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COPYTK3HT 1911
S0BB5-MEERIU. COKTANY
14
SYNOPSIS.
Jo Codman and her sister Loulle arej
lert orphans. Their property has Deen
wept away by the death of their fa
ther and they are compelled to cast about
for some means to earn a living. Lou
lie answers an advertisement of an Inva
lid who wants a companion. She declines
the position. Loulie advertises for a po
sition as companion, and Mrs. Hazard
replies. She offers Loulle a position as
her "secretary of frivolous affairs." Her
chief work Is to steer Mrs. Hazard's son
and daughter In the right matrimonial
path. Loulie talks baseball to Hap Haz
ard and also gains the confidence of Lau
ra Hazard. The Due de Trouvtlle Is be
lieved to be interested In Laura Mrs.
Hazard, gives a big reception and Loulie
meets many people high in the social
world. Natalie Agazziz, to whom Hap
has been paying attention, loses an em
erald bracelet during the reception. She
declares there Is not another like It in
the world. It develops that Natalie has
lost several pieces of jewelry under sim
ilar circumstances. Hap takes Loulie to
the baseball game. He tells her he is
not engaged to Natalie and has been
cured of his infatuation. The scene
changes to the Hazard country place,
where many notables have been Invited
for the summer. Loulie and Laura visit
the farm of Winthrop Abbott, an author,
in whom Laura takes considerable Inter
est. Due de Trouville arrives at the Haz
ard place. Loulie hears Winthrop's mo
tor boat out late at night. Next morning
the papers announce the robbery of sev
eral nearby homes. Natalie accuses Lou
lie of stealing her ruby pendant. Mrs,
Hazard assures Loulle of her confidence
in her. Hap declares his love for Loulle.
She reciprocates, but vajll not admit It as
she fears what Mrs. Hazard will say;
Loulie Is excused from dinner on account
of a headache. She Is bombarded with
notes from Hap imploring her to see him.
Winthrop Is arrested In the presence of
Hap and Loulle, charged with robbing
General Schuyler's home and shooting the
general. A box of Jewels is found in Win
throp's safe, among them an emerald
bracelet exactly like the one lost by Na
talie. Natalie apologizes to Loulie for ac
cusing her of theft. Loulie is awakened
at mjdnight and finds Hap in her room.
Next morning Hap explains that he was
in pursuit of a mysterious woman he had
seen in the corridor and who eluded him
by passing through Loulie's room. Na
talie identifies the emerald bracelet found
in Winthrop's safe as her own. Loulie's
sister, Jo, arrives for a week's stay. John
Crowninshield pays marked attention to
Jo. Loulle watches all night with Natalie.
She sees Winthrop cross the lawn in the
earlv morning, shadowed by Thonras, a
footman. Loulle hears a noise in the gal
lery and . goes to investigate. She slips
into the card room and stumbles over a
bag. She starts to carry it to her room
and Is surprised by someone In the hall
and falls downstairs. She breaks her
arm. The bag belongs to John. Loulie
again finds herself under suspicion. Lou
lie overhears Hap tell his mother that he
Intends to marry Loulie even if she Is a
thief, which he doesn't believe. Loulle
declares that she will not marry him, but
Mrs. Hazard says Hap can have her If he
wants her. Detective Adams is found
bound and gagged. Jo is missing. The
detective says she was carried off by
three men.
CHAPTER XXIV. Continued.
At the end oi an hour we knew
that Jo's abductors had crossed the
-wire fence to the pasture, a mile
down the shore, for a piece of the
dark blue dressing-gown that was
missing from her wardrobe was found
on the wire where, evidently, it had
caught. A little farther on, one of
her slippers was found. But there
all trace of the thieves and Jo ended.
We telephoned for Winthrop and he
came immediately. He knew more
about that part of the country in a
minute than any of the rest of us
In a year. But noontime brought
nothing more, and afternoon still
nothing. Then the police were noti
fied and that brought also newspaper
men and photographers. The police
and the newspapers seemed the end
of our desperate hoping.
Doctor Graham came and barricaded
me in my sitting-room when the re
porters began to arrive, with Celie as
sentinel. He said it would not do for
me to see them; that X would be ill.
Then the attempted Jewel robbery
leaked out reporters just scent such
things embellished with my having
heard suspicious noises, dramatically
rushing out and saving the jewels,
and plunging down the steps and
breaking my arm as a fitting climax.
An artist sketched one of the maids
and added a broken arm, as they
couldn't snap me; and the newspapers
that afternoon owme out with extras
that sizzled.
But out of that episode Mr. Samuel
Dick, of the Evening Columbian, con
cocted a very plausible story of Jo's
disappearance. She had heard a
noise, just as I had; she had investi
gated, which accounted for her having
on as much as she had; she had per
haps recognized the thieves, which
made it necessary for them to carry
her away until they had made good
their escape. They had left the de
tective behind because he had not
learned who they were. Mr. Dick con
jectured that we would find Jo alive,
because If the thieves had intended to
kill her they would not have taken
the trouble to carry her off. The big
question, of course, if we accepted
this theory, was: Whom had see
recognized? And that was a chance
to display Mr. Dick's ability as a re
porter. He wrote a lot and said noth
ing, but ended with clever allusion
to the emerald bracelet and Winthrop.
The story breathed hope in every
line, but It did not find Jo; and that's
all I wanted -to find her!
The thieves had gone away empty
handed. Plainly they had come back
for the jewels, not knowing, of course,
the Jewels had been conveyed to
town 'And locked in good strong
boxes in various banks. But Jo knew
It, and sh did not follow in the hope
of retting back anything. Just where
tr Low tl:y had mad.j her psisoner
V f VI U:
Illustrations by
V.L.fcARNES
we could only conjecture. After all,
I couldn't see that it made-any dif
ference where, for our only idea was
to get her back, to know she had not
been harmed, but the police and the
reporters gave a great deal of thought
and space to this matter. I told John
of the pistol when he came once dur
ing the afternoon to say there was
nothing new, but he only groaned. She
had not defended herself.
When the dinner-gong sounded,
Lone Oak, for once, was demoralized.
John had not come back; Hap was
disheveled and tired and refused to
dress. He dined on coffee and sand
wiches which Mrs. Hazard directed
Burrows to serve in the smoking
room to anybody who wanted to eat.
I was "n my room, dry-eyed and hope
less, with Laura consoling me; and
poor,, dear Mrs. Hazard was trying
to be everywhere and see everybody,
while an immaculate, muchly-starched
nurse from town only got in every
body's way and added to the con
fusion. No one would let her nurse.
Natalie constituted herself hostess.
I don't think anybody gave a
thought to His Grace or cared how
he amused himself. He came upon
the terrace once during the afternoon,
and a photographer snapped him, not
for any particular reason, but Just
because he was a duke and was lying
around loose. It was an awkward
situation for a house-party. The din
ner must have been a hideous affair.
The women were left alone after din
ner, for all the men, except His
Grace, changed to 'rough clothes and
went to see what could be 'done to
help. Not that they had any partic
ular hope, but they chafed at being
idle in such a crisis. The billiard
room was deserted, the card-room
dark, and one by one lanterns began
to flit in the direction of the ninth
hole, where Jo's slipper had been
found.
It was quite dark when John came,
and besides the horror of its being
dark, there was no news.. He knocked
softly, came In, spread out his hands
helplessly. He was tired and dusty,
and his clothes were torn where evi
dently he had struggled through gaps
in wire fences. When I met his clear
gray eyes and the look in them I
moaned. Then he gave way, too, and
sat down, burying his face in his
h'ands. I knew the truth; he loved
her! He had waited a long time to
love, then had tumbled In pell-mell,
and the woman was Jo. I obeyed an
impulse and put my hand on his bowed
head.
"We'll find her," I whispered brok
enly. ' ,
"Yes, we'll find her!" he repeated
grimly.
"One of the newspapers suggests
that perhaps she was abducted and
is being held for ransom. In that case
there's a chance"
He came to his feet with an excla
mation and eagerly Bcanned the paper
I gave him.
"If they are holding her if only
they will demand a ranson," he said
hoarsely. "Great God! If only they
will!"
"You think they have killed her?"
I cried.
"No, no!" he denied. "She's alive.
She must be alive. Why, she's got
to live, live!"
It was an awful thing to see him
Just Because He Was a Duke and Was
Lying Around Loose.
go to pieces, and he had gone com
pletely. The effort he made to con
trol himself made it all the more
pitifuL His Hps were white; he could
not hold the paper steady, and when
he spoke hi3 words, try as he did to
keep them from being so, were tragic,
I didn't know what had happened be
tween him and Jo the evening be
fore, but I knew what was going to
happen if she ever came back alive ;
and no dressmaking nonsense and
false pride were, going to have any
thing to do wift it. When a man
waits for. nearly forty years to fall
in love, a tornado and " that's the
most strenuous thing I can think of
couldn't stop him. He folded the
paper and put it down gently. ;
"If the damned scoundrels are after
ransom," he said, "they will take care
of her, It's growing cold" he shiv
ered, but the breeze that came in was
hot and sultry "and she has only one
Bhoe.' Loulie, does she know how to
use that revolver?"
"She can plug a dime - at fifty
yards," I replied, remembering that
somebody at the club once said he
would like to see her plug a dime at
fifty yards.
"Then why didn't she Bhoot?" he
demanded suddenly.
"It's an awful Thing to shoot a
man, now, Isn't it?" I demanded in
turn. "Even if he Is a thief?"
"Great Lord, no, when she's In
danger; It's self-defense."
J'Well.i that's the way I'd feel about
It, and that's the way she would, too.
Perhaps when she realized there was
danger it was too late."
He was exasperated with me. He
couldn't see that a woman's mind
works differently from a man's. He
came close to me after - a moment,
drew me into his arms and placed a
very brotherly kiss upon my fore
head. .
"Women," he said softly, "women
are angels." "
The .worst continued tt happen.
Just at that particular instant Hap
banged on the door and, without wait
ing, suddenly opened it. It , was an
awfully ' awkward situation. There
was John with me in his arms John,
who never looked twice at a woman
in his life-and I practically engaged
to Hap, and Hap looking as If some
thing had exploded just under his
nose. I know I went red, and I'm
sure I would have done something
foolish if John's beautiful self-possession
had not saved us. He continued
to hold me in his arms.
"Women," he remarked over my
shoulder to Hap, "women are angels."
Hap blinked. v-
"You bet they are!" he said. But
he was trying to readjust himself.
I went to him.
"Don't you see It's Jo, you goose,
not me," I whispered. "Get him a
drink; he needs it." '
"Scotch or rye, John?" Hap asked
from pure force of habit.''
"Neither," John replied.
"Scotch," I said firmly. "Make it
a long one" I think- that's the way
to say it, and I illustrated as the men
do "and-and put a cherry in it!"
CHAPTER XXV.
The Man at the Bridge.
It's a strange thing that the . first
definite clue we had to Jo after the
slipper and the torn piece of her
dressing-gown, came from - Charlie
Ayer. There had been no demand for
ransom on the following morning and
we were in despair. Mr. Partridge
arrived, but he could-jonly bring me
consolation. A rumor that some
strange men had been seen at the
railroad station came to naught, and
finally Charlie had taken the run
about and gone away, no one knew
where and had not bothered. He came
back late that afternoon, grimy, with
two men in the car, one a milk man,
the other a stable boy, and held up
to the shocked gaze of everybody
present Jo's other slipper.
While the detectives John had had
sent down from town, and the local
police, were following up clues that
led nowhere, Charlie had stumbled
upon one that seemed, to be good,
through pure unadultered chance, and
a puncture. He had started to town,
I don't think he himself knew why,
and he got the puncture on a stretch
of roadway that didn't boast a tree
for a mile. It's a thirsty job fixing
a puncture, more so when the sun
isn't particular Just how hot it shines,
and it's the first time the shoe has
been off and has rusted on the rim.
When Charlie finally threw the
pump and the Jack into the tonneau
the, only, thing in eight was a milk
wagon. Now, I don't think Charlie
ever took a drink of milk in his life,
but milk is better. than nothing and
Charlie hailed the wagon. While he
was drinking the milk, the milkman
began reading a morning paper.
Charlie gazed at the back page, know
ing that on the front page, just under
the milkman's' eyes, was a story,
capped by a two-column head, to the
effect that Miss Codm'an was still
missing. He asked a perfectly silly
question, with startling results:
"You don't happen to have seen al
young woman, in a dark-blue dressing
gown, looking lost, strayed or stolen?"
"No, sir," the milkman answered,
"but Bill, the stable boy where we
keep the wagons" he jerked his head
toward the interior of the wagon
"says he thinks he knows about this
here young woman who was stolen
from Lone Oak. Are you a-looking
for her?"
"Yes," admitted Charlie, "I'm a
looking for her."
The milkman whistled, then held
up two fingers and dexterously ex
pectorated between them.-
"Well, Bill says he thinks he picked
up them three men and the young
woman on this here very road about
four o'clock In the morning, and
drove 'em about two miles. He ain't
sure; he don't remember nothing
about the dressing-gown, for it was
dark and he didn't see it, but he
said this morning that it did seem to
him as if it must have been them."
A greenback changed hands, and.
the result was. that the milkman
agreed to take Charlie to the stable
and Introduce him to Bill.
Bill's story was that he had driven
a couple who had missed the last train j
up, to a stable that boasted an auto?
mobile, and there he had turned back
toward home. It was late then, or
rnther, early somewhere between
half-past three and four. At a point
which he did not exactly remember,
three men , accosted him and asked
if they might ride with him. He didn't
consider this unusual, because It had
happened to him before, The men
were supporting a young- woman be
tween them. Bill concluded she had
had too much. He was paid in ad
vance, a bill which, in the light of a
smoky kerosene stable .lamp later,
turned out to be ten dollars, but that,
too, had happened to Bill before when
he had given a lift to a "souse.
They rode what Bill judged to be
about two miles, and got out at a path
evidently leading to a house, just be
fore coming to a small bridge. He
remembered the bridge distinctly.
They had called "good-night" to him.
One of . them, . he thought, agoke , in
German. He had ceased to think of
the incident until he saw the row the
newspapers had kicked up about a
young woman having been, presuma
bly; abducted from a place in that
vicinity on that very morning. He
had hesitated about informing the
police, because he didn't want to get
mixed up 'bout nothing when he
wasn't sure 'bout nothing, and didn't
know nobody; and he couldn't be
spared from the stable to go to court
'bout nothing.
But when he had been promised full
pay for any time lost and a guarantee
of his job from the owner of the
stable, he consented to accompany
Charlie to Lone Oak, if the milkman
would go also, and place himself and
his information at the disposal of
whoever wanted It. He gave Charlie
a clipper which he had found In the
cairiage. It was Jo's. .
The terrace became a newspaper
office, and at the rustic tables where
we usually had tea In the late after
noon reporters were frantically writ
ing. The photographers snapped Bill
and the milkman every time they
looked up.
It was quite a procession that went
down the driveway to take Bill to
the spot near the small bridge where
the men and their victim had alighted.
Winthrop said he knew the path and
A Passing Automobile 'Party Had
Found an Unconscious Man Beside
the Road. '
-
the bridge it was perhaps four miles
or more below Lone Oak and if Jo's
abductors had left the carriage there
hewas certain it was not to follow
the path. He knew it led to a little
house and a celery farm, owned by
an old German couple named Hingel
muller, simple, honest folk who cer
tainly had no hand in an abduction
or in concealing any one who had.
But everybody went, just the same,
and rather eagerly when it was re
membered' that Bill said he thought
one of the men spoke in German.
The little old couple were aston
ished at the intrusion, but answered
questions straightforwardly, and" be
cause Winthrop, who knew-them well,
requested it, aJ lowed a search of their
house and premises. Absolutely no
trace of any person was found. The
detectives and more to the point
the newspaper nien were, finally con
vinced that the Hingelmullers knew
nothing. If it had not been for the
slipper, it is probable Bill's story
would have been entirely discredited.
The bridge spanned a small brook
that ran through the Hingelmullers'
celery farm on one side of the road,
coming through an estate on the other
belonging to a family who .had been
abroad for three years. This estate
was vacant. The house was some
distance from the stream, and stood
on a knoll that gave a view of the
ocean. It was surrounded by weeds
and overgrowth.
The detectives decided to Inspect
this house. A careful search, how
ever, proved conclusively that no one
had been near the place. The house
was securely shuttered, its shutters
and porches thick with dust. There
was no indication anywhere of the
weeds having been trampled. It was
reasonably certain that the house
neither was nor had been occupied
for some time. But the police tooK
the responsibility of tearing off a shut
ter and searching. Inside was the
same coating of dust, no footprints
tnywhere, no .signs of anything hav
ing been disturbed.
The search from that time on
seemed to stand still. Bill and the
milkman were sent back to the stable
handsomely rewarded, but the story
came to ' naught, just as everything
else had. We were no nearer finding
Jo than we had been the morning of
her. disappearance.
John still expected a demand for
ransom, so did Mr. Partridge, who
broke two pairs of glasses the morn
ing he came, rubbing them. I had
ceased to hope. I nursed my broken
arm and cried every time I looked
and I looked often at Jo's long, glim
gowns hanging on theii pegs. Just
how If happened ' the newspapers
hadn't discovered 3o'a connection
with Mmo, Gautier, Robes et Man
teaux, I do not know. It's a fact that
all ; the stories referred to her as
Mrs. Hazard's guest, the beautiful
Miss Codman. Perhaps It made a bet.
ter story.
i We dragged through Sunday. Win
throp had taken the reporters into
his home, for there was no such thing
as a hotel near us. We discovered
that Sam Dick was an 07, and Sun
day evening Mrs. Hazard brought him
in to see me she's soft-hearted about
reporters anyhow. He told me he
wouldn't print anything I said if I
didn't wish it, but he simply had to
be able to tell his city editor that he
had seen me r that he would like to
take a message to the other, boys. I
told him I'd' stand for what he chose
to tell them. He's a dandy chap.
Monday morning Mrs. Hazard au
thorized the newspaper men to say
that twenty-five thousand dollars
would be paid for Jo returned alive.
I didn't have to be told who had
offered to pay it.
Monday noon something happened
that we could not see had any. bearing
on Jo's disappearance, but which took
the newspaper men and photographers
to the rustic bridge on the run. A
passing automobile party had found
an unconscious man beside the road
just at the , rustic bridge. He had
been shot in the throat. How he
came there no one knew. He could
not speak and no one could Identify
him. Afterward a trail of blood was
found leading into, the woods along
the stream, but before it had been
followed many things had happened.
The wounded man "was taken to Dr.
Graham's, where it was not thought
he could live, as he was terribly ex
hausted from loss of blood, and he
evidently had dragged himself from
the place where he had been shot, to
the road for assistance.
While We were digesting this new
horror, John, who was pacing up and
down Mrs. Hazard's sitting room, sud
denly gave a short, sharp cry, and
the next instant he was tearing madly
tearing madly is exactly what he
was doing down the steps and across
the lawn. Coming from the direction
of the beach, stumbling, weary, ex
hausted, was Jo! - .
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
THOUGHT HE GAVE THE SIGN
But Old Gentleman Naturally Was In
dignant at Mistake of
Drug Clerk.
.well-dressed old man walked into
a corner drug store the other day,
mopped his brow with a handkerchief
and took a seat at the soda fountain;
The clerk, faced him expectantly.
"I am very thirsty," he remarked af:
he drummed on the counter. - "I don't'
know what I want. Well, I believe I
will take a phosphate," he concluded,
still drumming on the marble with his
Angers. The clerk smiled, picked up
a stein and went to the rear of the
store. He came back, set it in front
of the old man and rang up 15 cents
out of the half dollar which was given
him. The old man, without looking in
the stein, thirstily raised it to his
lips and took "a long draught. Then
he quickly set the -stein down, sput
tered a moment and then exploded
between his coughs. -
"What do you mean? I never took
a drop of liquor, sir, in my life. But I
know it, sir. the rotten stuff, when 1
smell it. I'll not stand for It, sir. I
called for a cherry phosphate. What
do you mean, sir, by giving me
whisky?" . And the old man stopped
for breath as he glared at the amazed
clerk. -
"Well, I I er I guess I made a
mistake. I thought you wanted It for
medicine," stammered the clerk.
"Sir, I am a teetotaler. I wouldn't
touch the stuff for love nor money."
And the old man marched ont indig
nantly. "Well, for the love of Mike!" ex
claimed the clerk to a man at the
counter who had been served a stein
in the same way, but who made no
kick. "That old duffer came In here
and certainly gave me the correct
high sign. And he drank nearly half
of It, too." The clerk laughed as he
looked into the stein. Kansas - City
Journal.
Care of Your Umbrella. '
A soft silk wears the best in an um
brella. , A steel frame is lighter to
carry and admits of a closer roll.
When carrying your umbrella on the
street not In use, keep it furled; if
hanging in your closet keep its case
on. In fact, it presents a very neat
appearance if the case is on when it
is carried. - To furl, grasp the stick
in the right hand, shake out thejolds,
wrap them closely around the stick,
beginning at the f lower i end, and
smooth as they are wrapped around
the stick, then fasten with the silk
band on the silk cover. k
When coming in with a wet um
brella, wipe off . the handle and fer
rule, and furl the silk sections. If the
silk gets a spot on.lt, remove it with
a . silk cloth, warm water and soap.
Clean a gold or silver handle in
warm soapsuds, rub up a wooden hani
die with a very slightly oily cloth.
Up In Chemistry.
"Thomas," said the professor to a
pupil in the junior class in chemistry,
"mention an oxide."
"Leather," replied Thomas,
"What is leather an oxide of?"
asked the professor.
"An.ox'ide of beef," answered th
bright youngster.
What Happened.
He went to ask her dear old da4
To let hi daughter marry him;
He Kt't home later, but he had
An ambulance to carry fcfca.
MHMriom
ISfSOIOOL
LESSON
(By E. O. SELLERS, Director of Even,
ing Department The Moody Bible In
stitute of Chicago.)
LESSON FOR AUGUST 3
THE PLAGUES OF EGYPT.
I.ESSON TEXT Ps. 105:23-36 (cf. Ex.
r:8-ll:10.)
GOLDEN TEXT "WTiosover shall exalt
himself shall be humbled; and whosoever
shall humble himself shall be exalted."
R. V. Matt. 23:12.
While this Psalm is a succinct state
ment of all. that is contained in Exo
dus, chapters 7 to 12, still no teacher
can judge himself as having made
proper preparation who has hot stud
ied carefully the earlier record Be
ginning with those of discomfort the
plagues become. more and more se
vere until the last and the crowning
one, the death of the first born, caused
the Egyptians to thrust out the Israel
ites with haste and gladness, : laden
with an abundance of "spoil." Pharaoh
trusted In the superior greatness of
the Egyptian gods, he also had-great
pride In his absolute power and .hated
to lose the profitable service of his
Hebrew slaves. Over against this was
God's right to ' demand the wor
ship of his chosen people, God's pro
fuse warnings to the proud Egyptian,
and the inevitable outcome of the
man, tribe, or nation who sets up hu
man will in opposition to the plans of,
an Omnipotent God. True thanksgiv
ing and praise are based upon "His
marvelous works" (v. 5 R. V.)
Israel Made Strong.
I. The Induction of Israel Into
Egypt, vv. 23-25. By "Israel" in verse
23 the Psalmist does not refer to the
nation but rather to the supplanter
who became "Israel, a prince." His
induction into Egypt 'was in accord
ance with God's purposes and plan,
yes, his specific command, Gen. 46:2-7,
Acts 7:9-15. ' God increased the de
scendants of Israel greatly in the land
of Egypt, see v. 24. At the same time
God made those same descendants
stronger than their "adversaries" on
account of the fact that Jehovah
fought on their side, see Rom. 8:31.
II. The Exodus of Israel. From
Egypt, vv.,26-36. Now the Psalmist is
referring to the nation. In Exodus
there are recorded ten " plagues, here
there are mentioned but eight. The
plague of the murrain of beasts and
the plague of boils, the fifth and the
sixth, are here left out for some rea
son best known to the Psalmist.
. God saw the afflictions of Israel but
sends relief through human agents.
Moses was God's "servant" (v. 26)
and Aaron "His chosen" (I Sam. 12:6)
so also is every, true believer. Their
work has to "shew" (v. 27) God's won
ders in the land of ." Egypt (Ham).
They were to Bhew "His" wonders,
signs, the "Words of His signs" (R.
V. marg.), and none of their own. In
other words they were to be the vis
ible embodiment of God's character
and power. -
Worshiped the Nile.
The Psalmist then turns to the first
of the historic plagues. The Egyp
tians were so dependent upon the Nile
that they personifitd it and worshiped
It. They had shed the blood of the
Israelites and were given blood to
drink, see Rev. 16:5, 6 and Gal. 6:7.
The third plague was directed against
the goddess "Hekt," queen of two
worlds, and who was represented by
a frog-like figure, see Ex. 8:8. It was .
after this calamity that Pharaoh tem
porized. The third and fourth plagues
are grouped together in verse 31. God
often uses very little things to humble
the great ones of earth. Life Is made
up of trifles, but life is no trifle. Pha
raoh had proudly boasted of his agnos
ticism (Ex. 5:2) but when he sought
to try conclusions with God and said,
"Neither will I let Israel go" God let
him wrestle with frogs, lice and flies.
We thus see - a man setting himself
against God who is -not able to over
come these smallest of pests. As we
have mentioned the fifth and sixth
plagues are omitted from this record,
hence the plague mentioned in v. 32
is in reality the seventh (Ex. 9). It,
was a rebuke to the God of the air,
and from Rev, 8:7 and 16:21 we learn
that it is to be repeated In the end of
time.
Though Israel was free from the
eighth, the plague of locusts (v. 34)
they did suffer from a like experience
in later days, Joel 1:1-7. These smalL
pests can turn a fruitful land into a
barren waste.
But the culminating plague (v. 36
was the smiting of the first born. Even
Israel could not escape this calamity
except by the previous shedding of
blood, Ex. 12:3-18. God gave Pharaok
ample warning, Ex. 4; 23. Refusing to
yield under the lesser judgments, God
brought this supreme penalty, smiting
all the first born, "the beginning of
all their strength" (R. V. marg. v. 36).
III. The Teaching. Before the
plagues Pharaoh was warned; before
the second one he was given an op
portunity to repent and because of the
suffering thereby he relented and ask
ed for a respite. Refusing to declare
God's greatness (Ex. 8:10) "he
(Pharaoh) made heavy his heart" (Ex.
8:15), an act of his own, not an act of
God. No warning Is given of the third
plague for Pharaoh had broken
faith. The acknowledgment upon the
part of his magicians of a power great
er than their own did not serve as a
warning and he continued In his re-bfcilJon.