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k IE 5%}! 'ii WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 1921 Mimico, New Tommie and Lake Shore District 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 celnmns of _ YfllJR . BUSINESS Port Credit, Clarkson and Toronto Township 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. hr representative will call and give you the details if you give us a ring or drop us a card. (tiIlnlliljlt, WE WEN MM Weston and Etobiwke Township THE WNSERVAWR TIE AWERHSER LHMHTEQ Bramptar0ffice - Phene li) C. V. CHARTERS Vesta Office - Phone 26 S. WILSON Brampten and Peel Cmmty I ' . " . I Mllt lil _ qgtiMt' - ' lil ', ' - "rt Melt" Billilm BNNili8 . - . ~ mr, . . ..,..- s5 - "ur. II" N. .- _ " » " " " " Mm *n. - ‘1." ‘e. .. - " 'ilM " . 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Mr _ q ' , 's v " - gr ' v.31 _ n, w IE ' m l 3.. " - - " um. - THE EXPRESS Mount Dennis District TIE NEWS TIE The prologue of this extraordinary 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 Doldr- 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 barien 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 peace in the supreme joy of happiness. My gaze has been lost in the azure immensity of a woman's eyes.' Ah! there are things that cannot be uttered; there are scenes that still en- trance me, and incidents so unespect- ed and terrible that they cause me to hold my breath in horror even now. 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 Traveled 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 ot the Rue de la Paix, and her chic was that of'the true Par- isienne. As we walked together in the shadows beyond the public pr'om- enade, she told me that her home was in London, that, on account ot 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. 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, 1, 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' misfoiitunes; confession is the 1aneet-stroke that empties the abscess. The. devil has thrown his dice and the game is up. I can now lay bare the secret of my sorrow. The place, filled with the haut'ton of Paris. was gay enough, but some- how I 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 contemplating-ing to Biarritz, where a maiden aunt resided, when one evening while seated inythe pie- turesque Casino Garden, listening to the tine' band, I saw, in the crowd of chattering, laughing promenaders, a woman's face that entranced me. On- ly for a second, in the faint 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 pest sec- ond she was gone, lost in one of the gayest crowds in Europe. CHAPTER I. i A QUEEN OF THE UNKNOWN t _ Let me gaze down the vista ot the tristful past. Away south in the heart of the snow-capped Pyrenees, while idling away a few sunny weeks at Bagneres- de-LuchOn, that quaint little spa so popular with 'thetleopatras of the BouleTards. nestling in its secluded valley beneath the three great peaks of Sacrous, de Sauvegarde and de la Mine, a woman first brought sweet- ness to theisad1aess of my melancholy days. ~Mine was an aimless, idle life. I had left behind me at college a Pep- utation for reckless mess: I was an ar- raht dunce at '/rJi.e/ and finance had no attraction for me. I had lived in Lonclon and grown tired of it. I had tried art and ignominiously failed, and being in receipt of a generous allowance from an indulgent father, I found myself, at the age of twenty- eight, without profession, a mere worldrweary cosmopolitan, wander- ing from place to place with the sole object of killing time. _ Hailing taken up my quarters alone at lhe Hotel des Bains, that glaring building with its dead white facade in the' Allee d'Etigny---the magnifi- cent view from which renders it one of the finest thoroughfares in the world-l soon became seized with en- nu1. _ i 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 half hour had Worn oft, we sat down together under a tree near the hand stand and I gave her a card. She, however, refused to give me, one. mg. "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." "Sybil," I repeated. _"A name as charming as its owner) Is your name Sybil-only Sybil?" , "I trust not," I said gallantly. "An acquaintanceship commenced under these strange cdmditions is rather ro- mantic, to say the least." . "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 synJnymous of unhappiness," and she drew a long breath, as if sad thoughts oppressed her. 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 entrdnce. 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 twenty-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. Aventin and through the Wild 00 Valley as tar as the Cas, cade. ' C WWW E “null":nunulululInI”nnunuuuunuuumunuuuguuuuuImuuInInluluInnunInum:"IIninnuR-unununululu-nun".-mun-nunuuunnmnuuunuuuuuunuu:nuuunuua Call me Sybil," sl1eV1:e£éaied, lsmi1- wun-unnnunInmmIII-lullluunnnullInnunInuiuuuunummnlluulIn:munnul“nun""In“!Inlluuuunnln: 'ogottttt"o"i"trtrt"tt"""g""-"8"" TIMES 8: GUIDE. WESTON 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 hair', 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 of 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, from under which a dainty bronze shoe appeared, had a garniture in the chromatics as it were, of mingled rose and blue and green, and Ahe slender waist, made long as waists may be, was girdled narrow but distinctive. "No, I am not cruel," she answered calmly, halting suddenly and looking at me with her great clear eyes. "Duis ing the past fortnight we have--w,ell, me 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 for, real love. You were, about to declare. that you love me--wePe you not?" 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. "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--" "True, Sybil. And I mean it. From the first moment our eyes met I have adored you," I exclaimed with pas- if1,,on,e,t,tter1,1f,ly',y,"y "The brightness ot you) 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 iarofound love." MI WEE IE. NM r?llllff'fff)l 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-for- gotten days. Nevertheless, try how I would I could not induce her to tell me her name, nor could I discover. it either hotel, tor the one she had given there was evidently, assumed. "CalHme Sybil," she always replied when I alluded to, the subject. 7hst are' you Sb "rletermined to pre- serve the secret of your identity?" I asked, when one evening, after din- ner, we Were strolling" beneath the trees in the Allee. h "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?" A faint sha1dow of displeasnare.fel1 upon her brow, and turning quickly to me she answered: "Hush! Hush!" she cried, inter- rupting me. "Listen, let me tell you my position." “I care naught fo,r your\ position; I want only you, Sybil," I gontinued earnestly, raising her hand to my lips and smothering it with kisses. "I have adored you: in all the different forms of love. You, who have sur ticed tor my being, you whose won- drous beauty filled me with all the chastity of affection, all the passion r 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. Have a heart! Your grocer is not a profiteer! He is passing along to you reduced prices, as fast or fust'ei' 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 eveizything that shows the greatest Iecline, You don't know, but we do, that he is recommen‘ding goods that pay him less prbtit than other well known brands which he might easily per'su- ade his customers to take if he cared to do so. We know this because he pays us more for Red Rose Tea and sells it at less profit’ 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 of 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. ttr 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." "No, no," she cried hoarsely. "Let us end this interview; it is painful to both ot us. I have Brought this un- happiness upon you by my own reclt- less folly. I ought never to have broken the convenances and accepted as companion a man to Whom I had not been formally introduced." Her bosom rose and fell quickly as I spoke, and when I had finished. her little hand closed convulsively up- on mine: nevertheless our dream must end here. I have striivrm to stifle my pas- sion, knowing fall well the dire result alrhich must abcrue. But it is useless. Ourrmistortune is that we love one another; so we must part." "‘But may I not help 37011? Cannot 'I shield you from this mysterious peril?" "Ah! don't be cruel, Sybil," I cried earnestly, "cannot you see how madly I love you?" ' "Yes. I think that perhaps, after all, you care for me more than I imagined," endeavhring to preserve a calmness that was impossible. "But leave pe 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.” "Ah mr!" she answered quickly. "You can1oot,yrylerstand. I dare not love you. A'deadly peril threatens me. Ere six months have passed the Damoclean sTiord suspended over mel may fall with fatal effect, but” tit if it does, 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." _ , “I 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-morr0wls sun shines into my room its rays will ‘fall upon my lite, less form, my soul and body will have parted." "Art you threatened by disease?" "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." "Why? Tell me," I gasped; then, half wiring the truth, I asked, "are you 'al ady married." "one that is insurmountable,” she answered hoarsely, hot tears welling in ‘her eyes. "The truth I cannot ex- plain, as, for certain reasons, I am compell'ed to keep my secret." "1 do not deny it," shé answered in a Iosir earnest voice, raising her beau- tiful face to mine. "ft is true, Stuart, ttuit you‘are the only man I have looked upon tth real' affection, 51nd I-\make 11% effort at concealment; 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 passidnate caress.' "Farewell?" “When do you intend to leave me?" I cried dismayed, as we turned and walked on together. "Soon," she said, sighing, her hand tremhlidg in mine, "it will be imper- ative very sdon." .. "Alas! I know not. If your aid will assist me in the future I will com- municate with you. I have your Lon- don address upon your card." V7 "Then what barrier can there he to our happiness?" "And you refuse to tell me the reason 'why you intend to break oft our acquaintanceship," T observed re- proadhfully. ‘ ,Then panting, she slowly disengag- ed herself from my 'embrace, saying: "But surely ypu can tell me the reason why wk may not love? Worr cannot deny that you love me just a little," I said, _ "Shall I see you th-morrow asked. 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. "Then T good-night," she said, stretching forth her hand, Cor 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. "Wes, if--it my doom does not ow orwhelm me," she answered with a choking sob. "If it does, then adieu, my love, adieu torever." "And you will think ot me some- times with thoughts of love, Sybil,” I said disconsolately. _ “Yes But -for the present forget me. Some day, however, I may he compelled to'put your affection to the test.” , “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 T will obey." She burst into a flood of tears. and turning from me walked quickly to the steps leading to the hotel, while I, mystified and full of sad thoughts, strode onward along the silent IT1i9n- lit Allee toward the Hotel des Bains. c» Little ssliiep 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 eararsvl, and read the following words hastily scribbled in pencil and blurred by tears: ' ' "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.” “I am in deadly peril and have been compelled to leave unexpected- ly. Do not attempt to find me, but forget everythintr.----Sybil." , dashed aside the curtains, and like a man in a dream. stood gazing away at the white mountains, bril- liant in. the morning light. I had lost her,' the iron of despair had en- tered my heart. Six months passed. Lett forlorn with only the vivid memory ot a char-, ming face, I had traveled to rid my- self of the remembrance, but in vain. Sometimes I felt inclined to lu?- gard my mysterious divinity as a mere adventuress; at others I become lost in contemplation and puzzled over her words almost to the ihaint lot 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 irreiroc- ably for life or death. Unhappy and desolate, heedless of London’s pleasures or the perpetual gayety of the “smart” 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, rnistcnthope, but to none ot them, not even Jack Bethune, the friend of my college and greatest chum, did I tell the secret ot my des- pair. 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 of servants, must have had some apprehension as to my san- ity. The!telegram, which had Ieea dispatched from Newbury, read: "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 A light footstep sounded on the gravel, and peering into the darkness I could just distinguish the form-of a man. \As he advanced I saw he was tall, well 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 ‘heavily trimmed with astrachan, and as he strode to- ward me he took a long draw at his cigar. 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 trom her eyes I might, as before, drink of the cup of love to the verge of intoxication. "Good-evening," he said courteous- ly, halting before me as I rose, " believe I have the pleasure ot ad- dressing Mr. Stuart Ridgeway, have I not?" "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.” Almost beside myself with joyful anticipations ' of seeing hem sad sweet face once again, I went out and whiled away the hours that seemed never ending until at last ,when twi- Mght fell, I took train to the npar'igm suburb. Ten minuteg before the hour; she had indicated, I found the seat in the Terrace Gardens, but there was no Sign of the presence of any human being. It was alrr1ost'c1osi11g time, and utterly deserted. All iwas 'silent save the rushing of a train, or the dull rumbling of vehicles passing along the top of the hill, and distant sounds 'be‘came mingled with the vague muriners ot the trees."The chill wind sighed softly in the oaks, (dgutyriousry- extending their dark bare arms along the walk like a row of spectelrs guarding the vast masses Suddenly, a harsh strident bell gave six hurried strokes, followed by half a dozen others in different keys, the one sounding/far distant across the river, coming,-I knew, from Isle- worth’s old time-stained tower, with which boating men are so familiar. "That is my name," I answered, rather bruseugly, 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. of vapor-spreading out behind them and across the valley, where th'e Thames ran silent and darkly m ser- pentine wandering and the lights were already twinkling. Even as I sat the last ray of twilight faded, and "night, cloudy and mopnless, closed in. “Her Judge!" I gasped. "WFat do you mean? Speak! Is she dead?" "You speak in enigmas,'f 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?" "f cannot, for two reasons," he re- plied. "The first is because I am not aware ot the whole of the eireum- stances; the second, because I have given her my Rromise to reveal noth- ing. Hence my lips are sealed. All I can tell you is that a great danger threatens her-how great you cannot imagine-and she desires you to ful-. fill your promise and render her your aid." _ _ "Whatever lays in my power I will do willingly," I answered. "If she cannot come to me will you take me to her ?" [ Through giving nourishment to the vital organs of the body, NITAL restores you to perfect health, making your whole nerve structure vibrate with life. If 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 telp. Price, 50 cts a box, at all druggiys For Sale by C. R. MAGEE It is being proven daily that there is absolutely no reason tor one per- mitting a condition of nervousness, weakness or palpitation of the heart or any form ot general physical de- cline for VITAL, the great blood and brain remedy, can quickly correct this condition. mama‘s EXESE’S Upon two coniY4tions only And what are they?" (To be (iontinued next w CHAPTER II. SIN OR SECRET? M19289? 8552555 Lesson VI t Jesus read the hearts of 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 (cf. Lu. 14-16), and also suggests that Christ's relation to His people in, that of 'a husband to his wife (et. l Cor. 11: Ir, Eph. 5: 24-32; Jnoc W.: 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: 1, 2) and the twelve disciples. (ch. 10: (i, 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-j they did not accept the invitation. The Jews did not find life and joy its 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/hiss, tory of the, human race man had al- ways been [unwilling to accept God's invitations of mercy (Prov. 1: 24," Isa. 6'5: 2, 12; :66; 4; Jer. 6: Ill; PS. 81: IO, 11: R‘oni. 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; 2 For. 4: ci). The king did not stop at the first insu'ta, tion (cf. 21: 36). and God does not stop with one invitation. Wonderful indeed is the forbearance of God. Fla 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 'tho cross and resurrection is imrneasiw, ably greater than that of Christ's own. contemporaries before the cross and resurrection. Happy the one who and cepts the invitation (Rev. 19: '9). It was business that kept men from ac- cepting the king's invitation, and fo, it often is today (cf. ch. 13: 22).. n earthly king would regard Suchf‘a} treatment of the royal invitation with: great displeasure, and so does Gott (cf. Heb. 10: 28, 29). Some even went beyond treating the invitation 'wi‘th: contempt, they abused and killed the servants that brought the invitation. This was historically true of the Jews 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 ct)ucifixion _ of Christ was the cause/of the destruction of Jerusalem. This had.been predicted,, in the‘Old Testament (Dan. 9: 26; Mic. 3: l?)., II. God's Invitation Accepted, 8-10. When Israel rejected God's -invi- tation. God sent it to the Gentiles (8; 9). Israel lost the marriage feast be- cause they were "noe worthy." The thing that makes us worthy iitsikintr 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. l'0; ct. 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'a 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 (of. Rev. 7: 1-14). If we refuse the invitation,. God will find others who will accept it. The bad are mentioned before the good as ,amtyurthose invited., There is room in the kingdom for those who, have been very bad (1 Cor. B: 10, 11).._ [ IO. The Unprepared Guest, 11-14. The king will come in and scrutin- ize his guests (v. 11). 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 (1sa.61: 10; Rev.19: 7,8; PS. 132: 9: Eph. 4: 24; Rom. 13: It). It is not in our own righteousness in which we are to appear but in His (Isa. 64: 6;. Zech. 3: 3, 4; Phil. 3: J, R. V.). This robe is a' free gift from the Father: Himself (cf. Lu. 15: 22). We get it by simple faith in Jesus (Rom. " 22). Wra have it on when we put on- (‘hrist Himself. and when He dwells: in us (Rom. 13: 12-14; 2 Cor. 13: 5). The one who had not on the wedding' garment had not really accepted the imitation to the wedding feast. If one really accents God's invitation to His heavenly kingdom, he will get ready for it by putting on Jesus Christ. His neglect to make Nady was an act or contempt for the king, If we outward- ly aécept God's invitation and do not make readv, we are dPspising both Ham and His invitation. One question, "Frirnd. How camest thou in hither not having a wedding garment,” brought the foolish guest to his sen- see, and a word from (tori will bring- us to our senses if we have not on the \"nrlding‘ garment. The question was kind in its form but scorching, YS)s, overwhelming. in its content. So are all God's oruestirosvz. The offending guest had no mzcuso to 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 really as set forth in the 13th verse, he will be curt into a place of darkness. woe and impotent rage. God calls all, but only those who ap- preciate the call accept the robe of righteousness which He provides are chosen!" The doom of all others is appaling, hopeless, endless. Lesson Text,-rMat. 22: 1-14. (Read Isa. 55: 1-11;Mat. 11: 28-30; Lu. 14: 15-24; Rev. 22: 17.) Time,-Monday, April 3, A. D. 30. Place,--,--,-, the temple. Exposition,--) God's Invitation' Disregarded and Despised, 1-7.r This Week's S.S. Lesson THE RIARRIAGE FEAST February 6, 1921 PAGE THREE 23:5 5% 'k'g Y, Ev: _ 'tl