Evening Star Newspaper, April 4, 1926, Page 72

6 OLD DUKE after Tolman, the sheriff, 3 old Duke, who had been lying beside one of the pil- lars of the verand: |over to the democ 1E trouble involving Old Duke began the afternoon that voung Rene d’Auriac knocked Samuel Bullock, the younger, off the sand bunker and into the water hazard on the Valley Fair olf course. is incident excited an Lconcealed satisfaction mnot only imong the club members but the townsfolk generally, despite the fact that Samuel Bullock, senior, had been irgely interested in laying out the inics which were the of the tragedy. As, however, attractive i lady was hushed up, especially since every- hody knew that Rene courting lelen Pevton, although their respec tive fathers did not speak. The feud between Maj. d’Auriac and County Judge Peyton was one of the traditions of the “Blue Grass,” en twined in the post-bellum history of the State and with the romantic mem ory of a certain celebrated beauty who in their boyhoods had encours both gallants love her and ended by marrying neither. Of cours wits ottom the major's hut the judge's pride was also partly to blame. Each in his own way, these o0ld men were the two leading citizens Valley Fair, and as each had his tollowers— Montagues and Capulets of affection it was felt that their aloof ) added a certain distinction to local society. At any rate it gave people something to talk about, par- ticularly when it became common knowledge that Rene d'Auriac had illen ter the spell of Heélen Peyton’s languid charm The secret might have bheen kept a long time had it not been for Duke. ¥or Old Duke, perhaps be- cause he was a d'Auriac_and there- fore an aristocrat, had made it evident that he thought very little of the Bullocks Of course O} followed Rene on scene Duke should not have to the Valley Fair olf course and nozzled the junior Bul lock’s ball on the putting-green, but ihe links were built on land purchased rom the d’Auriacs and Old Duke had careened over it from puppyhood. The Bullock family were playing a two some when Helen ana Rene overtook them at the eleventh and sat down on the adjacent bunker to wait for them to hole-in, while Old Duke stood at the edge of the green. The elder Samuel putted and missed; the younger Samuel putted and missed, and his ball rolled confidingly between the hound's paws. What more natural than that any wellmannered dog should ac- knowledge the little stranger’s pres- ance by first smelling of it and then giving it a gentle push with his nose? The vounger Bullock, who had made a flagrantly bad shot, glanced with a scowl to where Rene sat “I'll thank you to keep your dog off the green!" he remarked, insolently. Rene sprang to his feet “I'll thank you to keep a tongue In your head!” he retortec The youth reddened and turned | savagely to where Old Duke was toy- | ing with a beetle on the side of the | mnker. i et out of my way* Get off the | course, vou'" he cried, kicking the | dog violently in the ribs. | Old Duke uttered a whine of pain. | Next instant Rene had seized Bullock | junior by the i civil collar of his tweed golf | acket, vanked him to the top of the bunker and hurled him into the water hazard. Bullock senior leaped toward | Rene, brandishing his mashie, but stopped short ht of Old Duke crouching between, every hair on end | and fangs exposed | “T'll get you for this!" roared the | father. “You and your infernal dog:” “Quiet, Duke!” cautioned Rene. ‘Leave him alone! Come here. boy From the piazza of the goll elub, 200 yards away, the elite of Valley Fair watched the bedraggled scion of | the house of Bullock scrambling on | hands and knees to safety. A faint | cheer echoed across the links. | The elder heard it and shook his| fist in the direction of the clubhouse. | “T'll get 'em!” he muttered. “That stuck-up young popinjay and the old | yopinjay, his father, and that cursed | fog—the entire outfit! let ‘em | wait.” JUDGE PE ¥ piazza for his home. He was a pink old man, run ning to fat, with thin streaks of silvery hair radiating like fringe from a central point on the top of his head, | nd he wore an alpaca jacket and | vrinkled, white cotton socks. “Drat the girl!” thought the Judge, | knocking the ashes from his corncob | into the crack of the steps. “Where | can she be”” | Then he removed his feet from the | railing and descended into the “garden.” There was a brisk tapping of a cane upon the sidewaik and the figure of Maj. d". jac came into view. Each step, each click of the cane, brought his enemy nearer. Should he | turn and flee, ignominiously? Not | much! He would look the Major | squarely in the eye! Another moment | and the Major was almost beside him. Ior a second they irded each other Judge flushing slightly, the Ma- or's chin stiffening. The next instant e latter had passed on. But in that teeting second the Judge had experi- enced a pang. He had not imagined Louis would look so old. Did he look ike that himself? He had a momen ting on his ghter to come & was involved, the matter | fault, | | nants tary impulse—indeed his lips moved— to call the Major back. Then, with the barest of sighs, he restrained him- | self. No, it was up to Louis to make the first move; he was the offender. | And then he forgot all about the | Major, for he caught sight of Helen | | coming up the street swinging her | | golfsticks lightly from her left shoul- | der, and the emotions started by the | | unexpected appearance of his boyhood | friend, now a stranger to him. were | transmuted into a glow of affection for the child of his old age. ! “What kept you, honey?" he asked, | | slipping his arm about her. *“I nearly | | sent the sheriff after you.” | * ok ok ok I N[EANWHILE the Major continued | iffly upon his way—with a dig. | nity befitting one of his distinguished |lineage. He was a slender figure of an old gentleman, rigidly erect, witl a white goatee and sloping shoulder not five and a half feet in height—a lit tle pepperpot, known in his salad dz for a troublemaker all the way from the Mississippi to the Cumberland on both sides of the border. Some of this violence—like many other things about | the Major—was exaggerated, for the | old gentleman was a victim to the de lusion that he must live up to his reputation. The d'Auriacs had all | been fire-eaters. He had no intention of having the race become emascu lated; indeed, he rather deprecated his son’s comparative mildness of char acter. In one respect, however, Rene fully lived up to his father's ideal of what @’Auriac should be—he rode like a and there was no fox-chase miles that he did not attend, his father’s old chestnut hunter, Beaureghrd. The Major had had to give it up 10 vears or more ago after dislocating his hip while at tempting to take a four-bar gate. But he still kept a small pack of hounds, of which Old Duke was the leader, the favorite not only of his master, but of the countryside. Everybody in Valley of Old Du He wa acter, like his master, fully 'as much esteem. 'Very likely it was because of his combination of gentleness and strength, for he was a big dog. deep of chest, massive in head, with legs of iron and eyes that regarded you with such perfect trust that, as the Major said, “No one-could help being a_gentleman, sir, with Old Duke around!” His marking was pe- | cullar and made him readily di tinguishable among other dogs. for a broad white band ran around the ‘slats of his barrel and he carried a white | star over his right eye. He had never harmed a human being or a domestic animal—except possibly a cat or two and he had but three interesfs in life: his master, his master’s son and the pursuit of his natural enemy, the fox. demon, within 2 mounted on Fair was_fond a public Thar and held in | JOW it is alleged that no man can | be really bad i§ he loves a dog and it is certain that the Major was not half_as choleric as he pretended to be. The fact is that when he had come upon his old friend the Judge so unexpectedly standing on the edge of his front n. he, too, had felt an almost irresistible impulse to stop and speak to him. Then pride had rea serted itself and, ashamed of his mo- mentary weakness, he had tilted his chin in the air, looked the Judge coldly | in the eye, and tried to face him down. | By the time Major d'Auriac had | reached ‘‘Malmaison” his encounter with Judge Peyton had resulted in that state of fury habitually caused by the secret realization that he had alienated his best friend, that he had | nobody to blame for it but himseif Therefore he anathematized the Ran dolphs and the Peytons and all their ancestors to the third and fourth gen eration as upstarts, vulgarians, half- breeds The Major, having thus relieved his feelings and lighted his pipe, arose swiftly, filled a tin plate with rem from the meal, and carried it the veranda, followed by Rene remained moodily at the table, watching the candlelight through the smoke of his cigarette For the hundredth time he had almost made up his mind to disclose his secret to his father and for the hundredth time he had lost courage. After all they were young and could wait a while. They played a few games of piquet silently, until the elder d'Auriuc de- clared that it was time for bed—at an rate for him. Rene Kissed the old man good-night upon his forehead and waited for the light to be extinguished in his bedroom. Then, calling to Old Duke under his breath, he stepped out into the night. Over the golf course a white pall of mist b itself out like a shallow lake, and | right above, within arm's reach as it were, hung an immense golden moon, | only there was no moon path. It re- | minded him of the mists he had watched rising in the Argonne under that same old moon. It seemed cen- turies ago. Suddenly from out of the mist came the thud of hundreds of scampering hoofs. Old Duke had stiffened, his | ears lifted, his muscles trembling. Before Rene could grasp his collar the hound had darted forward, cleared the hedge, and was careening toward the golf course. Maj. D'Auriac out upon 0ld Duke. had just finish- | |t er his luncheon THE SUNDAY STAR, noon when Jac drove into the the sh iends el together 00 d nd had evening Major with “Won't and _cc *“No, thanks, reckon say n ¥e e in sat his u N a I won't Old Duke was Pool “Wh at bout ?"” ciously demanded “Is | chicken dama, No nigrak nificant ly. et is Old Duke. ash! lookin® | 1ibel, by sheriff The geticall “It don't agreed. “It's a he yi e responded Tolman sig- that. | the next rd. capered ¢ were a for they hunted many customary hitch your nd have s hors get out. 1 sor this is a business trip standing on his hind | | 1egs between the wheels, his big noz- | | zle resting on Tolman'’s leg laid his hand on the dog's h Old Duke' ad he murmured ‘poor Old the Maj nigrah u & ome P worse'n He paused. “Fact is, heey Who ever heard of a v Y. liar t a she higrdly “Howevbr, caught him with the ca ilock has sworn out a summol He lost a sheep last n ed the MajJor That old I'll law hin sep” Rill reg and he’s sworn to it Last Major was night. conspir fhit sure am nigk v his v ry, major!” law is law, and here's B immons handed the major a square piece of soiled paper. For moment ht! d’Auriac in a f locked i Last night enzy the house conspiracy all sir in a said Tolman. Major deways at wagon in which old fox | sheriff,” said the | bitten by courtesy. sir mething?’ * the sheriff replied. “I te The man Duking suspi- claimin’ | rubbed his chin apolo- | seem ‘possible!” he s says he s last night roared “My dog last studied the paper in bewilderment. “Randolph ‘So! What He leaned agains P 1 d: eyton!” he istardly revenge!” the n his goatee trembling. “You t ell voice shook “Now, majo know “you for this, see the whole eclared fi Peyton You sa start old major face, s t body Vo ar " The old 1 his arms he said H until fangs Du hi You e 1 Taw ‘justice is justice.’ that and run God's country Duke nd Wiy n W W gently hac i h e looked an he Jud; he ely. had sw e round the “So they want to kill you sepgrate exposed 1 alf mi s Peyton judge ain't thing!” the That boots and law’! Well I'll show come down sirt” over up_into s 1 an't lked looking inging his long nt over him hound's neck we'll show ‘er his red gums. surpri your the 1 for no wool between his teeth The sherift smiled apologetically ““Perhaps how,” awkwardly “By himself, int will? Just hedge. [ th At. sight | turned color “Rene, father, “this is the last | Peyton has issued a summons against a ts ought custody my replied way . he bu Rer d Then of he it h, to ta rn re : the t han, through sheriff 16 came the lied straw! v out Old Duke for sheep Killing Rene did T as pale. L piece sound. the in the jc la not “R 15 in the house ail 1 several Then “I can swear house R t library was still there V’.\LIJI\ great decade. fior he ¢ FAIR rapidly ral sporting 1 and there reply. His jury ! ne, you know nds there answered ec ene night ind old this Duke event House Iper \ ay d'Auriac choked. est pillar, His " protested the sheriff, to blame major Yankee owns breeches say | this up- here to the his tail. do they his Judge morning ind put the dog’s lips | glistening | old |} some- | looked | of the mist. d as if 10|yt and jumping at their throats. la ® | found that one was missing, fastened | ® | the andsome ejaculated old st night.” was slowly when I locked up was he no lled for the over as no residence in the town which did not have its quota the of trial 1ests. Main flivvers and cial” up from Wher cended the bench every 1d even the cupied, aisles the Jud, re defendant Or street the crow f the morning of was a railroad ran a Winchester Randolph Peyton seat wall spac with fri the town wded nd from and all parts of the countryside chi a the not old and every his bre m; d character on | railed platform, or dock, sad a gr fox-hound, rubbed move an e h un of 1t | eve white as snow ang th in the slightly play’ a ele is black til it gl the mu! coat tened his freshly poli collar shining, an aristocrat of ari his_life L 3 true dog of | O1d Duke, the defendant, on trial for a somewhat puz and the | The | zled look in his brown eyes the d'Auria was was oc s and | mitted that of | send itself | cares But | was ated | murdered the sheep?” he asked gently. nd | combed with | les beneath, | answered the witness. - over his | ed solid line of “spe. to « confusion, although subdued, obviously had excited him, but he sat there obe- | now and |only by the thump of the hound zain to look at the major and occa- | He knew all these friends of hi one, | talking diently al sionall turning as he his head recognized some thumping the platform with his tail. “We will proceed, gentlemen, an- WASHINGTON, D. C, APRIL BY ARTHUR TRAIN 1 o% % K2 Po.6% % % o% 0 % ¢% % 0’00.00:'0‘0 R XX XS XS EXE XTI X XS do it—but somehow I couldn't myself to. You see. he didir't away or anything. Just stood there sniffing at the sheep, and when I called to him he came right over to | me. If he had run, I'd have shot But he didn’t seem to have nuthin on his conscience and—"" “And you didn't want to have any thing on yours?” concluded the lawy softly. bring | run nounced handed stantl; the judge as the clerk him the complaint, and in- the pagked room became si lent. “The defendant, Old Duke, is on trial before me for the offense of sheep killing under section 67 of the Kentucky statutes, which provides that a justice of the peace, on proof any dog is mad, or has been a mad dog, or has killed or | wounded any sheep, shall order such |a dog to be killed. “The afant in the /moving papers upon which I have issued the sum , | mons, to wit, Samuel Bullock, senfor, | a citizen of this town, has sworn that |Old Duke, owned by Maj. Louis | d'Auriac, killed a sheep belonging to | s Bullock during the night of | i May 14. | | " “liow says the defendant? Does he | plead guilty or not guilty | Before counsel could respond, Maj. d’Auriac, who had been nervous {1y Twirling his mustache, bobbed to his feet. “I protest,” he cried in a shak- | ing voice amid a profound silence, | inst Judge Peyton presiding in | this case! He has publicly expressed setiments toward myself that make | that a “The | ji jmproper for him to act where my miserable white | j ey Duke | for sts are involved. 1 apps his sense of honor—if he has an “Kather!” whispered Rene in hor grasping the major by the arm An red slowly rose over Judge on's rubicund face, he Spectators, thrilled, craned their heads delightedly The major and the | judge were bristling at one another | like a little gamecock and a mastiff. “1 protest,” continued the major e ) | The judge banged angrily | gavel |~ “Father!" groaned Rene And he puiled the feebly resi: gentleman back into his chair. “Call the jur; directed Judge Pey ton, whose face had once more re sumed its normal color. * Kk TTHE box was quickly filled, neither - side challenged, the jury was sworn |and the district attorney stated his | case. He confessed that his task was n unpleasant one, that he knew Old | Duke well and had always believed him to be a quiet and well-behaved { dog. At the mention of his name the hound half rose and looked up into his face. The jury nodded. They too, knew Old Duke well. But, con tined the presecutor, the evidence | was convincing and the law was clear. If the dog was a sheep worrler he must die. It would be the jury’s duty to find the defendant guilty and leave the sentence to the wisdom and mercy of Judge Peyton. He bowed and called William Evans to the chair. | There was no question as to | witness® sincerity. He was, he | employed by Mr. Samuel Bullock as farmer and shepherd. On the night May 14 he was just going to bed vhen he head a wild bleating and mpede of sheep. It was a fine, clear night with the moon nearly at the full and a low mist hanging over | | the meadow. He hurrled out of the | vard just as the frightened sheep came pouring in through the gate out In the rear of the flock running in and | ‘I dunno shamefacedly that's all “Your sympathy does declared Mr. Townsend ow e inquire a moment into your legal rigi to Kill the dog had you seen fit to do Where was it you found the sheep he muttered a little with his “I just couldn’t do it Ylease ing old you credit! us rig “On the upper “Whose pastu “The one they £0lf_course.” “Who owns it?" “Wh ' he hesitated land Maj. d'Auriac sold to lock.” “Didn’t Mr. Bulloch *Valley Fair Golf Club | through the room and windows. The old fox! “I guess s0,” agreed the Townsend xmiled “How did Mr. Bullock’s sheer pen to be on land belonging to st | laid out for the new It's the Mr. Bul d it to the A buzz went through the tness hap the Bullock t that afternoo me to run ‘em in ther ’l‘llli old lawyer raised his lean face triumphantly to the Judge “So both the sheep and vou wer trespassing on the property of an other” 1 submit it is clear the witness had no legal right whatever to kil | this dog.” There was an the thurst of approval from the crowd. The lank old lawyer had scored—not heavily, b still hit. Even the major nodded mly but almost immediately his face hard ened again when Judge Peyton re pliec “The He_ conld Bee. & dog, before me is not dog but sheep kill to have of the eace jurisdiction at he be ing being e harge his | Killing, Mr. Townsend let | ing. If a dog is shown '}”’I | tacked a sheep s any judge can, on proper killed. This taken here."” Mr. Tnowsend bowed gravely “I ‘see vour homor's point. T will discuss it at the conclusion of the evi dence. Meantime I desire to ask one or two more questions of the witness. “Mr. Evans., what reason, if any, did Mr. Bullock give you for wishing the flock turned onto the golf links? At this question the elder Bullock ve marked evidence of discomfort | even going so far as to lean forward and make vague signs at the witnes: chair. Evans hesitated “I object,” interposed tor perfunctorily “Overruled!” retored Judge Peyton “I press the questic avered Mr. Townsend “Well, him the dog abandoned nd darted off into the He counted the sheep sight of quarry Lin f. direct flock into the inclosure and | is the procee started across the pasture to see what e could find. The sheepfold was in a depression and as he came up the | se he left the mist behind and below him and emerged into the clear moon. light. Instantly he saw the dead sheep lying white on a small hillock not 50 vards away. Standing beside it was a dog, a dog with a white belt and a white patch over one eve. He | positively identified Old Duke as that dog. He had known him for vears; could not be mistaken. The prosecu tor shrugged his shoulders and down. That was the case: and it cnough. The crowd held its breath | and the jury glanced at one another uneasily.” The evidence was more positive than they had anticipated. But Mr. Townsend, the old lawyer re- tained by the d’Auriacs, was getting up. He asked the shepherd if he heard him aright to say that he had known Old Duke for years. The man answered that he had. THad he ever known him to kill or attack a sheep? No. What was Old Duke’s reputation for peace and gentleness—wasn't it of the best? The witness readily ad- it was. Then Mr. Town the prosecu remarked the witness, gaz ing toward the ceiling as if seeking guidance there, ‘Mr. Bullock said Yowll pardon me, Judge, to use his exact words?—he said, ‘He'd teach those —d'Auriacs a lesson.’ Shall I go on Judge?’—T'm sick of that little billy-goat bearded whipper-snipper of a Major.' said he, ‘and of that spider legged stuck-up son of his! paused for a moment while he | Mal. d'Auriac uttered a snort of | indignation and faced toward the two 1 his long, lantern jaw. i Lo | L Why didn’t you kill Old Duke then | Bullocks, brandishing his cane. An i awed silence at such lese-majeste fell and there when you found he had | upon the room. Judge Peyton tapped the bench with his gavel “I think you have gone long this line, Mr. Townsend,” remarked hastily. ‘“Have you thing further?” ““One more question,” answered the old lawyer. Addressing the witness, he asked, “Have you lost any other sheep recently?"” “I lost a ram a couple of weeks ago,” he admitted, “but I don't charge it against Old Duke.” Again_at the sound of his name | the big foxhound knocked on the plat- form with his tail; then, giving a deep gh, he dropped his head comfortably upon his paws. Through the open windows game the murmur of the E 10 aw en Judge Perton seemed t the answer with interest “Because I didn't want to!"” ¢ enough he any ‘finally You were satisfied he had killed the sheep! “Ye: “Did you refrain from Kkilling him hecause’you doubted your legal right | 1o do so” “No.” ‘hen why didn't you kill him There was a long silence, about him. “Well,” answered Evans at length, “I had about made up my mind to | to do with this dog cas 1926--PART 5. The Impressive Story of a Dog’s Day in Court. throng outside as the shepherd's testi- mony was passed from 1ip to lip “Fhat is all.”” remarked M send. I move that the charge dismissed on the ground that owner of the sheep had delibe; Town be | the ately | turned them loose upon land belonging | to others for the admitted purpose of | satisfying a private grudge. Distress and embarrassment both visible upon the Judge's face There was no doubt whatever but that | mpathies of the crowd were en tirely agAinst the Bullocks and with Old Duke; and should he rule again Mr. Townsend it might be construed as indicating that he shared Mr. Bui- | lock’s opinion with respect to the ) jor's personal character. It was an | awkward moment and the Judge's face | istened with a slight dew of perspi »n born of his mental struggle. Then he shook his head. “The circumstances, if true, ave im material,” he remarked shortly. T rule the evidence here to be sufficient to justify a verdict of guilty and I ~hall give the case to the jury.” “Poltroon! Sealawag! muttered the Major. That.he should be placed n such a humiliating and defer position before his enemy was ch for his pride to bear. Does your honor rule that the de se must proceed”’ inquired Mr ownsend Ido.” returned the Judge solemnly “Mr. Bullock’s remarks to the witness | or the fact that his sheep were tres. | passing upon the golf course have no | hearing upon the question of whether Old Duke killed one of them. So far the evidence is clear and uncontra dicted and will amply support a verdict of guilty. Indeed. I should he constrained in civil case to dir such a verdict There w were it ess | 0o | | | an outburst from the rear henches and the sheriff knocked for order upon the railing with his toad-stabber. Mr. Townsend rose again “If the court please.” he said gently I had hoped to be spared the neces. sity of calling my only witness. but yur honor's ruling makes it neces sary. Miss Helen Peyton, please take the stand." s of protest | | FLUSH stole up from the Judge's ample collar until entire scalp. it covered his ‘What had his daughter ? Why should she be mixed up in this affair? Was it some trick of the d’Auriacs” No, the Major seemed equally surprised, for he sat scowling and pulling his mustache in obvious bewilderment that Mr. Townsend should be seeking | re-enforcements from the enemy | Peyton wanted to find Oid Duke guilty, why call Peyvton's daughter as a wit ness? The Major mopped his fore. head. Things were getting beyvond him. Perhaps it was the heat. That was Peyton’s daughter, wasn't it? He caught his breath. How much she resembled her mother. That low forehead, with the sharply defined wido; peak in the middle of it, and those blue eyes under their lowering black brows' Tall, too, the way woman ought 1o be. Then he per- ceived with increased astonishment that Rene had advanced go meet her and was conducting her to the wit- ness chair. Old Duke recognized her, too, and struggled to his feet as she passed, pawing at her dress. Judge Peyton stammered noticeahly s he administered the oath. For several seconds the girl kept her eyes tened upon Old Duke. Then she ed them to Mr. Townsend and Rene d’Auriac had not resumed his seat, but remained hardly noticeable standing just beside her. “Miss Pevton,” said Mr. Townsend, “I regret having te put you to the embarrassmegt of being a witness, but to the dog's face. ON A SLIGHTLY ELEVATED RAILED testimony is of all the ev vour Do vou r May?" “I do—very well “Did you see Old Duke I did.’ “Where, if 1 Helen lowered importance. ning of the 14th she replied that night may ask | her eves once more | “Shortly after 10 I saw him coming from the direction of Maj. d'2 house toward the golf course Please go on | The girl dropped her head. It was not n easv thing to do. Old Duke wrust his nose toward her across the iiling of the dock and wrinkled it affectionately “It was answered, “and I the golf course but there w meadow The Bullock's pasture w walked through it onto t could hear the sheep cropping turf and the the walked along the edge of the mist and | came out on the little hill that over looks the meadow pasture t used to belong to M d’Auriac She hesitated and looked windows were black with the sheriff was too eng any heed to them Judge Peyton was gazing at the in complete amazement. Helen night alone—when he supposed was safe in bed “There is a clump hill and an old wooden tween two of the trunks upon it. Here and there mist was 1 ner, I backs of the sheep they began to run t then that. 1 could hear 1 nd squealing with fright rushed pell-mell toward But one of the sheep v h was | being chased by a dog ran back out into the moonlight, and 1 saw the dog leap at its throat and throw to the und. It was terrible!” Helen closed her eyes the recollection What sort of Townsend. t was a huge. dog” she replied it befc It ran Duke came.” “Then Old Duke was there? “The spotted dog mauled the sheep until it was dead. and tnen it must have heard something, for it stood stock-still and looked toward Maj d’Auriac’s house and then dashed off into the mist again. 1t had when Old Duke got there. He sm the dead sheep and pawed it was looking very intently inte mist when Mr. Evans came run up. T heard him speak to Old Duke and I saw the dog go up to him. He licked his hand. That was why Oh, nobody could kill Old Duke:” * koK * HE uttered the word: passionate tendernes: in the audience tarily: “No! No!" Judge Peyton rubbed his damp fore head with his handkerchief. “What were vou doing out golf-links alone at that hour night?” he demanded “I was keeping an appointment,’ she answered, blushing furiously and covering her face with both her hands “With whom?" he asked, sharply tene d'Auriac stepped forward. “With me, sir.” he interposed. “It was all my fault, sir. Something had | happened in the afternoon and we— | You see, sir, 1 had asked your daughter to marry me—and she was | going to give me her answer—-" Maj. d'Auriac. fiery red. pushed iac | W | alk 10 had It wa low n 1di about she i moon| on the om My and links s a gate 1 | | | | | a he out at be- down the I sa where All o rst this way and m bleating | Then they all the open s if 1o efface a dog was it?" asked Mr, spotted “1 had away carriage. never seen when Old with such that several answered involun on the of the ) of the audienc | me | seated | most PLATFORM, OR DOCK, SAT THE GRAND OLD FOX. HOUND, OLD DUKE. on their fee 1 dog trial t was over “What did ye by vou locked Oli Duke in the when hed?" roared it Major “1 did to bhed you went to his_<or when you Oniy 1 o thought sir. The Major paused helple: his eye caught sight of the “You miserable sco stammered. “If I ever get Judge Peyton banged with “Order in court’” he everybody Bul er his 1ted she Mi having happened ear rnoon?” inquired t with a suppressed « d*Auriac had Mr. Bulloc answered Miss Pevt the Major, ough 1 vou referred g hi lier in the old I ed upside dowr oment e Pey Rene to Helen his al thumping in a concerting way. Indeed nioisture—perspiration or sor in his eves that blu that he d hard the in throat and Ma jor ton looked 1der n to the his dis was ething vision so T de tad R hut—unless need not i The fol for dissen We' find he announced fellow Valley I hope For answ and took H " nd of am 1 said ‘Yes' Rene stepped forwar len’s hand in one of his while with the other he patted head of Old Duke. now once more e and independent dog. There wi a burst of applause’in the court The Major had begun to act ver queerly. In spite o intense hex he appeared suddenly to have taker cold, for he hix nose loud! he stepped the bench front of the jury Gentlemen.” he began, in his cus tomary stilted tones, “I feel that s this morning reflecting upe he integ he ber were entirely unjustified. Judge F ton, I desire to apologize to you humbly, sir, not only for my animadversions upon you here toc but, sir, for whatever I may have said regarding you in the past. I regre sir—deeply regret— " His goatee quivered and he bit his lip On th nch Judge Peyton was struggling ma to twist his face into a smile, forward, 1} stretched out hands h old frien: “Louis The jurors Fair the 1 dy 1d to s a Dblew tow box lly Leaning both his * he choked Major dashed the back of Tis anny!” he answered of old fools we've been Just then Old Duke, whom . one had unloosed. as if desiring share in the general rejoicing. jumped up between the two old men and laid le on the Major's shoulder ault, Louis!™ pre “I shouldn't have tested the Judze been so sensitive.’ “No, Ranny. it Maj. d'Auriac. was mine!” insisted his way forward. By this time most (Copyright. 1926.) Modern Scholars Attempt to Fill in BY CLIFTON HARBY LEVY. | | precisely nineteen centuries | e Jesus commenced the min- which was to end three later with | vears the Good Friday er feast of Christ this preceding the rdom. Thix who know t St. Luke, iii. himself thirty years of age. be in the yvear 26 of the Christian era The explanation lies in the error o dating the beginning of the Christian calendar. It is wenerally agreed by Christian scholars of all creeds that Jesus could not have been born later than four vears before the date gen- erally accepted as the beginning of the Christian era. For Herod W King, or Tetrarch, when Jesus was born, and according to all authorities he died in the fourth year B.C. of the accepted calendar. o Jesus must e been born actually four yes prior to the date assigned as the time of His birth. It is not nécessary here to give all of the calculations leading to this conclusion, but it has been so decided by those who have gone into the matter thoroughly. The use of the Christian era as a common method of dating documents and fixing dates W earlier than the sixth century by Dionysius the Little. a Roman abbot who made a mistake of four years in the date of the birth of Jesus, as has been proved by experts in chronology since that time. The general use of the Christian era chronology spread throughout Europe by the ninth cen- tury and has since become the uni- versal system of reckoning time. The fact is that Jesus was about thirty years of age when His ministry hegan, according to Luke, and this was in the year 26 of the era. John the Baptist has appearad, calling upon the Jewish people to be ready for the coming of the Messiah, and when the tiine vipp dohn baptized Jesus in vear, ) strange to those spels and have r which runs: “And to be about How could this see « began may Jesus the crucifixion, | commemorated the world over on | | lent? | t|ever, it is of great human interest, as introduced not | the River Jordan. With this act the ministry opened, lasting for some- thing over three years. The question is frequently .pro pounded, What was Jesus doing dur- ing the many years of His life upon which the Gospels are absolutely si- The gaps in the Gospels are quite as notable as the records—if we can only | fill them out with a semblance of probability. What would not the world give to know, fe instance: | What Jesus was doing between His | infancy and the age of 12, when He appeared in the Temple? And what | He was doing from the age of 12 to the age of 30, when His ministry began? These matters are of real value to | the modern world, which would like to have more information as to the in- | fluences which were at work upon | Jesus, and how He must have lived } and been educated in_order to do what He accomplished. Entirely aside | from any theological question what- | from the historical point of view. i e 4 we study the state of the Jews in Palestine during that first century i we may gain considerable light upon this probjem. The internal evidence | of the Gospels themselves may be of | value if properly utilized. In that period between infancy and His twelfth year it is natural to sup- pose that Jesus received the usual schooling of the Jewish child. He tudied the Old Testament in the origi- nal Hebrew, translating it into the Aramaic, a later Semitic tongue, much like the Hebrew, vet as different from the ancient classical Hebrew as is modern Greek from the tongue of | Homer and Euripides. We know that Jesus quoted freely from the ancient Scriptures and that He transiated into | the Aramaic is best proved by the last lama word If, wa was al: law, now exclamation on the cross: “Tli, Eli, lama sabachtani” (“My God, my God, why has Thou forsaken Me?") This is & direct quotation from the Psalms, but in the Hebrew reads: “Eli, EM, s0 known included as In means Aramaic to learning into tk the trad in the Mishnah S fors; while in Hebrew the word is “aza then, Jesus was s usually taught to the Jewis He studied not only the initiated the Gemara, making up the Talmud. sake, what h boy: lible but He Rabbinic ional law, and Early | teachers, for it was he who first laid down the beautiful principle, after- ward developing as_the Golden Rule, which he gave in the negative form. “What is hateful unto thee, do unto none,” said Hillel. This teaching, germinating in the wonderful mind of Jesus, was easily made positive in the words of the Golden Rule: “Do unto At that time it was not written down, but was imparted from teacher to pupil by word of mouth and passed on from generation to generation in this way. Undoubtedly He learned the wise sayings of Rabbi Hillel, the most lov- able and amiable of all those ancient others as you would that they should do unto vou.” ; That Jesus was reared according to the rules for the training of the Jew- ish youth is also proved by the fact of His being brought up to the Temple at Jerusalem in His twelfth vear.: It was a part of His preparation for the initiation into the Jewish faith, for on the thirteenth birthday every boy was called up to read from the law | in the synagogue and was thence for- | ward regarded as a responsible mem. | ber of the Jewish community His confirmation, for as it w termed in the Ilebrew, Bar-mitzvah, when He became responsible for the performance of His religious duties. \\'l_mn Jesus came to Jerusalem, ac- cording to the Gospels. He astonished the rabbis who examined Him by the wisdom of His questions and answers. Yet from that day until He is an. nounced by John the Baptist not a word is recorded in any of the Gospels as to what He was doing. Here, 100, we must rely upon the knowledge of the times and the in- ternal evidence of the Gospels to learn something of the preparation of Jesus for His ministry. It is important to note that John the Baptist is Flis forerunner. This strange, impassioned orator, clad in skins of wild beasts, comes forward to warn the people of what they are to expect, to tell them that the man and the time are at hand. * ¥ Kk % TUDENTS of the Jewi that period are well aware of | the existence of a strange sect of Jews, known as the Essenes. They | believed in community of goods, in poverty and in living the spiritual | rather than the material life. It is | generally held: that both John and | h life of | AN PLE, ASTONISHES THE! WISDOM AND KNOWLEDGE OF THE LAW. 5 om an etching by Leopoid Flameng. Jesus belonged to this sect, which | lived in the desert or forest, exist- | ing as they could, feeding their souls | rather than their bodies. They were the assetics of the time, little con- cerned with material matters, intent upon the study of the soul and the spirit, | tion, 1f there were any doubt upon thi point it would be dispelled by the | account of the interview between the rich young ruler and Jesus. When that earnest Young man came to Jesus and asked Him what he should do, now that he was carrying out every detail of the Jewish law, and vet was unsatisfied as to his salva- Jesus answered him at once: “Sell all that thou hast and dis- tribute unto the poor. and thou shalt have treasure in heaven” (Luke, xvili.22). This was sound Essene doctrine, as is known from other sources of information. If we are to reconstruct the life of Jesus from the time of His youth, we may easily guess that after He had achieved membership in the syna- gogue of Nazareth He came under the influence of this Essene sect, which had special fascination for Him. We learn about the Essenes from Josephus, Philo and the Talmud, in which are various accounts of these Jewish ascetics. They usually wore a white garb, scrupulously clean, but worn until it was no longer wearable. The people reverenced them for the purity and self-denial which they practiced. They were known as mystics, and some assert that they borrowed from the Medo-Persian religion much of the mysticism they practiced in their synagogues. They had synagogues apart from the others, and, though numbering pos- sibly less than 4,000 at this time, lived chiefly in desert places and especially about the Dead Sea. This sect believed in community of goods, were bound to poverty, chastity and obedience to their superiors. None keep slaves, and all were obliged especially to speak the truth. They instituted a regular system of accept- ing novitiates and advancing them from grade to grade as they pro- gressed in the teachings of the sect. | Two vears were passed in the lowest grade before the candidate could be re- ceived into closer fellowship. At sun- rise they began the day with prayer. They did not keep flocks or herds, but 1 I Q aps in Life Story of Christ tilled the soil. They were devoted i works of charity. especially the heal ing of and visitation on the sick. At 11 o'clock they bathed and then gath ered for the common meal. After this simple meal. usually of herbs bread and salt, their pursuits were resumed until the evening. when there was another common meal. which was followed by mystical hymns and dances, symbolizing the rapt, ecstatic frame of mind. Any one who studies the Gospel must be impressed with the idea tha Jesus shared many of the ideas of the issenes. He must have joined the order and passed from grade to grade. so impressing them that John the Bap. tist saw in Him the realization of the hope of Israel, the Messiah, and hastened to preach His coming to tfe Jews, suffering under the yoke of Ro man oppression. That Jesus was a true mystic has been contended by many students of vipture. The famous temptation in the wildernes Judea as related by all of the first three Gospels ix mystical to the last degree (Matt., iv. 1-11). It is to be noted as a distinct mark of the mystical that after the devil left Him, the text states, “angels came and ministered unto Him."” The neophyte could not have experi enced a vision of this power. But after it we learn that Jesus began to preach, golng from synagogue to synagogue and preaching in the open as well on the text “Repent. for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” All the years which He had spent in the wilderness, living with the other ascetics, were a part of the prepar: tion for the three vears of preaching and teaching, and e did not hesitaie to announce the doctrine of poverty and community of goods on every occasion. Tt is of great interest now that there is widespread interest in the personal ity of Jesus both on the part of the Christian and the Jew to ascertain all that e possible about the conditions under which He was prepared for Hi- ministry. % -