ou," says Christ, "that he will avenge them speedily."But now, forasmuch as this parable reacheth not (so directly) thepoor Publican in the text, therefore our Lord begins again, and addsto that other parable, this parable which I have chosen for my text;by which he designeth two things: First, The conviction of the proudand self-conceited Pharisee: Secondly, The raising up and healing ofthe cast down and dejected Publican. And observe it, as by the firstparable he chiefly

t of the "L" below them. It was perhaps six miles across; and all over the comparatively smooth surface jutted dark projections. Viewed through the glasses, they had a regular, uniform appearance."By Jove!" ejaculated the doctor, almost in awe. He leaned forward and scrubbed the dead-light for the tenth time. All four men strained their eyes to see. It was the architect who broke the silence which followed. The other three were content to let the thrill of the thing have its

ity with Song-jin was destined to serve him as wife or mistress. Song-jin bore the name of his hermit father, Yang, and the name given him at birth. Master Yang, as we shall now know him, was a child of such beauty and a youth of such wisdom that the governor of his county called him the "Marvellous Lad" and offered to recommend him to the Court. His physical strength, learning and ability in the Classics and composition, his marvellous knowledge of astronomy and geomancy, his

our eighth landing, all that passed. For R-14 was old again, older than any of the others.And then, on October sixteenth, Mason opened the door of the locked cabin. It happened quite by accident. One of the arelium-thaxide conduits broke in the Marie Galante's central passageway, and the resulting explosion grounded the central feed line of the instrument equipment. In a trice the passageway was a sheet of flame, rapidly filling with smoke from burning insulation. Norris, of course, was in the

tel isn't much; but the piano is better thanthat fearful old thing at the Sebago House. Sometimes I godownstairs and talk to the lady who keeps the books--a French lady,who is remarkably polite. She is very pretty, and always wears ablack dress, with the most beautiful fit; she speaks a littleEnglish; she tells me she had to learn it in order to converse withthe Americans who come in such numbers to this hotel. She has givenme a great deal of information about the position of woman in

hile life as a whole, history, character, and destiny are objects unfit for imagination to dwell on, and repellent to poetic art? I cannot think so. If it be a fact, as it often is, that we find little things pleasing and great things arid and formless, and if we are better poets in a line than in an epic, that is simply due to lack of faculty on our part, lack of imagination and memory, and above all to lack of discipline.This might be shown, I think, by psychological analysis, if we cared to

climate of more abundant moisture, the ivywould have mantled it from head to foot in a garment that might, bythis time, have been centuries old, though ever new. In the dryItalian air, however, Nature had only so far adopted this old pile ofstonework as to cover almost every hand's-breadth of it withclose-clinging lichens and yellow moss; and the immemorial growth ofthese kindly productions rendered the general hue of the tower softand venerable, and took away the aspect of nakedness which

r a moment Bill stood over him, nostrils flaring, his whole body tense and waiting. But Tom was too groggy to get up."Oh, Bill, how could you!" Christy cried out, dropping to her knees beside Tom. Bill strode with measured step to the door. There he turned, and looking back with a sneer, said, "Sweet dreams, Dream Boy!" * * * * * In a luxurious office of Asteroid Mining Corporation on the twenty-third floor of a Manhattan skyscraper a furious official of the corporation