Lord's glory and the good of man.  "The God of peace will be with him"
wherever he goes, whatever he does; deep below the surface, but so as
to control the whole surface all the while.

Such is the Christian life, where the Christian "stands firm in the
Lord."  It was thus at Philippi.  In the early generations of the
Church (let the _Apology of Aristides_ alone be adequate witness) it
was thus, to a degree and to an extent most memorable, in at least very
many Christian circles.  It is thus still, in many an individual life.
But is it in any sense whatever thus in the rule and average or even
earnest Christian lives?  Is it thus in ours?

"Henceforth, let us _live_--not unto ourselves, but unto Him who died
for us, and rose again."  To Him, in Him, by Him, we are bound to live
so (Rom. viii. 12, _opheileta_), we are able to live so.  Let us
"present ourselves to God" (Rom. vi. 13), watching and praying, and it
shall be.

  "Two arms I find to hold Thee fast,
    Submission meek and reverent faith;
  Held by Thy hand that hold shall last
    Through life and over death.

  "Not me the dark foe fears at all,
    But hid in Thee I take the field;
  Now at my feet the mighty fall,
    For Thou hast bid them yield." [11]

[1] So certainly read, not _Euodias_, which would be a man's name, a
contraction of Euodianus.  Euodias as a fact is not found in
inscriptions.  Euodia on the other hand is a known feminine name; and
the words just following ("help these women") make it practically
certain that the two persons just named were both female converts.
(_Euodian_ of course may be the accusative of either _Euodias_ or
_Euodia_.)

[2] _Cor Dei in verbis Dei_; Gregory the Great's noble description of
the Bible, in a letter to the courtier Theodoras, begging him to study
daily "the Letter of the heavenly Emperor."

[3] "I exhort," R.V.  A slightly tenderer word seems better to
represent _parakalein_ in this personal connexion.  "I beseech" (A.V.)
is _perhaps_ rather too tender.

[4] "As a curiosity of interpretation, Ellicott (see also Lightfoot, p.
170) mentions the conjecture of Schwegler, that Euodia and Syntyche are
really designations of _Church-parties_ [the imagined Petrine and
Pauline parties], the names being devised and significant
[Euodia='_Good-way_,' Orthodoxy; Syntyche='_Combination_,' of Gentiles
and Jews on equal terms].  This theory of course regards our Epistle as
a fabrication of a later generation, intended as an _eirenicon_.  'What
will not men affirm?'"  (Note on ver. 2 in _The Cambridge Bible for
Schools_).

[5] We know nothing for certain of this person.  Lightfoot suggests
that it was Epaphroditus, whom St Paul would thus commission not only
orally but in writing, as a sort of credential.  One curious and most
improbable conjecture is that it was _St Paul's wife_.  Renan (_Saint
Paul_, p. 148) renders here _ma chère épouse_.

[6] Perhaps the bishop of Rome of a later day.  So Origen and Eusebius.
But we cannot be certain of the identity.

[7] "Cp. Rev. iii. 5, xiii. 8, xvii. 8, xx. 12, 15, xxi. 27; and Luke
x. 20.  And see Exod. xxxii. 32, 33; Ps. lxix. 28, lxxxvii. 6; Isa. iv.
3; Ezek. xiii. 9; Dan. xii. 1.  The result of the comparison of these
passages with this seems to be that St Paul here refers to the Lord's
'knowledge of them that are His' (2 Tim. ii. 19: cp. John x. 27, 28),
for time and eternity.  All the passages in the Revelation, save iii.
5, are clearly in favour of a reference of the phrase to the certainty
of the ultimate salvation of all true saints . . . so too Dan. xii. 1
and Luke x. 20.  Rev. iii. 5 appears to point in another direction (see
Trench on that passage).  But in view of the other mentions of the
'Book' in the Revelation the language of iii. 5 may well be only a
vivid assertion that the name in question _shall be found_ in an
indelible register. . . .  Practically, the Apostle here speaks of
Clement and the rest as having given illustrious proof of their part
and lot in that 'life eternal' which is 'to know the only true God, and
Jesus Christ whom He hath sent' (John xvii. 3).--The word '_names_'
powerfully suggests the individuality and speciality of divine love."
(Note in _The Cambridge Bible for Schools_.)

[8] I think the Apostle has in mind Ps. cxix. 151, where the Septuagint
version has _su eggus ei, Kurie_.  He is thinking of "the secret _of
the Presence_" (Ps. xxxi. 20).  We need not shut out the calming
thought of the Lord's approaching _Return_; but it does not seem to be
the leading thought here.

[9] Bishop Ken.

[10] G. M. Taylor, in _Hymns of Consecration_, 349.

[11] _In the House of the Pilgrimage_.

_THE COLLECTION FOR ST PAUL: THE FAREWELL_

  "Is thy cruse of comfort wasting? rise and share it with another,
  And through all the years of famine it shall serve thee
      and thy brother.

  "Is thy burthen hard and heavy? do thy steps drag wearily?
  Help to bear thy brother's burthen; God will bear both it and thee.

  "Is the heart a living power? self-entwin'd, its strength sinks low;
  It can only live in loving, and by serving love will grow."
          E. RUNDLE CHARLES.

CHAPTER XII

THE COLLECTION FOR ST PAUL: THE FAREWELL

PHILIPPIANS iv. 10-23

The Philippian alms--His sense of their faithful love--He has received
in full--A passage in the Scriptural manner--The letter closes--"Christ
is preached"--"Together with them"

The work of dictation is nearly done in the Roman lodging.  The
manuscript will soon be complete, and then soon rolled up and sealed,
ready for Epaphroditus; he will place it with reverence and care in his
baggage, and see it safe to Philippi.

But one topic has to be handled yet before the end.  "Now concerning
the collection!"  Epaphroditus, who had brought with him to Rome the
loving alms of the Philippian believers, must carry back no common
thanks to them.  All honour shall be done by the Lord's great servant
to those who have done the Lord this service in him; they shall know
how it has rejoiced and warmed his heart; they shall be made very sure
that "inasmuch as they have done it to" their Missionary "they have
done it to" their KING.

We do not know how much the money amounted to.  It was not improbably a
substantial sum.  Among the contributors might be Lydia, whose means
may well have been comfortable; and the Keeper of the Prison would be
by no means a beggar: what gratitude to St Paul glowed in both those
hearts!  But not in theirs only; the rank and file of the mission would
do all that love could do for the man who had manifested JESUS to them.
And when that is the spirit, the liberality will often be surprising.
Not long ago in one of our North American missions a small meeting of
poor Christian Indians apologized for the scantiness of their
collection for _missionary objects_; it was worth only £7; they would
do better the next time!

But small or large, the Philippian gift was precious with the weight of
love.  And no doubt it was exceedingly useful practically.  It would
secure for the imprisoned missionary many alleviating personal
comforts, and part of it would probably be spent upon the work of
evangelization in Rome and its neighbourhood; for then as now work
inevitably meant expense.

Ver. 10.  +But+, to turn now from teaching to thanking--+I rejoice+
(_echarên_: the English present best gives the point of the
"epistolary" aorist) +in the Lord+, in our union of heart and life with
Him, +greatly, that now at length+, after an interval which was no
fault of yours, +you have blossomed, out[1] into+ loving +thought on my
behalf+.  +With a view to this+ (_eph ô_), this effort to aid me, you
+were, I know+ (_kai_), +taking thought+ (_ephroneite_), even when you
made no sign; +but you were at a loss for opportunity+ for the
transmission; no bearer for your bounty could be spared, or found.

Ver. 11.  +Not that I speak thus in the tone of need+ (_kath
usterêsin_), as if I had been wondering, and fretting, and suspecting
you of forgetfulness or of parsimony; no, I have been in a happier mood
than that; +for I, for my part+ (_egô_: slightly emphatic), have learnt
(_emathon_: our perfect tense best gives this aorist) +to be, in my
actual circumstances, self-sufficing+ (_autarkês_); "carrying with me
all I have"; independent, not of grace, but of surroundings.

Ver. 12.  +I know both+ (_kai_, not _de_) +how to run low,[2] and how
to run over+, as I do now, with your bounty; and both experiences need
a teaching from above if they are to be rightly borne.  +In everything
and in all things+, in the details and in the total, I have been let
into the secret, I have been initiated into the "mystery,"[3] +of being
full fed and of being hungry, of+

Ver. 13.  +running over and of coming short.  For all things I am
strong in Him who makes me able.+[4]

But not even this joyful testimony to the enabling presence of his Lord
must divert his thought from the loving act of the Philippians.  He
seems about to dilate on the glorious theme of what he can be and do in
Christ; the wonder of that experience on which he entered at the crisis
detailed in 2 Cor. xii. is surely powerfully upon him; the "My grace is
sufficient for thee"; the sense of even exultation in weakness and
imperfection, "that the power of Christ may overshadow" him.  But all
this leaves perfectly undisturbed his delicate sympathy with the dear
Macedonian converts.  And so he will assure them that no spiritual
"sufficiency" can blunt the sense of their generous kindness.

Ver. 14.  +Yet you did well+, you did a fair, good deed, +when you
joined together+ (_sunkoinônêsantes_) +in participating in my
tribulation+, with the partnership of a sympathy which feels the
suffering it relieves.  +But you

Ver. 15.  +know+, (to add a thought on your previous bounties, which
may as it were correct (_de_) the thought that I needed this last
bounty to assure me of your love,) you know, +Philippians,[5] that in
the beginning of the Gospel+, in the early days of the mission in your
region, +when I left Macedonia+, parting from you on my way south, in
order to quit Macedonia (Roman Northern Greece) for Achaia (Roman
Southern Greece), _viâ_ Thessalonica and Beroea,[6] +no church
participated with me+, helped me in my labours, +in the matter of
giving and taking+, (they giving and I taking the needed monetary aid,)
+but you alone+.  But

Ver. 16.  you did so; +because even in Thessalonica+; even when I was
still there, in a place which was but ninety miles away,[7] and in the
same province still; twice over (_kai hapax kai dis_) +you sent+ aid
+to my need+, within the few weeks which I spent at Thessalonica.

Again he will not be misunderstood.  This warmly expressed gratitude
may conceivably be mistaken for an indirect petition, "thanks for
favours to come."  So with sensitive delicacy he pursues:

Ver. 17.  +Not that I am in quest of+ (_epizêtô_: almost, "I am hunting
for") +the gift+, the mere sum of money, in and for itself; +but I am
in quest of the interest that is accumulating to your account+;[8] I am
bent upon just such a developement of your generosity as will win from
the heavenly Master more and yet more of that supreme reward, His own
"Well done, good and

Ver. 18.  faithful."  +But+ (he is still anxious, lest this too should
be mistaken for a personal bid for more) +I have received in full+
(_apechô_); you have amply discharged love's obligations, in the gift
now sent; +and I run over+; the largeness of your bounty makes an
overflow.  +I have been filled full, in accepting from Epaphroditus
what+ came +from you; an odour of fragrancy, a sacrifice acceptable,
pleasing to God+, to whom you have really presented what you have sent
to the man who serves Him--this evidence of your sacrifice to Him of
yourselves and your possessions, a burnt offering (Lev. i. 9) of
surrender, a peace offering (Lev. ii. 2, iii. 5) of thanksgiving.[9]  I
cannot

Ver. 19.  requite you; +but my God shall fill up every need of yours+
(_pasan chreian_, not _p._tên chr._), making up to you in His own
loving providence the gap in your means left by this your bounty, and
enriching you the while in soul, +according to+, on the scale of, +His
wealth, in glory, in Christ Jesus+.  Yes, He will draw on no less a
treasury than that of "His glory," His own Nature of almighty Love, as
it is manifested to and for you "in Christ Jesus," in whom "all the

Ver. 20.  Fulness dwells."[10]  +But now to our God and Father+, to Him
of whom I and you are alike the dear children, +be the glory+, the
praise for this and for all like acts of His children's love, +for ever
and ever+; "to the ages of the ages," the endless cycles of eternal
life, in which shall it be fully seen how He was the Secret of all the
holiness of all His saints.  _Amen_.

So the utterance of thanks for a loving and liberal collection closes.
Here is another case of the phenomenon we have seen already--the
beautiful skill with which a local and personal incident is used as the
occasion for a whole revelation of grace and truth.  We can easily
imagine a gift like that which came from Philippi acknowledged with a
few cordial words which would adequately express gratitude and
pleasure, but would otherwise terminate wholly in themselves.  How
different is this paragraph!  Throughout it, side by side, run at once
the most perfect and delicate human courtesy and considerateness, and
suggestions of eternal and spiritual relations, in which "the gift"
touches at every point the heart of the Lord, and the promises of
grace, and the hope of glory.  This message of thanks gives us, just in
passing, such oracles of blessing as, "I can do all things in Him that
strengtheneth me," and "My God shall supply all your need."  It is on
one side a model of nobility and fineness of human thought and feeling,
on the other an oracle of God.  This is just in the manner of
Scripture.  "Never book spake like this Book."

Now the close comes.  The greetings which those who are one in the Lord
cannot but send to one another in His name, have to be spoken, and then
the scribe's pen will rest.

Ver. 21.  +Salute every saint in Christ Jesus+, every holy one of your
circle, holy because in Him; pass the greetings round from my heart to
each member of the Church.  And as I write, the Christians now around
me, my personal friends upon the spot, must send their message too;
+there salute you all the brethren who are with me+.  And not they
only, but all the believers of the Roman mission, represented around me
in my chamber as I dictate, do the same; and among them one class asks
to join with special warmth; +there+

Ver. 22.  +salute you all the saints, but particularly those who belong
to+ (_oi ek_) +the household of the Emperor+ (_kaisaros_); the
Christians gathered from the retainers of the Palace; peculiar in their
circumstances of temptation, and quickened thereby to a special warmth
of faith and love.[11]

Nothing is left now but the final message from the Lord Himself; the
invocation of that "grace" which means in fact no abstract somewhat but
His living Self, present in His people's inmost being, to vivify and to
bless.

Ver. 23.  +The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.[12]
Amen.+

The voice is silent; the pen is laid aside.  In due time the papyrus
roll, inestimable manuscript, is made ready for its journey.  And
perhaps as it now lies drying the Missionary and his brethren turn to
further conversation on the beloved Philippian Church, and recall many
a scene in the days that are over, and which are now gliding far into
the past of the crowded years; and they speak again of the brightness
of Philippian Christian life, and the shadows that lie on it here and
there; and then, while the Praetorian sentinel looks on in wonder, or
perhaps joins in as a believer, they pray together for Philippi, and
pour out their praises to the Father and the Son, and anticipate the
day of glory.

It is all over now; it all happened very long ago.  But though that
blessed group of our elder brethren "are all gone into the world of
light" these many more than eighteen hundred human years, that Letter
is our contemporary still.  "The word of God _liveth_ and _abideth for
ever_" (1 Pet. i. 23); it is never out of date, never touched by the
pathetic glamour of the past, with the suggestion of farewells, and
waxings old, and vanishings away.  To us to-day, so near the twentieth
century, the Epistle to the Philippians is immortal, modern, true for
our whole world and time.

And what is its secret, its elixir of undying life?  It is the Name of
Jesus Christ.  It is that these pages are the message of "the chosen
Vessel" about that Name.

Our studies in the Epistle shall close with that reflexion.  The
incidental topics and interests of the document are numerous indeed;
but the main theme is one, and it is Jesus Christ.  From first to last,
under every variety of reference, "Christ is preached."

Let me quote from a Sermon preached many years ago, the last of a
series in which I attempted to unfold the Epistle to a Christian
congregation in the beloved Church of Fordington, Dorchester, then my
Father's cure and charge.

"The mere number of mentions of the Saviour's name is remarkable.  More
than forty times we have it in this short compass; that is to say, it
occurs, amidst all the variety of subjects, on an average of about once
in every two or three verses.  This is indeed perfectly characteristic,
not of this Epistle only but of the whole New Testament.  What the
Apostles preached was not a thing but a Person; Christ, Christ Jesus,
Christ Jesus the Lord.

"But let us not look only on this frequency of mention.  Let us gather
up something of what these mentions say 'concerning the King.'

"The writer begins with describing himself and his associates as the
servants, the absolute bondmen, _of Jesus Christ_.  And truly such
servants witness to the worthiness of their Master.

"He addresses those to whom he writes as saints, as holy ones, _in
Jesus Christ_.  Their standing, their character, their all, depends on
Him; on union with Him, on life in Him.  Without Him, apart from Him,
they would not be saints at all.

"The writer speaks of his imprisonment at Rome; the subject is full of
Jesus Christ.  'My bonds _in Christ_' is his remarkable description of
captivity.  And the result of that captivity was, to his exceeding joy,
just this, amidst a great variety of conditions in detail, including
some exquisite trials to patience and peace: '_Christ_ is being
preached'; 'that _Christ_ may be magnified in my body, whether by life
or death.'  He is kept absolutely cheerful and at rest; and the secret
is Jesus Christ.

"He has occasion to speak of his trial, with its delays, and its
suspense between life and death.  The whole is full of Jesus Christ.
'To me to live is _Christ_'; He fills, and as it were makes, life for
me.  'And to die is gain'--why?  Because 'to depart and to be with
_Christ_ is far, far better.'  The dilemma in which he stands (for he
is 'in a strait betwixt the two') is a dilemma between Christ and
Christ, Christ much and Christ more, Christ by faith and Christ by
sight.

"He dwells, in various places, on the life and duties of the
Philippians.  His precepts are all this, in effect--Christ applied to
conduct.  'Let your life-walk be as it becometh the Gospel of
_Christ_'; 'Filled with the fruit of righteousness which is through
_Jesus Christ_'; 'It is granted to you not only to believe in _Christ_
but also to suffer for His sake.'

"In particular, he has to press on them the homely duty of practical
self-forgetfulness.  He takes them for model and motive to the heaven
of heavens, and shews them 'Christ Jesus' there, as for us men and for
our salvation He prepares to come down, and comes.  'Let this mind be
in you,' as you contemplate the original Glory, the amazing
Incarnation, the atoning Death, of _Christ Jesus_.

"He expresses hopes, intentions, resolutions, as to his own actions.
All is still 'in Jesus Christ.'  'I trust in _the Lord Jesus_ to send
Timotheus,' 'I trust in _the Lord_ to come myself shortly.'

"Does he speak of the believer's joy?  'We rejoice in _Christ Jesus_,'
'Rejoice in _the Lord_ alway, and again I say, Rejoice.'  Does he speak
of pardon and of peace?  'I counted all things but loss that I might
win _Christ_, and be found in Him, having the righteousness which is of
God by faith.'  Does he speak of knowledge, and of power?  'That I
might know _Christ_, and the power of His resurrection, and the
fellowship of His sufferings, being made conformable unto His death';
'I can do all things in _Christ_ which strengtheneth me.'

"He speaks of a holy immortality, of eternal glory, and of pleasures
for evermore.  It is no vague aspiration; it is a sure and certain
hope; and it is altogether in Jesus Christ.  'Our home, our
citizenship, is in heaven, from whence also we look for the Saviour,
the Lord _Jesus Christ_, who shall change the body of our humiliation
into likeness to the body of His glory, according to the working
whereby He is able even to subdue all things unto--Himself.'

"He bids his beloved converts stand fast; it is 'in _the Lord_.'  He
bids them be of one mind; it is 'in _the Lord_.'  He bids them be
always calm, always self-forgetting; '_the Lord_ is at hand.' He
assures them of an all-sufficient resource for their every need; 'My
God shall supply all, according to His riches, in glory, in _Christ
Jesus_.'

"His last message of blessing brings together their inmost being and
this same wonderful Person; 'The grace of our Lord _Jesus Christ_ be
with your spirit.  Amen.' . . .

"What a witness it all is to the glory of our beloved Redeemer; to the
majesty of His Person; to the fulness and perfection of His Work; to
the solidity, the sobriety, the strength, of the faith which is in Him!
There is no inflation or rhetoric in the language of the Epistle about
Him.  Glowing with love, it is all clear and calm.  Yes, for Christ
Jesus is not a phantom of the fancy; a hope floating on the thick waves
of a wild enthusiasm.  He is an anchor, sure and steadfast.  Blessed
are they who ride secure on the deep, held fast by Him.

"The Epistle witnesses to Him as to a Treasure worth all our seeking,
at any cost; infinitely precious to our joyful finding; infinitely
deserving of our keeping, of our holding, our 'apprehending,' as He in
His mercy has laid hold of us, and will keep hold of us, even to the
end; 'unto the day of Jesus Christ.'  As then, so now;

  'He help'd His saints in ancient days
    Who trusted in His name;
  And we can witness to His praise,
    His love is still the same.'

"May the Spirit bring home to our spirit this great witness of the
Epistle; it has its perfect adaptation to each heart, to every life, to
every hour.

"Then hereafter we shall give God thanks yet better for 'Philippians,'
as we too enter, late or soon, into that world where the Apostle, and
Timotheus, and Epaphroditus, and Euodia, and Syntyche, and Clement, and
the saints of Caesar's household, have so long beheld the Lord.  In
that land of light we, who have believed, shall rest with them.  We
shall know them.  In the long leisure of endless life we shall enjoy
their company, amidst the multitudinous congregation of the just made
perfect.  There we shall understand how, under the infinite differences
of our earthly conditions, the one Hand led them and led us along the
one way of salvation to the one end of everlasting life.  Above all, we
there, with them, shall know JESUS CHRIST, even as we are known.  There
we, with them, shall realize how to Him, and to Him alone, from all His
servants, from Hebrew, and Roman, and Philippian, and Englishman, and
African, from ancients and moderns, wise and ignorant, of all kinds and
times, was due the whole praise of their whole salvation.

    'Conflicts and trials done
    His glory they behold,
  Where JESUS and His flock are one,
    One Shepherd and one fold.'"

[1] _Anethalete to huper emou phronein_.  Literally, "_you shot forth_
(as a branch) _thought in my behalf_."  (The English perfect best
represents this aorist.)  The phrase is unmistakably pictorial,
poetical.  If I read it aright, it is touched with _a smile_ of gentle
pleasantry; the warm heart comes out in a not undesigned quaintness of
expression.

[2] _tapeinousthai_ is used in classical Greek of the falling of a
river in drought.  Perhaps such an image is present in the language
here.

[3] _Memuêmai_: the verb whose root is that of _mysterion_,
_mysterium_, "mystery."  In the Greek world "mysteries" were systems of
religious belief and practice derived, perhaps, from pre-Hellenic
times, and jealously guarded from common knowledge by their votaries.
Admission into their secrets, as into those of Freemasonry now, was
sought by people of all kinds, from Roman consuls and emperors
downwards; with the special hope of freedom from evil in this life and
the next.  St Paul's use of this phenomenon to supply language for
Christian experience is beautifully suggestive.  The knowledge of the
peace of God is indeed an _open_ secret, open to "whosoever will"
"learn of Him."  But it is a secret, a mystery, none the less.

[4] The word _Christô_ should be omitted from the reading, though
perfectly right as a note or explanation.--The _iochus_ is the
forth-putting of the _dunamis_--the _action_ of the _faculty_.  He is
ready to act (or to bear) in a power always latent, always present,
through his union with his Lord.  The "all things" so met are, of
course, the all things of the will of God, the choice of the Master for
the servant in the way of circumstance and trial; not the all things of
the mere wish or ambition of the servant.

[5] _Philippêsioi_: the Greek form represents a Latin _Philippenses_,
by which the residents in the _Roman "colony"_ would call themselves.
So _Corinthiensis_ means not a born Corinthian but a settler at
Corinth.--Greek tends to represent a Latin syllable -_ens_ by -_ês_: so
_Klêmês_, _Clemens_.

[6] See Acts xvii. 1-15.

[7] On the Egnatian road.  He made three stages of the distance;
Amphipolis, Apollonia, Thessalonica.

[8] _Ton karpon ton pleonazonta eis logon hymôn_.  I venture to render
these words as above, as a monetary phrase, relating to principal and
interest.  It is true that _karpos_ is not found used in the sense of
interest, for which the regular word is _tokos_.  But it would easily
fit into the language of the money-market.  And St Chrysostom's comment
here seems to show that he, a Greek, understood it thus: _horas hoti
ekeinois ho karpos tiktetai_ (_tokos_).

[9] For _osmê euôdias_ see Eph. v. 2.  The phrase is common in the
Septuagint to render the Hebrew "savour of rest," the fume of the altar
pictorially represented as smelt by the Deity.

[10] This reference of _doxa_ seems better than that which would
connect it only with the eternal future, the glory of heaven, and make
the sentence mean that He would hereafter requite them there.  He would
indeed do so.  But the phrase _plêroun pasan chreian_ hardly suggests
that thought here.

[11] "Bishop Lightfoot . . . (_Philippians_, pp. 171-178) has shewn
with great fulness of proof that 'the household of Caesar' was a term
embracing a vast number of persons, not only in Rome but in the
provinces, all of whom were either actual or former slaves of the
Emperor, filling every possible description of office more or less
domestic.  The Bishop illustrates his statements from the . . . burial
inscriptions of members of the 'Household' found . . . near Rome. . . .
These inscriptions afford a curiously large number of coincidences
_with the list in Rom. xvi._ . . .  Amplias, Urbanus, Apelles,
Tryphaena, Tryphosa, Patrobas, Philologus. . . .  Bishop Lightfoot
infers from this whole evidence the great probability that the 'saints'
greeted in Rom. xvi. were, on the whole, the same 'saints' who here
send greeting _from_ Rome. . . .  Their associations and functions, not
only in the age of Nero but in the precincts of his court, and probably
(for many of them) within the chambers of his palace, give a noble view
in passing of the power of grace to triumph over circumstances, and to
transfigure life where it seems most impossible" (Note in _The
Cambridge Bible for Schools and Colleges_).  See also the writer's
commentary on the Ep. to the Romans (_Expositor's Bible_), pp. 423-425.

[12] Read _meta tou pneumatos huôn_, not _m. pantôn humôn_.

THE PRAETORIAN AND THE APOSTLE

ACTS xxviii. 16, 31

"Paul was suffered to dwell by himself with a soldier that kept
him. . . .  preaching the kingdom of God, and teaching those things
which concern the Lord Jesus Christ."

  (THE SOLDIER loquitur.)

  Father, the dawn is near! the shield
    Of Luna sinks remote and pale
  O'er Tiber and the Martial field;
    The breeze awakes; the cressets fail:
  This livelong night from set of sun
  Here have we talk'd: thy task is done.

  But yesterday I smil'd or frown'd
    To watch thy audience, soon and late,
  With scroll and style embattl'd round
    In barbarous accents ply debate;
  While this would chide, and that would start
  Sudden, as sword-struck in the heart.

  I laugh'd aside, or, tir'd, withdrew
    From the strange sound in waking dreams
  To Umbrian hills--the home I knew--
    The cottage by Mevania's streams:
  'Twas hush'd at length: the guests were flown,
  And thou wast left and I alone.

  Thou hast forgiven (I know thee now)
    The insults of this heathen tongue;
  The taunting questions why and how;
    The songs (oh madness!) that I sung:
  Thou hast forgiv'n the hateful strain
  Of dull defiance and disdain.

  Thy gaze, thy silence, they compell'd
    My own responsive: aw'd I stood
  Before thee; soften'd, search'd, and quell'd;
    The evil captive to the good:
  Half conscious, half entranc'd, I heard
  (While the stars mov'd) thy conquering word.

  These ears were dull to Grecian speech,
    This heart more dull to aught but sin;
  Yet the great Spirit bade thee reach,
    Wake, change, exalt, the soul within:
  I've heard; I know; thy Lord, ev'n He,
  JESUS, hath look'd from heaven on me.

  Thou saw'st me shake, and (spite of pride)
    Weep on thy hand: so stern thy truth:
  I own'd the terrors that abide
    Dread sequel to a rebel's youth:
  But soon I pour'd a happier shower
  To learn thy Saviour's dying power.

  Ah, speechless, rapt, I bent, to know
    Each wonder of that fateful day
  When midst thy zeal's terrific glow
    He met thee on the Syrian way:
  I saw, I felt, the scene: my soul
  Drank the new bliss, the new control.

  Father, the dawn is risen! the hour
    Is near, too near, when from this hand
  Thy chain must fall--from yonder tower
    Another guard must take my stand:
  The City stirs: I go, to meet
  The foe, the world, in camp and street;

  A Christian--yes, for ever now
    A Christian: so our Leader keep
  My faltering heart: to Him I bow,
    His, whether now I wake or sleep:
  In peace, in battle, His:--the day
  Breaks in the east: oh, once more pray!

1869.


say, it was not the disaster itself he thought about: he had forgotten
that, like the others. He had forgotten the dead, for he now had so many
descendants that he no longer knew their number or their names. It was
Steam he thought about.

When he saw how the wind turned the sails of the mill or carried the ships
across the sea, he gave a scornful smile. It went so terribly slowly, he
considered. And then a storm might come, when they could neither sail nor
grind, or a head-wind so strong that they had to divert their course for
it, or a calm, when everything had to stand still.

“You’re only a second-rate servant, friend Wind,” he said. “Ah, Steam! Now
there’s a fellow for you!”

He remembered how the captive steam broke out and, in a moment, obscured
the sun and turned day into night, how it scattered far and wide over
the land great stones and mud and ashes and all that the fiery mountain
or volcano contained. In a few hours, the plain was transformed into a
wilderness. It was all done so quickly and with such force that no one
could possibly imagine it who had not seen it. Surely, Steam must be the
strongest power on earth.

He thought of what the steam had said, how it came into existence when the
water got above the fire.

“That’s right,” he said.

He sat and looked at the pot, which was boiling. As soon as the water grew
hot enough, the white steam floated above it.

He took a piece of glass and held it over the steam. The steam settled on
the glass in clear drops.

“That’s right, too,” he said. “The steam turns to water again.”

He saw them put a lid on the pot to keep in the heat. They made up the
fire and more steam came, so that the lid began to jump.

“Now it’s getting too close in there,” he said. “Just as Steam told me
about the volcano.”

They put a stone on the lid to hold it down. Two-Legs added more and more
fuel and more and more steam came. At last it flung off the lid with the
stone and darted out into the room.

“The mountain is splitting,” said Two-Legs, rubbing his hands.

7

He built himself a big boiler and a great furnace. Here he kept up a
constant fire and tried the strength of the steam and pondered how to make
use of it. He had only one person with him, one of his grandsons, who was
cleverer than the others, and with whom he often talked of the thought
that dwelt in him.

Many a time they two would sit long into the night and work and talk,
always of the same thing. It was the question of making the steam work
the way it should and no other and as strongly as it should and no more.
No one ventured to disturb them. All the rest of the tribe looked upon
Two-Legs’ house with awe and reverence, for they knew how clever he was
and that he was working alone for the good of the whole race. Some of
them, also, believed that he would at last succeed in mastering Steam, but
many thought that it would never come to pass and that it would end in
terror, as though he were fighting the most secret and powerful forces in
nature.

But, whether they held this view or that, they all preferred to keep away
from Two-Legs’ house, because they understood how great the danger was to
which he exposed himself. All those who had survived the calamity of the
volcano were long since dead; but the legend of that terrible day still
lingered in the tribe and Two-Legs’ kinsmen could not help thinking what
terrible things might happen if Steam should suddenly, one day, turn bad
again.

Two-Legs took no heed of what they thought or said.

Now and again, the elders came to him to report on what was happening,
good or bad, in the family: the number of children born, the losses
suffered or the gain in prosperity. He looked up hastily from his work,
nodded to them and then bade them go and leave him alone.

Sometimes, a young man would come running up, radiantly happy at some
discovery he had made, to gather praise from the old, wise man whom
they all honoured above any other. Two-Legs scarcely looked up from his
work and did not hear him to the end. He knew that the ideas with which
he himself was busied were far greater and more important and longed
impatiently for the day when they should be realized.

He built new boilers of strange shapes and bigger, so that they could hold
more steam, and stronger, so that the steam could not burst them. He made
his people dig coal from the mountains and used it for fuel, because he
had discovered that it gave greater heat and therefore more quickly turned
the water into steam. As each year passed, he thought he was nearing the
goal, but as yet he had not reached it and sometimes he was despairing.

One day, the boiler burst. He himself was struck on the forehead by a
fragment of iron and received a deep wound; but his grandson and assistant
was killed before his eyes.

They all came running up with wailing and lamentations. But Two-Legs wiped
the blood from his face and stood long and gazed at the burst boiler. Then
he turned and looked at the dead man:

“Poor fellow!” he said. “He would so much have liked to live and see the
great work finished. Now he had to die; and indeed he had a fine death,
for he died for the greater prosperity of his brethren. Bury him and set a
monument over his grave.”

They took him and were about to carry him away, but Two-Legs stopped them
and said:

“Wait a minute ... I must have one in the place of him who died: is there
any of you that will help me? He knows the lot that awaits him: death,
perhaps, and disappointment for many years, before we succeed, and scorn
from the blockheads who do not understand.”

Seven at once applied. For, though they were certainly afraid, they felt
attracted by the mystery and the danger; and there was no greater honour
in the tribe than to stand by Two-Legs.

So he chose one of them, took him into his house and initiated him into
his secrets, while the others carried the dead man away and buried him.

8

The years passed. One day, the people saw Two-Legs stand outside his house
and wave his arms and shout aloud. They ran from every side to hear what
he wanted.

“I have found it, I have found it,” he shouted.

He took the elders indoors and showed them a great iron cylinder which
he had constructed. At the top of the cylinder was a hole which joined
another cylinder. In the first cylinder was a piston, also of iron, which
fitted so accurately that it could just slide up and down; and it was
smeared with oil so that it might slide as easily as possible. At the
bottom of the cylinder was the boiler with the water and under the boiler
the furnace.

Two-Legs lit a fire in the furnace, the water turned to steam and the
steam went up to the top cylinder and lifted the piston right up to the
top end of the cylinder. There it escaped through the hole into the
cylinder beside it, where it was cooled and became water again and ran
down into the boiler and was once more heated by the fire and turned into
steam.

But, when the steam had escaped through the hole, the piston slid down
again to the bottom of the cylinder, was lifted up by fresh steam and rose
and fell again; and this went on as long as the fire burnt in the furnace.

“Look, look!” said Two-Legs; and his eyes beamed with pride and delight.
“See, I have caught Steam and imprisoned him in this cylinder. When I make
a fire in the furnace, he rises out of the water and lifts the piston to
the top of the cylinder. Then he has done my bidding and turns to water in
the other cylinder until I once more bid him turn to steam and lift the
piston. See ... see ... I have caught Steam and made him my servant, like
the ox and the horse and the wind!”

“We see it right enough, Father Two-Legs,” said one of the tribe. “But we
don’t understand what you mean to use your servant for. Tell us, was it
worth while, on this account, for you to live shut up in your house for so
many years, while we have had to dispense with your wise counsel?”

“You do not understand,” said Two-Legs. “Go away and come back again this
day twelvemonth: then you shall see what I use my new servant for. When I
have shown you, you can continue the work yourselves. I tell you, so great
is the new servant’s strength and cleverness that, if you learn to use him
properly, the whole face of the earth will be changed.”

Thereupon he went into the house and shut his door.

He sat contentedly and looked at his new engine:

“Ho, ho, dear Steam!” he said. “I have you now. I can call you forth and
turn you off. I can make you strong and I can make you weak. The more
fire, the more water, the more steam. And you must always remain inside
the cylinder and do my bidding. I can make the cylinder long and I can
make it short; I can make the piston heavy and I can make it light: you
must needs draw it up and down, my good Steam.”

“You call me good,” said the steam. “On the day when I burst the mountain
and destroyed all your land, you called me bad. Now I told you that I was
neither good nor bad. I am what I am. You have caught me and, if you can
use me, then use me!”

Two-Legs laughed merrily and rubbed his hands. He lit the furnace and
poured water into the boiler and sat and watched how the piston slid up
and down:

“Yes, what shall we use you for now?” he said. “Shall we put you to the
carriage instead of the horse? I think you might get along the road at a
very different pace. Shall I use you to draw the ship? Then you can run
close to the wind and need not care a pin for him. Shall I let you turn
the stones in the mill?... Oh, there are a thousand things that you must
do for me!”

Two-Legs put out the fire. Then he fastened a rod to the piston and to the
rod he joined another, which was fastened to the axle of a wheel. He lit
the fire under the boiler and, behold, the piston went up and down, the
rod moved and the wheel whirred!

He made a carriage, put the whole steam-engine on the carriage and
connected the rod with the wheel. He himself stood at the back of the
carriage, where the furnace was, lit the fire and heaped on coal. The
wheels turned and the carriage ran along the road.

The people of the tribe came hurrying from everywhere and stared in
amazement at the strange turn-out. Most of them ran to one side and
screamed in terror of the dangerous monster and said that it must end
badly. Only the cleverest understood the value of it and looked at the new
carriage and talked about it.

“Father Two-Legs,” said one of the elders, “you must not drive that
carriage. We fear that it will go badly and the steam burst the engine and
kill you, as it once killed your assistant.”

“It was just his death that taught me to be careful,” said Two-Legs. “Come
and see.”

Then he explained to them how he had calculated the strength of the steam
and the quantity of the steam which he should use to drive his carriage.

The more steam there was, the faster the piston slid up and down, the
faster the wheels turned, the faster the carriage moved. The stronger the
boiler was and the cylinder, the more steam it could hold without bursting.

But in one part of the boiler there was a hole, which was covered with a
valve, fastened by a hinge. The valve was just so heavy that the steam
could not lift it when there was as much as there should be and as the
engine could bear. But, as soon as more steam came, then the valve became
too light and rose and the superfluous steam rushed out of the hole.

“Father Two-Legs is the cleverest of us all,” they said.

But Two-Legs stepped down from the carriage:

“I give it to you,” he said. “Now you can settle for yourselves how you
mean to use it. Some of you can go on searching, as I did, and invent
new things. The smiths can bring their tools and their ingenuity. The
steam-engine is yours and you can do with it what you please.”

Then he went into his house and sat down anew to look out over the world
and think.

But the cleverest of the tribe set to work on the steam-engine. As the
years passed, they invented first one improvement and then another, so
that it worked ever more safely and smoothly.

They laid rails over the ground, so that the steam-carriage ran at a pace
of which none had ever seen the like and drew a number of heavily loaded
coaches after it. A man could now make a journey in a few days or weeks
which formerly had taken him months and years. The produce that grew at
one end of the earth was now sent quickly and cheaply to the other.

They put the steam-engine in ships, where it turned paddle-wheels, so that
the ships ran against wind and current. They used it to thrash the corn
in the barn, to grind it in the mill: there was no end to the objects for
which they were able to use it.

The steam-engine had changed the face of the earth, as Two-Legs had
foretold.

TWO-LEGS CONQUERS ELECTRICITY

1

Two-Legs had grown so old that no one now knew his age.

His family was constantly increasing and dispersed over the whole earth.
When people thought that they were becoming too many in one place, then
some of them broke up and moved to others, where the land was new. They
reclaimed it, extracted metals from the mountains and sailed on the rivers
and the sea. Railways and steamboats ran from one end of the earth to the
other.

People went so far apart that they spoke different languages and no longer
knew one another. In every country there were clever men who made new and
marvellous discoveries that lightened the work of their brethren and made
them richer and happier.

Each time that a man made one of these discoveries, he went off to
Two-Legs, wherever he might happen to be, to show it to him and receive
his praise, for he was honoured by them all as the father of the whole
race and the wisest of all who lived on earth.

Two-Legs himself no longer had any idea of the number of his descendants;
and it seemed as if he simply did not care. He lived now with one tribe
of his people and now with the other, always alone in a house to himself,
where he could quietly indulge in thought. Often, young men came to him to
learn from him. Then he gave them of his wisdom and sent them out into the
world again; but what he thought of in his inmost self he talked about to
no one.

When he sat outside his house and gazed and pondered, the voices spoke to
him as before:

“Two-Legs ... the lord of the earth ... the vanquisher of the animals....”

“Two-Legs ... who conquered the wind and made it his servant, as he did
with the ox and the horse....”

“Two-Legs ... who tamed the wild steam and imprisoned it in the engine,
which now has to obey his commands and do his errands....”

Two-Legs listened to the voices.

He patted the dog, who lay at his feet:

“You were once a wild and fierce animal and now you are gentle and serve
me faithfully,” he said.

He listened to the wind, who was whispering in the trees:

“You can cool my forehead on a hot day and you can rush over the earth
like a wild monster,” he said. “I know you and I use you.”

He looked across the meadow, where the mist was rising and the fine white
steam floated to and fro:

“You, too,” he said and nodded. “You are as light as a veil and dainty and
white and innocent. The poets sing of you and you make little children
cough. But you are the same that burst the mountain and destroyed my land.
I watched you and discovered you and caught you and put you in my engine;
and now you must toil for my descendants the wide world over.”

The thunder rolled in the distance. There came long and deep peals. Now
and again, a flash of lightning gleamed and lit up the darkness. And the
voices spoke again:

“It is thunder, Two-Legs ... it is lightning.... You do not know what that
is. No one knows what it is.”

“The world is full of mighty, secret forces ... mightier than the wind ...
harder to understand than steam.”

“The ox and the horse tremble before the thunder and the lightning.
Two-Legs and all his descendants tremble wherever the thunder-storm
reaches. There is more between heaven and earth than Two-Legs knows of.”

The storm came nearer. The thunder pealed and the lightning-flashes
crackled. Those who lived close came running to Two-Legs’ house in great
alarm:

“Father Two-Legs, what shall we do?” they cried. “God’s wrath is upon
us.... Look, look, His fire has struck the house yonder. Now it’s burning;
it is all in flames!”

Two-Legs did not look at the blazing house, but up at the clouds, where
the thunder pealed and the lightning-flashes darted:

“That is not God’s wrath,” he said. “It is a strange force up there in the
clouds ... stronger than the wind ... stronger than Steam. Oh, if I could
catch it and compel it to serve me, as I compel the ox and the horse and
the others!”

They heard what he said and looked at one another in affright.

Much as they honoured and loved him, they thought that this was madman’s
talk. For how could any one dream of taking the terrible lightning into
his service?

“Two-Legs has grown old,” said one to the other. “He is in his dotage and
does not know what he is saying.”

Two-Legs did not listen to them, but continued to gaze at the storm
overhead:

“Look! See how the lightning darts!” he said. “In a second, it darts from
one horizon to the other!... Oh, if I could put it into my carriage!”

They recoiled from him, so frightened were they at his words.

“Look! See how the lightning shines!” he said. “In a second, it is as
light as bright noonday!... Oh, if I could catch the lightning’s light and
hold it fast and compel it to shine peacefully for human beings!”

One of the elders went up to him and laid his hand on his shoulder:

“Two-Legs,” he said, “the success you have had has driven you mad. Your
talk is foolish. You are tempting God.”

“God kindled the lightning and God kindled my understanding,” said
Two-Legs. “He gave me the one that I might explore the other. Go away and
mind your own business and leave me alone.”

They went away. Two-Legs stood and gazed till the last lightning had
vanished from the sky.

2

One day, Two-Legs sat on his bench, looking at a boy who was running about
and playing with a piece of amber.

The boy rubbed it against his breeches to make it bright. Then he held it
up in the air and rejoiced to see it shine so prettily.

Just then, a fluff of seamews down came flying and fastened on the amber.
Another came ... and another ... and more still. As soon as they came near
the amber, they hurried and settled on it.

“Look, look!” said the boy and laughed with amusement. “There’s a spirit
in the amber! When I rub it on my breeches, the spirit comes out and
catches the little fluffs.”

Two-Legs took the amber from the boy and looked at it. He rubbed it and
caught the fluffs. He held it close to husks and little bits of paper.

“Look, the spirit catches them too!” said the boy and clapped his hands.

More came and looked on. They told it to others, who left their work and
came and stood and stared at Two-Legs and the amber.

“Is it a spirit, Father Two-Legs?” asked one of the elders.

“A mighty spirit,” said Two-Legs. “A new and rare spirit. I do not know
him. Go to your work and leave me alone, so that I can explore him.”

“Give the spirit a name, Father Two-Legs,” said the man who had spoken
before.

Two-Legs reflected that the people in the part of the world where he was
then living called amber electron.

Then he told them that they might call the spirit of the amber Electricity.

3

From that day, Two-Legs collected as much amber on the beach as he could
find.

He rubbed it and saw that then the spirit constantly came forth and seized
upon the little things near by. He put his ear to it and listened, but
could hear nothing. He tasted it and smelt it; he broke it to pieces and
gazed at it with his old eyes, but could discover nothing:

“The spirit is hiding from me,” he said. “But I shall find him, I shall
find him!”

It occurred to him one day that the strange spirit might dwell elsewhere
than in the amber.

He began to rub a glass tube and shouted aloud for joy when the spirit
at once appeared and seized upon the down and husks and shreds of paper.
He took a piece of sulphur and rubbed it and exulted when just the same
thing happened. But, in a little while, the spirit disappeared from the
amber, the glass tube and the sulphur alike and did not come back until
he rubbed them again.

He made himself a big sulphur ball, with an iron bar through the middle.
The iron bar was fixed between two stakes, so that he could turn the ball
with a handle which was at one end of the bar.

Now, when he turned the handle and laid his hand on the ball, he saw that
the little fluffs which flew in the air at that moment stuck to the ball
and, immediately after, flew out into the air, as though the spirit had
pushed them away. He turned the handle briskly and the fluffs danced about
the ball. One of them flew on his nose and stayed there for a little while
and then flew back to the ball again.

“The spirit dwells in me too,” said Two-Legs, gladly. “I believe he is
everywhere and in everything, if only one could manage to call him forth
from his hiding-place. Now I will summon the whole tribe and show them
something which they have never seen.”

He sent word round and they came and stood in crowds about his house. Then
he asked for the little boy who had played with the amber on the beach and
been the first of all to call forth the mysterious spirit:

“You deserve the honour of sharing in this day,” he said. “You all
remember the spirit to whom I gave the name of Electricity?”

“We remember him,” said the oldest of those present. “If you have anything
good to tell us about him, we shall be pleased to hear it. If it is
anything bad, then keep it to yourself and we will flee to a new country
where the spirit does not dwell.”

“The spirit is neither bad nor good,” said Two-Legs. “He is a force ... a
strange, mysterious force, which I have not yet succeeded in discovering.
I do not know if he is worth conquering and giving into your service even
as I gave you the ox and the horse, the wind and Steam. I do not know how
I am to conquer him. But I do know that it is not possible for one of us
to flee from the electric spirit. For he dwells not only in the amber as
you saw. He can take up his abode everywhere and in everything ... even in
me ... even in every one of you.”

They pressed close together and gazed at him in alarm.

“Watch me now,” said Two-Legs. “Dismiss all your fears and look in wonder
at what I shall show you.”

Two-Legs hung the little boy up between two ropes, so that he swung in the
air at some height above the ground. Before him, from another cord, hung
a glass tube. On the ground under him stood a bowl with little pieces of
paper.

“I shall now rub the glass until the spirit comes forth,” said Two-Legs.
“When that is done, the boy will touch the glass with one hand. The other
he will hold at a distance above the bowl with the shreds of paper.”

He rubbed the glass tube and the boy did as he said.

“Look ... look!” said Two-Legs.

They stared and shouted with surprise. All the bits of paper leapt up and
hung in the hand which the boy held over the dish.

“Do you see that?” asked Two-Legs. “He is electric. The spirit has taken
up his abode in him.... Can you all see it?”

The oldest and cleverest bent over the boy and stared and talked of the
remarkable thing that had happened. They did not understand it and shook
their heads. But the others were seized with frenzy and clamoured against
Two-Legs:

“It is magic!” they shouted. “Father Two-Legs is a magician! He is
tempting God and killing the poor boy with his tricks!”

“You are fools,” said Two-Legs. “You talk of what you do not understand.
Go away and leave me alone, while I enquire into the mighty spirit of
Electricity. You can come again in a twelvemonth. Then I shall show you
much stranger things than you have seen to-day.”

They went on clamouring and crowded round Two-Legs, threatened him with
their clenched fists and abusing him:

“Father Two-Legs must die!” they cried. “He will bring misfortune upon us
all, with his magic! He calls forth spirits whom he cannot lay! Let us
kill him before he has brought down God’s wrath upon us!”

The elders placed themselves between Two-Legs and the infuriated people.
They reminded them of his venerable age and of all the good which he
had done to his kinsfolk. They talked until, at length, they persuaded
the others to go, though they still muttered and cast angry glances at
Two-Legs. The mother of the boy whom he had made electric ran and seized
him by his long white beard:

“If ever again you use my boy for your odious tricks, I’ll kill you!” she
screamed.

“You are only a silly woman,” said Two-Legs and pushed her away. “If I
taught your boy the secret of what you call my magic, he would make a name
for himself that would be spoken with respect so long as the world lasts.
However, go away and take him with you too. No harm has happened to him;
and to-morrow he will have forgotten all about it.”

She went, hand in hand with the boy, who did not cry, but kept his eyes
on Two-Legs. When they were gone, the elders told him he had better move
into another country if he wanted to continue searching for the electric
spirit, otherwise it would end in this, that the people would kill him one
day, when the elders were not there to defend him.

Two-Legs stood and rubbed the glass tube with a piece of leather and paid
no heed to them. They had to say it once more before he heard. Then he
merely nodded and said:

“I will go away this very night and seek another country where the people
are cleverer.”

4

By midnight he was ready to start. He had nothing with him but his sulphur
ball and some other things which he needed for his labours. He hid these
under his cloak, put out the light of his house and prepared to leave.

Suddenly he heard a noise in the alley where the others lived. He sat down
and waited, not because he was afraid of them, but because he did not
choose to talk with fools any more. And, while he sat and waited, he took
his sulphur ball from under his cloak and began to rub it with his hand,
as he had done thousands of times before. He gazed at it, though he could
see nothing, for the night was pitch-dark.

All at once, he started up with a cry.

He dropped the ball, found it again, with difficulty, on the floor and
began to rub and rub like mad.

Now he saw it quite plainly: light came against his hand when he rubbed.
Time after time, he rubbed and, each time, he saw the light.

He was so greatly excited that he could hardly breathe. He closed his eyes
and opened them again. No, it was not imagination: the light came as soon
as he rubbed the sulphur ball.

He held the ball up to his ear, while he rubbed and rubbed like mad....
Now he plainly heard a faint crackling....

Then he jumped up and sang and cried and laughed and danced round the room
like a young man crazy with delight:

“It’s the lightning!... It’s the thunder!” he shouted, exultantly. “I have
called them and they come at my bidding.”

The door opened and the little boy whom he had made electric stood on the
threshold:

“Father Two-Legs, will you take me with you where you are going?” he asked.

“Do you want to come?” asked Two-Legs.

“Yes,” said the little boy. “I want to stay with you and go where you go.
I am not afraid of you. You shall teach me your magic and, one day, I
shall become a wise and great man, like yourself.”

“You do not know what you are doing,” said Two-Legs. “I am no magician,
but I have seen what no other man has seen. You do not know what has
happened to me this night.... I have rubbed my sulphur ball and have
produced lightning from it and thunder. They lie in my hand. I can call
them forth when I please. They are only quite tiny as yet and weak, but
I know that, one day, they will grow strong, like those up there in the
clouds. Do you dare?”

“I dare,” said the boy.

“Then come,” said Two-Legs.

He took him by the hand and went out with him into the dark night, to find
a country where there were fewer fools.

5

Two-Legs found a new country, where he and the boy settled. The people
honoured him for his age and wisdom and knew nothing about his magic
arts. But he occupied himself with them as before, sought and listened
and thought ... whether he could sooner or later lay hold of the strange
spirit who was so weak in the amber and the glass tube and the sulphur and
so powerful in the thunder-storm.

Every evening, when the day’s work was done, he sat and talked with the
boy, who grew in age and understanding. They were happiest when the
thunder pealed. Then they felt that the mighty spirit was nearer to
them: not only up there, where lightning crackled, but in the air and in
everything round about.

“There is much electricity up there and only a little here below with
us,” he said. “That is why the flashes strike down upon the ground....
Look, there is one darting from a cloud that has too much to one that has
too little.... Oh, I understand, I understand! It is like the water that
lies at a different level in two ponds: if I dig a canal between them, it
will flow from that which has more into that which has less and, a moment
after, it will be at the same height in both. Boy, boy, one day I will
collect so much electricity that I can use it for the greatest things!”

“That you will, since you say so, Father Two-Legs,” said the boy. “But
will you tell me how it is that the mighty spirit dwells in a fragile
glass tube like this and not in that thick iron bar? If I were the spirit,
I would rather dwell in the strong bar. But he is not there. I have rubbed
the iron till my arms ached, but the spirit did not come.”

“You may depend upon it that he is there,” said Two-Legs. “If only we
could find the right means to call him forth, I believe that there is more
of him in iron and in copper and other metals than in anything else. Just
look how weak he is in the glass tube and the amber: he comes when I rub,
catches the little fluffs and is gone again at once. No, if we can charm
him from the iron, then we shall see him in his might.”

6

One day, the boy went into the mountains and found a lodestone, which he
thought looked odd. He took it home to Two-Legs, who examined it long
and closely, as he examined everything. Without thinking of it further,
he began to rub the thick iron bar with the lodestone and saw, to his
surprise, that the stone clung to the iron:

“Boy, what have you found?” he cried.

Henceforth, he thought of nothing but iron and copper and other metals.

He forged himself bars of iron, large and small, rubbed them with the
lodestone and saw that they became electric. The spirit was in them and
the spirit came out of them, but differently and not as in the glass tube
and the amber and the sulphur ball.

It was no use for him to come with fluffs of down and little shreds of
paper. The spirit did not catch at them. But, when he came with iron, the
spirit caught hold of it and held it ever so tight.

“That is the proper, powerful spirit,” said the boy joyfully.

Two-Legs saw also that the spirit was only at the two ends of the bar
which he rubbed with the lodestone. The spirit ran into the ends and
stayed there and caught hold of the pieces of iron which he held out to
him. In the middle of the bar there was no spirit.

One day, as he was working with a very thick bar which he had rubbed, it
seemed to him that it moved without his touching it. Then he took a vessel
of water, put a cork in the water and the iron bar on top of the cork.

“Look, look, it’s turning!” cried the boy.

And so it was. It turned one end to the north and the other to the south.
Two-Legs shifted it, but it turned back to the same position as soon as
he let go. He experimented with the other bars, but they did exactly the
same. One day, he laid two side by side, each on its own cork, and saw
that the north end of the one and the south end of the other attracted
each other. When he brought the two north ends or the two south ends
together, they at once pushed each other away.

“Look, look!” cried the boy.

Two-Legs sat, plunged in thought, and looked. Then he made a little bar,
rubbed it with the lodestone and put it on a pivot, so that it could turn
easily as it pleased:

“Go and give this thing to the skipper,” he said. “When he goes far out to
sea and cannot sight land anywhere, he will always be able to see by it
which is north and which is south and direct his course accordingly.”

Thus Two-Legs invented the compass.

But he forgot it as soon as the boy had gone with it. He thought how much
stronger the spirit was in the iron than in the other things from which he
had produced it and pondered how he should make the spirit obey him with
all his power.

“I found the stone that did it,” said the boy, when he returned. “Give it
a name, Father Two-Legs.”

As the country where he was then living was called Magnesia, Two-Legs
called the stone the magnet. And he showed the boy how he could make any
piece of iron into a magnet by rubbing it with another iron in which the
spirit was:

“Oh, if I could only draw the spirit from up there, in the thunder-clouds,
down hither with a magnet!” said Two-Legs.

He made a kite, such as boys play with, and gave it a huge long string. At
the top of it he put an iron tip. Then he and the boy went and waited for
the thunder to come one day; and, at last, it came.

When the thunder-storm was exactly over head, he flew the kite in the
air. They stood and watched it till it disappeared right up in the
thunder-clouds.

“Now hold the string, boy, if you dare,” said Two-Legs.

“I dare,” said the boy.

The lightning crackled and the thunder crashed. In the midst of it,
Two-Legs, with his fingers, touched the string of the kite; and a great
spark leapt upon his finger. He touched it again and again; and, each
time, a new spark leapt out.

“Look, look!” he said. “I have drawn down the lightning from up there!”

“Oh, Father Two-Legs!” said the boy, shaking with fear. “Suppose the
lightning had killed you!”

“It could have done,” said Two-Legs. “To play with the mighty forces of
nature is dangerous. That is why I so often asked you if you were not
afraid. I once had a helper who was killed by the spirit of Steam before
I had learnt to conquer him. It may happen that you will fare as he did.
I know myself that I am never safe from death. But I would rather die
fighting to conquer the spirits than at home, in my bed, of disease.”

“So would I,” said the boy and drew himself up. “Only, I meant ... only,
I don’t understand.... The lightning once struck and burnt my mother’s
house. It killed my brother and my little sister; and all that we
possessed was burnt: that was a calamity. Is there always a calamity when
the lightning strikes? If so, why do you want to bring it down? Do you
think you can imprison it and use it as you used Steam?”

“No,” said Two-Legs. “I don’t think that. I don’t know how it is to
be done, but I dream, day and night, that, sooner or later, I shall
succeed in preparing lightning as strong as that up there, but different
nevertheless.... I want to rule over it and imprison it and compel it to
labour in my service. It is only a dream as yet. It was not the lightning
either that I drew down with my kite: only a little spark of the spirit
that flames up there.”

“Yes, Father Two-Legs,” said the boy. “But, if you can catch a little
spark, you can also catch a bigger one ... and a bigger one still ... and,
at last, the whole lightning.”

Two-Legs gazed at the boy. Then he took him in his arms and kissed him:

“You’re a glorious boy,” he said. “You found the magnet and knew nothing
about it. Now, in your ignorance, you have spoken a great word: come and
see what you can make of it.”

7

He forthwith set up a tall pole, close to his house. At the top of it was
a metal spike, from which a long iron wire ran far down in the ground.
People came and looked at his work and wondered what it meant.

“See,” he said to them. “The pole will catch the lightning when it comes.”

“Do you want to lure the lightning down to the earth ... the bad
lightning?” asked one of them. “And close to your house besides?”

“The lightning is not bad,” said Two-Legs.

“Would you have me call it good?” said the man. “It set my barn on fire
and burnt it. And there’s a man standing yonder whose wife was killed and
all his cattle.”

Two-Legs gave a scornful smile. He quite forgot that he himself had once
thought just like that of the wind and of Steam:

“The lightning is neither good nor bad,” he said. “It is a mighty force
that comes and darts as it must. I don’t want to lure it down to the earth
either. But, if it comes here, over my house, and thinks of striking ...
then it will be caught by the spike at the top of the pole and fly down
the wire into the earth; and my house will escape.”

“Two-Legs is mad,” said the man. “He is calling the lightning down upon
himself.”

The others said the same and then they went away. The boy remained
with him and looked at the lightning-conductor. And, when the next
thunder-storm came, the lightning struck two farm-houses in the valley and
burnt them to the ground. It also struck the pole near Two-Legs’ house and
rushed down into the earth, as he had said. This was easy to see by the
way in which it had rooted up and flung stones and gravel around.

They came running from every side and saw it and wondered. They bowed low
before Two-Legs and honoured his wisdom; and one and all of them set a
lightning-conductor beside their houses.

But Two-Legs thought no more of it:

“That’s nothing,” he said. “It is just as when I killed the wild animals.
It was a bigger thing when I tamed them and took them into my service. I
want to tame the lightning also and make it my servant.”

“Two-Legs wants to tame the lightning,” said one to the other and laughed
and thought that he had certainly lost his reason.

“I want to make lightning,” said Two-Legs.

“Two-Legs wants to make lightning,” they said and nudged one another.
“Take care it doesn’t strike you!”

They laughed and went away. Two-Legs sat and meditated and thought and did
not mind their scorn. The boy sat at his feet.

8

The years passed and the boy grew to be a man. He was always with
Two-Legs, listening to his talk, helping him in his work and rejoicing
with him each time that he came a step nearer to the goal.

They moved more than once from one country to another. Either it was
the folk of the country who drove them away with their foolish fears,
when they heard reports or saw sparks come from Two-Legs’ workshop, or
else it occurred to him that his labours would meet with better success
under another climate. But, whether he was in one place or another, he
constantly thought of the same thing: how he was to catch the electric
spirit and make him strong, so that he might be useful in man’s service.

He thought no more of the thunder and the lightning up in the sky. He knew
well that it was the electric spirit that struck sparks up there and he
wanted him to do the same in his workshop. Since he had begun the work
with the magnetic iron, he no longer troubled about the glass tube and the
amber and the sulphur ball. He did not even care to rub them any more, so
small was the spirit when he came from them and so soon did he disappear
again.

“The lightning also lasts only for a moment,” said his disciple. “It is
mighty, Father Two-Legs, a thousand times mightier than any spark that you
can rub out of the sulphur ball; but it only flames for a moment and then
it is all over.”

“That’s just why I can’t use it,” said Two-Legs. “I want the lightning
to last as long as I please ... for ever if I please. I must be able to
kindle it and extinguish it and kindle it again, as easily as I can snap
my fingers. Oh, if I only knew where the spirit really dwelt!”

“We know that,” said the disciple. “He lives in the amber and in the glass
tube and in the sulphur ball, in iron and in the thunder-cloud and in me
and in you and in everything in the world, you said.”

Two-Legs sat long and pondered with his head in his hands. His disciple
waited in silence; and, at last, Two-Legs looked up:

“You know ... you know ...” he said and then was silent again for a while.

Then he said:

“You know ... sometimes I don’t believe at all that the spirit lives in
any of the places that you say.”

“Where does he live then, Father Two-Legs?” asked his disciple.

“I believe he lives in the air,” said Two-Legs. “Not in the clouds,
which are mere water and vapour, but in the pure air ... in the ether:
the ether, do you understand? He lives there and goes now into one and
now into the other and rather into the one than into the other. Do you
remember how long we had to rub the glass before the spirit came? He
was there reluctantly. Do you remember that, when the glass was wet, he
did not come at all? He would sooner be in the water. He likes to dwell
in iron and copper and zinc and silver and all the other metals. In the
string that held the kite which we sent up into the thunder-cloud, he ran
down as fast as the lightning and sent a spark into my finger. You know
how he runs down the wire of the lightning-conductor into the ground. He
remains there because the ground is moist. That is why you and I see no
more of him, because we walk on the ground: he runs right through us into
the ground and disappears. Yes, that’s how it is, that’s how it is!”

His eyes beamed. He could not explain it, but he saw, as in a vision, that
this was how it must be. He went on talking about it; and his disciple
knew that it was true, even though he could not understand it.

But then Two-Legs grew sad again:

“What is the use of it all, when I cannot even produce the spirit,” he
said, “nor build him a house in which he would rather dwell than anywhere
else in the world, so that I may always have plenty of him to come and go
at my pleasure?”

He began to gaze at his magnetic needle: how two north ends or two south
ends always repelled each other, while a north end and a south end
immediately flew together.

“Now, if there were two spirits,” he said, “if the spark came and then
the two rushed towards each other, if the powerful force were just the
attraction of one for the other ...”

“Is that it?” asked the disciple.

“I don’t know,” said Two-Legs. “I could see and feel the wind; and the
same with Steam. I discovered, at length, where he came from and where he
was going. But I don’t know what the mighty spirit of electricity is, for
all the years that I have been watching him. Perhaps I shall never come to
know. But we will explore his ways nevertheless, diligently, by day and by
night.”

He hammered wires of iron and zinc, of copper and silver, twisted them
together, bent them against one another, rubbing them with the magnet and
with the leather and with anything else that he could hit on. Gradually,
he had no room for all of this in his house; and then he threw it outside
the door.

9

One evening, he and his disciple were sitting on the bench before the
wall, tired with their fruitless labours. They gazed at the sun until it
went down. Then twilight fell upon the land.

Two-Legs looked at a fat old toad who came crawling from under the
threshold.

He moved his legs heavily and looked with his frightened eyes at Two-Legs
and wondered if he meant him any harm. Then he crawled on ... under some
wire that lay there. And, as the toad touched the wire, he jumped as if he
had been struck a blow.

Two-Legs saw it, for he saw everything. He saw how the toad again
touched the wires and again jumped. He stooped down and saw that it was
copper-wire and zinc-wire. He saw that the toad jumped highest when he
touched both wires. He caught the toad and held him in his hand and put
both the wires to him. The toad gave a start. And, every time he touched
him with the wire, he started afresh.

Then he let the toad go and remained sitting for a long time with the
copper-wire and the zinc-wire in his hand and gazed before him, plunged in
thought. Then he said:

“Come, let us go in.”

“Yes, it’s time for bed,” said the disciple. “It’s quite dark.”

“It’s time for work,” said Two-Legs. “To-night a light has been kindled
for me, brighter than any before.”

He told the disciple what he had noticed and explained his thought to him:

“It was the electric spirit,” he said. “I think it was the toad’s moist
skin that made him show himself. Now we will experiment with copper and
zinc.”

He took a glass and filled if half with water and put into it a small
piece of zinc and a small piece of copper. Then he fastened a slender wire
to the zinc, let the wire stand up in a wide curve and fastened the other
end to the copper:

“What shall we put into the water?” he said. “There is sulphur and there
is lime and there are a thousand things, in the toad’s skin.... The
question is how to hit upon just the right one.”

He experimented patiently. When he put a piece of sulphur into the water,
it began to bubble round the zinc.

“Look, look, now the water is jumping just as the toad did!” he said.

He grasped the wire and felt that it was getting hot. Breathlessly, he
dropped it and stared at the whole apparatus:

“That’s it, that’s it,” he said and talked quite low, in his excitement.
“Wait a bit, now, and see.”

He filed the wire quite thin in one place:

“Feel it,” he said. “It’s glowing.”

The disciple did so and quickly drew back his fingers, for he had burnt
himself. Two-Legs stood and stared. Then he cut the wire; and the bubbling
in the water stopped at once and the thin piece became cold again. He held
the two cut ends together; and, the moment they touched each other, the
water bubbled and the wire grew hot. He tried it time after time; and,
each time, the same thing happened.

“At last, at last, I have found it,” he said.

He sat for a long time silent, with his face buried in his hands, overcome
with emotion. The disciple did not quite understand it, but dared not ask.
And, in a little while, Two-Legs himself explained it to him:

“Look here, look here!” he said; and his eyes beamed as they had never
beamed before. “Don’t you see that I am making electricity in this little
glass? I am making it and it’s here. The wonderful force, the force of
the lightning, flows along the wire. I cut the wire and the current is
interrupted. I connect it again and the force flows once more. Praise
be to the loathsome toad who set my thoughts travelling in the right
direction!”

“I don’t see the lightning,” said the disciple.

“You shall see it,” said Two-Legs.

He put a little piece of charcoal at each end of the wire where he had cut
it. Then he put out the light in the room and brought the two charcoal
tips together. Then they both saw that the charcoal glowed and gave a
faint light.

“Do you see that? Do you see that?” cried Two-Legs, exultantly. “I have
my thunder-cloud in this little glass: there’s the lightning for you. It
only shines faintly as yet, but it is easily made stronger. I can put a
thousand thunder-clouds together and you shall see how bright the light
becomes. I can put two thousand together and you shall see how strong the
electric power is: stronger than the wind, stronger than the steam; there
is not a weight it cannot raise, not a wheel it cannot turn. Look, look,
I have caught the lightning and imprisoned it in this little glass! I am
lord of the mighty electric spirit: he will have to serve me like the ox
and the horse, like the wind and Steam!”

He ran and flung open the door. The night was past and it was morning. He
shouted till his voice rang over the valley. The people heard and woke and
sprang from their beds:

“Father Two-Legs is calling,” they said to one another. “Let us go to his
house and hear what he has to tell us.”

They hurried from every side; and Two-Legs stood up, with his great white
beard, and told them the marvellous thing that had happened:

“I have caught the electric spirit ... the mysterious, mighty spirit,” he
said. “I can produce as strong a current of his immense force as I please
and I can carry it whither I please, even to the end of the earth, along
a thin wire. I can kindle the lightning, so that it shines calmly and
gently, and put it out and kindle it again as easily as I snap my fingers.”

They listened open-mouthed and stared, while he showed them and explained
it to them:

[Illustration: TWO-LEGS STOOD UP]

“The electric spirit is my captive,” he said. “I have imprisoned him in
this little glass and compelled him to obey me. I give him to you; and in
him you have a servant whose like you have never known. He will alter the
face of the whole earth. If those who died a hundred years ago were to
rise again ten years hence, they would not know the world in which they
had lived.”

The fools laughed and mocked at him, as was their wont. But the clever
ones asked Two-Legs to explain it again and again and never tired of
listening to him. At last, they all went home and began to enquire further
into the matter, while Two-Legs went into his house and shut his door and
wondered what would come next.

10

Out in the world it happened as he had said.

The electric spirit served mankind as none other had ever done. Electric
light glowed in every house. Electric cars ran in every direction at
lightning speed. The electric telegraph carried men’s messages from one
end of the world to the other.

Soon there was nothing left that Electricity could not do more easily and
better.

TWO-LEGS’ FUTURE

1

Two-Legs still lives.

He will not die as long as the world exists.

He lives now in one country and now in another. No one knows for certain
where he is; and there are not many who think of him in the ordinary
course of things. Only very few have seen him, but those who have will
never forget him either, so old is he and venerable, so clever and radiant
his eyes.

He is the same that he always was.

In the beginning, he supplied himself with food and clothes, shelter
against the weather and defence against his foes. He built himself huts
and houses, killed some of the wild animals and tamed others. He taught
his children to sow and reap. Misfortune overtook him and he conquered it.
His descendants multiplied and filled the earth.

Since then he conquered the wind and Steam and Electricity. He bound them
and gave them to man for his servants. And man trained them, even as he
had trained the horse and the ox and the dog.

The steam-engine gives bread to many times more people than all the beasts
of the field. The electric spirit does a thousand times more tricks in
man’s service than the horse or the dog.

In the evening, when Two-Legs sits outside his house, the voices speak to
him as before:

“Two-Legs ... the vanquisher of the animals ... the lord of the ox and the
horse and the dog ... the strongest of all creatures.”

“Two-Legs ... who conquered the wind and took him into his service.... He
made him turn the mill ... made him carry the ship over the sea.”

“Two-Legs ... the lord of Steam.... He forced him into his engine and
told him to do the tasks which men put him to.”

“Two-Legs, the wisest, the strongest.... He explored the lightning and
bound it.... He compelled it to draw the greatest weights and to shine
calmly and gently in men’s small rooms and to carry their messages from
one end of the world to the other.”

Two-Legs listened to the voices, but only for a moment. He was examining a
piece of metal which he held in his hand and into which he had been long
and secretly enquiring:

“Look,” he said to the young man who was now his pupil. “I wish I knew
what the queer rays are that come out of this substance. It shall be
called Radium; that means the thing that beams. I will search until I know
its nature. Who knows what secret forces it conceals and what benefits it
can perform for mankind?”

2

Two-Legs explored the new force.

The world round about him went its course. Each year brought new
incidents, new discoveries, new wealth and new happiness. Two-Legs paid
no heed. He sat with his radium and would not let it go until he knew it
through and through.

There were clever people who knew he must succeed some time and who waited
eagerly and gladly for him to make mankind the master of a new power,
mightier, perhaps, than any of those which he had yet conquered.

There were fools who said that it was all very well with Steam and
Electricity and the rest. They could understand that. But this new thing
here was quite senseless and absurd. Besides, one must not tempt God.
There were mysteries in nature which mankind should never seek to explore.
There was a limit to what was allowed to men; and the man who overstepped
that limit was either a fool or a presumptuous person who ought to be
locked up or punished.

Two-Legs listened just as little to them now as he had done in the old
days.

Their folly was the same now as then. What they saw before their eyes and
felt with their hands they believed in. The new thing which was in its
first stages, they mocked at and condemned.

But, sometimes, a man would come to Two-Legs with his little son, so that
the boy might see the wisest man in the world. Then, if he had the luck to
find words that could divert Two-Legs’ attention from his work, Two-Legs
would look up and fix his steady glance on the boy, lay his hand on the
boy’s head and say:

“Do not grow up to be a fool, my lad. The fool is he who judges what he
does not understand.”

_Bristol: Burleigh Ltd., at the Burleigh Press._