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..THE SUNDAY OREGONIAN. PORTLAND. NOVE3IBER, 4, 1906.
. WwWF mmk WdNt L'H WUW: '
1) r
T S
Thin U the first of a rrirs of hu
morous pallor yarns from the pen of
W. v. Jacobs, llluitratlng his point
of view of the tur, whether afloat
or anhore. Thene Htorlea will com
mend themselves to every one who
enjoys sudden and lmprohahle devel
opments. Mr. Jacobs ranks high
among the humorists of England and
on thia side of the water Is equally
popular.
These, stories will run for several
weeks in The Hundaj Oregonian.
Kaoh Is complete In ttnelf.
MR. SOL. KETCHMA1D, landlord of
the Ship, sat in his snug bar,' ris
ing occasionally from his seat by
the taps to minister to the wants o
tho customers who shared this pleas
ant retreut with him.
Korty years at sea before the mast
had made Mr. Ketchmaid an authority
on affairs maritime; live years in com
mand of the Ship inn. witn the nearest
other licensed house five miles off. had
made him an autocrat.
from his cushioned Windsor chair
he listened pompously to the conversa
tion. Sometimes he joined in and. took
Hides, and on these occasions It was
a foregone conclusion that the side he
espoused would win. No matter how
reasonable the opponent's argument or
how gross his personalities, Mr. Ketch
maid, In his capacity of host, had one
unfailing rejolner the man was drunk.
When Mr. Ketchmaid had pronounced
that opinion tho argument was at an
end. A nervousness about his license
conspicuous at other times by Its
absence would suddenly possess him,
and, opening tue-little wicket which
gave admission to the bar, he would
order the offender In scathing terms to
withdraw.
Twice recently had he found occa
sion to warn Ned Clark, the village
shoemaker, the strength of whose head
had been a boast in the village for
many years. On the third occasion the
indignant shoemaker was interrupted
In the middle of an impassioned har
angue on free 3peech and bundled into
the road by the ostler. After this no
body was sale.
Tonight Mr. Ketchmaid, meeting his
eye as he entered the bar, nodded curt
ly. The shoemaker had stayed away
three days as a protest, and the land
lord was naturally indignant at such
contumacy.
"Good evening, Mr. Ketchmaid," said
the shoemaker, screwing up his little
black eyes; "just give me a small bot
tle o lemonade, if you please."
Mr. Clark's cronies laughed, and Mr.
Ketchmaid, after glancing at him to
make sure that he was in earnest,
served him in silence.
"There's one thing about lemonade,"
said the shoemaker, as he sipped it
gingerly; "nobody could say you waa
drunk, not If you drank bucketsful of
It."
There was an awkward silence, bro
ken at last by Mr. Clark smacking his
lips.
"Any news since I've been away,
chaps?" he inquired; "or 'ave you Just
been sitting round as usual listening
to the extraordinary adventures what
happened to Mr. Ketchmaid whilst
a-fnllerins of the sea?"
"Truth Is stranger than fiction, Ned."
said Peter Smith, the tailor, reproving
ly. The shoemaker assented. "But I
. never thought so till I heard some o'
the things Mr. Ketchmaid 'as been
through," he remarked.
"Well, vou know now," said the land
lord, shortly.
"And the truthfulest of your yarns
are the moat wonderful of the lot, to
my mind." said Mr. Clark.
"What do you mean by the truth-
fullest?" demanded the landlord, grlp
ping the arms of his chair.
"Why, the strangest," grinned the
'.r shoemaker.
"Ah, lie's been through a lot, Mr.
' Ketchmaid has." said the tailor.
1 "The truthfullest one, to my mind,"
' said the shoemaker, regarding the
.'. landlord with spltefui interest, "is that
... on where Henry Wiggett, the boat
. swain's mate, 'ad his leg bit off sav
' Ing Mr. Ketchmaid from the shark, and
':-ls shipmate, Sam Jones, the nigger
.' cook, was wounded saving 'im from
ip',' the South Sea Highlanders."
"I never get urea o' hearing that
yarn,'' said the affable Mr. Smith.
'T do." said Mr. Clark.
Mr. Ketchmaid looked up from his
pipe and eyed him darkly; the shoe
. maker smiled serenely.
f "Another small bottle o' lemonade,
; "landlord." he said, slowly.
"Go and get your lemonade some
where else," said the bursting Mr.
!" Ketchmaid.
'' "I prefer to 'ave it here," rejoined the
shoemaker, "and you've got to serve
,- me, Ketchmaid. A licensed publican is
' compelled to serve people whether he
likes to do or not, else he loses of 'is
-" license."
"Not when they're the worse for lick
er, he ain't." said the landlord.
"Certainly not," said the shoemaker;
""that's why I'm sticking to lemonade,
Ketchmaid."
'" The indignant Mr. Ketchmaid, remov
- - ing the wire from the cork, discharged
'the missile at the ceiling. The shoe
"'" maker took the glass from him and
. looked round with offensive slyness.
' "Here"s the 'ealth of Henry Wiggett
what lost 'is leg to save Mr. Ketch
maid's life," he said, unctuously. "Also
.the 'ealth of Sam Jones, who let hisself
be speared through the chest for the
same noble purpose. Likewise the
.' health of Captain Peters, who nursed
;' Mr, Ketchmaid like 'is own son when
, he got knocked up doing the work of
. five men as was drowned; likewise the
' , health o' Dick Lee, who helped Mr.
.Ketchmaid capture a Chinese junk full
of pirates and killed the whole 17 of
...'em by 'Ow did you say you killed
".em, Ketchmaid?"
y The landlord, who was busy with the
. taps, affected not to hear.
"Killed the whole 17 of 'em by first
telling 'cm yarns till they fell asleep
and then choking 'em with Henry Wig-
get t's wooden leg," resumed the shoe
maker. ; "Kee-hee," said a hapless listen'cr,
- explosively. "Kee hee kee "
He checked himself suddenly and as
. .- fumed an air of great solemnity as the
: landlord looked his way.
"You'd better go 'ome. Jem Sum
mers," said the fuming Mr. Ketchmaid.
"You're the worse for licker."
"I'm not," said Mr. Summers, stoutly.
"Out you go," said Mr. Ketchmaid,
briefly. "You know my rules. I keep
. . a respectable house, and them as can't
"drink In moderation are best outside."
- "You should stick to lemonade, Jem,'1
said Mr. Clark. "You can say what you
like then."
Mr. Summers "looked round for sup
port, and then, seeing no pity in the
landlord's eye, departed, wondering in
wardly how he was to spend the re
mainder of the evening. The company
In the bar gzed at each other soberly
and exchanged whispers.
'Understand. Ned Clark." said the in
dignant Mr. Ketchmaid, "I don't want
your money in this public-house. Take
it somewhere else."
"Thank'ee. but I prefer to . come
here," said the shoemaker, ostentatious
ly sipping his lemonade. "I like to
listen to your tales of the sea. In a
quiet way I get a lot of amusement out
of 'em."
"Do you disbelieve my word?" de
manded Mr. Ketchmaid, hotly.
"Why. o' course I do." replied the
shoemaker; "we all do. You'd see how1
silly they are yourself If you only
stopped . to think. l'ou and your
sharks! no shark would want to eat
you unless.it was blind."
Mr. Ketchmaid allowed this gross re
flection on his personal appearance to
pass unnoticed, and for the first time
of many evenings sat listening in tor
ment as the shoemaker began the nar
ration of a- series of events which he
claimed had happened to a seafaring
nephew. Many of these bore a striking
resemblance to Mr. Ketchmaid's own
experiences, the only difference being
that the nephew had no eye at all ftr
the probabilities.
In this fell work Mr. Clark was ably
assisted by the offended Mr. Summers.
Side by side they sat and quaffed lem
onade, and burlesqued the landlord's
autobiography, the only consolation
afforded to Mr Ketchmaid consisting
in the reflection that they were losing
a harmless pleasure In good liquor.
Once, and once only, they succumbed
to the superior attractions of al
cohol, and Mr. Ketchmaid. re
turning from a visit tor his brewer
at the large seaport of Burneea, heard .
from the ostler the details of a carouse
with .which he had been utterly .unable
to cope.
The couple returned to lemonade the fol
lowing night, and remained faithful to
that beverage until an event transpired
which rendered further self-denial a mere
foolishness.
It was about a week later. Mr. Ketch
maid had Just resumed his seat after serv
ln a custamer when the attention of all
present was. attracted by an odd and regu
lar tapping on the brick-paved passage
outside. It stopped at the tap-room, and
a murmur of voices escaped at the open
door. Then the door wao closed, and a
loud, penetrating voice called on the
name of Sol Ketchmaid.
'.'Good heavens," said the amazed
landlord, half-rising from his seat and
falling back again, "I ought to know that
voice."
"Sol KVchmaid," bellowed the voice
again: "where are you, shipmate?"
"Hennery . Wlg-gett!" gasped the land
lord, as a email man with ragged whiskers
appeared at the wicket, "it can't be!"
The new-comer regarded him tenderly
for a moment without. a word, and then,
kicking open the door with an unmistak
able wooden leg. stumped into the bar. and
graeping his outstretched hand shook it
fervently. .
"I met Cap'n Peters in Melbourne." said
the stranger, as his friend pushed him
into hU . own chair, and questioned him
breathieysly. "He told me where you
was."
"The sight o' you. Hennery Wiggett. is
better to me than diamonds." said Mr.
Ketchmaid, ecstatically. "How did you
get here "
"A friend of his. Cap'n Jones, of the
bark Venus, gave me a passage to Lon
don," said Mr. Wiggett, "and I've tramp
ed down from there without a penny in
my pocket."
"And Sol Ketchmaid's glad fo see you.
sir," wild Mr. Smith, who, with the rest
of the company, had been looking on in
a state of great admiration. "He's never
tired of telling us 'ow you saved him
from the shark and 'ad your leg bit off
in so doing."
"I'd 'ave my other bit off for 'im, too."
said. Mr Wiggitt, as the landlord patted
him affectionately on the shoulder and
thrust a glass of spirits into his hands.
"Cheerful. I would. The kindest-'earted
and the bravest man that ever breathed,
is o!d Sol Ketchmaid."
He took the landlord's hand again, and,
squeezing it affectionately, looked round
the comfortable bar with much approval.
They began to converse in the low tones
of confidence, and names which had
figured in many pf the landlord's stories
fell continuously on ,the listeners' ears.
"You never 'eard anything more o' pore
Sam Jones, I s'pose?" said Mr. Ketch
maid. Mr. Wiggett put down his glass.
"I ran up agin a man in Rio Janeiro
two years ago." he said, mournfully.
"Pore old. Sam died in 'is arms with your
name upon 'is honest black lips."
"Enough to kill any man. muttered the
discomfited Mr. Clark, looking round de
fiantly upon his murmuring friends.
"Who is. this putty-faced swab, Sol?"
demanded Mr. Wiggett, turning a nerce
gl:ince in the shoemaker's direction.
"He's our cobbler," said the landlord,
' but. you don't want to take no notice
of 'im. Nobody else does. He's a man
who as good as told me I'm a liar."
"Wot!" said Mr. Wiggett, rising and
stumping across the bar; "take it back,
mate. I've only got one leg, but nobody
shall run down Sol while I can draw
breath. The finest sailor-man that ever
trod a deck is Sol, and the best-'earted.''
"Hear, bear," said Mr. . Smith; "own
up as you're in the wrong, Ned."
"When I was laying in my bunk in the
fo'c's'le being nursed back to life," con
tinued Mr. Iggett, enthusiastically,
"who was It that net by my side 'olding
my 'and and telling me to live for his
sake? why. Sol Ketchmaid. Who waa it
that said that he'd stick to me for life?
why Sol Ketchmaid. Who was It said
that so long as 'e 'ad a crust I should
have first bite at it, and so long as 'e 'ad
a bed I should 'ave first half of It?
why, Sol Ketchmaid!"
He paused to take breath, and a flat
tering murmur arose from his listeners,
while the subject of his discourse looked
at him as though his eloquence was in
something of the nature of a surprise
even to him.
"In my old age and on my beam-ends,"
continued Mr. Wiggett, "I remembered
them words of old Sol, and I knew if I
could only find 'im my troubles were over.
I knew that I could creep Into 'is little
harbor and lay snug. I know that what
Sol said he meant. I lost my leg saving
'is life, and he Is gtateful."
"So he ought to be." said Mr. Clark,
"and I'm proud to shake 'ands with a
hero."
He gripped Mr. Wlggett's hand, and
the others followed suit. The wooden
legged man wound up with Mr. Ketch
maid and, disdaining to notice that that
veracious mariner's grasp was somewhat
limp, sank into his chair again and
asked for a cigar.
"Lend me the box, Sol," he said
jovially as he took it from him. "I'm
going to 'and 'em round. This is my
treat, mates. Pore old Henry Wiggett's
treat."
He passed the box round. Mr. Ketch
maid watching in helpless Indignation as
the customers, discarding their pipes,
thanked Mr. Wiggett warmly and helped
PKODl'CING THE REMAIJ.3 OF A DIRTY HANDKERCHIEF HE
themselves to a threepenny cigar apiece.
Mr. Clark was so particular that he
spoilt at least two by undue pinching
before he could find one to his satisfac
tion. Closing time came all too soon, Mr.
Wiggett, whose popularity was never for
a moment in dout, developing gifts to
which his friend had never even alluded.
He sang comic songs in a voice which
made the glasses rattle on the shelves,
asked some really clever riddles and
wound up with a conjuring trick which
consisted in borrowing half a crown from
Mr. Ketchmaid and making it pass into
the pocket of Mr. Peter Smith. This last
was perhaps not quite . so satisfactory,
as the utmost efforts of the tailor failed
to discover the coin, and he went home
under a cloud of suspicion which nearly
drove him frantic.
"I 'ope you're satisfied," said Mr.
Wiggett, -as the landlord having shot the
bolts of" the front door, returned to ' the
bar. "You went o bit too far," said Mr.
Friendship's Greatest Monument
The International Sunday School Lesson for November 4 Is, "The Lord's Supper," Matt. xxvi:17-30.
BY WILLIAM T. ELLIS.
IN all New England I do not know a
single town or village that has not its
.soldier's monument. The same is true
of hundreds of other cities and smaller
communities throughout the South and
the North. Some of these are the most
beautiful objects in their place. These
are memorials of a great service and a
great sacrifice, designed to keep fresh in
the memory of oncoming generations the
patriotism and heroism of men long dead.
But they will fail of this purpose. All
over Japan one may see huge slabs of
stone Inscribed with the praises of great
men now forgotten. The very inscriptions
are now indecipherable to most persons
because of the change in language. So
it was with the mighty pyramids and
other monuments of Egypt; so far from
telling to all the world the story of their
builders' greatness, their very meaning
was unknown until recent years.
But there is one memorial, the most
widely known and observed in the uni
verse, which has persisted through 2000
years, and is better understood today,
and more generally recognized, than ever
before. This Is that monument of Jesus
which is called the Lord's Supper, or the
Holy Communion, or the Eucharist or the
Holy Sacrament. Many significances has
this ceremony, but it is primarily a
memorial to its Founder. Jesus wanted
to be remembered. His heart coveted the
faithful and fadeless affection of his
friends. "Having loved his own which
were in the world, he loved them unto
the end." And he wanted them so to love
him. The thought of passing away and
being forgotten Is repugnant to every one
of us; this is the last assertion of our
identity as individuals we want to be
remembered.
A World-Wide Celebration. .
No man knows another's heart; but in
his own words we have the evidence that
Jesus shrank from being forgotten. He
was the prince of friends. Love meant
more to him than to others. Therefore
he prized, with a passion which baser
spirits cannot' comprehend, the constancy
of this little band of disciples. Therein
is the point of "This do in remembrance
of me," and of that other touching sent
ence, "With desire have I desired to eat
this passover with you." Jesus yearned
for a friendship that would last.
The way this tryst has been kept in
spires the imagination. Through long cen
turies, many of them dark, constant
friends whose hearts have responded to
the soul-cry of the Man of Nazareth as
he was about to go forth to his death,
have met with him at the sacramental
table, showing forth their remembrance
of him. The mystic significance of this
simple feast to lives which never reveal
their deeper emotions may be inferred
from their actions. Consider the com
Ketchmaid shortly; "you should ha' been
content with doing what I told you to do.
And who asked you to 'and my cigars
round?" .
"I got a bit excited." pleaded the other.
"And you forgot to tell 'em you're go
ing to start tomorrow to live with that
niece -of yours in New Zealand," added
the landlord.
"So I did." said Wiggett. smiting his
forehead; "so I did. I'm very sorry; I'll
tell 'em tomorrow night."
"Mention it casual like tomorrow morn
ing," commanded Mr. Ketchmaid. "and
get off in the arternoon, then I'll give
you some dinner besides the 5 shillings
as arranged."
Mr. Wiggett thanked him warmly, and
taking a candle withdrew to the un
wonted luxury of clean sheets and a
soft bed. For some time? he lay awake
in deep thought and then, smothering a
laugh with the bedclothes, he gave a
sigh of content and fell asleep.
To the landlord's great annoyance his
munion services of which each of us has
knowledge, personal or indirect! Before
my mind as I write, is a picture of a
company of boyish soldiers, looking for
ward to the battlefield, rising at dawn
and kneeling on a rough pine board be
fore an improvised altar to receive from
their chaplain the tokens of their Master's
dying thought of them. Again I recall a
scene far away in the mountains of the
New West, distant from a railroad, in a
little chapel which could not afford com
munion vessels, where the Master himself
seemed to sit as a guest at the table
when the missionary broke the bread.
Still again there Is before me a picture
of a gathering of Christians in th remote
interior of Japan, and as the bread and
wine were being passed I saw the won
dering, curious faces of dark-skinned
"heathen" children and men and women
peeping In through doors and windows.
All around the earth loyal hearts are
keeping this memorial of an unforgotten
Lord. ...
The Three-Fold Meaning. t
This simple supper simpler it could not
be which Jesus Instituted on this epochal
occasion when his little band of disciples
gathered about him In a room where the
hate-filled eyes of the priests could not
find them, has a significance that reaches
In three directions. It was an adaptation
of the Jewish passover, looking back
ward to the merciful and protecting provi
dence of Jehovah. It is a reminder of the
past. Contained within it were messages
of God's gracious dealing. It said "Re
member Egypt." To the christian it adds
to this. "Remember Calvary." It' is
fraught with the personality of Jesus.
Thoughts of him make it significant. In
Paul's words, it declares, "Remember
Jesus Christ."' The first purpose of the
Lord's Supper la as a memorial. It looks
backward to Galilee, to Judea, to the
upper room, to Calvary, to Joseph's
garden.
Brooding over the past, to the neglect
of the present and the future. Is never
wise. Since the founder of Christianity
designed a symmetrical life for his
friends, this monument which he estab
lished points forward to a goal to be
attained. The feast Is to be kept until
renewed again in the visible presence ot
him who first broke the bread and poured
the cup. The sacrament is one of antici
pation. Within its form is contained the
reminder of the blissful fellowship of all
the faithful, and association with their
Lord, himself. In, that day there will be
no lurking foes to be escaped, no shadow
of treason or faithlessness to cloud the
occasion, no impending sorrow to sadden
hearts. We fail to partake aright of the
Lord's Supper if it does not fill our hearts
with hope of eating and drinking it anew
in the kingdom.
Backward, forward and then Inward this
celebration points. Various beliefs cluster
about this sacrament, and myriads count
it a cleansing from sin, but all agree that
WIPED HIS EYES.
guest went for a walk next morning and
did not return until the evening, when
he explained that he had walked too
far for his crippled condition and was
unable to get back. Much sympathy was
manifested for him in the bar, but in
all the conversation that ensued Mr.
Ketchmaid listened in vain for any hint
of his departure. Signals were of no
use. Mr. Wiggett merely nodding amiably
and raising his glass In response: and
when by considerable strategy he brought
the conversation from pig-killing to nieces
Mr. Wiggett deftly transferred it to
uncles and discoursed on pawnbroking.
The helpless Mr. Ketchmaid suffered in
silence with his eye on the clock and
almost danced with impatience at the
tardiness of his departing guests. He
accompanied the last man to the door,
and then, crimson with rage, returned
to the bar to talk to Mr. Wiggett.
"Wot d'y'r mean by it?" he thundered.
"Mean by what, Sol?" inquired Mr.
Wiggett. look'ng up In surprise.
it incites the noblest spiritual impulses,
and awakens dormant aspirations after
the best in life. "Let a man examine him
self," is the Injunction of holy writ con
cerning the Lord's Supper; and the feast
should always lead to profitable intro
spection.. Whatever inspires purity of
heart in the individual naturally Is the
surest contribution to the welfare of trie
whole. So this memorial has served man
kind. A Traitor at the Feast.
An air of mystery envelops the plans
made by Jesus for the keeping of. this
feast. He wanted to be free, during these
last hours with his dearest friends, from
the interruptions of his enemies, who
hourly grew more bloodthirsty. The need
ed privacy he had secured by prearrange
ment with some disciple, possibly Mark.
This friend was to meet the two disciples
who were to make arrangements for the
feast, and they would know him by the
pitcher of water upon his shoulder. With
out questions they were to follow him and
ask a certain question, possibly a sort of
code. All this was doubtless to prevent
Judas from knowing In advance the ex
act spot, lest he should give warning to
the priests. The tragic undertone of the
great story Is the black fact of the pres
ence of Judas, the traitor. Among the
12 closest friends, one was false and
Jesus knew it. The' hatred of the Phari
sees, and their murderous plotting with
the priests, did not stab him to the heart
like the knowledge that one of his own,
who shared with him the common dish,
was willing to sell him for a price.
The squabbling of the disciples over the
chief seits at table was bad enough
how it must have jarred upon the sensi
tive spirit of the Great Teacher who alone
knew how sacred and momentous was
that hour! but this was due only to their
crudeness anJ ignorance, which would
later be outgrown; it was not downright
evil. It was made the occasion of the
great lesson in humility when the Master
of us all, fully conscious of his divinity,
took upon himself the office of a slave,
and with his, own hands washed the feet
of the bickering, jealous, prideful dis
ciples. "I have given you an example,"
he said, most pointedly.
Knowing that his Master knew of his
perfidy, though he had with lying lips
Just protested his innocence, Judas went
forth to his evil deed. We wonder some
times . how It is possible for Christian
America to produce such wickedness,, for
churches to be torn by mischief-makers,
for bad men to sit year after year in
church offices, for men to attend divine
services and then go forth to sin. How
is it possible for them to resist such holy
Influences? Yet here was Judas,, who for
more; than two years had followed in the
personal train of the Lord himself, now
going out to make traffic of his Master's
murder!
Every sensitive person knows what it is
to be chilled by a hostile presence. We
"Don't you call me Sol, 'cos I won't
have it." vociferated the landlord, stand
ing over him with his fist clenched.
"First thing tomorrow morning oft you
go."
"Off?" repeated the other in amaze
ment. "Off? Where to?"
"Anywhere." said the overwrought
landlord; "so long as you get out of here,
I don't care where you go
Mr. Wiggett. who was smoking a ci
gar, the third that evening, laid it care
fully on the table by his side and re
garded him with tender reproach.
"You ain't yourself, Sol." he said with
conviction: "don't say another word else
you might say things you'll be sorry
for." -
His forebodings were more, than justi
fied. Mr. Ketchmaid indulging in a few
remarks about his birth, parentage and
character which would have shocked an
East End policeman.
"First thing tomorrow morning you
go." he concluded flewely. "I've a good
mind to turn you out now. You know
the arrangement I made with you."
"Arrangement!" said the mystified Mr.
Wiggett: "what arrangements? Why. I
ain't seen you for ten years and more. If
it adn't been for meeting Cap'n Peters"
He was Interrupted by frenzied and in
coherent exclamations from Mr. Ketcn
maid. "
"Sol Ketchmaid." he said, with dignity,
"I 'ope you're drunk. I 'ope it's drink and
not Sol Ketchmaid, wot I saved from the
shark by 'aving my leg bit off, talking.
I saved your life. Sol. an' I 'ave come into
your Tittle narbor and let go my little
anchor to stay there till I go aloft to
join poor Sam Jones wot died with your
name on Ms lips." ." ,
He sprang suddenly erect as Mx. Ketch
maid. with a loud cry. snatched up a
bottle and made as though to brain him
with it.
"You rasaal." said the landlord, in a
stifled voice. "You infernal rascal. I never
set eyes on you till I saw you the other
day on the quay at Burnsea, and. Just
for an Innercent little joke like with Ned
Clark, asked you to come in and pre
tend." "Pretepd!" repeated Mr. Wiggett. in a
horror-stricken voice. "Pretend! Have you
forgotten me pushing you out of the way
and saying, "Save yourself. Sol.' as the
shark's Jaws clashed together over my
leg? Have you forgotten 'ow "
"Look - 'ere." said Mr. Ketchmaid,
thrusting an Infuriated face close to his,
"there never was a.Henery Wiggett; there
never was a stiarlj; there never was a
bam Jones.
"Never was a Sam Jones!" salu the
dazed Mr. Wiggett. sinking into his chair.
"Ain't you got a spark o' proper feeling
left. Sol?" . -
He fumbled In his pocket, and produc
ing the remains of a dirty handkerchief
wiped his eyes to the memory of the
faithful black.
"Look here." said Mr. Ketchmaid. put
ting down the bottle and regarding him
intently, "you've got me fair. Now, will
you go for a pound?"
"Got you?" said Mr. Wiggett. severely
"I'm ashamed of you. Sol. Go to bed and
sleep oft the drink, and In the morning
you can take Henry Wiggett's 'and, but
not before."
He took a box of matches from the bar
and. relighting the stump of his cigar,
contemplated Mr. Ketchmaid for some
time in ellence. and then, with a serious
shake of. his head, stumped oft to bed.
Mr. Ketchmaid remained below, and for
at least an hour sat thinking or ways
and means out-of the dilemma Into which
his Ingenuity had led him.
He went to bed with the puzzle still un
solved, and the morning yielded no so
lution. Mr. Wiggett appeared to have
forgotten the previous bight's proceedings
altogether, and steadfastly declined to
take umbrage at a manner which would
have chilled a rhinoceros. He told sev
eral fresh anecdotes of himself and Sam
Jones that evening; anecdotes which, at
the immediate risk of choking, Mr. Ketch
maid was obliged to indorse.
A week passed, and Mr. Wiggett still
graced with his presence the bar of the
Ship. The landlord lost flesh, and began
seriously to consider the advisability ot
making a clean breast of the whole affair.
Mr. Wiggett watching him anxiously, and
with a skill born of a life-long study of
humanity; realized that his visit was
speak colloquially of certain characters
"getting on our nerves." There is some
deep psychological reason for this. Many
fine natures, like flowers, can blossom
only in the sunshine of love and appreci
ation. Few can be at their best in the
presence of opposition. Even Jesus seem
ed under constraint so long as Judai
sat at the table. But when the latter
had gone fonth, his heart overflowed in
mellow, tender words. Then It was, at
the close of the regular Passover meal,
that he instituted the new memorial Sup
per for his friends.
There Is self-contained anguish in this
story. Jesus was going to leave his dear
ones, and by a bloody way. He knew It
full well. Thoughts of his own death
and their bereavement filled him. So
he opened his heart to them In full
ness. '1 nere must have been a sob in
his voice as he gave them the bread
that was to signify his broken body, and
poured forth the cup that should forever
represent his blood. On this mystical
sustenance their spirits were to be sus
tained, until, faithful to his memory and
eager for reunion with him. they should
eat and drink anew with him in the
kingdom where goodness has no enemies
and covetousness and hate cannot enter.
Communion With Christ
Terae Comment I'pnn the I'nlform
Prayer Meeting Topic of the
1 oung: I'eople'M Socletlm.
COMMUNION is impossible without
knowledge. We cannot commune
with a Christ whom we do not
know, and, in a degree at least, under
stand. And we cannot know Christ,
his life, his character, his aims,
without a constant and careful study
of the book that is meant to reveal him
to his followers. Communion, therefore,
the most desirable blessing in the uni
verse, is subsequent to Bible study. The
first and greatest mean ot, getting close
to our Master is the, word that he has
left us.
We must sit at the feet of the Master
before we can walk by his side.
The disciples who get closest to Christ
and who live -most constantly in the
sunshine of his near presence are those
who have passed through the valley of
self-surrender and who have there
learned the secret of a submissive- spirit.
Jesus delights to walk with those whose
hearts declare, "Not my will, but thine,
be done."
Take your measure of the worth of
things from the Redeemer. And when
the journey is over and the hill Is
climbed, and you look back out of tho
cloudless dawn. I think you will find that
In the fellowship of Christ you have been
saved from many a mistaken magnitude.
Morrison.
'
Many persons thronged near to the
person of Christ during the days of his
popularity, but only a few were by his
drawing to an end. At last, one day, Mr.
Ketchmaid put the matter bluntly.
"I shall tell the chaps tonight that tt
was a little Joke on my part." he an
nounced, with grim decision: "then I shall
take you by the collar and kick you Into
the road."
Mr. Wiggett sighed and shook his head.
"It'll be a terrible show-up for you," he.
said, softly. "You'd better make it worth
my while, and I'll tell 'em this evening
that I'm going to New Zealand to live
with a niece of mine there, and that
you've paid my passage for me. I don't
like telling any more lies, but, seeing it a
for you, I'll do it for a couple of pounds."
"Five shillings," snarled Mr. Ketch
maid. Mr. Wiggett smiled comfortably and
shook his head. Mr. Ketchmaid raised his
offer to ten shillings, to a pound, and
finally, after a few remarks which
prompted Mr. Wiggett to state that hard
words broke no bones, flung into the bar
and fetched tho money.
The news of Mr. Wiggett's departure
went round the village at once, the land
lord himself breaking the news to the
next customer, and an overflow meeting
assembled that evening to bid the emi
grant farewell.
The landlord noted with pleasure that
business was brisk. Several gentlemen
stood drink to Mr. Wiggett. and in return
he put his hand in his own pocket and
ordered glasses round. Mr. Ketchmaid. in
a state of uneasiness, took the order, and
then Mr. Wiggett. with the air of one
conferring Inestimable benefits, produced
a lucky halfpenny, which had once be
longed to Sam Jones, and insisted upon
his keeping it.
"This is my last night, mates." he said,
mournfully, as he acknowledged the
drinking of his health. "In many ports
I've been, and many snug pubs I 'ave
visited, but I never in all my days come
across a nicer, kinder-'earted lot o' men
than wot you are."
"Hear, hear." said Mr. Clark.
Mr. Wiggett paused, and. taking a sip
from his glass to hide his emotion, re
sumed. "In my lonely pilgrimasre through life,
crippled and 'aving to beg my bread.''
he said, tearfully. "I shall think o' this
appy bar and these friendly faces. When
I am wrestlin' with the pangs of 'unger
and being moved on by the 'eartless po
lice. I shall think of you as I last saw
you."
"But." said Mr. Smith, voicing the gen
eral consternation, "you're going to your
niece in New Zealand?"
Mr. Wiggett shook, his head and smiled
a sad, sweet smile.
"I 'ave no niece," he said, simply; "I'm
alone in the world."
At these touching words his audience
put their glasses down and stared In
amaze at Mr. Ketchmaid. while that gen
tleman Jn his turn gazed at Mr. Wiggett
as though he had suddenly developed
horns and a tail.
"Ketchmaid told me hisself as hed paid
your passage to New Zealand," said the
shoemaker: "he said as 'e'd pressed you
to stay, tout that you said as blood was
thicker even than friendship."
-All lies, said Mr. Wiggett. sadly. "I'll
stay with pleasure if he'll give the word.
I'll stay even now if he wishes it."
- He paused a moment as though to give
his bewildered victim time to accept this
offer, and then addressed the scandalized
Mr. Clark again.
"He don'tlike my being 'ere." he said.
In a low voice.' "He grudges the little bit
I eat. I s'pose. He told me I'd got to go,
and that for the look o' things -'e was
going to pretend I was going to New Zea
land. I was too broke-'earted at the time
to care wot he said I 'ave no wish to
sponge on no man but. seeing your 'onest
faces round me, I couldn't go with a lie
on my Hps Sol Ketchmaid, old ship
mate, good-bye."
He turned to the speechless landlord,
made as though to shake hands witli him.
thought better of it. and then, with a
wave of his hand full of chastened dig
nity, withdrew. His stump rang with pa
thetic insistence upon the brick-paved
passage, paused at the door, and then,
tapping on the hard road, died slowly
away in the distance. Inside the Ship
the shoemaker gave an ominous order for
lemonade.
side at the time of his rejection. The
first never were truly close to the real
Christ: that was a boon reserved only
for those who were willing to go with
him through all the way that his foot
steps walked. We cannot enjoy com
munion with Christ unless we are will
ing to crosu the brook and enter with
him the gloomy garden on the hillside.
If we will not have his companionship
through all experiences we cannot have
it at all.
Every time we do a deed of love In
the name of Jesus we take a step toward
him.
.
If we are living In the attitude of
communion all our thoughts and all our
wishes become true prayers. In recog
nizing the Father as the dispenser of all
the mercies that enter our lives, and in
depending upon him to supply ail our
needs, we really "pray without ceasing."
Nothing tlm is great enough to affert
the life of a disciple is too small to touch
the heart of God.
Communion is the soul's desire directed"
Godward.
Christ's life was full of praying nights'
on the mountain" tops. The busier he
was among men. the more he felt the
need of these times apart from the world
in communion with the Father. Tn our
hurrying, restless lives we should make
more of the nights of prayer. If we
insist upon having quiet times alone with
God, when we can look into his face and
pour out to him our full souls, we shall
find that the very power and peace "f
God will steal into our lives to enrich
and strenthen them.
Seven Sentence Sermons
We ought nut to be weary of doing little
things for the love of God, who regards
not the greatness of the work, but the
love with which it is performed. Brother
Lawrence.
'Tis the heart and not the brain,
That to the highest doth attain.
Longfellow.
Men show their character In nothing
more clearly than in what they consider
laughable. Goethe.
Oh. many a shaft at random sent.
Finds mark the archer little meant:
And many a word at random spoken
May soothe or wound a heart that's
broken. 3cott.
Every noble activity makes room for
itself. Emerson.
Only what thou art in thyself deter
mines thy value; not what thou hast.
Aucrbach.
On the walls of an old temple was
found this picture: A king forging from
his crown a chain, and nearby a stave
making his chain a crown, and under
neath was written "Life is what one
makes it. no matter of what it is
made." Anon.
i