The Week's Review (Apache, Okla.), Vol. 14, No. 43, Ed. 1 Thursday, July 1, 1915 Page: 2 of 8
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THE WEEK’S REVIEW, APACHE, OKLA.
m am spy
• • The Mystery of a Silent Love
$rQwdx.r WILLIAM LI QUIUX
U author •/-
AUTHOR of “THC awro DO OK,” ETC
ILLUSTRATIONS fy CDRHODD
CQprxrcrrr or ptc smart $tr njeuiMm co
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SYNOP8I8.
Gordon Ori-g* l« called upon In ____
horn by Hornby, the yiicht I/ola'i owner,
and dlnlnK aboard with him and hla
friend, Hylton ('hitter, accidentally sees
» torn l>hotosrH|ih of a young Klrl. That
nl*ht the conaula aafe la robbed. The
Pullca And that Hornby la a fraud and
I# i-0**'® name a falae one. Gregg vls-
*'• •fai’1' Durnford of the marine!
* 01*™ ^Im vwmm,I- Hum ford know*, but
will not reveal, the inyatery of the Lola.
It concerna a woman." In London
Great l» trapped nearly to hla death by
* former aervant, Ollnto. Vlaltlng In
inunfrle! Gregg meat a Muriel LelthcourL
rlnrnby appear! and Muriel Introduce!
» i J** Mnrtln Woodroffe, her father’!
#*i?- finds that she la engaged
to Woodrorfe. Oregg a<ea a copy of the
JUr,J Photograph on the lada and Anils
inat the young girl Is Muriel’s friend.
woodrofTo dlsuppeara. Oregg discovers
tne body of a murdered woman In Han-
noch wood. The body disappears and In
]<» place la found the body of Ollnto.
Gregg talks to the police but conceals hla
own knowledge of the woman. Muriel
•f*,i,wr***y on Gregg and tells him that
„ ® " certain that a woman as well aa
a man haa been murdered. They search
Kannoch wood together, and And the
°\ I*1® woman. Oregg recognises
Jiff a*11^r,nlda, Ollnto’s wife. Oregg tells
IT® P01]''®- hut when they go to tho wood
the body haa disappeared.
CHAPTER VII—Continued.
That night, after calling upon the
detective, Mackenzie, I took the sleep-
ing car express to Kuaton. The res-
taurant which Hutcheson had Indicated
Was- I found, situated about halfway
up Wostbourne Grove, nearly oppo-
site Whlteley's. It was soon after nine
o clock when I entered the long shop
with Its rows of marble-topped tables
and greasy lounges of red plush. An
unhealthy-looking lad wuh sweeping
out the place with wet sawdust, and a
Mg. dark-bearded, flabby-faced mun In
shirt sleeves stood behind the small
counter polishing some forks.
"I wish to see Signor Ferrari," I said,
addressing him.
There Is no Ferrari, he Is dead,” re-
sponded the man in broken English.
My namo Is OdlnzofT. I bought the
place from nuidame."
"I have come to Inquire after a
waiter you have In your service, an
Italian named Snntlnl. lie was my
servant for some years, and I naturully
take an Interest In him."
"Santinl?" he repealed. "Oh, you
mean Ollnto? He is not here yet He
comes at ten o'clock.”
This reply surprised me. I had ex-
pected the restauraut keeper to ex-
press regret at his disappearance, yet
he spoke as though he had been at
work as usual on the previous day.
You find Ollnto a good servant, 1
suppose?" I said, for want of some-
thing else to say.
"Excellent. The Italians are the best
waiters In the world. I am Russian,
but I dare not employ a Russian wait-
er. These English would not come to
my shop If I did."
How long has Ollnto been with
you?" I Inquired.
"About a year—perhaps a little
more. I trust him Implicitly, and I
leave him In charge when I go away
for holidays. Ha does not get along
very well with the cook—who Is Mi-
lanese. These Italians from different
provinces always quarrel," he added,
laughing. "If you live in Italy you
know that, no doubt."
I laughed In chorus and then, glanc-
ing at my watch, said: "I'll wait for
him, If he will be here at ten. I'd
much like to see him again ”
The Russian was by no means non-
plused. but merely remarked: "He Is
late sometimes, but not often He lives
on the other side of London—over at
Camberwell."
Suddenly a side door opened and the
cook put his head In to speak with
his master In French. He was a typl
caj Italian, about forty, with dark mus-
tache* turned upwards, and an easy-
going, careless manner. Seeing me,
however, and believing me to be a cus-
tomer. he turned and closed the door
quickly. In that Instant I noticed the
high broadness of his shoulders, and
his back struck me as strangely simi-
lar to that of the man In brown whom
we had seen disappearing In Rannoch
wood.
The suspicion held me breathless
Presently Odtnzoff went outside, car-
rying with him two boards upon which
the menu of the "Klghtpenn.v Lunch-
eon! This Day!" was written In
scrawly characters, Hnd proceeded to
affix them to the shop front.
This was my opportunity, and quick
as thought I moved towards where the
unhealthy youth was at work, aud
whispered:
"I'll Klve you half-a-soverelgn If
you’ll answer my questions truthfully.
Now, tell me, was the cook, the man
I've Just seen, here yesterday?"
"Emilio? Yea. sir."
"Was he here the day before?"
"No, sir lie's been away 111 for
four days "
“And your master?"
I had no time to put any further
question, for the Russian re-entered at
that moment, and the youth busied
himself rubbing the front, of the coun
ter In pretense that I hud not spoken
to him Indeed. I had some difficulty
In slipping the promised coin Into Ids
hand nt a moment when his master
was not looking
* While I stood tli-ro a rather thin, re-
spectably dressed man entered and
soried himself upuu one of the plush
lounges at the farther end, removed
his bowler hat and ordered from the
I-®*- proprietor a chop and a pot of tea.
Then, taking a newspaper from his
pocket, he settled himself to read, ap-
parently oblivious to his surroundings.
And yet as I watched I saw that over
the top of his paper he was carefully
taking In tho general appearance of
the place, and his eyes were keenly
following the Russian's movements.
So deep was his interest in the place,
and so keen those dark eyes of his,
that the truth suddenly dawned upon
me. Mackenzie had telegraphed to
Scotland Yard and the customer Bitting
there was a detective who had come
to investigate. I had advanced to the
counter to chat again with the proprie-
tor when a quick step behind me
caused me to turn.
Before me stood the slim figure of a
man In a straw hat and rather seedy
black Jacket.
"Dio Signor Padrone!” he cried.
I staggered as though I had received
a blow.
Ollnto Santinl In the flesh, smiling
and well, stood there before me!
CHAPTER VIII.
Life’* Counter-Claim.
No word of mine can express my ab-
solute and abject amazement when I
faced tho man, whom I had seen ly-
ing cold and dead upon that gray stone
slab in the mortuary of Dumfries.
My eye caught the customer who,
on the entry of Ollnto, had dropped
his paper and sat staring at him In
wonderment. The detective had evi-
dently been furnished with a photo-
graph of the dead man, and now, like
myself, discovered him alive and liv-
ing
Signor Padrone!” cried tho man
wnose appearance was so absolutely
bewildering. "How did you find me
here? I admit that I deceived you
when I told you I worked at the Mi-
lano," he went on rapidly in Italian.
',Jut it was under compulsion—my ac-
lions that night were not my own—
but those of others."
"Yes, I understand," I said. “But
come out Into the street. I don't wish
to speak before these people. Your
padrone knows Italian, no doubt.” And
turning with a smile to the Pole, I
apologized for taking away his serv-
ant for a few minutes.
And when we were outside. Ollnto
walking by my side in wonderment,
I asked suddenly:
"Tell me. Have you ever been In
Scotland—at Dumfries?”
"Never, signor. In my life. Why?"
“Answer me another question,” I
said quickly. "You married Armida
at the Italian consulate. Where Is
she now—where is she this morn-
ing?”
He turned pale, and I saw a com-
plete change In his countenance.
"Ah, signore!" he responded,
only wish 1 could tell.”
"I cast no reflection whatever upon
you, Oliuto; I have merely Inquired
after your wife, and you do not give
me a direct reply."
We had walked to the Royal Oak,
and stood talking an the curb outside!
"I give you no reply, because 1
can’t," he said in Italian. "Armida—
my poor Armida- has left home."
"Why did you tell me such a tale of
distress regarding her?"
"As I have already explained, sig-
nore, 1 was not then master of my
own actions. I was ruled by others.
Rut 1 saved your .life at risk of my
own. Some day. when it is safe. I
will reveal to you everything."
"Let us allow the past to remain,"
I said. "Where is your wife now?"
He hesitated a moment, looking
straight Into my face.
The truth Is, Signor Commends-
tore, that my wife has mysteriously
disappeared. Last Saturday at eleven
o'clock she was talking over the gar
den wall with a neighbor, and was
then dressed to go out. She apparent-
ly went out. hut from that moment no
one has seen or heard of her."
It was on the tip of my tongue to
tell him the ghastly truth, yet so
strange was the circumstance that his
own double, even to the mole upon his
face, should be lying dead and buried
in Scotland that 1 hesitated to relate
what 1 knew.
"She spoke English, I suppose?"
“She could make herself understood
very well," he said with a sigh, and 1
saw a heavy, thoughtful look upon his
brow. That ho was really devoted to
her. 1 knew. With the Italian of
whatever station In life, love Is all-
consuming—It la either perfect love
or genuine hatred. The Tuscan chur
actor Is one of two extremes.
I glanced across the road, and saw
that the detective who had ordered
his chop s.nd coffee had stopped to
light his pipe and was watching us.
"But why haven't you told the po^
lice?"
"I prefer to make Inquiries for my-
self."
"And !u what have your Inquiries re-
sulted?”
"Nothing-absolutely nothing," be
said gravely.
"You do not suspect any plot? I
recollect that night In Lambeth you
told rue you had enemies?"
"Ah! so I have, signore—and so
have you!" he exclaimed hoarsely.
"Yes, my poor Armida may have been
entrapped by them.”
“And If entrapped, what then?"
'They would kill her with as lit-
tle compunction as they would a fly,"
he Baid. "Ah! you do not know the
callousness of those people 1 only
hope and pray that she may have es-
caped and Is in hiding somewhere, and
will arrive unexpectedly and give me
a startling surprise. She delights in
startling me," he added with a laugh.
"Then you think she must have been
called away from home by seme urg-
ent message?” 1 suggested.
"By the manner in which she left
things, It seemed as though she went
away hurriedly. There were five sov-
ereigns in a drawer that we had
saved for the rent, and she took them
with her."
I paused, hesitating whether to tell
him the terrible truth. 1 recollected
that the body had disappeared, there-
fore what proof had I of my allega-
tion that she had been murdered?
"Tell me, Ollnto," 1 said as we
moved forward again in the direction
of Paddington station, "have you any
knowledge of a man named Lelth-
court ?"
He started suddenly and looked at
me.
"I have heard of him," he answered
very lamely.
"And of his daughter—Muriel?"
“And also of her. But I am not ac-
quainted with them—nor, to tell the
truth, do I wish to be."
"Why?"
"Because they are enemies of mine
—bitter enemies.”
His declaration was strange, for it
threw some light upon the tragedy in
Kannoch wood.
"And of your wife, also?"
"I do not know that," he respond-
ed. "My enemies are my wife’s also,
1 suppose ”
"You have not told me the secret of
that dastardly attempt upon me when
we last met," I said in a low voice.
"Why not tell me the truth? I surely
ought to know who my enemies really
are, so as to be warned against any
future plot.”
“You shall know some day, signore.
1 dare not tell you now."
"You said that before," I exclaimed
with dissatisfaction. "If you are
Ollnto Santinl In the Flesh, 8mlling
and Well, Stood There Before Me.
faithful to me, you ought at least to
tell me the reason they wished to kill
me In secret."
"Because they fear you," was his an-
swer.
"Why should they fear me?”
But he shrugged his shoulders, and
made a gesture with his hands indica-
tive of utter Ignorance.
I ask you one question. Answer
yeg or no. Is the man Lelthcourt my
enemy?"
The young Italian paused, and then
answered:
"He is not your friend. 1 am quite
well aware of that. I have known
him several years. When we first
met he was poor."
"Suddenly became rich—ehT
"Bought a fine house in the country;
lives mostly at the Carlton when he
and his wife and daughter are In
1 Aindon- although I believe they now
have a house somewhere in the West
end—and he often makes long cruises
in his steam yacht"
"And how did he make his money?"
Aguln Ollnto elevated his shoulders
without replying.
He walkpd with me as far as the
end of Bishop's road, endeavoring with
ull the Italian's exquisite diplomacy
to obtain from me what 1 knew con-
cerning the Lelthcourts. But I told
him nothing, nor did I reveal that I
hnd only thut morning returned from
Scotland. Then at last we parted, and
ho retraced his steps to the little res-
taurant In Westbourne Grove, while I
entered a hansom and drove to the
well-known photographer's in New
Bond street, whose name hud been
upon the lorn photograph of the young
girl In lhe white pique blouse and her
hair fastened with s bow of ribbon,
the picture that I had found on hoard
the Loin on that memorable night In
the Mediterranean, an-! a duplicate of
which I had seen In Muriel's cozy little
room up at Rannoch.
I recollected that she had told me
the name of the original was Elma
Heath, and that she had been a school-
fellow of hers at Chichester. There-
fore I inquired of the photographer’s
lady clerk whether she could Bupply
me with a print of the negative.
For a considerable time she searched
in her books for the name, and at last
discovered it. Then she said:
“I regret, sir, that we can’t give you
a print, for the customer purchased
the negative at the time."
"Ah, I’m very sorry for that." 1 said.
"To what address did you send It?"
"The customer who ordered It was
apparently a foreigner," she said, at
the same time turning round the ledger
so that I could read, and I saw that
the entry was: "Heath—Miss Elma—
three dozen cabinets and negative.
Address: Baron Xavier Oberg, Vos-
nesenskl Prospect 48, St Petersburg,
Russia.”
Who was this Baron Oberg? The
name was German undoubtedly, yet he
lived In the Russian capital. From
London to St. Petersburg Is a far cry,
yet I resolved If It were necessary I
would travel there and Investigate.
At the German embassy, In the Carl-
ton House Terrace, I found my friend,
Captain Nieberding, the second sec-
retary, of whom I Inquired whether
the name of Baron Oberg was known,
but having referred to a number of
German books In his excellency's li-
brary, he returned and told me that
the name did not appear in the lists of
the German nobility.
"He may be Russian—Polish, most
probably," added the captain. His
opinion was that It was not a German
name, for there was a little place
called Oberg, he said, on the railway
between Ix>dz and Lowicz.
Next day I ran down to Chichester,
and after some difficulty found the
Cheverton College for Ladles, a big
old-fashioned house about half a mile
out of the town of the Drayton road.
The seminary was evidently a first-
class one, for when I entered I no-
ticed how well everything was kept
To the principal, an elderly lady of
somewhat severe aspect, 1 said:
"I regret, madam, to trouble you,
but I am in search of Information you
can supply. It Is with regard to a
certain Elma Heath whom you had as
pupil here, and who left, I believe,
about two years ago. Her parents
lived in Durham. There has been some
little friction in the family, and I am
making inquiries on behalf of another
branch of It—an aunt who desires to
ascertain the girl's whereabouts."
"Ah. 1 regret, sir. that I cannot tell
you that The baron, her uncle, came
here one day and took her away sud-
denly—abroad, I think."
"Had she no school friends to whom
she would probabl;’ write?"
"There was a girl named Lelthcourt
—Muriel Lelthcourt—who was her
friend, but who has also left"
“And no one else?” 1 asked. “Girls
often write to each other after leav-
ing school, until they get married,
and then the correspondence usually
ceases."
The principal was silent and reflec-
tive.
"Well," she said at last, “there was
another pupil who was also on friendly
termB with Elma—a girl named Lydia
Moreton. She may have written to
her. If you really desire to know,
sir, I dare say I could find her ad-
dress She left us about nine months
after Elma.”
"I should esteem It a great favor tf
you would give me that young lady's
address," I said, whereupon she un-
locked a drawer In her writing-table
and took therefrom a thick, leather-
bound book which she consulted for a
few minutes, at last exclaiming:
"Yes, here it Is—'Lydia Moreton.
daughter of Sir Hamilton Moreton,
K. C. M. 0., Whlston Grange, Doncas-
ter.’ "
And with that I took my leave,
thanking her, and returned to Lon-
don.
Could Lydia Moreton furnish any
information? If so, I might find this
girl whose photograph had aroused the
irate Jealousy of the mysterious un-
known.
The ten o'clock Edinburgh express
from King's Cross next morning took
me up to Doncaster, and hiring a musty
old fly st the station, I drove three
miles out of the town on the Rother-
ham road, finding Whlston Grange to
be a One old Elizabethan mansion In
the center of a great park, with Ull
old twisted chimneys, and beautifully
kept gardens
When I descended at the door and
rang, the footman was not aware
whether Miss Lydia was In. He looked
at me somewhat suspiciously, I
thought, until I gave him my card and
impressed upon him meaningly that I
had come from Ixmdon purposely to
see hla young mistress upon a very Im-
portant matter.
"Tell her," I said, "that I wish to see
her regarding her friend, Miss Elma
Heath."
"Miss Elma ’Eath," repeated the
man. "Very well, sir. Will you walk
this way?"
I followed him across the Mg old
oak-paneled hall, filled with trophies
of the chase and arms of the civil
wars. Into a small paneled room on
the left, the deep-set window with Its
diamond panes giving out upon the old
bowling-green and the flower garden
beyond
Presently the door opened, and a
tall, dark haired girl In white entered
with an Inquiring expression upon her
face as she halted and bowed to me
Miss Lvdla Moreton, I believe?" I
commenced, and as aha replied In the
affirmative, I went on: "I have first
to aiKiloglze for coming to you. but
Miss Sotheby, the principal of tbs
school at Chichester, referred me to
you for information aa to the present
whereabouts of Miss Elma Heath, who.
I believe, was one of your most Inti-
mate friends at school" And I added
a lie, saying: "1 am trying, on behalf
of an aunt of hers, to discover her."
‘‘Well,” responded the girl “I have
only one or two letters. She's in her
uncle's bands, I believe, and he won't
let her write, poor girl She dreaded
leaving us.”
"Why?”
"Ah! she would never say. She had
some deep-rooted terror of her uncle,
Baron Oberg, who lived In St. Peters-
burg, and who came over at long Inter
vals to see her. But possibly you know
the whole story?"
“I know nothing,” I cried eagerly.
"You will be furthering her interests,
as well as doing me a great personal
favor, if you will tell me what you
know."
"It Is very little," she answered,
leaning back against the edge of tbs
table and regarding me seriously.
"Poor Elma! Her people treated her
very badly Indeed. They sent her no
money, and allowed her no holidays,
and yet she was the sweetest-tempered
and most patient girl In the whole
school."
"Well—and the story regarding
her?”
"It was supposed that her people at
Durham did not exist,” she explained.
"Elma had evidently lived a greater
part of her life abroad, for she could
speak French and Italian better than
the professor himself, and therefore
always won the prizes. The class re-
volted, and then she did not compete
any more. Yet she never told us of
where she had lived when a child. She
came from Durham, she said—that
was all."
"You had a letter from her after
the baron came and took her away?"
"Three or four, I think. They were
all from places abroad. One was from
Vienna, one was from Milan, and one
from some place with an unpronounce-
able name In Hungary. The last—’’
"Yes, the last!” I gasped eagerly, in-
terrupting her.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
RECLUSE IS A PHILOSOPHER
Negro Found Living In Cave Near
Santa Barbara, Cal., Tells Some
Plain Truths.
"There’s rich living in garbage,"
says Orrin Swift, negro recluse, who
has Just come into publicity through
the lodgment of a complaint question-
ing his sanity, reports a dispatch from
Santa Barbara, Cal. He has for 20
years lived in a little cave on the
mountainside, between Rincon and
Ventura.
When the officers went out to In
vestigate they found him curled up in,
a corner of the cave sleeping the
morning away. The place was lit-
tered with tin cans. When aroused
Swift greeted hie visitors cordially and
explained to them his mode of life
and the reason therefor.
"Civilization," he said, "Is only an-
other evidence of how slavery can be
lifted up and made possibly more re-
fined outwardly. The man who works
for his living Is nothing more or less
than a slave. He is a slave to the
whim of his employer, who may dis-
charge him Just like that," and the
negro snapped his finger.
"If a man has an income today he
may not have one tomorrow. The
consequence Is that both the man who
tolls for an employer and the man who
draws his Income are slaves to worry,
neither of them knowing the peace
and happiness that comes with the
quiet life. Men would live forever It
It were not for worry. That's the
most subtle destroyer the human fam-
ily Is prey to, for It leads to all other
ailments whose windup is death.
"Here I am living contented. No
one can demand rent or taxes, and
I find my living In the garbage on the
town dump, many fine morsels being
left In cans and otherwise thrown
away. There’s rich living in garbage."
Tbe man's talk was rational, though
strange, and his conduct was quiet.
Therefore, the officers left him to hit
lonely life.
"There Is a whole lot of genuine
truth In his philosophy," said the
sheriff. "Men die from worry and
what comes In Its train, and the race
will die more rapidly as It advance!
In civilization, for the burden of tax-
ation grows apace.”
Built-In Oil Painting*.
As a rule oil paintings are not
■trlklngly successful in the average
house. They do not harmonize with
either water colors, blacks and whites
or brown photographs and If hung In
the same room need a wall space to
themselves. Often, too, the color of
the wall Is not a good background
for an oil. A delightful disposition
for a low sort of a figure study Is
to leave it unframed and fit It In to
the central space of the wooden chim-
ney piece. The picture, thus made
a part of the structure of the room,
and surrounded by dark wood, has *
dignity and value which It would never
achieve In a gold frame and hanging
on a wall.
MffiNAnONAL
SDiarSdoi
Lesson
(By E. o. SELLERS. Acting Director of
Sunday School Course ot Moody Bible
Institute, Chicago.)
LESSON FOR JULY 4
Strength of Fly.
An Englishman has made many ex-
periments with various Insects, such
ns caterpillars, fleas, butterflies and
flies, which show how extraordinarily
strong these Insects are.
A bluebottle fly weighing 1-2R of an
ounce wsi hitched by a thread to a
tiny wagon and drew a total weight
of a little over six ounces, or practic-
ally 170 times Its own weight. A
caterpillar harnessed In a similar man- *1”?’“ ‘.w"
____entire drama, extending from tbe
AB8ALOM'S FAILURE
LESSON TEXT—II Samuel 18:1-15
GOLDEN TEXT—Children obey your
parents In the Lord; for this la right—
Ephealans 1:1
His connivance with Joab, in the
death of Uriah, was a costly bargain
for David, and the development of sin
In hla family with its long train of
fearful consequences teaches us that
aln respects not person nor position.
The dark story of chapter 13 Involve*
Absalom’s flight and Josh’s strategy In
getting him back to Jerusalem (ch.
14). All la not as well, however, as it
outwardly appears, for Absalom tha
beautiful (14:25) soon stole the heart
of the ten tribes, Israel (ch. 15), from
his indulgent and indifferent parent.
Then follows the story of that father’s
flight and of the son's entry into the
capital city.
This entire story is one of the most
wonderful dramas recorded in secular
or sacred history. It may be divided
roughly as follows: Act L Absalom
slays his brother. Act II. David fails
to become fully reconciled. Act III. Ab-
salom’s rebellion. Act IV. David’s
grief. The lesson for today has to do
with Acts III. and IV.
Act III. 8c*ne 1. David's Flight
and Finesse, chapters 15, 16 and 17.
"A foolish son is a grief to hla father,
and bitterness to her that bare him”
(Prov. 17:25). On the other hand an
Indulgent and an indifferent father
brings grief to his Bon.
Scene 2. The Battle of Mount
Ephraim (chapter 19). David at the
Gate, v. 1-5. The place where David
"numbered” (v. 1) his followers wa»
Mahanaim (17:27), where Jacob saw
the two "hosts" of angels (Gen 32:1,
2). What David saw was quite dif-
ferent. As he waited he had time to
contemplate that other time that he
remained behind when he ought tc
have gone forth to battle and which
resulted in the sin for which he was
even now suffering (ch 11:1-7). Ab-
salom was shrewd as men count
shrewdness, but he made one fatal
omission in planning his campaign,
he left God out of his reckoning (ch.
17:14 R. V.). David's use ot Hushal
was fully Justified by the situation
Into which this reckless son was pre-
cipitated, still it Is probable that David
listened to the advice of hts followers
(v. 3) more willingly because of hla
reluctance to fight against hts own
son.
8cens 3. Absalom’s Defeat, rr. 6-
10. The battle was so planned that
the advantage of the forest was on Da-
vid’s side and more of the enemies of
David were Bmitten by the hand of
God (v. 8) than were slain by the
servants of David. These men
brought Judgment upon themselves
through their disloyalty to God’s
chosen king (Judges 5:20, 21) and In
this we see a type of that final victory
which shall end our David’s engage-
ment with his foes (Rev. 79:11-21;
II Thess. 2:8). Men who today are
disloyal or disobedient to God's
chosen King can only expect “a cer-
tain fearful looking for of Judgment and
fiery indignation which shall devour
the adversaries" (Heb. 10:27). At the
end of the battle proud Absalom is not
found In his chariot, but helplessly en-
tangled In the crown of his pride.
Seen* 4. Absalom’s Death, vv. 11-15.
"Absalom chanced to meet” (v. 9 R.
V.); there Is no chance In the provi-
dences of God. His desire to meet
David's servants Is granted, yet that
meeting brought Absalom dismay, de-
feat and ruin.
Joab now takes matters Into his
own hands. He held David In hla
power and had a debt to pay Absalom
(ch. 14:29). Most dearly did Absalom
pay the penalty to this vengeful, time-
abiding soldier. Joab was not content
to slay this proud youth, but, to show
his contempt, he cast the dead body
into a pit and raised over it a “great
heap” of stones (▼. 17). 8o Absalom's
proud monument (v. 18) felled of Its
Intended purpose. David's victory
was complete; even so will be the ul-
timate victory of our "greater David"
(Phil. 2:10, 11).
Act IV. David’s Grief, v. 19-33.
Seen* 1. The Messengers. Again our
attention Is centered upon the grief-
stricken father. His anxiety is sin-
cere and heart-breaking, but it Is
tardy. The first messenger, Ahlmaaz,
Is a good man, but brings not good
news. Is our message one of life or
of death? The second messenger
gives s diplomatic but s blunt answer
to David's anxious Inquiry. What
oared David for his enemies, his army,
nay for himself, if only the “young
man" were safe.
Application. "Is the young man
safe?" Industrially, socially, physical-
ly. morally, spiritually, bis safety ds-
dends upon the guidance of the home,
the father and the church. Only as
parents hear and obey the Master's
words, “llrlng thy son hither" (Luks
9:41) Is the young man sere. David's
sin was not, however, sufficient cause
for Absalom's downfall; he courted
his own ruin (John 5:40).
The great outstanding lesson of this
ner pulled 25 times Its own weight,
A strong man with a like equip-
ment of large size ran at most move
but tan times bis own weight
eleventh to the nineteenth chapter*,
la: "Whatsoever s man soweth, that
•hall he also reap."
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Tullis, J. L. The Week's Review (Apache, Okla.), Vol. 14, No. 43, Ed. 1 Thursday, July 1, 1915, newspaper, July 1, 1915; Apache, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc952110/m1/2/?q=music: accessed July 17, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.