The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

W ~‘o ' 2mm WOLF gone... a Thrilling Advent-re an a m ”we. Peterkin stands thoughtfully listening to the thunder and roar of the waters, as fret. ful of restraint they have lcapt from captiv~ ity, and, with a sound like the roaring of hungry wolves, flow onward under the masses of ice to the Arctic Ocean. The face of the little lad grows less serious as he lisâ€" tens ; gradually a smile flits over the pinch- ed features, for the significance of that sound is unmistakable. Spring has comeâ€"spring with all its power of sweetness overa frozen landâ€"and Siberia, traversed with three thousand miles of river, w;ll lose its look of desolation to blossom into beauty as he journe s southward. ever nearer to the gay a ita wherein dwells the Czar. Wonder-i fu visions fill his mindâ€"dim, half-remem- bered stories of the great Cathedral of St. Isaac’s, wherein echoes the sweet-toned sing- ing of choristers in gorgeous tunics of blue and gold. St. Petersburg stands out in his imagin- ings with the dazzling brilliaucy of aperi'ect sun at noontidc, and ever toward this shin- ing goal his childish feet shall journey. The one thought impelling to this decision, through all the pain and loneliness of the long, dark winter, has been that here, if anywhere, will recognition be accorded his genius, and, in some undefined manner, a way be opened by which he may be taught at one of the many schools of music. The stupendousness of the undertaking does not appall him. There can surely be no greater dangers or privations to be encountered on the toilsome journey than are likely to fall to his lot as things now are. He is free to do as he wishes; there is naught to hold him hackâ€"no one in all the cat universe to stretch forth a hand and attic for him with that unknown World lying beyond the quiet lintel of his low-browed doorway and the realization of his dreams in the distant capital. Behind lies a life of toil and hard- ship ; before, a new world great with possi- bilities, forgetfulness of the past, freedom from the monotony of the flat, never-ending bogs stretching on all sides, without a break, against the leaden skies. The Russian lan- guage, with its harsh sounds and many per- plexities, holds for him always, in bright, untarnished letters, the word “ success.” There is nothing to impede his footsteps by an added weight on that journey, forâ€"- beside the blackened, greasy tuit .of sheep- kin which he wearsâ€"his sole possesion is his dead father’s 'violin slung across his shoulders ina quaint bug fashioned by the peasant mother’s unskilled hands. The sum- mons for that mother had come in the dark- ness of night, when quietly out from the plain-filled and, up over the frozen meadows and glistening ice-clogged rivers the weary heart saddened with life-long toil had ceased to beat, and entered into its rest. Peterkin had kissed her and, with young heart quick- ly beating against the silent one, had called her many times, but no answer came from the one who through all the homely toil that filled her days had been dimly conscious that her boy was not as others ; that to him had been given genius. So Peterkin turns his back upon the old life, and journeying southward, keeps body and soul together as best he may. Prim- roses in their first pink flush of bloom, violets, golden hearted daisies, and now a field blue as heaven with forget-me-nots greet him in their beauty and sweet-scent- ed bloom. Sometimes the blossoms are gathered to sell in the market of the nearest village, and so a night’s shelter or a crust of black bread is obtained. At first he is disappointed to find else- where so little clian e from what he had left behind, for one 1 ussian village differs little in outward aspect from another save in its poverty and squalor. On either side of the long, straggling street, detached houses are fashioned hastily for shelter, with rarely a touch of beauty, the second story of overlapping boards dovetailed to- gether at the corners rising above the un- lovcly foundation of roughly cemented stone. This upper story, reached by a lad- der, is the family home, from the centre of which warmth is diffused by a large brick stove. Against the whitewashed walls hang prints of the Imperial family, heads of saints or family photographs. In the lower story are herded whatever cattle the peasant may possess. Often the home of the very oor is but. a low-roofed, mud-plastered ut, wherein human beings and cattle huddle to- gether in a community of suffering. Spring deepens into summer, summer wanes, outrun by autumn’s fleeting stride, and Petcrkiu journeys on, subsisting for the most part on berries which Nature, so nio- gnrd of her gifts in most things, here strews broadcast. Yet now and then when the boy’s heart grows weary and he sinks for a while to rest by the roadside there sparkles on the green, luxuriant grass a drop that is far too salt for dew. Autumn’s breath grows keen, and winter holds the land in an icy embrace, levelling the stcppes with a (lriftiug pull of whiteness over which rise treacherous fogs, when I’eterkin crosses the border and enters the Village through which he must pass to the Russian capital. Au unwanted stir and bustle of excite- ment pervades the place. for this vcr ’ even- ing the only daughter of the rich lan owner is to wed an officer of the Czar, and the fiddler engaged for the occasion has fallen on the ice, hurting his arm so that playing is out of the question. A sorry wedding indeed it will be without music; the bride is in despair and hails with joy news of the little peasant who that morning entered the village and declared his ability to draw music from the old violin slung in a sack across his shoulder. Yes. Peterkin says he can and will play, if in return he be granted permission to travel with the wedding party to St. Peters- burg. The curious proposition at first amuse: the officer to whom it seemsa good joke, then noting the little fellow’s persistency he contemptuously refuses to have so sorry an object travel with them. The bride with ready wit, perceivin Peter- kin's stolid refusal to play for ot or con- sideration, pleads with her lover until she gains a reluctant consent for which heis not sorry in the end, since with his violin the peasant wakes the echoes with Polish dance tunes which set their pulses throbbin and Ice their feet in motion. The boy ashes vi pride when the officer calls out in praise -. “ Well doneâ€"well done little cllow ; who knows but the Czar may some da count you in the Imperial hand! " e wcid' at length is over, byes are said an three horses arnessed abreast to the slei h dash forward on the long journey. e bells beneath the rim-gs ring out a melt-y chime to border country, and whip-cracking is an un- gun to fall lightly at noon, increases in vio- lence, and Timothy moves uneasily, urging the horses ahead, for only too well dees he know the danger of a heavy storm over the frozen Steppes, where the icy blasts whirl it here and there in treacherous drifts. Delay even of a single night ‘ in safety farm house is not to be thought of, for the officer bears despatches of importance to the Czar, and better for it were to brave the fury of storm than risk the Imperial dis- pleasure. cost,” calls out the officer ; “ stop the next stranger if need be and boldly seize his horses, but at all hazards proceed." pain of banishment Timothy dare not dis- obey such orders, so muttering beneath his breath onward they 0, almost blinded with the snow as the sleig you by the plunging horses. and Timothy knowing from every verst of the way shakes his head in despair, calling to his horses that their courage may not flag through the ever- increasing storm. Peterkin’s keen ears have been the first to hear? Thereâ€"again it comesâ€"he breathes a frightened whisperâ€"“ The wolvesâ€"they are upon us.” face shows that the lad’s whisper has. been heard, as leaning forward the driver calls to his horses : fluttering dovesâ€"my Golobki ! brothers, to thy stables in St. Petersburg l” sounds nearer, but unmindful of the danger the officer sits With his bride enveloped in furs, too much absorbed to give heed to out- side events. They are out now on the track- less steppes, the horses, uncertain of their foothold, through the drifts while the wolves speed in their tracks. Timothy’s voice rings outagain: Speed onward, dovesâ€"an officer of the Czar rides behind thee. lines. and the swiftly moving black mass gains gain the sides, the whole yelping pack leap- jaws. which the ufi‘ying hoof-beats mark the a rhythmic ence. Beside the driver sits Peteikin, in place of the yamstchik or post- boy, a low-crowned hat covering the mop of yellow hair cut straight from ear to ear. The board seat is covered with leather cush- ions while a large wolfskin protects their feet and legs from the bitter cold. Onward they go, resting only when night falls to renew the journey in the morning; but to Peterkin there is little rest, for now after the long year of patient plodding, ever southward, St. Pets‘rs org is almost within sight. Only the journey of another day and night lies between him and the long-for goal. The horses shake their heads impatient for the start, their mass, after the curious fashion of the country, tied like a horn be- tween the ears, and Timothy sits with one hand holding the reins while the other grasps a short stock with lcathern lash at the end, devoid of snapper. This seems as it should be to the boy climbing to his place beside the driver, for the long slender whips of \Vestern Russia are not used along the Cure, with its broad streets and massive stone quays, rises now before their eyes, min~ aret, dome and spire cleaving the sky in a blaze of light. A little longer, and over the frozen Neva mounds the bellied yelping of the vanquished wolves, as tearing along, the foamin steeds dash into St. Peters- burg, and tie gallant leader under whose douga jangled the merry bells, falls blind- ly forward,crashing to the earth,stone dead. And Peterkin, the little violinist? In the frozen fingers, blue and stiff, clasped so tight they ma not move it, lies the violin close over the rave boyish heart. i i O It. is spring, and the world is waking once again to beauty, when Peterkin site up to hear the wonderful news that on the marrow he will play before the Czar. In his worn, patched clothes of sheepskin the little peas- ant stands waiting, bow in hand. That there is such a thing as failure does not enter his mind, or in his simplicity the thought is given no place. He knows that he has a giftâ€"did not even the wolves, those fierce, untamed beasts, hearken to his playing? Why, then, should he tremble in the pres- ence of the Czar? The magnificence of the palace does not abash this peasant, save in so far as all beautiful things must necessarilyafi‘ect such natures. About the apartment cluster the court attendants waiting to hear the strange child make music for their amusement. Near him stands the officer’s bride, who, as the Czar waves his hand, whispers in his ear : “Courage, Peterkin. Play as thou did’st to the wolves and all will be well. ” Quick to perform its master’s bidding, ,the bow quivers across the strings, and as the music trembles forth Peterkin forgets all else. Silence deepens through-out the great gilded apartment, as the waves of sound in melodious measure sweep over the tuneful strings. An unrest grows, the mel~ ody snaps asunder, away in the distance scarce louder than a frightened whisper, how] the wolves, while through it all is the tangle of sleigh bells tossed by the leader in that mad gallop for life. A cry of anguish, the quick measure of a Polish dance and on- ward the bells jangle in hot haste. Mufiled known sound in Siberia- As the day advances, the snow, which be- at some “ Press onward at whatever Under is jerked hither and The short day (lies without a twilight, boyhood Hark! What was that sound which onward, a sob as the leader dies, a few brief notes of ectasy, and Perterkins, bow in hand is kneeling low before the Ruler of the Russins In the gorneous choir of St. Isaac’s, clad in a tunic of blue and gold, Peterkin is now installed, and his masters claim great genius for the little Siberian peasant who, unmindful of cold or hardship, traversed on foot more than a thousand miles in that land of snow and ice where he will one day have a brilliant future. Not a muscle of the weather-beaten old “ Away ! Fly, my beautiesâ€"E37 tpretty as e, my The long, low howl of the oncoming foe An Interlude with Which the Piano had Nothing to Do. “ Gracie youâ€"you don’t think I come quiry of the ingenious, open-faced young man who stood leaning against the piano. “ Certainly not, Frank,” said the young lady sitting on the piano-stool. Lum-ti-tum-ti-tum-tum. R-r-r-r-r-r-tum- tum. Which the sagacious reader will un- derstand to be an interlude on the part of the piano. “ I didn’t know,”pursued the young man reflectively, “ but I had been overdoing it.” R-r-r-r-rum-tum. Lum-ti-tum-tiotum-tum‘ R-r-r-r-rum-tum. - “ What made you think, 80, Frank '2”. “ Why, it was the stipulation, you know, when you gave me theâ€"the cold shake that I should come to see you occasionally as a friend, so as not to break off too sudden and get people to talking. \Vasn’t it ‘2” Lum-ti-tum tum. Piili-willi-willi-willi- willi-willi. Ker-chug. Ker-chug. R-r-r-rum- tum. ' ' “ yes, I believe that was the understand- mg. “ That’s what I’ve been doing you know, Gracie. I’ve been coming occasionally. Once or twice a week is occasionally, isn’t it ‘3” “ Yes, I suppose you could call it so.” '“ But when a fellow gets to coming three or four times a week you know, it looks as if he were getting off the occasional basis and trying to make a new deal. That’s plunging with frenzied snort ” Bi ! Hi I Whoa there, my beauties! Fly quickly for thy Onward ! Haste, my brothers ! ” Again there sounds that long, low howl, steadily upon it now, running swiftly to ing up with gleaming eyes and cruel, hungry Aroused from his dream of bliss, the officer secs their peril and leaning forward fires right and left into the howling mass. The cry of the wounded, seized upon and torn limb by their follows, is almost humans in its agony, and in the momentary respite Timothy shouts : . “ Haste. little doves l Spread thy wings straight for ‘St. Pctersburg. Haste, and Heaven help thee ! ” The hungry demon which would have lock ed its jaws in the leader’s throat drops be- fore the ofl‘iccr’s uuerring shot, and the horses gallop onward. Peterkin sits awed by the night peril, but for all he is so quiet, there is no cowardly thoughts in the little peasant who, with each panting breath, is making a bold re- solve, bidding good bye‘, brave heart, to his cherished dreamsâ€"the golden visions of fame in the great city. ' Those two behind, the officer and his bride whose sweet voice pleaded so earnestly in his behalf, have everything to live for, while lieâ€"only those dreams and a soul full of unuttered music. The violin is slung across his back mutely waiting for the bow’s light touch. _ Quick as thought he will kiss it, will give it one part» ing caress of exceeding bitterness, and then A cry of terror smites the air as Peterkin rises to throw himself to certain death, and he turns to see the officer’s uplifted arm pointing straight at him the pistol whose last shot has been reserved for that purpose. In both minds there has been the same thought. A second’s pause as peasant and oflicer gaze into each other’s eyes, then Pct- erkiu noting the detaining hold of the day- old wife upon her liusbam ’3 arm, calls out : “ Hold ! I will save thy life and mine 1” \v'ith a sudden powerful blow he smites the violin as he re sins his seat. and strong and clear the first iscordsnt sounds are lost in [the loud, rapid movement of a Polish measure picked up somewhere upon that weary tramp. The effect is magical, and the unaccustomed sound: rise above the bowling of the wolves. They pause, hold up their heads to listen as though seeming “ I wouldn’tâ€"r-r-r-rum-tum. Ker-chug let such a thing as thatâ€"lum-ti-tum-tumâ€" worry me.” “It’s all right, of course, to go on being friends, Gracie, but it‘s going to take a long time to break it to ’em gently if this occa» sional business gets any moreâ€"h’mâ€"occa- sionul than it is now. And it’ll be pretty tough on me to make it any less occasional.” Lum-ti-ti-tum. Rum-tum. “ Some day, of course, I’ll have to quit. It has been a pretty long time now since I pave bpred you, Gracie, with a word about oveâ€" ' “ A long time '2” exclaimed Gracie, pen- sivcly. “ It’s been an eternity, Frank 1” Yum ! Yum l Yum-yum ! Yum-yum! Which the sagacious reader will under- stand to be an interlude with which the piano had nothing whatever to do. i I ‘i It i It i And Frank is to go to see Miss Gracie one day next week with a regularly ordained minister, a new black suit and a marriage license. A Good Remedy. \Vould'st thou from sorrow find o. sweet relief? And is thy heart oppressed with woos untold! Balm would'st thou gather for the deepest danger, and slackening speed, almost halt. grief? . . , ,, Bravo, lad, thy music doth give good Pougopéessmgs round thee like a shower of cheer to the horses. See how the leader runs ! Bravo ! If thy fingers grow not numb we shall make the city." The bo 'ish figure sways adroitly with the motion 0 the sleigh, for the peasant knows that the lives of all depend upon his success in keeping dry the strings, which vibrate with one loud note-strain after another. But ’tis no easy thing, with the snow cut- ting keen and chill, while the fearful cold ’Tls when the rose is wrapped in many a foil Close to its heart the worm is eating there, . Not when all unrollcd, its bosom rich and fair, Sends forth its perfumes on the ambient air. Rouse to some work of high and holv love. And thou an angel’s happiness shalt know. Shall bless the earth. while in the world above The good begun by thee shall onward flow In many abranchlng stream and widergrow. The seed that in these few and fleeting hours Thy hands unwcarlcd and unsparmg sow. Shal crown thy grave with amarauthlne almost paralyzes the willing fin ers. Tim- flowers, othy breathes aloud a prayer to eaven, for And yield the fruits divine in heaven's lmmort- ahead a faint light grows upon the horizon 31 bowers. -â€"a light telling to practiced eyes of the Quite Bight. nearncss of the city. " Courage, brave fellows ! Fly, doves, to thy ha\ en, the citSY is in si ht. Kec , lad, to thy music and we shall saved.’ The wolves are following close again with their long, swinging trot, the chase telling on the horses and upon Peterkin, to whom the strain’ is almost beyond his “rough, atone-hearwd and stoutoarmed as he is. is eyes flash with renewed cours ; he had not thought thus to enter St. etersbnrg keeping death at bay with that violin which should grant him the hearing of the Ruler of the Russian. The City of the “Now, John," said a teacher, “if your mother should send on for half a dozen eggs and they were t ree cents each, how much would you pay for them i " “ Nothing," re lied John. “Can some c or boy answer the ques- tion 2 ” “ He would pay nothing, sir l ” exclaim- ed a boy at the other end of the room. “ You are as great a dance as John,” said the teacher. "No I ain't,” retorted the_boy, " for his mother gets everything on fuck i” hoofbeats sound as the flying steeds galop here too often, do you '2” was the anxious in- what’s worrying me.” ‘ THE WORK op [3mm - face tothsir sermon. There is something sr GBORGI: 1100633. 113th tb t K' U ’ h (Fed The book of Isaiah is remarkable among had a 55m! H‘s ”gig 7:11: dileai’nlstzih: l l W ‘ notable in this constant affirmation of tho old reachers that God called them. i the books of the Bible for its interest an its value. The Bible is made up of a con- siderable number of books, some in prose and some in poetry, some history, some ro~ verbs, some letters and some sermons. he book of Isaiah belongs amon the sermons. The word prophet, we oug t to keep in mind, means preacher. You can find an. other meaning in the dictionary and in com- mon conversation. The conjunction of Venus and Jupiter is just now giving occupation to what we are accustomed to call nowadays standing in the temple, only the temple was a hundred times greater and fairer than he had ever seen it before. In the place of the mercy seat a great throne was setup, and u n this throne sat One hidden by the wide olds of his imperial vestments. Be- side the throne, on either hand, floated in the air choirs of angelic beings with the wings which ever since have bad place in the pictures, expect that each of these had six wings, coveringdheir faces and their 1 .feet and spread for ght, emblems of rev- the exercise of prophecy. Prof. Totten, of erence, of humility and of prompt obedi- Yale University, isa prophet. But this use once. Isaiah heard the angels singing, n ow of the word is quitearecent definition. The one choir and now the other answering ’ idea 0f prediction l1“ been prominent in each other in melodious strophe and anti- this old world only since some time in the strophe, saying the words that are uttered last century. In the da 5 when Jeremy still in one of the supreme moments of the Til-3'10“ WNW in (101-91139 0 the " Liberty 0“ greatest of our Christian services of adora- Prophesying,” everybody understood that tion, the holy communion, “ Holy, holy, he W93 advocating “‘9 principle 0‘ free holy, Lord God of hosts, heaven and earth speech. n In the bible, the prophet is a preacher. are full Of thy glory. \Ve may read a good many of the writings to l d l k . of the Old Testament “prophets” without ree an 5 m e, “d 0 “PM mysterious discovering any prediction at all. The prop- . het is not a fore-teller, but a fore-teller. He rayers Of heaven, descended “9°“ ‘3‘ And is the man who spenkes for God. And that . 88ml” standing by the do??’ cried, ” \Voe is the business of every preacher even 00‘ is me, for I have seen the lung, the Lord of Hosts; and I an) a man of unclean lips.” And one of the angelic beings taking a coal from the flaming altar touched his lips, in token of forgiveness and of cleansing. And there came a voice, crying, “ \Vnom shall I send, and who will go for us ‘3” And Isaiah Thus . day. Thus God appointed Aaron, we read, to be the prophet of Moses. That is, he was to speak for Moses, he was to carry Moses’ messages. Isaiah was a preacher. '1 he book of Isaiah is a book of sermons. I want to say som thin his morning about this prophet and his bocfir, about the preach- er aud his sermons. I will begin with the preacher. Concerning the personal life of Isaiah we‘ know little. The first verse of his book, which is a heading added by the men who gathered these sermons together into this volume, tells us that he lived in the days of Uzziah, J otham, Ahaz and Hezekiah, kings of Judah. This means the eighth century before Christ. The eighth century before Christ was that day of national trouble among the little provinces of l’alestine which saw the destruction of the Northern Kingdom by the armies of Assyria. and the fearful dangers of the Southern Kingdom before the same great enemy. Amos and Hosea were the great preachers in Israel during the youth of Isaiah. Isaiah preached in Judah. Isaiah was aman of education, culture and evident literary gifts. He belonged to a family of high social position in the aristo- cratic circles of the capital. He belonged in Jerusalem, and was much about the court, and was a personal friend of the reatest of the Jewish sovereigns of his lifetime, King Hezekiah. Isaiah, like St. Peter, was a married man. He had two sons. Isiiah’s wife was called the prophetess, probably be- cause she helped her husband in his work by her sympathy, by her wise advice. Nobody knows how much of the family history of Isaiah is hidden away under that ancient title. There is no record of the indebted- ness of Isaiah, and through him of all the religious world, to Isaiah’s excellent wife. Perhaps he read to her the notes of these great sermons. Some of the critics, who are so much interested in making out that near- ly every chapter in the Old Testament was written by two or three different persons, may some day discover for us how many good things in Isaiah’s sermons are due to the sug- gestions of his wife. Isaiah’s two sons had quite remarkable names. The Old Testament names have many of them a queer sound in our ears. Fathers and mothers do not often resort nowadays to the first five chapters of the First Book of Chronicles to get names for their children. But Isaiah’s boys were burdened with names which even in those days must have seemed grotesque, angular and awkward in the month. One was named Shear-jashub, the other was Maher- shalal-hashvbaz ! These names, we find, had meanin 8. That was one advantage which many 0 the old names had over our modern onesâ€"they meant sonietliin . And the meanings of these names ha an intimate connection with the truths which Isaiah was preaching. . _ Thus Shear-jashub means,“ a remnant will ' remain.” That, we will see presently, was one of the most notable of the doctrines of Isaiah. Maher-shalal-hash-baz means “ speedy prey, swift spoil. ” That was what Isaiah said when the politicians of Judah refused to follow his advice concerning the . foreign relations of the Government. He declared that the kingdom would speedily be destroyed. Thus Isaiah’s boys had names that were condensed sermons. That shows how deep the prophet and the prophetess had their hearts in the great work. They never tried 1 . . , , to get away from it, even in their home, think they were written by quite dillcrcn never shut the door upon it. It was the , men. Of the 39 chapters of the first parb whole of their life. Every interest theyithel'e maybe madea three-fold divisionfi . . - ' w ' o . - had, even their clnlcren, was wrapped up ‘ :gcgiiflfilgt-(ild 13:12:» tili‘rdcfigpifihfihm Til: ) , ~ -. . . and included in this deepest and widest in- g {i d h d . . . _ terest, their interest in the church and in‘ I“ an t “' dwisions are ”ONCWL‘V“ . T the'r whol l‘fc to rophecics ; that is, connected sermons. Eligil'ttbhntryljey gave 1 e 1 The middle division is made up of isolated It is likely that Isaiah continued preach- propthies, .81"le sermous. “‘0 “"1810 ing 40 years. He spent 40 years in one par- ' sermons begin With the thirteenth cha tcr ish. He was probably about 70 when he , and end with the twenty-seventh. hey died. His death, according to old traditions, ; “iglffly taken “P With the affairs 0f other in . was by martyrdom in the reign of the bad ‘ _ King Manasseh, when he is reported to have l The whole world was Of interest W 13‘“th There was nothin narrow or parochial been sawn asunder with a wooden sword. _ ‘ The call of Isaiah, the beginning of his :Bgugdzgn' A2131): hhdael‘dyrlggylixiil 13?;1; ministry, is described in a chapter which,i laces in ’his sermons The’God whom for some reason WhiCh no one knows now, saiah believed in was the ruler of the is numbered in the book not one, but six. round earth, all the movements of the na- I“ the sixth chapter Of Isaiah We learn: tious were in the ordering of his wide pro- what it was that made this man a minister. l - . . It was not because he had tried two or three 4 E1333, eltihechgxpiiigtbeegirrvlyizlis 2: if: evocations and him "0” succeeded very well i raignment of the Jewish nation for their pol- l“ any °f them, that he concluded to ”y the , itical transgressions. Then follow the( nes- clerical profession. Lcither was it on ac tions which rose out of the war Wm! yria . . . q ‘ ' . count of the'persuasion of his friends. Nor ’ and Lpliraim. The consecutive prophecies was it even in consequence of a deliberate‘ - _. . . decision made at the end of a serious on. i 0‘ the thud parhgqpl 2:” :::;n:}:;zn old . . . i Sennacherib. deavor to discover his duty. This man was i names sound , And yet human nature has 3331:0313 foughtlizatkghfifs what he ”id nbt changed much. The questions that The firophets, indeed, are all unanimous . gsaiah met or; even today coining up “3"“ in the assertion that God called them They l or “MW?" . t ought not to 3" altogether ' ~ : wasted time. if we go back With our disin- were going on about their ordinary business . . . sothey say, and somehow there came a voice. gzegted and unprej udiced “mm. “d study God called them. And they obeyed, some- times unwillin ly, having no sort of inclina- tion toward at kind of work, desiring most earnestly to keep out of it, living, some of them, in a day when, as they say, a wiseand prudent man will preserve a dis- creet silence. They were somehow impelled into this ministry by some scrt of influence , fromwithout. Gol:ghtly-â€"-" Why, I was engaged to s Th w res ' and sudden] turned girl awhile ago and the night before the about:wa “335?. message frzm God. i wedding I wcbt around and told her I Thenceforth the words the speak are God's guessed we'd better let it drpp: Mid hang words. n Thus saith the rd” is the Dre. 3 me it the girl didn‘t get positively fidgety I answered, “ Here am I, send me l" his work began. as a reformer, as a theologian. It is notable that the first thing which this wonderful commissioned reacher did was to oiuto politics. Isaia was first of all a po iticiin. He was a religious politi- cian. Isaiah made no separation in his thought between the Church and the State. It is not likely that he cared much for any institution as an institution, whether civil or ecclesiastical. Isaiah’s interest was alto- gether in the people. His highest desire. was to have the land full of good men and women. Thus be concerned himself in whatever ‘ concerned them. And the chief concerns of his time were‘of a political complexion. . Great measures were pending, and great perils impending. From the East the As- syrian was every day getting a little closer to the West. In the North Syria and Ephraim were allied against Judah. The eople were terribly afraid of Syria and phraim and were determined to ask the alliance of Assyria. Isaiah was opposed to that alliance. The people, however, had their way. But no sooner had they allied themselves to Assyria than they repented and wished instead to join hands with Egypt-- ' Isaiah was all the time on the side of na- tional independence. These were great questions. The supreme need of the time, as indeed of every time, was awise man and a good man who could look at these critical questions from the religious point of viewâ€"that is to say, from the point of ' view of deep and eternal principles. Isaiah was that man. He saw no end of abuses, political and social. of his own ersonal responsibilit . that he had) no right to stand these things go on. St. Paul, who was a good judge of relig- ious audacity, says that Isaiah was very bold. He was indeed. The boldest thing_ that a man can do is to denounce the sins of his own class. It is easy for the poor to re- vile the rich. The poor man who abuses the rich wins popularity among his peers. But when a rich man speaks his mind, and opposes himself to the opinion of his asso- ciates, he becomes a candidate for all sorts of martyrdom. Social ties, companionship, business association, shut men’s months. This man stood in the midst of the court, a rich man, a man of social standing, a lay- man, too, with no allowance for professional zeal possible in his case, and spoke hismind about the iniquitics of priest and rince. This is a man worth knowing. want to introduce some of my newspaper congre- gation to the prophet, Isaiah, of whom they have perhaps heard, but whom I am sure they do not know. A brave, good man, a patriot, a hero, not only the writer of one of the small number of supremely great books of the world, but a man of action, whose splendid exam le ought still to be an inspiration to us. So we come to the book. There are 66 chapters in this book. They fall into two quite distinct divisions. The first chapter of the second part is number 40. These two division!I are so different that a good many scholar And lfe’ was conscious He felt y and see .â€"â€"â€"â€"+â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"â€"- Too Nervous Golightly-“ Girls make me weary !” Quidnuncâ€"“ Why; what's the matter '2” Golightlyâ€"“They’re so nervous and ex- citable." Quidnnncâ€"“ How do you mean 1" And then the whole great temple seemed ~ cloud of smoke, asof tho incense of the ' Isaiah may be thought of as a statesman, ‘ 1-9!1-,I‘ « M.~.~.....â€"1 tum-”-20". I «as-c...- mom W m“ m w ‘.- .r..,_e...._. «w. o-«_.