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WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 2 Mimico, New Toronto and Lake Shore District Port Credit, Clarkson and Toronto Township You need business to keep going. By care- fully selecting your district and then going after that district by every available means you can place your goods before the people through the columns of l Do these papers reach the men and women before whom you want to place your goods? Then get in touch with us and we will Show you how this is the mediumto increase your sales and give you publicity. mun . BUSINESS hr representative will call and give you the details if you give us a ring or drop us a card. (hiIltilg,jlt, Tflli TlllErirallE Weston and Etobicoke Township THE Ciy)ifERllhT(R TIIE hlmRTlgiR “METRE? Bramptan {Mice = Phcne li) C. ll. CHARTERS Westen (Mice - P11011626 S. WILSON Brampten and Peel Emmy - _ _ ‘ _ rr m I tMM' iMNiN I " we - _ . .u ' w" m. . n -. u . Arm _ . u r , _ . " 'lMtiliil illFMq - ME " 'n KI e " - E " " ii 1itld qt I l' " _ . 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" - - has s' w; " " "" " - . s e » THE EXPRESS Mount Dennis District TIE NEWS 2, 1921 THE- The next night and the next I sat at the same little tin table taking my coffee and eagerly scanning the crowd passing l and repassing along the broad graveled walk until once again I saw her. Then, held in fascination by her marvelous beauty, attracted as a needle by a magnet, I rose and fol- lowed her. Like myself she was alone, and the laws of etiquette being lax at that paradise of the pleasure-seek- er, I soon succeeded in introducing myself. Judge my joyful satisfaction when I found that she was English, for her dress and hat bore the unmis- takable stamp of the Rue de la Paix, and her chic was that ofthe true Par- isienne. As we walked together in the shadows beyond the public prom- enade, she told me that her home was in London, that, on account of her father having been compelled to re- turn suddenly, 'she had been left alone and she admitted that, like myself, she had become dull and lonely. The place, filled with the haut‘ton of Paris. was gay enough, but some- how T met no one at the table d'hote or elsewhere whom I cared to accept as a companion. Sick of the utter loneliness amid all the mad gayety, I was contemNatirurmoving to Biarritz, where a maiden aunt resided, when one evening while seated in 'the pie- turesque Casino Garden,' listening to the fine' band, I saw, in the crowd or chattering, laughing promenaders, a woman's face that entranced me. tyn- ly for a second, in the taint light shed by the Chinese lanterns strung from tree to tree, was I able to distinguish her features. In that brief moment, however) our eyes met, yet new; see- ond she was gone, lostin one of the gayest crowds in Europe. _ Ah! there are things that cannot be uttered; there are scenes that still en- trance me, and incidents so unexpect- ed and terrible that they cause me to hold my breath in horror even now. The prologue of this extradrdinary drama of London life was enacted 'three years ago; its astonishing de- nouement occurred quite recently. During those three weary anxious years the days have glided on as they glide even with those who suffer most; but alas! I have the sense of having trodden a veritable Via Dolor- osa during a century, the tradegy of my life, with its ever-present sorrow, pressing heavily upon me perpetually. Yet my life's journey has not always been along the barren shore of the gray sea of Despair. During brief moments, when with the sweet child- like angel of my solitude, heaven and earth have seemed to glide slowly in- to space, I have found peice in the supreme joy of happiness. My gaze has been lost in the azure immensity of a woman's eyes: Apparently' she had no objection to my companionship, although she strove to preserve a British rigidity of manner and respect for the con- venances. Yet after the reserve of the first halt hour had worn off, we sat down together under a tree near the hand stand and I gave her a card. She, however, refused to give me one. In this strange story, this astound- ing record of chastity of affection and bitter hatred, of vile scheming, of secret sins and facts almost incred- ible, I, Stuart Ridgeway, younger son of Sir Francis Ridgeway, Member for Burmouth and banker of the City of London, am compelled to speak of myself. It is indeed a relief to be able to reason out one's' misfortunes; confession is the 1ancet-stroke that empties the abscess. The devil has thrown his dice and the Tame is up. I can now lay bare the secret, of my sorrow. Hav'ing taken up my quarters alone at (the Hotel des Bains, that zglaring building with its ede‘ad white facade in the AIIee d'Ictigny---the'magnifi- cent view from which renders it one ot the finest thoroughfares in the world--T soon became seized with en- nm. I “My surname is of no consequence," she answered Quickly, with a slight hauteur. "We are merely compat- riots thrown together in this place. To-morrow, or the next day perhaps, we shall part never to meet again." "I trust not," I said gallantly. "An acquaintanceship commenced under these strange cqnditions is rather ro- mantic, to say the least." Away south in the heart of the snow-capped Pyrenees, While idling away a few sunny weeks at Bagneres- de-tuin; that quaint little spa so popular with the I?leopatras of the BouleYards, nestling in its secluded valley beneath the three great peaks of fiacrous, de Sauvegarde and de la Mine, a woman first brought sweet- ness to thetadness of my melancholy days. -Mine was an aimless, idle life. I hhd left behind me at college a rep- utation for recklessness; T was an ar- raht dunce at figut‘es, and finance had no attraction' for Ame. I had lived in London and grown tired of it. I had tried' art and ignominiously failed, and being in receipt of a generous allowance from an indulgent father, Ltound myself, at the age of twenty- eight, without profession, a mere worldgveary cosmopolitan, wander- ing from place to place with the sole object of killing time. ing, "Romantic," she repeated mechan- ically in a strange tone. "Yes, that is so. Every one of us, from pauper to peer, all have our little romances. But romance, after all, is syndnymous of unhappiness," and she drew a long breath, as if sad thoughts oppressed her. CHAPTER T. ) A QUEEN OF THE UNKNOWN _ Let me gaze down the vista of the tristful past. "Sybil," I repeated. 'A name as charming as its owner. Is your name Sybil-only Sybil?" A moment later, however, she was as gay and bright as before, and we chatted on pleasantly, until suddenly she consulted the tiny watch in her bangle. and announced that it was time she returned. At her side I walked to her hotel, the Bonnemaison and left her at the entrance. As in the bright sunshine she loung- ed back in the carriage, her fair flaw- less complexion a trifle heightened by the pink of her Parasol, I gazed upon her entranced. The half-lights of the Casino Garden had not been deceptive. She was tweaty-two at the We met frequently after that. and one morning she accompanied me on a drive through the quaint old tron- tier village of St. Avenun and through the wild 00 Valley as tar as the Cas- cade. I ' Jail me SS'bil,” She Ais"eated, $11111- TIMES & GUIDE, WESTON nllll WEE (l, NUT A ?llllffflSl "True, Sybill And I mean it. From the first moment our eyes met I have adored you," I exclaimed with pas- _.eet,e,rit,tref.,et',ef,es. "The brightness of youl face has brought light into my life. You have showed me at all times the face of an adorable woman; you have peopled my desert, you have filled me with such supreme joy that I have been lost in brofound love." ‘ "No, I am not cruel," she answered calmly, halting suddenly and looking at me with her great clear eyes. "Dur- ing the past fortnight we have--w,ell, we have amused each other and the time has passed pleasantly. I know, alas! the words I have arrested on your lips. You mistake 'this mild summer flirtation of ours fen real love. You wore about to declare that you love me-were you not?" "Because when your, father returns and takes you away the light of my life will be extinguished. Do not be cruel, Sybil, you must have seen-" Have a heat! Your grocer is not a profiteer! He is passing along to you reduced prices, as fast or faster than they come to him. Just because prices on many good things are still high, don't blame him. It is usually the poorest quality of eveerthing that shows the greatest decline. ' If he is as good a man as the aver'- age, your grocer is still doing his ut- most to give you the best value for your money. But don't push him too hard. He is only human. "Hush! Hush!" she cried, inter- rupting me. "Listen, let me tell you my position." " care naught for yang position; I want only you, Sybil," I (ontinued earnestly, raising her hand to my lips and smothering it with kisses. "1 have adored vow in all the different forms of love. You, who have sut- ficed for my being, you whose won- drous beauty filled me with all the chastity of affection, alt the passion "Why do you speak these words to me?" she asked suddenly, in falter- ing tones. "Why do you render my life more bitter than it is?" most, and absolutely lovely; the most bewitching woman I had ever seen, From beneath a marvel of the millin- er's art tendrils of fair hail", Soft as floss silk, strayed upon her white brow; her eyes were of that clear child-like blue that pre-supposes an absolute purity of soul, and in her lovely pointed chin was a single dim- ple that deepened when she smiled. Hers was an adorable face, sweet and childlike, full of exhuisite beauty, and as she gazed upon me with her great eyes, she seemed to read the secret wishes in my heart. Her lithe, slim figure was admirably set off by her gown ot some soft ma- terial of palest green, which had all the shimmer of silk yet molded and defined its wearer like a Sultan’s scarf. It had tiny shaded stripes which imparted a delicious effect of myriad folds; the hem of her skirt, trom under which a dainty bronze shoe appeared, had a, garniture in the chromatics as it were', of mingled rose and blue and green, and,‘the slender waist, made Long as waists may be, was girdled narrow bat distinctive. “Call/me Sybil," she always replied when I alluded to the, subject. Thy are' you Sb (lettrmined to pre- serve the secret of your identity?" I asked, When\one evening, after din- ner, we Were strolling beneath thé trees in the Allee. h A faint shadow of displeasure fell upon her brow, and turning quickly to me she answered: "Weause--well, Because it is im- peyative." Theishe added, with a strange touch of sadness, "When we part here we Shall not meet agahr." You don't know, but we do, that he is recommen’ding goods that pay him less profit than other well known brands which he might easily persu- ade his customers to take if he cared to do so. As I sat beside her, her violet-per- vaded chiffons touching me, the per- fume they exhaled intoxicated me with its fragrance. She was an en- chqntress, a well-beloved, whose beautiful face I longed to smother with kisses each time I pressed her tiny well-gloved hapd. ' Her frank conversation was mark- ed with an ingenuousness that was charming, yet it was apparent that she moved in an exclusive set at home, and from her allusions to not- able people? whom I knew in London, I was assured that her acquaintance with them wasnot feigned. Days passed; happy, idle, never-to-be-tor- gotten days. Nevertheless, try how I would I could not induce her to tell me her name, nor could I discover it at'her hotel, tor the one she had given there was evidently assumed. 1. We know this because he pays us more for Red Rose Tea and sells it at less progit' than other teas, so when he recommends you to buy Red Rose Tea, you will know it is because he believes it the best and is willing to take a little less profit for the sake ot giving you the best value he can. Ive are publishing this Because we believe the more our people know of the true facts concerning the profits made by those they deal with, the more generous they will be in their Judgments-T. H. Estabrooks Com- pany, Ltd., Toronto, Ont. "Farewell?" When do you intend to leave me?" I cried dismayed, as we turned and walked on together. "Soon," she said, sighing, her hand trembling in mine, "it will be imper- ative very so'on.” "But may I not help 3101:? Cannot T shield you from this mysterious '_P%rPAF'-Neb “A,“ 'r6-,WA 'VC-VN MWWWH, _ “u Istrtake IT, effort at concealmgnt; nevertheless our dream must end here. I have strive-n to stifle my pas- sion, knOwing full well the dire result abhich mustabcrue. But it is useless. Our tlisfortuhe is that we love one another; so we must part." " cannot," I answered. "Tell me of your peril." "My peril-ah!" she exclaimed sad- ly. "Ever present it haunts me like a hideous nightmare, and only your companionship has lately caused me to forget for a few brief hours, al- though I have all the time been con- scious of an approaching doom. It may be postponed for months, or so swiftly may it descend upon me that when to-morrow/s sun shines into my room its rays willfall upon my life- less form, my soul and body will have parted." "Are you threatened by disease?" y“No My peril is strange and in- credible," she answered slowly. "If I might tell you all my curious story I would, Stuart. At present, alas! I cannot Come, let us go back to the hotel and there bid me farewell." "No, no," she cried hoarsely. "Let us end this interview; it is painful to both of us. I have brought this un- happiness upon you by my own ttck- less folly. I ought never to have broken the convenances and accepted as companion a man to Whom I had not been formally introduced." "Shall I see you th-morrow? asked. "Alas! I know not. If your aid will assist me in the future f will com- municate with you. I have your Lon- don address upon your card." of desire. Between you and the hor- izon the‘re seems a secret harmony that makes me love the stones on the very footpaths. The river yonder has your (Voice; the stars above us Your look; everything around us smiles with your smile. I never knew until now what it was to live, but now I live because I love you. Each night, darl- ing, when we part I long tor morn- ing; I want to see you again to kiss your hair; to tell you I love you al- ways-always." Her bosom rose and fell quickly as I spoke, and when I had finished, her little hand closed convulsiveiy up- on mine: "Ah noy' she answered quickly. "You cannot Jonc1erstand. I dare not love you. A‘deadly peril threatens mé. Ere ”six months have passed the Damoclean sword suspended over mel may fall with fatal effect, but- but if it dbes, if I die, my last thought shall be, of you, Stuart, for I feel in- stinctively that you are mine alone." "Our dream is over. After to-night we may be friends, but never lovers. To love me would bring upon you a disaster, terrible and complete; there- fore strive, for my sake, Stuart, to forget." _ peril?" She burst into a flood ot tears. and turning from me walked quickly to the stems leading to the hotel. while l, mystified and full of sad thoughts, strode onward along the silent moon- lit Allee toward the Hotel des Balms. There was a long and painful pause. But in those silent moments during our walk I became conscious of the grand passion that consumed me. "Yes. But for the present forget me. sane day, however, I may be compelled to'put your affection to the test." I "I am prepared for any ordeal in order to prove that my declaration of passion is no idle midsummer fancy," I declared. "Command me and I will obey." "Then good-night," she said, stretching forth her hand, for by this time we were in front of the Bonne- maison. I held her hand in silence for some moments, my thoughts too full for words. _ "Yes, if---if my doom does not ov- erwhelm me," she answered with a choking sob. “If it does, then adieu, my love, adieu forever." "No, not adieu, Sybil," I said.draw- ing her beneath the shadow of a tree and once again imprinting a passionate kiss upon her lips. "Not adieu. L et us at least meet to-mor- row, even if .it must be for the last time." . Little sléep came that night to my eyes, but when my coffee was brought in the morning, a perfumed note lay upon the tray. I tore it open 991qu and read the following words hastily scribbled in pencil and blurred by tears: 7 ' "Yes. I think that perhaps, after all, you care for me more than I imagined," endeavéjl'ing to preserve a. calmness that was impossible. "But leave me and forget me, Stuart. I am worthless because I have fascinated you when I ought to have shunned you, knowing that our love can only bring us poignant bitterness." ,Then panting, she slowly disengag- ed herself from my 'embrace, saying: "And you will think of me some- times with thoughts of love, Sybil,” I said disconsolately. T "Ah! don't be cruel, Sybil," I cried earnestly, "carinot you see how madly I lbve you?" "1 do not deny' it," shi. answered in a low earnest voice, raising her beau- tiful face to mine. “It ie/true, Stuart, that you ‘are the only man I have looked uppn ‘wth real affection," ,gnd I clasped her in my arms, and be- neath the great tree where we were standing, our lips met for the first time in,a hot passibnate caress.' "I am in deadly peril and have been compelled to leave unexpected- ly. Do not attempt to find me, but forget everything-Sybil." "Why? Tell me," I half 1’65:ng the truth, you In ady married." "No." "Then what barrier can there be to our happiness?" "One that is insurmountable,” she answered hoarsely, hot tears Welling in ‘her eyes. "The truth I cannot ex- plain, as, for certain reasons, I an; compelled to keep my secret.” "And you refuse to tell me the reason 'why you intend to break oft our aequaintandeship," I. observed re- proaehfully. "But surelyyy‘ou can tell me the reason why we may not love? Won cannot deny that you love me just a little," I said. 5 ', » gasped; then, I asked, "are I, dashed aside the curtains, and like a man in a dream, stood gazing away at the white mountains, briV liant in, the morning light. I bad lost her; the iron ot despair had en- tered ms', heart. A light footstep sounded on the gravel, and peering into tag darkness I could just distinguish the form of a man. rAs he advanced I saw he was tallfwell built, and muscular, about forty years of age, with a slight black mustache and closely cropped hair that was turning prematurely gray. _ He wore the conventional silk hat, an overcoat rheavily trimmed with astrachan, and as he strode to, ward me he took a long draw at his cigar. CHAPTER II. SIN OR SECRET? Six months passed. Left foylorn with only the vivid memory of a char, ming face, 1 had traveled to rid my- self of the remembrance, but in vain. Sometimes I felt inclined to pe- gard my mysterious divinity as a mere adventuress; at others I become lost in contemplation and puzzled over her words almost to the i)oint of madness. I knew that I loved her; that, fascinated by her great beauty and enmeshed in the soft web of her silken tresses, she held me irrevote- ably for life or death. "Good-evening," he said courteous- ly, halting before me as I rose, "I believe I have the pleasure of ad- dressing Mr. Stuart Ridgeway, have I not?" I “I am the bearer of a message," he said in slow, deliberate tones. "The lady who telegraphed to you this morning desires ‘to express her ex- treme regret at her inability to meet you. Since the telegram was sent, events have occurred which preclude her attendance anywhere," and he paused. Then he added, with sad- ness: "Anywhere-except before her Judge.” It had seemed years full of sad and tender memories since We had parted, yet in ecstacy I' told myself that in a few’moments she would be again at my side, and from her eyes I might, as before, drink of the cup of love to the verge of intoxication. "That is my name," I answered, rather brusgugly. and not without surprise, for I had expected Sybil to keep her appointment. ' "No," he answered solemnly, "she still lives, and although overshadow- ed by a secret terror, her only thought is of you, even in these very moments when she is being carried swiftly by the overwhelming flood of circumstances toward her terrible doom. “I cannot, for two reasons," he re- plied. "The first is because I am not aware of the whole of the circum- stances; the second, because I have given her my promise to reveal noth- ing. Hence my lips are sealed. All I can tell you is that a great danger threateng her-how great you cannot imagine-and she, desires you to ful- fill your promise and render her your aid." C Unhappy and desolate, heedless ot London's pleasures or the perpetual gayety of the "tsmart" circle in which my friends and relations moved, I spent the gloomy December days in my chambers in Shaftesbury Avenue, endeavoring to -distract the one thought that possessed me by read- ing., My companies chaffed me, dub- bing me a misanthope, but to none of them, not et'en Jack Bethune, the friend of my college and greatest chum, did I tell the secret of my des- paw. Suddenly, a harsh strident bell gave six hurried strokes, followed by half a dozen others in different keys, the one sounding'. tar distant across the river, coming,'1 knew, from Isle- w'orth's old time-stained tower, with which boating men are so familiar. "Her Judge!" I gasped. "What do you mean? Speak! Is she dead ?" "You speak in enigmas,'.' I said quickly. "We are strangers, yet you apparently are aware of my acquaint- ance with Sybil. Will you not tell me the nature of her secret terror?" Thus weeks went by, until one morning my man, Saunders, brought me 'a, telegram which I opened care- lessly, but read with breathless eager- ness, when I saw the signature was "Sybil." The words upon the flimsy paper caused me such sudden and unex- pected delight that old Saunders, most discreet ot servants, must have had some apprehension as to my san- ity. Theltelegram, which had .been dispatched from Newbury, read: Almost beside myself with joyful anticipations _of seeing hery sad sweet face once again, il went out and Whiled away the hours that seemed never ending until at last ,when twi- 1\ight tell, I took train to the npafign suburb. " Ten minutes"; before the hour, she had indicated, I fohnd the; seat in the Terrace Gardens, but there was no sign of the presenCe ot any human bemg. It was almost'eloising time, and utterly deserted. All fwas 'silent save the rushing of a, train, or the drum rumbling of vehicles passing along the top of the hill, and distant sounds 'became mingled with the vague mumners of the trees.'The Chill wind sighed softly in the oaks, (igvbriouspy extending their dark bare arms along the'walk like a row of sptéters guarding the vast masses "Whatever lays in my power I will do willingly," I answered. "It she cannot come to me will you take me to her?" [ of vapor-spreading out behind them and across the valley, where thle Thames ran silent and darkly iq ser- pentine wandering and the lights were already twinkling. Even as I sat the last my oCtwilight faded, and 'night, cloudy .and mopnless, closed in. "Must see ydu this evening. In Richmond Terrace Gardens opposite the tea-pavilion is a seat beneath a tree. Be there at six. Do not fail.-- Sybil.” I Through giving nourishment to the vital organs of the body, NITAL restores Sou to perfect health, making your whole nerve structure vibrate with life. It you feel the need of a tonic to build you up, to take away that "old" feeling-start taking VITAL at once. You’ll soon get startling evidence of its lelp. Price, 50 cts a box, at all druggiys 1k,i.,s,', being proven daily that there is iibsolutely no reason tor one per- mitting a condition of nervousness. weakness or palpitation of the heart or any form of general physical de- cline for VITAL, the great blood and brain remedy, can quickly correct this condition. EQHQWEM EXESE’S Upon two [',11,"tlt/1,ovn,e only And what are t ey?" (To be (Jontinuetl next week.) For Sale by C. R. MAGEE WWW? (lillM. that of a husband to his wife (cf. 1 Cor. 11: Ir, Eph. 5: 24-32; Jnot. 35:? 29). The Jews were the ones who, were first invited to the marriage. They were invited by the prophets and afterwards by John the Baptist (ch. 3: I, 2) and the twelve disciples. (ch. 10: 6, 7). we would naturally' expect that when such an invitation. came that all would accept it, they; would be even more likely to accept; it in the east than we in the west. But: in the'case of God's feast, the invi- tation was spurned and treated with, contempt (v. 5). Nothing more clearly' reveals the foolishness and wicked- ness of the human heart than the way in which "men receive God’s in- vitations of grace. These people were shut out of the feast simply because they did not accept the invitation. They Jews did not find life and joy in Christ simply because they would not. come, to Him (John 5: 40). And if there are any today who do not find pardon and Peace and life in Jesus; it is simply because they will not come to Him. Throughout the/his- tory of the human race man has al- ways been 'unwilling to accept God's invitations of morcy (Prov. l; 247 Isa. 63: 2,1.?;Y.'ij; 4; Jer. 6: 16; PS. 81: 10, 11: Ttthat, 10: 21; Mat. 23: 37). It is because of the deceitfulness, wickedness, and blindness of their hearts that men thus treat God's invi-, tations (Jer. 17: 9; P. Cot'. 4: 4). The king did not stop at the first invita- tion (cf. 21: 36). and God does not stop with one invitation. Wonderful indeed is the forbearance of God. He repeats the neglected demand for His fruits, and even repeats the neg- lected invitation. The refusal of God's offers of mercy involves greater guilt' than the refusal of His demands, of justice The sin of rejection since "the cross and resurrection is immeasur- ably greater than that of Christ's own contemporaries before the cross and resurrection. Happy the one who ac- cepts the invitation (Ivy. 19: 9). It was business that kept men from ac- cepting the king's invitation, and so it often is today (ct. ch. 13: 22).. It earthly king would regard suchTa treatment of the royal invitation with great displeasure. and so does God (cf. Heb. 10: 28, 29). Some even went beyond treating the invitation with contempt, they abused and killed the servants that brought the invitation. This was historically true of the Jest- ish treatment of God's servants who came to invite them to His feasts (Ac. 4: 1-3; 7: 54-59). God's servants are often so treated today. God's feel-' ing toward such is set forth in v. 7. Here we have a clear preduotion of the destruction of Jerusalem, (cf. Lu. 19: 42-44; 21: 20-92). The rejection and enucifixion~ of Christ was the cause/of the destrubtion of Jerusalem. This had.been predicted, in the-Old Testament (Dan. 9: 26; Mic. 3: lit), II. God's Invitation Accepted, 8-10, When Israel rejected God's _ittvi... tation. God sent it to the Gentiles (8; 9). Israel lost the marriage feast De- cause they were "not worthy." The thing that makes us worthy is taking our true place before God and accept, ing the atonement He has made (Lu. 18: 14,15; Rev. 22:' 14, R. V.). When one rejects the invitation he judges himself unworthy of everlasting life (Ac. 13: 46.) The servants were not merely to bid those in the highways to come but to gather them in (v. IO; cf. Lu. 14: 21, 23). This lays upon the church the duty of urgency and in-, sistency in their invitation to men to Christ. We are to invite both good and bad. The Gospel invitation is to all (Mk. 1: 15; Rev. 22: 17). The serv- ants did as they were hidden. Christ's servants have always been as true to their commission as they are repre- sented as being here. "The wedding was filled." Heaven will not be an empty place, it will be full (cf. Rev. 7: VI4). If we refuse the invitation,, God will find others who will accept it. The bad are mentioned before the good as (among those invited., There is room in the kingdom tor those who have been very bad (1 Cor. 6: 10, ll)., IO. The Unprepared Guest, 11-14. The king will come in and scrutin- ize his guests (v. ll). A strange sight greeted his eyes, a, guest without a wedding garment. The wedding gar- ment is the figure of the robe of righteousness that God expects all to put on who accept His invitation (Isa. 61: 10; Rev. 19: 7. 8; Ps. 132: 9; Eph. 4: 24; R0111. 13: 14). It is not in our own righteousness in which we are to appear but in His (Isa. 64: ir; Zech. 3: 3, 4: Phil. 3: o, R. V.). This robe is a free gift from the Father Himself (of. Lu. 1:3: P..?). We get it by simple faith in Jesus (Rom. 3: 22). IVr-, have it on when we put on Lesson VI Golden Test-Vo highways and hedge them to come in. Lt', overwhelming, in its content. So a're all God's questions. The offending guest had no excuse d) offer. “He was speechless," and so will all be who do not put on the wedding garment. How awful is the doom of those who do not make ready as set forth in the 13th verse, he will be cast/into a place of darkness, woe and impotent rage. God calls all, but only those who ap- preciate the call accept the robe of rightedusness which He provides are chosen!" The doom of all others is appalling, hopeless, endless. Lesson Test-r-Mat. 22: 1-14. (Read 1sa.55: 1-11; Mat. 11: 28-30; Lu. 14: 15-24; Rev. 22: 17.) Time,---Monday, April 3, A. D. 30. Place,--Jerusalem, the temple. Exposition,--). God's Invitation Disregarded and Despised, 1-7. Christ Himself. and Then He dwells' in us (Rom. 12: 12-14; 2 Cor. 13: 5y. The one who had not on the wedding' garment bad not really accepted the- inVitation to the 5vedrJing feast. If one veally accepts God's invitation to His heavenly kingdom. ho will get ready for it by putting on Jesus Christ. His neglect to make ready was an act or contempt for the king. If We outward- ly lieeist God’s invitation and do not make ready, we are despising both Him and His invitation. One question, "Friend. How qamest thou in hither not having a [wedding garment,'" brought the foolish guest to his sen- ses, and a word from God will bring; us to our senses if we have not on the wedding garment. The question was kind in its form but spawning, ygs. Jesus read the hearts ot the chief priests and Pharisees (cf. ch. 21: 45- 46) and answered their thought by the parable of the lesson. By com- paring the kingdom unto a royal mar- riage feast Jesus sets forth the thought that it is' a place of festal joy (of. Lu. 14-16), and also suggests that Christ's relation to His people its This Week's S.S. Lesson n VI. February 6, 1921 THE LiAIiRIAGE FEAST t,--Go out into the hedges, and constrain in. Lu. 14: 23. r-r-Mat, 22: 1-14. (Read Mat. 11: 28-30; Lu. 14: PAGE THREE _ I i3? u l v Sci w, m;