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Request Username Can't sign in? Forgot your username? Enter your email address below and we will send you your username. Tom initially is skeptical but Professor Bumper and Mr. Damon show up and turn Tom around. A young, handsome, rival archeologist, Prof. Fenimore Beecher, is also interested in the idol. His plan is to give a part of it to Mary Nestor in hopes she will marry him. Tom and his cronies and the rival party are off to Honduras on a treasure hunt. Tom must overcome wild jungle animals and the rival party to find the gold idol and win Mary. Even Ned speculates that he could be a "slacker.

Espionage, subterfuge, assault, kidnapping and grand theft are just a few of the obstacles Tom must overcome for Uncle Sam. During the development of the power plant, Tom runs afoul of the Universal Flying Machine Company, a competitor for government contracts. Bribery, intimidation, espionage, threats, theft and kidnapping are all used against Tom to try and sabotage his efforts. Naturally, Tom wins in the end and his new Air Scout is an unqualified success.

Damon shows up with a new friend, Dixwell Hardley, who promises wealth from the bottom of the sea. Tom reluctantly agrees to join the search for the sunken steamship SS Pandora and a million dollars in gold coins. In his submarine, the Advance, Tom and his chums must overcome deadly sea creatures, foul weather, accidents and a doublecross from Hardley before reaching his goal. The Shopton fireworks plant and a large lumberyard are destroyed. A farmer's barn is set ablaze, boats and trees mysteriously burst into flames. Eradicate is severely injured in a chemical explosion.

Ffinally a skyscraper in nearby Newmarket burns and the call is out for Tom's latest invention, an aerial fire suppression system. It's up to Tom to save the day and rescue two of the Nestors from a fiery doom. Richard Bartholomew is a rail tycoon, beset by rivals that are trying to put his Western road under by devious and illegal means. When Tom takes the contract, he joins Bartholomew and wait for the next threat to emerge. High explosives, armed robbery and sabotage are just a few of the obstacles Tom must overcome.

Then the locomotive becomes a runaway on a mountain grade, testing Tom's skill to the utmost. Just in time to mount a rescue mission to the Arctic in an attempt to save Mr. Damon and Mr. Nestor, who have been stranded on an iceberg after the schooner they were traveling on was wrecked. Damon contracts The Swift Construction Company to make oil drilling equipment for a group of shady Texas wildcatters.

They have to be watched constantly by Ned Newton to keep them honest. To make matters worse, one of them is eying Mary Nestor. Tom comes up with a new style rotary well drilling rig that cuts through rock 3 times faster than the existing machinery can. They go to Texas to try the new device and encounter all sorts of obstacles before Tom can prove the worth of his new invention and strike oil.

Tom is attacked and his possessions, the chest and Koku are all missing. Tom must discover who stole his Chest of Secrets and save Koku from the grips of the culprits. The revolutionary concept will travel from coast to coast in a 16 hours using a concept similar to the old Pony Express but with wings.

Tom must overcome the "Hooded Two" and battle sabotage and terrible weather to make his Airline Express a success. The craft must be built and the voyage must be completed in 6 months time. Tom completes The Air Monarch, a luxurious but speedy triple traveler in record time in spite of the machinations of rival Red Arrow Aeroplane Company.

Tom overcomes sabotage and all obstacles to win the prize. Tom has invented a device that seriously jeopardizes the existing theater and moving picture establishment. It is a large screen color TV with hi-fi sound. Six wealthy business executives who think they stand to "lose millions" if Tom's invention is marketed. They will do anything, from sabotage and subterfuge to kidnapping and attempted murder to stop this device from being marketed.

The Swift Construction Company is not doing well. The Airline Express hasn't been profitable and his Talking Pictures isn't either. Tom is offered a lucrative contract to build equipment by a shady character. Tom refuses and the man starts threatening mayhem and murder. Tom designs and builds his House on Wheels that can be used to get away from it all. Tom and Ned take a trip to Dismal Mountain, that is rumored to be a criminal hangout. Tom and Ned get carjacked twice and must use their wits to escape. Tom proposes to Mary.

She accepts and they wed. Martin Jardine commisions Tom to build the Silver Cloud, the largest blimp in the world but it is discovered that Jardine did not have the authority to enter into the contract and his brother Lawrence, who does have authority, refuses to approve the deal.

Tom decides to complete the blimp anyway, hoping to sell it after it is completed. The new blimp proves a success - capable of bucking even a hurricane - but no one wants to buy it. The climax comes when a madman sets a ring of fire around a resort on Mount Camon - the resort where Mary, Mr. Damon and the ailing Barton are staying. Tom must use his dirigible in a desperate race against time before his family and friends are killed in the blaze. Tom is working on his latest invention, the Sky Train.

First his experimental Sky Train crashed, then the bank denied a crucial loan, then his Sky Train crashed again. Could it be sabotage? The Acton firm is sponsoring another, rival Sky Train in hopes of beating Tom to the market. A World Exposition in which airplanes feature highly is to be held in San Francisco shortly and both want to be the first to be there. It's a race - both Sky Trains are to take off at the same time and whoever gets to San Francisco first will receive a huge amount of money.

Tom overcomes both sabotage and aerial hazards to win the prize.

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A local scrap yard owner comes to Tom with a desire to have a more powerful magnet made so he can process all the metal coming through his yard more efficiently. A rival dealer who specializes in marine salvage, also approaches Tom and a competition ensues to see who gets their bigger magnet first. Tom whips one up in no time flat. That comes in handy when the Navy's latest sub, the SVJ is disabled during her shakedown cruise and only the Giant Magnet can save the sub and her crew.

Ned Newton is working on pocket wireless sender to be used to communicate via a secret code if one of the chums is in trouble. A vault located below Tom's lab and protected alarms has been burgled and the formula for a deadly war gas is taken. The formula was taken by a nefarious foreigner, The Leopard. Ned's is captured and held hostage to prevent Tom from finishing his detector and using it to locate the Leopard and the stolen formula.

Ned is able to contact Tom with his pocket wireless and Tom comes to his rescue, captures The Leopard and retrieves the deadly formula. Tom decides to build a large floating airport in the middle of the ocean. A special kind of wood from Haargoland called talcap is needed. After some difficulty Tom gets his wood and builds his Ocean Airport. After the airport is built, the Haargoland navy shows up to claim it for Haargoland on the grounds that Tom had no right to take the wood.

How wildly blows the wintry wind, deep lies the drifting snow On the hillside, and the roadside, and the valleys down below; And up the gorge all through last night the rushing storm flew fast, And there old walls and casements were rattling in the blast. Lady, I had a dream last night, born of the storm and pain, I dreamed it was the time of spring; but the clouds were black with rain.

I thought that I was on the bay, a good way out from shore Alone, and feeling much afraid at the wild tempest's roar, I tried to reach the distant land, but could not find the way, And suddenly my boat capsized far out upon the bay. I shrieked in wildest agony amid the thunder shock, When I heard you saying unto me, "Beneath us is a Rock, Trust not to me, these waves are strong, but lift your tear-dimmed eye-- That star will lead us to the rock that higher is than I.

It seemed so strange, we stepped ashore, your garments were all dry, And, holding hands as we do now, I heard you say "good-bye. In memory of my name. And the festering wound was healed. Come with me, little one. All thorns and crosses for you are done, Mother will meet thee where all is fair, Grown to the height of the angels there. For thou shalt travel where sorrow and strife Never shall darken thy pathway again. Azael must take home to the Lord of Life The darlings He bought on the cross with pain. Pleasure and glory for you are won, Near to the angels, you're not afraid Of going with me far into the shade.

Come along with me, thou trader in gold, Many have turned from thy office to-day. Thou hast no time to consider the claim Of the wronged or helpless who crossed thy way. You shudder, trembling one. Close up the ledger, business is done. Let you stay till your vessel comes in? For thou wilt awaken, I would not hold.

If I could, the past from memory's ken. Not half of your merchandise is done? The steamers, the banks, the corn exchange? What if the hymn and the task are done, In my arms there is far calmer rest, Then thou wilt find on thy lover's breast. True life is progressive, my lady fair, And thou wilt re-open those radiant eyes; Think you that I have no burden of care, Azael has to account for each prize. Banish doubt, gentle one.

Sleep on, my darling, sleep on, I am keeping watch by your side, I have drawn in the curtains close, And banished the world outside; Rest as the reaper may rest, When the harvest work is done Rest as the soldier may rest, When the victor's work is won. You smile in your happy sleep: Are the children with you now? Ah, the skies grew dark, my love, When the sunshine of her presence Vanished to Heaven above. While you're resting, my darling, I dream of the shadowy hour, When one of us looks the last On the light of its household bower, Then a sad sigh heaves my breast, And tears from my eyelids burst, As I ask of the future dim, "Which shall be summoned first?

Sometimes I pray in terror That you may be first to go, Never again to sorrow, Or to feel one throb of woe, Beyond the mists of the river, Where mystic shadows weave, I have no fears, my beloved, In One we both believe. But I, oh I so lonely, Could I look as I look now, If this was thy last long sleep, The ice of death on thy brow; In sight of the holy angels, I offer my earnest plea, I cry to my God and pray, "If one goes first, take me.


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Our lives have been happy dear, I fancy the tears we shed, By our lost children's coffins. On faces white and dead, Are counted as dew drops now, On the flowers early sown In the gardens of Paradise, The Lord's, and still our own. So we'll leave the future dim, Take the sunshine as we go, And when we come to the brink, Where black waves ebb and flow, We'll trust the voice which summons, The love that has ever kept, To fold in his arms one taken, To lead by His hand one left.

A Legend of the Temple. The dew was gone, The morn was bright, the skies were fair, The flowers smiled neath the sunbeams ray, Tall cedars grew in beauty there. He wandering spake, "Are not all from one mountain brought As jewels for a diadem, Why, have they at this one stone wrought, Will not all see Jerusalem.

One house to make? Songs in the Night. When suddenly upon the air. How could he sing? Mary's Blessed Son, Thou wilt not chide if thou see'st that low Our harps are hanging on willow bough; We would not murmur, we know it is well, They are gone from the battle, the shot and shell, And in our anguish we're not alone; The Father knows all the grief we have known; Oh God, who once heard the Christ's bitter cry, Thou knowest what we feel when we see them die. God hears our moan, He knows how a stricken heart had said, "Oh, number her not with the silent dead, For if she stays watching the golden sea, God help, for what will become of me?

The last rose out of my childhood's bower, From my English garden, the last sweet flower; Take me instead, for none call me mother. We shall meet again; I fancy sometimes how they talk together, Of the way they travelled, the stormy weather That beat so hard on their pilgrim road, Now changed for the city of their God; I wonder if in their special home, They keep choice rooms till their darlings come. A Song of the Flowers. Are ye not blest in your sunny bowers? Have you startling dreams that make ye weep, When waking up from your holy sleep?

Dost thou ask if grief comes creeping across, From the poplar bough to the dark green moss? No, round us the sunbeams smile and glow, Round us the streamlets dance and flow, And the zephyr comes with its gentle breeze, To sigh out its life in the young green trees, And then from the beds where the flowers grow, Rises a melody soft and low.

And the glorious rose with her flushing face, And the fuschia with her form of grace, The balsam bright, and the lupin's crest, That weaves a roof for the firefly's nest; The myrtle clusters, and dahlia tall, The jessamine fairest among them all; And the tremulous lips of the lily's bell, Join in the music we love so well.

Have you no dread of a wily foe? Do you not tremble, when the serpents hiss Mid leaves that the zephyr alone should kiss? Lady, the bells of the fainting flowers Close at the coming of thunder showers; The branches and tendrils merrily dance At the whirlwind's cry, and the lightning's glance. We dread not to see the snake's back of gold? Dart through the lilacs or marigold, For fears that dwell in the human breast, Find in the heart of flowers no rest. We have no fears when we hear thee pass Over the fold of the tangled grass, We have no dread when we hear thee breathe Over the flowers we love to wreathe, Nor tremble when night falls from heaven above, And nature is stillness and earth is love; We steal from thy keeping when summer is o'er, And wait thee where flowers can die no more.

Cities and men, and nations, have passed by, Like leaves upon an autumn's dreary sky; Like chaff upon the ocean billow proud, Like drops of rain on summer's fleecy cloud; Like flowers of a wilderness, Vanished into forgetfulness. Nineveh, thou city of young Ashur's pride, With thy strong towers, and thy bulwarks wide; Ah! That Cyaxerses and his troops should wait Three long years before thy massive gate; Then Medes and Persians, by the torches' light, Should ride triumphantly thy streets by night; And from creation banish thee, O!

And country of the pride of Mizriam's heart, With pyramids that speak thy wealth and art, Why is it that no minstrel comes, who sings Of all the glory of thy shepherd kings? Tyre, why are thy walls in ruins thus? Why is thy name so seldom spoke by us? Sidon, among the nations thou art fled, Thy joy departed and thy glory dead; Far gone ere all thy generations, Fallen nations!

Fallen nations! And Babylon, with all thy thronging bands, The glory of Chaldea's ancient lands; Thy temple, where a numerous host was seen, Thy gardens hung to please the Midian queen; Where beauteous flowers smiled on their terrace beds, Proud kings have passed through thee, and crowned heads; And grandeur and magnificence could view In thee a resting place--thy stores not few; Why is it thou art all alone? And Greece, who shone in literature and might, When Marathon's broad plains saw sword and fight; Thy monumental ruins stand alone, Decay has breathed upon thy sculptured stone And desolation walks thy princely halls, The green branch twines around thy olden walls; And ye who stood the ten years' siege of Troy, Time's fingers now your battlements annoy; Why is it that thy glories cease?

Classic Greece. Classic Greece! And thou, best city of olden time, O!

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City, where Solomon his temple reared, City, where gold and silver stores appeared; City, where priest and prophet lowly knelt, City, where God in mortal flesh once dwelt. Titus, and Roman soldiers, laid thee low, The music in thy streets has ceased to flow; Yet wilt thou not return in joy once more, And Lebanon give up her cedar store? And vines and olives smile as now they smile, Yet not upon the ruin of a holy pile; Wilt thou Destruction's flood not stem?

Cities and men, and nations, have gone by, Like leaves upon an Autumn's dreary sky; Like chaff upon the ocean billow proud, Like drops upon the summer's passing cloud; Like flowers of a wilderness, Vanished into forgetfulness. One evening a short time since, our attention was attracted by the prolonged ringing of a bell.

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The given number of strokes had sounded, yet ring, ring, ring. Was it an alarm of fire? No other bell signalled an answer. Was it some danger to our city? No crowds were gathering. At length we questioned a passer by, and received for answer, "It is ringing because an Apprentice is out of his time. We knew he had overcome difficulties, often had he been disheartened and dismayed, often had he heard the mocking laugh or coarse jest of his companions, at his imperfect workmanship, often heard the angry words over goods or tools spoiled through his ignorance or carelessness. He had risen on dark mornings when his neighbors, lads his own age, were snugly sleeping; he had toiled on glorious summer days when his indolent companions were resting under green trees, or plunging into the cool waters; he had done the rough work because he was "the boy.

With courage renewed, with eyes and fingers becoming more and more accustomed to the handicrafts of his trade, every month has found him progressing, till to-night, as the still ringing bell tells us, he has overcome. His companions gather around him with boisterous mirth, and the "older hands" feel a certain pride in him, as wringing his hand they know he ranks among themselves, the means of an honest living at his disposal, one of God's great army of working men. A few hours passed and another bell resounded upon our ears.

We listened, for that bell had a sad and solemn sound. Ah, another "Apprentice was out of his time. Dismayed, how often? Discouraged, how frequently bearing the taunt, the sneer? But he too had overcome. His companions gather around him, but all mirth is hushed, tears fill their eyes, and choking words are whispered as they file round the casket, and look upon the calm dead face, that no more on earth will meet them with its wonted smile, and the pale hands that have done all their rough earthwork.

His welcome we did not hear. Ah, it is well that the sound of harps and the silvery peals from the chiming bells of the city of God reach us not, or perchance we should "stand all the day idle. Are we not all "serving our time? Are we likely to prove "workmen that need not be ashamed," or are we through fear or negligence hiding in the earth our Lord's money?

Our indentures bear the blood-red seals of Calvary, our Covenant is "ordered in all things and sure. There have been some who "being made perfect in a short time, fullfilled for a long time. He whose mysterious indentures were cancelled in the noon-day of His life.


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He who could stand among His sorrowing companions and say, "Father, I have finished the work which Thou gavest me to do. Do we not thus sometimes think, "I can never learn my trade for heaven here. Doubt says, "The Master is feasting royally and forgets his poor apprentices. This is but a state of preparation. We know not what work for the King we may have to do by-and-by; over how many cities of whose locality we at present know nothing. He may give us authority to which of the countless worlds in our Father's universe we may be sent on the King's message of love, to what spirits in prison we, in our spiritual life, may go to preach of mercy.

If here permitted to be the servants of Christ, and through His merits attaining to that better country, may we not reasonably infer that we shall aid Him more and more, till the mediatorial work is ended. Let these thoughts encourage us amidst the cold and heat, the scorn and shame. Let us see to it that we do work the works of our Master. Let us often turn our eyes to those two grand rules of our workshop, "Do unto others as ye would they should do unto you," our golden rule framed in the royal crimson of the King's authority; and that other silver lettered motto, framed in the clear, true blue of heaven, "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father, is to visit the widow and fatherless in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.

Soon, soon we shall be out of our time; but here the figure ends. The earthly apprentice, freed from his articles of apprenticeship, may serve any master, the heavenly apprentice asks but one. Oh, Jesus, Master, Thou Saviour of our race, have mercy upon us, grant us so to serve Thee in time, that our earthly labours ended, we may hear Thee say, "Well done good and faithful servant," while the pure and beautiful angels shall rehearse to each other, "Rejoice, another apprentice is out of his time.

The sun was rising on earth, sin-tainted, yet beautiful, Delicate gold-colored cloudlets in all their primeval beauty, Ushered the bright orb of day to his task well appointed, Like a bevy of beautifal girls in the court of their monarch, Or a regiment of soldiers all bright in new rose-colored armour. Two altars arose between earth and the cloud-speckled firmament; Cain walked in a stern and defiant advance to his altar, A recklessness flashed from his eyes, and passions unconquered, As he scornfully looked on the kneeling, worshipping Abel, Ay scornfully thus he addressed his young innocent brother:.

Abel, what have you carved on your altar, in that wild devotion By which you in vain seek to soften the anger of heaven? A circle, to show that your God is all near, is filling The seen and unseen with His incomprehensible presence. Well, so let it be, then; I'll not contradict the illusion. One thing appears certain, that we have offended our Maker, Who visits unjustly on us the mistakes of our parents, As if we ever reached out our hands for fruit once forbidden.

Shall we never be free from the thorns and the thistles upspringing? Why do you still try to follow the steps and voice of your Maker? And why still persist in slaying the white lambs of your meadows? Take of my beautiful flowers and despise all blood shedding. Are they not all, nearly all that is left us of Eden's fair glory, All but the singing of birds, the winds and the waters, wild music, All but the whispers of love and blessings of heart-broken parents; But you heard, my brother, as well as myself the commandment, Not to offer to heaven what we choose, but what God declareth Will shadow our Faith and sweet Hope in the promised atonement; And that terrible sin, those spots in our souls, my dear brother, Can never be cleansed by the lives of the beautiful flowers, Only by His, shadowed forth in the death of an innocent victim.

Then angrily answered Cain back to his young brother's pleading, "Abel, I have no patience with such mock humiliations, I have no need of a Saviour, I have no need of blood-shedding To wash out the stain of my own or my father's transgression. I for myself can make perfect and full restitution; Look at the smoke of your altar curling upward so clearly, Making white cloudlets on high in the blue of the firmament, While mine sweeps the ground that is cursed like the trail of the serpent: Why comes down the Maker of this blighted universe, asking Why art thou wroth, and why is thy countenance fallen?

Stand I not here in the image of God, who created us? Have I not courage, and freedom, and strength above my inferiors? Did not our father give name to beast, bird, insect and reptile? Shall his children crouch down and kneel like the creature that crawleth?