. The Saturday evening post. will bechanged. Everythingwill be ready, as it wasin the beginning—thesame weather, the sameinviolate Word f orthosewho shall have learnedthat the perfect lawof liberty is work andobedience. During these earlieryears of Peters minis-try I was at a loss todiscover the name ofthe thing he had so in-nocently and honestlysubstituted for the re-ligion of his I discoveredthat it was not God atall, merely the scienceof human duty. Every preacher hashis favorite bywords ofthe gospel. Williamswere: Ye must beborn again, Believein me and ye shall haveeternal
. The Saturday evening post. will bechanged. Everythingwill be ready, as it wasin the beginning—thesame weather, the sameinviolate Word f orthosewho shall have learnedthat the perfect lawof liberty is work andobedience. During these earlieryears of Peters minis-try I was at a loss todiscover the name ofthe thing he had so in-nocently and honestlysubstituted for the re-ligion of his I discoveredthat it was not God atall, merely the scienceof human duty. Every preacher hashis favorite bywords ofthe gospel. Williamswere: Ye must beborn again, Believein me and ye shall haveeternal life, Keep thefaith, and a hundredsimilar phrases. ButPeter was always quot-ing from some Ph. , who was ascholar but not anapostle. One must not objectto these books as liter-ature, and no doubtthey are useful to peo-ple who desire to culti-vate a sober dullnessof mind and for the priests ofGod there are theteachings of Jesus, the(Continued onPage 34) 24 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST December 18, /920. SAN FRANCISCO China-town remembers that SingFang was a poet, and thathis sister, Sing Toy, was the most beautifulgirl in the colony. In the Chinese record sec-tion at police headquarters Sing Fang is writ- From theten down as a gunman of the Ling Yip record is not correct. In Sing Fangs sister Natureapologized for a million mistakes. Through what countlesscenturies ran the strands of heredity which joined in thefabric of her being no man can know, but to-day on DupontStreet her name is whispered where men seek to define allthat feminine perfection can mean. The poet and his sister lived in two narrow rooms abovethe Falling Tear Pawnshop in Ross Alley. Across thestreet from them was the malodorous establishment ofYut Gar, the fish merchant, who carried a side line ofchickens and vegetables and Chinese intrigue. The loftabove the Falling Tear Pawnshop had been divided downthe center by a pine partition. This partition, brown withthe coating smoke of
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