come. Out it would never do to disappoint a parent. So when the question came, "Are you sleeping, daughter?" 6he murmured slumberously. "Uh-huh." But her message was not convinc ing. So she was offered a dime as s reward for sleeping. Time and again she made the effort, but always it wai fruitless. Then she began to squirm. Finally she sat up in her bed. Het manner was eloquent of conviction ol the futility of further effort, after res ignation of claim upon the reward. "Oh, I don't care; I don't want the dime," she said. "My bank is a penny bank, anyhow."?Louisville Times. Hundred-Foot Standard. The Western Society of Engineers has had prepared a 100-foot length standard, which it has presented to the city of Chicago. This standard la a steel rod 102 feet long, two inches wide and half an inch in thickness, which rests on rollers secured to substantial brackets fixed to the wall. The graduations, which were established ? ~ - * ?* * it. - by Pror. L*. A. Jnscner 01 ine uuucu States bureau of standards, Washington, were at zero, one foot, one yard, one meter, ten feet, 25 feet, 50 feet, 68 feet, 20 meters, 30 meters and 100 feet, and at each of these points a disk of an alloy of 90 per cent platinum and ten per cent iridium 5.16 inch in diameter was inserted in the rod flush with its surface, the exact division point being marked on the disk. Tha work of graduation proved remarkably accurate, as is shown by the correction table furnished for use in connection with comparisons of measures. Chicken Thief Wrote Verse. After cleaning out a chicken coop in Birmingham, Ala., the chicken thiei left the following note: "Lord, have mercy on my bouI, how many chickens have I stole, last night and the night before, coming back tonight and get 25 more; remember coming back to night" Whale a Victim of War. An enormous whale drifted ashors near Margate, England, the other day. It had been killed by a mine In tlu North bba. IffllJMlONAL SMOKE Lesson By EX O. SELLERS, Acting Director of Sunday School Course, The Moody Bible Institute, Chicago, 111.) LESSON FOR APRIL 25 DAVID AND GOLIATH. LESSON TEXT?I 8amuel 17:1-51. GOLDEN TEXT?If God be for US, who s against us??Rom. 8:31 R. V. For forty days (v. 16) Goliath defied Saul's army, encamped near Betblelem. Three of the sons of Jesse were n Saul's army and to them David Is lent with food (vr. 13, 18,19). These irothers scornfully reproached David nrhen he expressed a willingness to ight Goliath, accusing him of pride and reminding him that he waB but a shepherd (vv. 26-29). David's words are carried to Saul and he is introduced to the king. I. Boastful Pride, w. 38-44. Fear ind dismay were aroused at the very sight of this proud Philistine (vr. 11, 24, 32), yet such fear was foreign to David, for his eyes were not upon man but upon God (v. 37). He related to \ Saul his exploits not as boasting but \ is giving him assurance that God was ible to deliver him out ot the hand of this Philistine. Saul, who had once been a man of like simple faith, is now as much in fear as any of his army. David was perhaps about twenty years jf age and verse 56 calls him a "stripling," hence it was that Saul's armor would not fit him (cf. 10:23). Human- . iy speaking, It was an Impossible thing David offered to accomplish singlebanded. Even Saul (v. 32) sought to llssuade David, but David was not trusting in man nor depending upon the armor of the king (v. 39; Ps. 27:13; Isa. 12:2; Rom. 8:31). David toqk bis familiar staff and sling (see 1 rhess. 5:2') and sallied forth, "strong in the Lord, not in himself; armed not with, steel but with faith." Crossing 'the valley" (v. 40 marg.) he prepared bis sling, with which every Israelite was skilled (see I Sam. 13:19-23). On same the giant, a man about nine feet tall (v. 4), "a stalking mountain, over: laid with brass and iron," preceded by bis protector (v. 41). Why such a soldier after his period of triumph should desire this added safety Is not quite clear. It suggests, however, the sinner's timidity which reveals his essential ^weakness In that he trusts himself, takes no chances, and Is even suft? his ruddy-faced, unarmed youth, carrying only the staff, Wherewith he was wont to fight wild beasts, and his sling! When God calls a man he uses that weapon with which the man is most familiar, and when the church or the Christian soldier seeks to fight in the armor of another, or by using the weapons of the world, it Is foredoomed fn fnllnro fVix. 4:2: Judeea 3:31). II. Conquering Humility, w. 46-51. David acknowledged pollath's superior armament, yet armed with the name of the Ood of the army of Israel which Goliath had insulted, his confidence overtops that of the Philistine and he hurls back his broud boast. Furthermore, the victory was to be an immediate one, "this day" (Zecb. 4:6; James 4:7). With calm assurance he informs Goliath of the outcome of their conflict, but takes no credit to himself. David had naught but naked faith and the sense of a Just cause to strengthen his arm. He would do to Goliath and the Philistines the things that Goliath had-boasted he would to David (w. 44 and 46) "that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel;" see also v. 47. David's Beemlngly insufficient preparation Is now revealed to be abundant, for he had four stones more than be needed (v. 40). It is thus that God chooses the weak things to confound the mighty (I Cor. 1:27). III. Summary. We have before us three lessons. First the lesson of individual responsibility. A sinful king had paralyzed the effectiveness or ine army of Israel. David, "a man after God's own heart," refused Saul's armor, crying out "I cannot go In these." Saul, bound by tradition, must use conventional weapons. Every great advance in the history of the church has been led by some man who struck out boldly, insensible alike to the conventionalism of his friends and the gibes of the enemy. God would have_ every man work according to himself, not copying, not imitating, but with bis own equipment. Second, all the giants of sin have not yet been overthrown. We still have the giants of Intemperance, Unchastity, Graft, Selfishness, Ambition and the Inequalities of our civic and social life. These can only be overcome In the strength of God. Bunyan mentions three giants, Pride, Grim and Pagan; to these we may add, Anger, Untruthfulness, Selfishness and Sullenne8s. Third, Our Helper. See Golden Text. Of all the graces David posdfessed, faith was the root of each one ?faith in a living God. His active faith caused him with nimble feet to attack this blasphemous enemy (v. 48j. His faith in God characterizes his entire life, resounds in his songs and strengthened his life of service for Jehovah. It is such faith that Strengthens the arm of the true saint of God, that enables him to "overcome" in his own life, to undertake for God and to go to the ends of the earth in his name. /