397
B u s i n e s s
T h e K i n g ’ s
September 1932
io Ç ^ tec iritvtiIt 0 ^ )u rY OUNG READERS . . . B y F lorence N ye W hitwell
to get through as a Red air man, and so on. Then he made a list of all the things I must find out from you if we are really to help you. You can write out the answers and give them to me—wiser for us not to talk too much. No, they can’t hear us above the noise of the engine. But remember the Thin Red Line stands by its members, will do all it can to help.’ “ But I cannot leave the dear mother. She must not even know of the opportunity, or she would make me to jump for it. ‘.‘Tell Constance her prayer for me is answered. I have remembered. I always keep the early morning watch which she told me was the rule of the Thin Red Line, first a chapter from the Book— I like that name for the Bible— it grows more interesting the more one reads it. There’s always time for it if one tries. We can always find time for what we wish to do-—really. And then after the chap ter comes the quiet time when one talks with Christ. So many fear the word ‘prayer,’ but if we say: ‘I tell Him all my sorrows, I tell Him all my joys, I tell Him all that pleases me, I tell Him what annoys. He tells me what I ought to do, “ And now, dear friends, most of whom I have never seen, good-by. I am in safe hands—hands that have been pierced for one may be trusted. Above all, pray for us. “ F ranz J osef . “ Hastily written— forgive errors.” Constance’ gray eyes had welled up with a deep glow ing light, at the message from the Princeling to her. Mem ories of that happy summer in Switzerland, two years be fore, filled her mind—above all, the night after the young Prince’s fall on, or into, the glacier, when his life had hung in the balance and Constance had been sent for, and she had told him about the Good Shepherd, while the still waters of the blessed Twenty-third Psalm had run sooth ingly, refreshingly past. The Princeling had given his heart to Christ. Now Constance had the joy of knowing that he had followed on to know the Lord. And what good things He has for such followers! “Why did Nikolai leave Franz Josef?” Connie cried. “ He should have persuaded him to come away. It’s too frightful—and yet, his mother. He couldn’t, of course. But why didn’t Nikolai stay on? Why leave at once?” “ Constance dear, I’ve a great deal to tell you,” said Uncle Alan, gently taking her hand. “ Sit down under this tree where we can look off to the blue Pacific and see the ships come in.” They had walked up to the hilltop, past the eucalyptus trees, and were in Uncle Alan’s favorite thinking spot, as he called it. After thinking, he began, “ Did it ever occur to you, Constance, that this country of ours might be in danger ?” Connie thought for a moment. He tells me what to try, And so we talk together— My Lord and I !’ This makes it seem so natural and easy!
Eagle Wings “ Ye have seen what I did unto the Egyptians, and how I bare you on eagles’ wings, and brought you unto myself. Now, therefore, if ye will obey my voice indeed . . . ye shall be a peculiar treasure unto me above all people” (Ex. 19:4). H . ikolai had seen the Princeling! Uncle Alan announced it and flourished a foreign-look ing letter. “ Let me see it— if the Princeling wrote it,” implored Constance, “ if there be any kindness at all in human nature, that is.” Uncle Alan smiled into the gray eyes and read: “ Nikolai’s descent upon this island was almost beyond belief. It is so many months since I have been sequestered here, with my dear imperial mother! I had taken to wan dering along the beaches and looking out on our blue, blue sea for ships that never came. “ I had managed to win over our retinue—which is really more of a guard than a retinue. They allowed me much liberty. Can you picture to yourself, you free Amer icans, what it is like to have been brought up to accept homage, and to receive it, and then suddenly to have to face about and learn to placate those who were used to bow before one? N o ! I know you cannot ‘ feature it,’ as I have heard your Eleanor Gorham say during that unforget table summer in Switzerland, when we were all en pension above a sapphire lake. “ Our condition is unhappy and the queen-mother feels it. She misses the old life in Europe. “ As for me, I am young, and might do something if they would only let me get away from this speck of land where I am a prisoner between blue and blue, sea and sky. If they would just give me a chance! But I have a certain fluid in my veins that prohibits this, I am told, because I am ‘royal!’ “ But my blood is red. It is not blue. I should like to begin as a day laborer in that America of yours and see what I could make of myself without the props of priv ilege, and so on, to uphold me. I wish I might get out from the dark shadows cast by the imperial eagle’s wings, and be borne to freedom where the great American eagle flaps his pinions. “ This airplane of Nikolai and his friend— it fascinates me. Already I know how to run it. And my English is not so bad, is it ? Why could not a young mechanic from cen tral Europe find work in your country ? “ Nikolai has been here just forty-eight hours. The retinue are puzzled by him. He speaks their lingo and has passed himself off on them, somehow—partly by being very gruff to me in their presence, as though he hated royalty. “ Poor kings! Their day is about over. And with them passes much of the color and romance of the world, I fancy. “ The first day, as Nikolai was showing me how to start his engine, he began in a low tone: “ ‘The Personage told me where you were. He said you were better off by far than most of your kind. But your American friends have been anxious and asked him to use all his influence. He gave me all sorts o f instructions, how
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