THE COMMONWEALTH, SCOTLAND NECK, N. C.
CHAPTER I.
March Comes in Like the Lion.
The train, which had roared through
a withering gale of sleet all the way
up from New York, came to a stand
ftj!l, with many an ear-splitting sigh,
alongside the little Btation, and a re
luctant porter opened his vestibule
doo- to descend to the snow-swept plat
form: a solitary passenger had
reached the journey's end. The swirl
cf snow and sleet screaming out of the
blackness at the end of the station
building enveloped the porter in an
instant, and cut hia ears and neck with
6tinging force as he turned his back
against the gale. A pair of lonely,
half-obscured platform lights gleamed
fatuously at the top of their icy posts
at each end of the Btation; two or
three frost-incrusted windows glowed
dully in the side of the building, while
one shone brightly where the operator
sat waiting for the passing of No. 33.
An order had been issued for the
stopping of the fast express at B ,
noteworthy concession in these days
cf premeditated haste. Not in the pre
vious career of flying 33 had it even so
yyach as slowed down for the insig
nificant little station, through which
It ewooped at midnight the whole year
round. Just before pulling out of New
York on this eventful night the con
ductor received a command to stop
S3 at B and let down a single pas
senger, a circumstance which meant
trouble for every dispatcher along the
line.
The woman who got down at B
in the wake of the shivering but defer
ential porter, and who passed by the
conductors without lifting her face,
was without hand luggage of any de
scription. She was heavily veiled, and
warmly clad in furs. At eleven o'clock
that night she had entered the com
partment in New York. Throughout
the thirty miles or more she had sat
alone and inert beside the snow
clogged window, peering through veil
and frost into the night that whizzed
past the pane, seeing nothing yet ap
parently intent on all that stretched
beyond. As still, as immobile as
death itself she had held herself from
the moment of departure to the instant
that brought the porter with the word
that they were whistling for B .
Without a word she arose and fol
lowed him to the vestibule, where she
watched him as he unfastened the
outer door and lifted the trap. A
single word escaped her lips and he
held out his hand to receive the crum
pled bill she clutched in her gloved
fingers. He did not look at it. He
knew that it would amply reward him
for the brief exposure he endured on
the lonely, wind-swept platform of a
etation, the name of which he did not
know.
She took several uncertain steps in
the direction of the station windows
and stopped, as if bewildered. Already
the engine was pounding the air with
quick, vicious snorts in the effort to
get under way; the vestibule trap and
door closed with a bang; the wheels
were creaking. A bitter wind smote
her In the face; the wet, hurtling sleet
crashed against the thin veil, blinding
her.
The door of the waiting room across
the platform opened and a man rushed
toward her.
"Mrs. Wrandall?" he called above
the roar cf the wind.
She advanced quickly.
"Yes."
""What a night!" he said, as much to
himself as to her. "I'm eorry you
would insist on coming tonight. To
morrow morning would have satisfied
the "
Is this Mr. Drake V
Ttoey were being blown through the
doo Into the waiting room as she put
the question. Her voice was muffled.
The ma in the great fur coat put his
wfeight against the door to close it.
"Yes, Wrandall. I have done
all that could be done under the cir
cumstances. I am sorry to tell you
A Man Rushed Toward Her.
nai we still have two miles to go by
.uutor oefore we reach the inn. My
car is open I don't possess a limou-
6!nt but if VQll Will 11a rinron -r. ,-
tonneau you will find some protection
from "
m She broke in sharply, impatiently,
"ay do not consider me, Mr. Drake.
a not afraid of the blizzard.
11 TV ,. . -
W9'a better be off," said he.
note of anxiety in Ms voice a eer
un toufh of nervousness. "I drive
" own car. Tho
Ba-J drive cautiously Ton mi
Perhaps. Ii am Borry you thought
-i uj crave this wretched'
i am not sorry
for myself, Mr.
"iKe, but for
you. You have been
uiosi kind. I
ewt me."
did not expect you to
I took the liberty of telephoning to
n Wa'3 wel1 that 1 did 11 erfy
a the evening. The wires are down
"w, i rear." He hesitated for a mo-
i-ujt ax nmr an if tr. nr in
The
crr
penetrate the thick, wet veil. "1 may
have brought you on a fool's errand.
You see, I I have seen Mr. Wrandall
but once, in town somewhere, and 1
may be wrong. Still, the coroner and
the sheriff seemed to think you
should be notified I might Bay ques
tioned. That is why I called you up.
I trust, madam, that I am mistaken."
"Yes," she said shrilly, betraying the
intensity of her emotion. It was as
if she lacked the power to utter more
than a single word, which signified
neither acquiescence nor approval.
He was ill at ease, distressed. "I
have engaged a room for you at the
inn, Mrs. Wrandall. You did not bring
a maid, I see. My wife will come
over from our place to stay with you
if you"
She shook her head. "Thank you,
Mr. Drake. It will not be necessary.
I came alone by choice. I shall re
turn to New York tonight."
"But you why, you can't do that,"
he cried, holding back as they started
toward the door. "No trains stop here
after ten o'clock. The locals begin
running at seven in the morning. Be
sides "
She interrupted him. "May we not
start now, Mr. Drake? I am well,
i you must see that I am suffering. I
must see, I must know. The sus
pense " She did not complete the
sentence, but hurried past him to the
door, throwing it open and bending
her body to the gust that burst In upon
them.
He sprang after her, grasping her
arm to lead her across the icy plat
form to the automobile that stood in
the lee of the building.
Disdaining his command to enter
the tonneau, she stood beside the car
and waited until he cranked it and
took his place at the wheel. Then she
took her seat beside him and permit
ted him to tuck the great buffalo robe
about her. No word was spoken. The
man was a Btranger to her. She for
got his presence in the car.
Into the thick of the storm the mo
tor chugged. Grim and silent, the
man at the wheel, ungoggled and
tense, sent the whirring thing swiftly
over the trackless village street and
out upon the open country road. The
woman closed her eyes and waited.
You wrould know the month was
March. He said: "It comes in like
a lion," but apparently the storm swal
lowed the words for she made no re
sponse to them.
They crossed the valley and crept
up the tree-covered hill, where the
force of the gale was broken. If she
heard him say: "Fierce, wasn't it?"
she gave no sign, but sat hunched for
ward, peering ahead through the snow
at the blurred lights that seemed so
far away and yet were close at hand.
"Is that the inn?" she asked as he
swerved from the road a few moments
later.
"Yes, Mrs. Wrandall. We're here."
"Is is he in there?"
"Where you see that lighted window
upstairs." He tooted the horn vig
orously as he drew up to the long, low
porch. Two men dashed out from the
doorway and clumsily assisted her
from the car.
"Go right In, Mrs. Wrandall." said
Drake. "I will Join you in a Jiffy."
She walked between tne two men
into the feebly lighted office of the
Inn. The keeper of the place, a dreary
looking person with dread in his eyes.
hurried forward. She stopped, stock
still. Some one was brushing the
stubborn, thickly caked Bnow from her
long chinchilla coat.
You must let me get you some
thing hot to drink, madam," the land
lord was saying dolorously.
She struggled with her veil, finally
tearing it away from her face. Then
she took in the rather bare, cheerless
room with a slow, puzzled sweep of
her eyes
'No, thank you," she replied.
'It won't be any trouble, madam,"
urged the other. "It's right here. The
sheriff says it's all right to serve it.
-aitnougn it is alter nours. I run a
respectable, law-abiding house. I
wouldn't think of offering it to any
one if it was in violation "
Never mind, Burton, interposed a
big man, approaching. "Let the lady
choose for herself. If she wants it.
she'll say so. I am the sheriff, madam
This gentleman is the coroner, Dr.
Sheef. We waited up for you after
Mr. Drake eaid you'd got the fast train
to stop for you. Tomorrow morning
would have done quite as well. I'm
sorry you came tonight in all this
blizzard."
He was staring as If fascinated at
the white, colorless face of the woman
who with nervous fingers unfastened
the heavy coat that enveloped her
slender figure. She was young and
strikingly beautiful, despite the in
tense pallor that overspread her face,
Her dark, questioning, dreading eyes
looked up into his with an expression
he was never to forget. It combined
dread, horror, doubt and a smoldering
anger that seemed to overcast all
other emotions that lay revealed to
him.
"This is a what Is commonly called
a 'road house'?", she asked dully, her
eyes narrowing suddenly as if in pain.
"It is an inn during the winter, Mrs.
Wrandall, and a road house in the
summer. If that makes It plain to you
I will say, however, that Burton has
always kept well within the law.
This Is the first er real bit of
trouble he's had, and I won't eay it's
his fault Keep quiet, Burton. No one
is accusing you of anything wrong.
Dont whine about It"
"But my place Is ruined," groaned
the doleful one. "It's got a black eye
now. Not that I blame you, madam.
but you can see how "
He quailed before the steady look
In her eyes, and turned away mum
bling.
"There Is a fire In the reception
room, madam," said the coroner; "and
the proprietor's wife to look out for
you If you should require anything.
Hollow
of Her Hand
e Barr
Will you go in there and compose
yourself before going upstairs? Or,
If you would prefer waiting until
morning, I shall not insist on the
er ordeal tonight."
"I prefer goine ud there tonieht."
said she steadily.
- The men looked at each other, and
the sheriff spoke. "Mr. Drake Is quite
confident the the man is your hus
band. It's an ugly affair, Mrs. Wran
dall. We had no means of identifying
him until Drake came in this evening,
out of curiosity you might say. For
your sake, I hope he is mistaken."
"Would you mind telling me some
thing about it before I go upstairs? I
am quite calm. I am prepared for any
thing. You need not hesitate."
"As you wish, madam. You will go
into the reception room, if you please.
Burtoo, is Mrs. Wrandall's room quite
ready for her?"
"I shall not stay here tonight," in
terposed Mrs. Wrandall. "You need
not keep the room for me."
"But, my dear Mrs. Wrandall "
"I shall wait in the railway station
until morning If necessary. But not
here."
The coroner led the way to the cosy
little room off the office. She followed
with the sheriff. The men looked worn
and haggard in the bright light that
met them, as if they had not known
sleep or rest for many hours.
"The assistant district attorney was
here until eleven, but went home to
get a little rest. It's been a hard case
for all of us a nasty one," explained
the sheriff, as he placed a chair in
front of the fire for her. She sank into
it limply.
Go on, please," she murmured, and
shook her head at the nervous little
woman who bustled up and inquired if
she could do anything to make her
more comfortable.
The Bheriff cleared his throat. "Well,
it happened last night. All day long
we've been trying to find out who he
is, and ever since eight o'clock this
morning we've been searching for the
woman who came here with him. She
She Sank Into It Limply.
has disappeared as completely as if
swallowed by the earth. Not a sign
of a clew not a shred. There's noth
ing to show when she left the inn or
by what means. All we know Is that
the door to that room up there was
standing half open when Burton
passed by It at seven o'clock this
morning that Is to say, yesterday
morning, for this is now Wednesday
It is quite clear, from this, that she
neglected to close the door tightly
when she came out, probably through
haste or fear, and the draft in the hall
blew It wider open during the night.
Burton says the inn was closed for
the night at half-past ten. He went
to bed. She must have slipped out
after everyone was sound asleep.
There were no other guests on that
floor. Burton and hiB wife sleep on
this floor, and the servants are at the
top of the house and in a wing. No
one heard a sound. We have not ttie
remotest Idea when the thing hap
pened, or when she left the place. Dr.
Sheef says the man had been dead six
or eight hours when he first saw him,
and that was very soon after Burton's
discovery. Burton, on finding the door
open, naturally suspected that his
guests had skipped out during the
night to avoid paying the bill, and lost
no time in entering the room.
"He found the man lying on the bed.
sprawled out, face upward and as
dead as a mack I should say, quite
dead. He was partly dressed. His
coat and vest hung over the back of
a chair. A small servlee carving
knife, belonging to the inn, had been
driven squarely into his heart and was
found sticking there. Burton saye
that the man, on their arrival at the
inn, about nine o'clock" at night, or
dered supper sent up to the room
The tray of dishes, with most of the
food untouched, and an empty cham
pagne bottle, was found on the service
table near the bed. One of the chairs
was overturned. The servant who took
the meal to the room says that the
woman was sitting at the window
with her wraps on, motor veil and all,
just as she was when she came into
the place. The man gave all the direc
tions, the woman apparently paying
no attention to what was going on.
The waitress left the room without
seeing her face. She had instructions
not to come for the tray until morn
ing. "That was the last time the man
was seen alive. No one has seen the
woman since the door closed after
the servant, who distinctly remembers
hearing the key turn In the lock as
she went down the hall. It seems
pretty clear that the man ate and
drank but not the woman. Her food
remained untouched on the plate and
her glass was full. 'Gad, it must have
been a merry feast! I beg your par
don, Mrs. Wrandall!"
"Go on, please," said she levelly.
"That's all there is to eay so far as
MCutclieori
the actual crime is concerned. There ;
were signs of a struggle but it isn't
necessary to go into that. Now, as to
their arrival at the inn. The blizzard
had not set in.. Last night was dark,
of course, as there is no moon, but it
was clear and rather warm for the
time of year. The couple came here
about nine o'clock in a high power run
about machine, which the man drove.
They had no hand baggage and appar
ently had run out from New York.
Burton says he was on the point of
refusing them accommodations when
the man handed him a hundred-dollar
bill. It was more than Burton's cu
pidity could withstand. They did not
register. The state license numbers
had been removed from the automo
bile, which was of foreign make. Of
course it was only a question of time
until we could have found out' who
the car belonged to. It is perfectly
obvious why he removed the num
bers." At this juncture Drake entered the
room. Mrs. Wrandall did not at first
recognize him.
"It has stopped snowing," announced
the newcomer.
"Oh, it is Mr. Drake," she murmured.
"We have a little French car, painted
red, she announced to the sheriff
without giving Drake another thought.
"And this one is red, madam," said
the sheriff, with a glance at the coro
ner. Drake nodded his head. Mrs.
Wrandall's body stiffened perceptibly,
as If deflecting a blow. "It is still
standing in the garage, where he left
it on his arrival.
"Did no one see the face of of the
woman?" asked Mrs. Wrandall, rather
querulously. "1 seems odd that no
one should have seen her face." she
went on without waiting for an an
swer.
It's not strange, madam, when you
consider all the circumstances. She
was very careful not to remove her
veil or her coat until the door was
locked. That proves that she wajB not
the sort of woman we usually find gal
lavanting around with men regardless
of ahem, I beg your pardon. This
must be very distressing to you."
"I am not sure, Mr. Sheriff, that it is
my husband who lies up there. Please
remember that," she said steadily. "It
is easier to hear the details now, be
fore I know, than it will be afterward
if it should turn out to be as Mr.
Drake declares."
"I see," said the sheriff, marveling.
"Besides, Mr. Drake is not positive,"
put in the coroner hopefully.
I am reasonably certain," said
Drake.
Then all the more reason why I
should have the story first," said she,
with a shiver that no one failed to ob
serve.
The sheriff resumed his conclusions
women or me Kina i rererrea to a
moment ago don't care "whether they're
seen or not. In fact, they're rather
brazen about it. But this one was
different. She was as far from that
as it was possible for her to be. We
haven't been able to find anyone who
saw her face or who can give the least
idea as to what she looks like, except
ing a general description of her figure,
her carriage and the outdoor garments
she wore. We have reason to believe
she was young. She was modestly
dressed. Her coat was one of those
heavy uleter affairs, such as a woman
uses in motoring or on a sea voyage,
There was a small sable stole about
her neck. The skirt was short, and
she wore high black shoes of the
thick walking type. Judging from
Burton's description she must have
been about your size and figure, Mrs
Wrandall. Isn't that so, Mrs. Bur
ton?"
The innkeeper's wife spoke. "Yes,
Mr. Harben, I'd say so myBelf. About
five feet six, I'd judge; rather slim
and graceful like, in spite of the big
coat,"
Mrs. Wrandall was watching the
woman's face. "I am five feet six,
she eaid, as if answering a question.
The Bheriff cleared his throat some
what needlessly.
"Burton says she acted as If she
were a lady," he went on. "Not the
kind that usually comes out here on
such expeditions, he admits. She did
not epeak to anyone, except once in
very low tones to the man she was
with, and then she was standing by
the fireplace out in the main office,
quite a distance from the desk. She
went upstairs alone, and he gave some
orders to Burton before following her,
That was the last time Burton saw
her. The waitress went up with a spe
cially prepared supper about half an
hour later."
"It seems quite clear, Mrs. Wran
dall. that she robbed the man after
stabbing him," said the coroner.
Mrs. Wrandall started. "Then she
was not a lady, after all," she said
quickly. There was a note of relief
in her voice. It was as if she had
put aside a half-formed conclusion.
"His pockets were empty. Not a
nenny had been left. Watch, cuff
links, scarf pin, cigarette case, purse
and bill folder all gone. Burton had
seen most of these articles in the
office."
"Isn't it but no! Why should I
be the one to offer a suggestion that
might be construed as a defense for
this woman?"
"You were about to suggest, madam,
that some one else might have taken
the valuables is that it?" cried the
sheriff.
"Had you thought of it, Mr. Sheriff?
"I had not. It isn't reasonable. No
one about this place is suspected. We
have thought of this, however: the
murderess may have taken all of
these things away with her in order
to prevent Immediate identification of
her victim. She may have been clever
enough for that. It would give ner a
start."
"Not an unreasonable conclusion,
when you stop to consider, Mr. Sher
iff, that thfi man took the initiative in
that very particular," said Mrs. Wran
dall in such a self-contained way that
the three men looked at her in won
der. Then she came abruptly to her
feet. "II is very late, gentlemen. I
am ready to go upstairs, Mr. Sheriff."
"I must warn you, madam, that Mr.
Drake Is reasonably certain that it is
your husband," said the coroner un
comfortably. "You may not be pre
pared for the shock that "
"I shall not faint, Dr. Sheef. If it
is my husband I shall ask you to leave
me alone in the room with him for a
little while." The final word trailed
out into a long, tremulous wail, show
ing how near she was to the breaking
point in her wonderful effort at self
control. The men looked away hast
ily. They heard her draw two or
three deep," quavering breaths; they
could almost feel the tension that she
was exercising over herself.
The doctor turned after a moment
and spoke very gently, but with pro
fessional firmness. "You must not
think of venturing out in this wretched
night, madam. It would be the worst
kind of folly. Surely you will be
guided by me by your own common
sense. Mrs. Burton will be with
you "
"Thank you, Dr. Sheef," she inter
posed calmly. "If what we all fear
should turn out to be the truth, I
could not stay here. I could not
breathe. I could not live. If, on the
other hand, Mr. Drake is mistaken, I
shall stay. But if it is my husband,
cannot remain under the same roof
with him, even though he be dead. I
do not expect you to understand my
feelings. It would be asking too
much of men too much."
I think I understand, murmured
Drake.
Come, said the sheriff, arousing
himself with an effort.
She moved swiftly after him. Drake
and the coroner, following close be
hind with Mrs. Burton, could not take
their eyes from the slender, graceful
figure. She was a revelation to them
Feeling as they did that she was about
to be confronted by the most appalling
crisis imaginable, they could not but
marvel at her composure. Drake's
mind dwelt on the stories of ' the guillo
tine and the heroines who went up to
it in those bloody days without so
much as a quiver of dread. Somehow
to him, this woman was a heroine.
They passed into the hall and
mounted the stairs. At the far end
of the corridor a man was seated in
front of a closed door. He arose as
the party approached. The sheriff
signed for him to open the door he
guarded. As he did so, a chilly blast
of air blew upon the faces of those in
the hall. The curtains in the window
of the room were flapping and whip
ping in the wind. Mrs. Wrandall
caught her breath. For the briefest
instant it seemed as though she was
on the point of faltering. She dropped
farther behind the sheriff, her limbs
suddenly stiff, her hand going out to
the wall as if for support. The next
moment she was moving forward res
olutely Into the icy, dimly lighted
room.
A single electric light gleamed in
the corner beside the bureau. Near
the window stood the bed. She went
swiftly toward It, her eyes fastened
upon the ridge that ran through the
center of it: a still, white ridge that
seemed without beginning or end.
With nervous fingers the attendant
lifted the sheet at the head of the
bed and turned it back. As he let it
fall across the chest of the dead man
he drew back and turned his face
away.
She bent forward and then straight
ened her figure to its full height, with
out for an instant removing her gaze
from the face of the man who lay
before her: a dark-haired man gray in
death, who must have been beautiful
to look upon in the flush of life.
For a long time she stood there
AS SEEN BY NATURE LOVER
Frost and Drought Very Much Alike
in Their Effect Upon Good
Old Mother Earth.
Frost and drought are not unlike in
their results, or at least their effects.
A winter meadow, bare of snow but
frozen hard, is not very dissimilar to
the same meadow during a dry spell
after haying. Color is gone, growth
Is short, stones show like land turtles,
the soil is impenetrable, the wheel of
nature is on a dead point. Only the
hedgerows, in either case, retain some
life and color.
You look at the foothole pits in the
ground, made when you rode that way
last fall or spring, as the case may
be. and wonder that the ground would
ever have been soft enough to receive
such impressions, while that pools of
water could ever have stood upon It
seems impossible. The earth, like the
face of a frightened cowboy, is pale
to the obliteration of its natural tan;
and, again like the cowboy, this only
departs when he draws rein at home.
Then it is good to see, even in win
ter, how the tints hasten back, and
brown skin and stubby beard assume
their natural hues; for even in win
ter there is color, whenever a spell
of mild moisture comes. From "A
Farmer's Notebook," by E. D. Phelps.
Rude Shock.
Americans traveling abroad soon
find out that the language they speak
is not looked upon always as genuine
English, either by the haughty Eng
lishman or the natives of the con
tinent of Europe. One already aware
of this view, who thought he was
looking, as motionless as the o-sv on
which she gazed. Behind her were Uxa
tense, keen-eyed men, not one of
whom seemed to breathe during the
grim minutes that passed. The wind
howled about the corners of the inn,
but no one heard it. They heard the
beating of their hearts, even the tick
ing of their watches, but not the wail
of the wind.
At last her hands, claw-like in their
tenseness, went slowly to her temples.
Her head dropped slightly forward,
and a great shudder ran through her
body. The coroner 6tarted forward,
expecting her to collapse.
"Please go away," she was saying
m an absolutely emotionless voica.
'Let me stay here alone for a little
while."
That was all. The men relaxed. They
looked at each other with a single
A Great Shudder Ran Through
Body.
Hi
question in their eyes. Was it quit
safe to leave her alone with her deadl
They hesitated.
She turned on them suddenly,
spreading her arms in a wide gesture
of self-absolution. Her somber eyet
swept the group.
"I can do no barm. This man It
mine. I want to look at him for the
last time alone. Will you go?"
"Do you mean, madam, that you in
tend to " began the coroner in alarm.
She clasped her hands. "I mean
that I shall take my last look at him
now and here. Then you may do
what you like with him. He is youi
dead not mine. I do not want him.
Can you understand? I do not want
this dead thing. But there is some
thing I should say to him, something
that I must say. Something that no
one must hear but the good God who
knowB how much he has hurt me.
want to say it close to those gray, hor
rid ears. Who knows? He may hear
me!"
Wondering, the others backed from
the room. She watched them until
they closed the door.
Listening, they heard her lower th
window. It squealed like a thing in
fear.
Ten minutes passed. The group id
the hall conversed In whispers.
"Poor thing," Bald the innkeeper!
wife.
"Well," said Drake, taking a deefl
breath, "she won't have to worry anf
more about his not coming homo
nights. I say, this business will creato
a fearful sensation, sheriff. The Foujp
Hundred will have a conniption fit."
' "We've got to land that girl, who
ever she is," grated the official. "Now
that we know who he is, it shouldn't
be hard to pick out the women he
been trailing with lately. Then
can sift 'em down until the right oat
is left. It ought to be easy."
(TO BE COWTINUED.)
hardened to it, got the rudest shoe
of all last summer.
In a Paris book store window he
saw several little red books.
"How to Learn German," was the
title of one of them. Another wai
called "How to Learn Spanish," anoth
er "How to Learn Italian," and so on.
The American was looking at then
with an uninterested air when his ex
pression suddenly changed to one ol
utter amazement. Casting his eye
on still another of the little red book!
he read on its cover:
"How to Learn American!"
Family Dissensions.
Dissensions in families often riae
from a lack of humility and too much
presumption on the part of the differ
ent members of the family. "The soft
answer that turneth away wrath" if
forgotten for the hasty reply, the u
kind retorts that kindle the fire of ilk
feeling and are the outcome of dis
orderly minds which are prone to r
sentment on account of lacking in the
gentle grace of humility. Love doe
not linger in the house where petty
pride shows its unlovely qualities. 11
chooseB to dwell in the homo when
the spirit of unselfishness, of sett
control, of thoughtfulness and el
charitableness makes the atmospheiM
sweet. Exchange.
Sees Class Morality.
The following assertion of A. M. Oic
vannitti opens up an interesting discus,
sion: "All social morality today it
class morality. We have a capitalist!
morality, a middle class morality and
a proletarian morality, to speak only
of the three greatest ahd&Tl;ni f
modern society."
1MTM10NAL
SUNMfSfflOOL
Lesson
(By O. E. SELLERS. Director of Even,
ing Department The Moody Bible Insti
tute of Chicago.)
LESSON FOR MAY 17
THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS.
LESSOT TEXT Luke 16:14-19: 19-81.
GOLDEN TEXT "Whoso stoppeth his
ara at the cry of the poor, he shall
ilso cry, but shall not be heard." Trov.
11:18.
Verses 14 and 15 link this parable
with the teaching of Jesus about eove
tousness and stewardship. Verse 15
is a most heart-searching one. It de
mands that we look well to the stan
dards by which we measure our con
duct, I Sam. 16:7. That the teaching
of Jesus was effective is evidenced by
the statement of verse 14. These
Pharisees were naturally cool, cynical,
calculating and their scoffing shows
that Jesus had probed them deeply.
Their love of money service of mam
mon made them unfaithful in their
professed stewardship. In the Inter
vening verses (16-18) Jesus condemns
their attitude of seeking to justify
themselves in the siyht of men, de
claring such an attempt to be useless
in the sight of God. The methods men
exalt are an abomination to him. No
ot or tittle of the lav; can fail. This
he emphasizes by an illustration about
the binding nature of the marriage re
lationship. We get our suggested two
fold division of this lesson from I Tim.
8.
Why He Is Condemned.
I. The Life That Now Is, vv. 19-22.
The revised version for verse 19, "now
there was a certain rich man" indi
cates even stronger than the King
James version that this is the story of
a historical incident. Jesus did not
mention the rich man's name, nor
does he enumerate his moral delin
quencies. Even morality cannot save
a man from punishment in the next
life. Nor Is this rich man c&ndemned
because he Is rich. He is condemned
because he sought to enjoy his pleas
ures in this life, squandering his time
and his money upon sensual pleas
ures, ignoring the need of those at his
door. Jesus had just told these Phari
sees how to use money (v. 9), see I
Tim 6:17-19. A wrong use of money
damns a man. A few paltry charities
or even larger gifts given for ostenta
tious display will not suffice. There
was, however, no real joy to the rich
man in his life as he sought sensual
satisfaction, Eccl. 1:8. Lazarus lying
at the door was a living rebuke to his
self-indulgence. Here is another of
those vivid pictures that not alone re
veals the misery but makes an indeli
ble impression on the mind. It is bet
ter, however, to be a beggar, sore and
hungry in this life and go to heaven
hereafter, than to enjoy the pleasures
of sin for a season and be forever in
torment in the life to come. The namo
Lazarus means "God his help" and is
an indication of his character. It did
not look as though God was "mindful
of his own" but the sequel abundantly
corrects such an idea. Poverty and
distress are not proof that God Is dis
pleased with men, and we believe are
not due to any fault of God. He prom
ises to supply (Phil. 4:19) though we
may sometimes hunger I Cor. 4:11; II
Cor. 11:2,7; Phil. 4:12. The dogs were
better friends for Lazarus than the
rich mar though he must have known
who Lazarus was (v. 24) as well aa
having knowledge of his need (v. 25).
Contrast the death of the two. It was
a privilege for the poor man to die,
Phil. 1:21-23, not so for the rich man?
going from this life he left all and
had no deposit in the bank of heaven
to draw upon for the future life, Matt.
19:21; Luke 12:20-21. The rich man
had his funeral with leading citizens
as pall-bearers, the poor man "was
buried" but angels were his compan
ions. Positions Reversed.
II. The Life Which Is to Come, vy
23-31. Unconscious of the need of oth
ers here the rich man is very much
conscious of his own need in hades
when subject to torment and anguish,
There is no need of trying to minimize
or to "explain" nor to deny these
words of Jesua. Hell is for the wil
fully disobediefi., and was never pre
pared for mas (Matt. 25:41). On
earth he saw ILazarus "at his gate,"
now with Abraham, resting "in hia
bosom." Their positions are reversed,
the petitioner is now the rich man
who begs for "mercy," though in life
he showed none at all. His plea was
for his tongue; that organ had been
pampered in life but now it is in mis
ery, because deprived of earthly satis
faction. The solemnity of this lesson
is very great. As we have suggested
Luke does not call this a parable. It
Is possible that Jesus' auditors knew
the very people of whom he was speak.
Ing, some notoriously wealthy citi
zen recently deceased, and some well
known alms-seeker. For a moment
our Lord withdraws the curtain to
let those about him read the story,
catch, for an Instant, a glimpse. He
shows us that the attitudes of today
determine the destinies of tomorrow.
The experience of life beyond death la
determined by the use of the life "that
now is." The gate of heaven is without
our self-centered life and often takes,
the form of a beggar. To wrongly em
ploy our wealth, to live within the
gate of selfishness will shut the gate
of heaven in our own faces. If we
pass without that gate of selfishness
and minister, presently we find we
have made a friend in the life beyond.
It is not the crumbs we give the beg
gar, that which we do not miss, it
must be self-emptying service and hon
est efforts to serve and relieve needy
men. Men do not, of course, enter
heaven by philanthropy, that is quite
evident for Lazarus did not have the
means of philanthropic activity. The
rich man then makes request for hia
brothers. This seems like a covert ex
cuse for his own conduct (v. 30). It
was not more light that they needed
but more obedience to the 'light thej
already possessed.