The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

LllS RKMEN. UICIDE. NDAL. last for the two pounds ity, etriking ind literally fell dead. itana Mine rtemanche 581 Chamâ€" ning, wher 0 hundred work int of aluable Body en n on ye (» n CEYLON CGREEN TEA * An Absolutely Pure Tea of the Highest Possible Quality. Lead Packets only. 40c, 50r, 6Oc, Por Lb. At All Grocers. HIGHEST AWARD sT. Louls, 1904. com, said the elegant gentleman who opened the door. Would she walk in? Mona was shown into a library at the back of the house, where Evelyn sat st a teteâ€"aâ€"tete with her husband. |~ombaties : uies + is Reavei t man can fall; but the sting to Mona ‘lay in her consciousness that the disapâ€" probation and neglect of her relatives was in some degree deserved. She had not acted loyally to Waring; she ought not to have broken faith with him when the immediate cause which forced her to accept him was removed. And he, too, must £spin her! However, all that was irrevocable now. Yet she hoped carnestly that Evelyn would be alone. She did not wish to meet any of her former friends, or rathâ€" er m\uinunces, to be pitied and quesâ€" tioned, however smilling and kind the wask they might put on. This was & contemptible weakness, she confessed to herself, but she could not raise herself above it. Her ladyship had just gone _ Woever mind. Just go up to your uncle; that wild Highlander has had him all to himself nearly the whole evening." deeply into the soul. Mona was proud, but her pride had mo tinge of meanness. Of poverty she was not the least ashamed, so long as whe was indebted to herself alone. Yet in old and highly artifical societies like ours, poverty is probably the most deâ€" grading condition inw‘whict‘x_mn or woâ€" Mora set out to keep her appointement with Lady Finistour with mixed feelings of pleasure, and a little irresistible morâ€" tification. At twenty, philosophy had mot had time to strike its roots very _ "Perhaps; but if he could not create it in me, what good did his love do me *" _â€"_"I am ashamed of your hardâ€"heartedâ€" mess, Mona. I expected better things of lashin‘s of love "That is not a sufficient reason. I suppose that whatever your abstract conâ€" viction may be, you grasp grandeur and wealth whenever you have a chance. I fear I am no wiser, dear, for all my roâ€" mantic talk, only I am greedier than vyou are, Debâ€"I wanted love as well as _"If that is your opinion, Deb, why were you so angry with me for breakâ€" ing with Mr. Waring*" "Well, dear, you see people must live, and as hbearts ache, no matter what covers themâ€"sackeloth or . satinâ€"you ::fiht as well have satin, and a marble "Ah! my darlin‘, there are plenty of aching hearts under the smoothness, and poor human nature groans and yearns for what it can‘t get, all the same wheâ€" ther it‘s in a poor twentyâ€"five shilling a week lodging or a marble palace." "Ah! widely different; but you don‘t let that fret you, my dear, do you*" "No, I don‘t fret. Yet I am ashamed to think how I regret that. brilliant, easy, abounding existence, where everyâ€" thing is fair and smooth, and neither rovmmn nor care come to irritate or oppress." o is e o > "A very pleasant and unlook for reâ€" contre," returned Mona, who was takin off her damp outâ€"door garments. “? was coming away from Mrs. Churchill‘s when a lady wzo had just driven up to the door suddenly called me by my name. ‘Don‘t you remember me, Mona*? It was Evelyn. She seemed so pleased to see me! She had only come up to town for a few days, and was going to write to me to come and see her, as she was very hurried. Oh, she was looking so well and happy! She asked me to luncheon toâ€"morrow. She is at their town house in Hyde Park Gardens, and wants to have a long talk. She is just the same as ever, only nicerâ€"at least sahe seemed so,. What a different world she moves in from ours, dear Deb!" "Ah! widely different; but you don‘t VC SsL Lask eases eser Muic : Sn awnes fF It was a Saturday afternoon, when Kenneth always got away from the city early. "There is hber ring!" she exclaimed the next moment. "I‘ll go and see what kept her." N It was a wet, chill afternoon, with wild 5"“’ of wind. y "Where have you been, my darlin‘?" cried Mme. Debriaa{, going into the bedâ€" .rt;)’m, where she eardnglona. moving ut. "My dear sit, if you wish to speak to Mr. Macalister, I will leave you toâ€" gether!" "Not the day, not the day," said Uncle Sandy. "I have no the strength to inâ€" sist on anything." "That‘s what few of us do," quoth Uncle Sardy, turning to his nephew. "Td like to have a talk with ye the next time you come ur here; there are one or two matters 1 should wish you to consider." "I am wondering what keeps Mona," said Mme. Debrisay; "she ought to be here by this time." m "Nae doot, mnae doot! Let life and health may be poverty struck, and not worth much." "Any way, life is given to us, and we must do the best we can with it," quoth Mme. Debrisay, who was privately wonâ€" dering what had become of Mona, as her usual hour for returning was overâ€" "Life and hbealth are worth more than gold," said Mme. Debrisay, cheerfully. The Wisest Thing "That is because you always overrated "Ab, then, didn‘t poor Waring give you "CALADA" Won at Last 49# 18 TO DI8CARD ThE apuLlTerâ€" ATED JAPAN TEA AND USE _"I assure you I am not dull. First, because I am so busy; then because I have a very agreeable companion. Then we go often to concerts â€" someâ€" times to theatres â€" and even now and then to soirees, where, if there is not much elegance, you someâ€" times hear exceedingly clever talk; but weâ€"that is Madame Debrisay, genâ€" erally refuses. It costs too much in dress and cab hire." _"Is it possible. I thought cabs _ were the most economical mode of getting about. Dearest Mona, I am so sorry for "But tell me about yourself! What an awful life you must lead with poor Mme. Debrisay! though she is a dear old thing. Do you never go to a dance orâ€"but of course not; you could not know the peoâ€" ple about you." _ CAl Surg P And so on about her own happiness and affairs for nearly an hour, then she exâ€" claimed, suddenly: _ lA "Come up to my room, Mons. We have only a few rooms open, as we go back to Cumberland on Tuesday. Now we shall have a delightful talk. Isn‘t Fin‘sâ€" toun nice? He is such a good fellow. I thought him so dull and quiet when he came to the Chaseâ€"just after you made all that hubbub, dear! I didn‘t care about marrying him much, only he seemâ€" ed so much in rove with meâ€"which noâ€" body ever did beforeâ€"and now I think him the most charming companion. Isn‘t he bright and pleasant ?" "He is indeed! I suppose {ou make him so happy, that his nature has develâ€" oped, as plants dq in sunshine." _ _ "You are just the same as ever, Moia, with your quiet funny air of wisdom. I wish you had married Mr. Waring. It is really very nice to be married to a kind, generous husband." y "I am not at home to any one," said Lady Finistoun, as scon as the servant came back from opening the door. "You are sure you have not been adâ€" ministering slow poison in homeopathic globules?" asked Lord Finistoun. "You look a very resolute young woman, Miss Craic." A little more light talk, and he left them, after a kindly expressed hope of seeing Mona soon again. "He is very unambitious; and has been seriously ill." 3 ® "My father‘s name was Craig, but my poor grandmother always chose to call me by my second Christian name." "I do not think he is rich, and he is only in London for a short time." y "Oh, nonsense! He must be rich. Make him take a house near us someâ€" where. Every one will be pleased to see you again,. Men do not adopt nieces unless they can afford expensive luxurâ€" ies." "He ought to be much obliged to me," returned Mona, as lightly as she could. "Perhaps; but then people seldom know what is good for them." "A most ungallant speech. Pray reâ€" member that Mona has changed her name. She has taken her uncle‘s." "Quite right, if he is going to leave you his fortune. By what name, then, shall 1 remember you in my prayers?" . "And why does this rich old uncle choose to live in such a remote region as Westbourne Villas?" "I beg pardon if I have offended; but I am sure Miss Joscelyn will forgive me. The poor fellow has gone under. The raceâ€"course and the clubs know him no more, You have a great deal to answer for." "And you are the naughty girl who riled every one by rejecting your unforâ€" turate financee," said Lord Finistoun, as he helped her to some cold grouse. "It was too {:d. really. You deserved to be shut up and fed on bread and water." "How very illâ€"bred of you, Finistoun, i0 mention it," cried his wife. "You have no discretion. I will not have Mona teased." She did well remember him. At the ball where she had first met Lisle, she had seen him talking long to Lord Finâ€" istoun, and fancied they were speaking of herself. He (Lord Finistoun) was very like Kenneth Macalister, only older, betâ€" ter dressed, and less goodâ€"looking. He was tall and gaunt, but Evelyn was eviâ€" dently satisfied with him. In a few minutes Mona felt quite at home. __"Yes, I remember you now," a quick blush passing over her face. "Very complimentary to me," said Lord Finistoun, bowing and smiling goodâ€" humoredly. "Happy to renew my acâ€" quaintance with you, though I am afraid you do not remember me." "So glad to see you, dear! Finistoun is obliged to go out, or we should have waited for you, and when we have got rid of him, we shall have such a nice long chat." summer as in winter, Send for free sampia. Disease takes no summer wvacation. If you need flesh and strength use Scott‘s Emuilsion o. and $1.00; all druggiste. "Let us make a bargain, uncle!" cried Mona, gayly. "I do not want the money now, but when I do I‘ll ask for it." "Ay, but I misdoubt me if you will; iou have too much pride. Not but that like your independent spiritâ€"that comes from the Craigs. I‘ll J'ist pit up the money in a bit paper, and it will be ready whenever you want it." "Thank you, uncle. I will ask for it, # I want it; but I hope I shall not. Do you know that Lord and Lady Finistoun are your neighbors at Craigdarroch ?" "Ay, I knew the name; but I did not give them a thocht. I remember now, the Laird o‘ Strathairlie used to be down in the shootingâ€"time, with a wild, fockâ€" less lotâ€"loons that just consume the "But, Uncle Sandy, I would rather not take it! Indeed, I would rather not! 1 am sure I shall soon find other pupils, andâ€"and I have a little money of my ownâ€"more than a hundred and twenty pounds. I was quite ready to give up the lessons that I might be with you. You were not fit to be left alonc. I will not take the money." L "Nor will 1 take it back." "You must, indeed," she persisted. "Hoot, toot! a young creature like you needn‘t hesitate to take it from her nearest of kin. Here, pit it in yer poeâ€" ket." * "Hum! ha! well!"â€"pulling out his purseâ€""there are three sovereigns for you. Madame told me you put off some pupils that ye might give your time to me, and I can nae forget it. 1 doubt if any one ever did so much for me beâ€" fore. Now I don‘t want you to suffer loss through me. There, tak‘ the gowi, ye‘re welcome. Before that is gone, ye‘ll may be find other pupils." _ _Mona did not reply and there was a pause. She found the article she had been looking for, and had just begun to read when Uncle Sandy stopped her, exâ€" claimingâ€" "Bide a bit. I want to speak to you." She laid down the newspaper a little alarmed at the ominous beginning. "Tell me truth," he resumed. "How are you paid for your singing lessons ?" "Oh, mine are merely preparatory lesâ€" sons! so I do not get much." "Ay, but how much ?" "Three shillings a lesson, or thirty for twelve." "Oh, gang yer ain gait. The young alâ€" ways know better than the old and exâ€" perienced." . : ? + "Leddy Finistoun, indeed," he mutterâ€" ed, not addressing any one in particular. "She and her people would have left the girlie to starve and she must run back to eat of her bread. That‘s not the right spirit." â€""But, uncle," said Mona, who was lookâ€" ing for the city article in the Times, "Evelyn was always fond of me. She is not responsible for what her people did." "Lady Finistoun sought me, uncle. It would heve been ungracious to reject her advances." "Eh. They are all birds of the same feather. I‘d have nowt to do wi‘ them." Mme. Debrisay‘s words _ respecting Mona‘s sacrifices for her uncle had sunk into his soul. He was generally a taciturn individual but at times communicative fits would scize him, of which when they were past, he seemed half ashamed. _ Mona‘s absence on the Sunday afterâ€" noon when she had lunched with Lady Finistoun, was a stumbling block _ and rock of offence. "What a rebellious subject you are. I protest I feel a load taken off my mind when I think you have a rich uncle in the toils. Keep fast hold of him." CHAPTER XIL "No, dear Evelyn, you shall not send me in a cab. I will take one myself, for I do not wish to spoil my best gown." "Oh, yes, re will. Do not be so conâ€" tradictory. My dear love, you will be a wealthy heiress yet. Craigdarroch is quite a lovely place. And there is a farm â€"a good large farm ,and fishing rights attached to it, etc., etc." Talk flowed freely, till Mona, observâ€" ing the hour, insisted on taking leave. "It is pouring with rain. Do let me send you home in a cab." "This is a delightful discovery. Finisâ€" toun wil be quite pleased; and then we shall see you in the autumn. We always go, or will go, to Straithairlie." _ "But, perhaps, my uncle will not reâ€" turn there." "Craigdarroch," repeated Lady Finisâ€" toun, in great surprise. "Why, that is close to Strathairlie. I remember hearâ€" ing that a rich jute manufacturer bought it. Yes, I know all about it now, dearâ€" est Mona; he must be the same _ Mr. Craigâ€"a dreadful, rich, Radical old misâ€" er. You don‘t mind my saying so, do you." "Oh, no, by no means," returned Mona, laughing. "It is very curious that you should krow anything about him. Still, I can not believe in his wealth; and he is certainly not a miser." "And where does he live when he is at home." "Depend on it he will prove a ‘treaâ€" sure trove‘. Where does he come from?" "Somewhere near Glasgow. My father‘s people wereâ€"I scearcely know what â€" very humble in origin." "I am not very sure. He has a cotâ€" tage in the Western Highlands called Craigdarroch." . is so much in that. Besides he is intelliâ€" gentâ€"a character, in fact. I feel his hold on me is tightening." "Where did you find him." Mona gave the history of their first meeting. "I see no sign of it in his mode of life or his ideas of expenditure." "How is it you let him bore you so, then." - "What a fearful combination, He must have money or he would never presume to be so disagrecable." _ "He seems to have thrown himself upon me, while every one else, except poor, dear Deb, has thrown me off â€" and then I see he is fond of me. There "Well, he is an ugly, little old man, not too pleasant in temper, and in very indifferent health. He talks like the peoâ€" ple in Sir Walter Scott‘s novels, and he tri‘es to convert me to Presbyterianism." "No, no, Evelyn. I have left your sphere forever. I am not ungrateful" to you. You are a kind, generous soul; but I have thrown in my lot with the workâ€" ers, and I can‘t serve fashion and mamâ€" mon. I must earn my tread." _ "It sounds ‘t;u;‘te" awful I shall perâ€" suade you to come to me yet. Do tell me what the uncle is like." "I am well and happy." "Nonsense, dear. I tell you what, you must come and stay with us. I don‘t eare what they say at home, and I will give you some nice dresses." ou. And how wonderfully well you "Twentyâ€"two years ago toâ€"day there was an occasion which called forth the following notice in our paper: "On Monâ€" day morning an army of women, armed with all sorts of small clothes, pareâ€" gorie, castile soap and catnip tea, invadâ€" ed our domestic camp. We were not only scared but surrendered, unconditionâ€" ally. We are informed (reliably), that it is a girl and will very likely make her home with us for about eightecen years, when we will be willing to give her away to some young man, provided he is a member of the Y. M. C. A." She is now reporter for the Kansar, and though the plans we had in view of giving her away have not yet matured, we are not altogether without hope. â€" Concordia Dr. Wiliams‘ Pink Pills do just one thingâ€"but they do that thoroughly. They actually make new, rich, red blood, _ which feeds and strengthens every nerve and organ in the body. That is why this medicine cures such common ailments as anaemia, general weakness, headaches and backaches, indigestion, palpitation _ of the heart, rheumatism, neuvralgia and _ the ailâ€" ments which makes the lives of so many wonem and young girls miserable. Don‘t take something else which theh dealer may say is "just as good." If you can‘t get the genuine Pills from your dealer, send to The Dr,. Wiliams‘ Medicine Co., Brockville, Ont., and get them by mail at 50 cents a box or six boxes for $2.50. I then procured & supply of Dr. Wilâ€" liams‘ Pink Pills I bad already used the Pills myself, with great benefit and felt confident they would cure Roy. He began taking them, and continued their use until he had taken a half dozen boxes, which fully cured him. _ He is now stronger and better than he ever was, and neither study nor work about the farm seem to fatigue him. _ I believe Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills saved him from a life of misery." .. * Sn 0 oo ay dn o Restored to Strength by Dr. Williams { Pink Pilis, _ Bad blood is the cause of weak kidâ€" neys. _ The impurities of the blood clog the kidneys so that they are unâ€" able to perform their work of separâ€" ating the waste matter from the bloodâ€"the bad from good. The sympâ€" toms of diseased kidneys are numerâ€" ous. The dull, sunken eye, the coated tongue, the backache, weak, shaky knees, sallow, swollen face all show what is wrong. This _ disease must not be neglected. Every day delayed in finding a cure is a day _ nearer "Bright‘s Disease"â€"that â€" trouble _ is incurable. Do not waste time and money on a medicine which acts only on the kidneys, It may relieve, but it cannot cure you. The trouble to be permanently cured must be â€" treatâ€" ed through the blood. Good _ blood makes healthy kidneys. Dr. Williams‘ Pink Pills actually make new, rich, red bloodâ€"that‘s why they cure when other medicines fail. Thousands owe good healthâ€"some life itselfâ€"to _ this medicine. _ Among them is Roy Davidâ€" son, who resides with his uncle, Mr. C. B. Maclean, near Brockville, Ont. Mr, Maclean says: "My nephew, Roy, had weak kidreys,. About a year ago he took the measles and this left him in a bad state. His kidneys were so weak that they wore incapable of perâ€" forming their functions, He suffered from backache, weakness and restlessâ€" ness. For a time he had to leave schooi. Our family doctor was unable to help him. In fact, he told me t.ha,ti Roy might never get better; that the disease would _ probably grow wom.‘ "He‘s always awa‘ when he is wanted. Write him a note; nay, a halfâ€"penny card will do as well. Tell himâ€"stay, I‘ll write myself, though it is the Sawâ€" bath. There are some things will na‘ keep, and the Lord‘s Day is not the same this side of the border." "Just so, uncle. When in Rome, do as Rome does." "Ay; when will a note reach him?" "I dare say at ten toâ€"morrow mornâ€" ing." "Ay," he muttered, _ "Spanish four cents, fortyâ€"eight and a quarter, exâ€"diviâ€" dend. That‘s good; time to sell. Hum! Union Pacific, threeâ€"fourths down! that will do,. Where is Kenneth ? He hasn‘t come nigh us this Sawbath." "He said he was going to church with his friend young Macleod, and was to sup with him after." "Then let me hear nae mair of heirs und heiresses!" "Very well. Shall I read now *" "Ay, and dinna go too fast." But the lecture did not seem to give satisfaction till she came to the "Price Current," when some of the quotations seemed to arouse a keen and pleasuraâ€" ble interest in her hearer. "Natural heir indeed!" quoth Uncle Sandy wrathfully. "Nabody is my heir or heiress beyond what I choose. 1 «an leave all I possess to an institution or an hospital toâ€" morrow." "Of course you could," said Mona, inâ€" differently. $ "He is too selfâ€"opinionated; but he is an honest lad, and his mother, my haifâ€" sister, was aye nearest to me of kin, though I loved your father weel till he went an‘ married like a fule! 1 must look after Kenneth and provide for kim, for her sake. Her heart was bound up in him; and for a‘ his bone and muscle, he‘s no that strong." "Yes, Uncle Sardy, you ought to take care of him. He is indeed your natural heir." "I‘m no that sure. They create a fause demand, and a useless classâ€"men that just minister to other men‘s pleasure are never good for anything; there‘s someâ€" thing degrading in it. If ye come aown and see me in my bit Hieland home, I hope these fine folk won‘t come haverâ€" in‘ after you. I canna be fashed wi‘ sic like kittle cattle." "I don‘t suppose they would trouble me much, only Evelyn, who is really fond of me, I believe; and I should greatly enjoy Craigdarroch. The Highlands must be delightful, from Kenneth‘s account." "Ay; he can talk grand. He is a braw laddie. You are good friends, you twa*" "Very good,. Kenneth interests me, he is so fresh and original." "Still, I suppose they do some good, by giving employment and spending money"? _ yR fruits of the airth, and never add a bawâ€" bee to the nation‘s wealth." WEAK KIDNEYS. Still Living in Hope. (To be continued.) _ It is a city of nerveâ€"wrecked men and women. It may or may not be generally known, but the seismic instruments reâ€" cord fortyâ€"nine or fifty "shakes" since the big one. Last week one came along which rang doorâ€"bells, lifted roofs, and otherwise enlivened matters. These reâ€" curring shocks are not soothing. Pevple like to have everything in readinoss when they go to bed, in case of a hurâ€" ried exit during the night. ‘They don‘t care to lock a door, as there are so many stories of doors jamming from shock and occupants of houses caught helpless in traps. The usual greeting is "Good mornâ€" ing; did you feel the earthquake last The true San Franciscan belittles the earthquake and blames the fire for everything. "Does not every city have her fire," he says, "and does she not always rise from the ashes more beautiâ€" ful tz:n ever?" Yot buildings ‘that the fire never approached danced jigs and crumbled into powder. or. in some iâ€" “iht 9 ONTARIO ARCHIVES TORONTO DEAR NEW FRISCO the wonder of the age. 1,000,000 in 1915." ) This is the spirit of San Francisco. The oldâ€"timers are going to stick to it, earthquakes or no earthquakes. They are ready to take their chanee. On the other hand, a large number of people have left, and more would go if they had the means. Everywhere tiat there are buildings "For Sale" and "To Let" signs prevail. No words can describe, nor photoâ€" graph picture, the blank desolation of the streets of San Francisco. It is all so unreal, so unlike the actual, that one feels like a ghost revisiting the remains of Pompeii and Herculaneum. Equare mile after square mile shows ruin, ruin, ruin, blank. hopeless ruin. ‘The very bricks are ground to powder. It is hard to realize that on Market and Misâ€" sion, and in all the great thoroughfares, the only merchants are vendors of peaâ€" nuts and soda weter and hawkers of popeorm. co..0.0 . ><â€" The s(i)irit of the people, however, is not dead. On a roofless, wallâ€"less fragâ€" ment one reads: "We moved because the elevator was out of order. New premâ€" ises ready shortly." All over the city are posted huge notices: _ The Palace Hotel is open to the four winds of heaven. The glittering restaurâ€" ants and grillâ€"rooms are heaps of crumâ€" bled brick. The great department stores are swaying, jagged walls, with gaping windows and twisted girders, or, for the most part, a level waste. It is a vast graveyard. stances, like the Valencia HMotel, mo% cord. From cold water to saloons is eurely a dreadful leap, but it may be stated here for the benefit of anyone interested that all saloons will be closed for four months; moreover, any gentleman comâ€" ing from Oakland with sundry suspicious bottles, or bearing unmistakable signs of incbriation, is summarily taken in charge and eentenced to three months‘ hard labor, which consists in removing bricks and debris, and otherwise making himâ€" self useful to his country. parh t ult W o id infi iob io ces Aicar s â€"ultlicts â€"»<xer Cl be seen. On Sutter street a row of elecâ€" tric cars has been converted into dwelâ€" lings. Pink quilts adorn the windows and neighborly courtesies are exchanged over the fenders. San Francisco is still withâ€" out a brick chimney and dames of high and low degree, alike, wield frying pans and teaâ€"kettles in the middle of the road, indifferent at last to the fact that the world knows what there is going to be for dinner. The world is not very particular these days about fingerbowls and table decorations. Nobody has ecen a tableâ€"napkin since the earthquake and the possessor of a clean flourâ€"sack is looked upon with envy, even mistrust; for a flourâ€"sack at a table is a luxury, and the people who surround themselves with luxuries are surely grafters, and thercfore to be avoided. Hot baths also have gone out of fashion, only to be reâ€" vived when the Board of Works sees fit to inspect the chimneys. For some time there was no water at all jard in this district people were obliged to carry their pitchers and pails twelve blocks before they could find any. _ Although civilization is on the inâ€" crease, there are still strange sights to Things are gradually getting into betâ€" ter working order, from a relief standâ€" point. The authoritiee are trying hard to separate the sheep from the goats, that is, the deserving from the undeseryâ€" ing. The army now makes a houseâ€"toâ€" house visitation ard woe to that man who has stocked his cellar and still perâ€" sists in "going into line" for rations. One of the food supply stations in the Mission feeds betwen sixty and seventy thousand daily. The line sometimes exâ€" tends for six or seven blocks. The storeâ€" house, a barnâ€"like structure, 75 by 150 feet, is divided into huge bins; one conâ€" tains bread, of which the students of Palo Alto send 70,000 loaves daily; anâ€" other ham and bacon, sliced for indiviâ€" dual use; another bologna sausage; anâ€" other canned meats and vegetables and so on. A block beyond is the Mi‘lk Snpâ€" ply Station, where 500 gallons were disâ€" ensed daily. The milk supply however, fias been cut down and the cityâ€"that is, those who can not afford to buy their foodâ€"is put on Army rations, bread, meat and vegetables; no milk (except in the case of infants) butter nor eggs.. Wholesale misery is still the order of the day in San Francésco, and he is a rare bird who has more than cne pair of socks to call his own,. Aproâ€" pos of socks, this week we have Leen distributing the box sent by Mr. Cuthâ€" bertson, _ Each one who receives a pair signs his name and when comâ€" pleted, the document will be sent to the donor as a souvenir, or a study in marvellous ‘har«bygiting. Manna sent from heaven was nothing to _ those socks,. The sick people patted them and put them under their pillows with & contented sigh; the "shook out and burnt out and never saved a thing" reâ€" garded ‘them with wholesome respoct, not to say veneration. rget gi §0M Vancouver Newsâ€"Advertise). The following graphic and interestâ€" ing penâ€"picture of San Francisco as she is toâ€"day was written by Nurse MacLean, who with Nurse â€" McLeod went down on the Amur to attend to the sufferers. The account was sen: to Mr. Norman Norcross, Secretary o the Religf Committee, and was acâ€" companied by the following letter: Sume y c 9 2CE ETL &7 Cu h wa 0 w "Work morn, noon, night, and make s Now Prevailingâ€"Authorities Doing Their Utmost to Rehabiliate the Stricken City. SAN FRANCISCO TOâ€"DAY. Learning the White Man‘s Ways. "Lo, the poor Indian, whose untutor=d mind" makes him the easy prey of the white sharper, but whose mind tutorâ€" ed in a law school and stimulated by the atmosphere of the national capital is capabel of attaining contingent fees of unprecedented dimensions! _ Robert 8. Owen, a Cherokee, has won a suit for his nation for NS.O()O,MO against the Unâ€" ited States, being the cost of the tribe‘s removal from Georgia to the Indian terâ€" ritory sixtyâ€"eight years ago. Of this he is to receive 15 per cent. For winning another case this same copperâ€"hued atâ€" torney got $265,000 from the Chickaâ€" saws and Choctaws. The members of the Wuhi&on bar must be kicking themselves that they never produced a law rmhdhn tribes to employ only wyers.â€"Philadeiphia Reâ€" Baby‘s Own Tablets is not for babies only, _ It is a medicine for children of all ages. It is gently laxative and comâ€" forting. _ It cures indigestion, all forms of stomach troubles, eonstirtion. simple fevers, diarrhoea and makes teething ainless, There‘s a smile in every dose. g(rs. Henry Mater, London, Ont., says: "Having used Baby‘s Own Tablets I can say with sincerity that I know nothâ€" ing as good for lhngle fevers, stomach and bowe! troubles. My baby has thrivâ€" ed s lendidl;y" since I Lgnn giving her the g‘ablets. You can get Baby‘s Own Tablets from any medicine dealer or by mail at 25 cents a box by writing the grn, Williams Medicine Co., Brockville, 4 \ The first thing we came mcross was the [ model Army Field Hospital, It consists of scores of khaki tentsâ€"an operating tent, dispensary, wards, accommodating 150 patients, kitchen, mess, officers‘ and privates‘ quarters, ete, All day the | sides of the tents are ratsed for ventilaâ€" tion, and nothing could be cleaner or fresher than the rows of néatlyâ€"made cots in the tent wards, The only blot on the landscape is the occupant of each. Here, again, was the old story and the same sad sights There is no getting away from them. Ine Army gives these people food (such as it is) and temporâ€" ‘ary shelter,. It declines, however, to inâ€" terest itself in the wardrobe of refugess. None of them has had a change of clothing since the earthquake. _ Most of them escaped with little more than their nightâ€"clothes, and are actually cold, as the winds are sharp. They are all old and sick, and in many cases lost the children who supported them,. The nurses in charge asked us to get them some clothing, but although we tried our best to do so through the regular Army channels, it was of no use. The demand is greater than the supply, and untess help comes from some outside source, these people will be no better off than they are now. _ In all, there are about: seventyâ€"five women and the same nmn-‘ ber of old invalided men. If any of the women‘s sewing societies in Vancouver or elsewhere, or any one who has time and inclination, could send whatever they can in the way of clothing of any kind and all sorts, provided it is freah and clean, they can rest asured that they are performing an act of true kindâ€" ness and charity, for surely no one‘s need is greater. It must be borme in mind that these are not habitual paupâ€" ers, but simply the victims of circumâ€" stances, heretofore independent, and askâ€" ing for help only in the interval. Ail parcels should be addressed to Nurse M. P. McLeod, care Mrs. Sanborn, Chairâ€" man Red Cross, at the above hospital; otherwise they might as well be thrown into the Inlet. Of the hour of the etrthfinke only a few of the strange tales that are told can ever be written, When it is too dark to work, people talk in the dim, flickerâ€" ing candleâ€"light of the things they have seen and heardâ€"how when the great buildings swayed like pendulums, and row after row went down like pieces of cardboard, in every part of the city there arose, all at once, the ery of termfied women and children, sounding high ard shrill above the crash of falling masonry, of stone pavements heaving and roUing like the waves of the sea; of pet animals dropping dead from fright; of blasted buildings containing human life; of solâ€" diers shooting, and looting in the face of death itself. This, and things more terâ€" rible, is what one hears in San Franâ€" T y i i ond qubdic i Prvieg Ristc Nt ustt A on that. In the meantime, Eeople who, ordinarily, are in comfortable cireumâ€" stances, must stand in line, or go withâ€" out food. _A workman rarely gets paid. He is asked to wait for his wages indefâ€" initely. Last week, in the course of our work, we came across halfâ€"aâ€"dozen Canadian families, who, for the above reason, are pretty well destitute, They have now enough to tide them over the period of waiting. _ We have also persuaded a good many of them to go to Vancouver, where the ground is solid, and this parâ€" ticular feature appeals to them very strongly. There is a good deal of pneuâ€" monia and pleurisy, caused by exposure the night of the ?;re. but sma‘lpox and other contagious diseases are kept well in hand, considering the state of affairs in general. Last Friday we thought we would take an hour‘s holiday from the mournful mob at the Horace Mann, and started for Goldeanvt.e Park in search of peace. the top floor was on a level with the niden.fi. The whole peninsula, we are told, has dropped four feet. It is to be hoped that it will stay where it is from now on. Almost without exception, peoâ€" ple take their losses with great cheerfulâ€" ness. The calamity was so great that they are thankful for their lives. The majority look upon it as a punishment of God, and accept Father Yorke‘s interâ€" pretation. "We were a wicked sity, We prided ourselves on our wickedness. We thought we were greater than nature, greater than the Almighty Himszif; ther God raised His little fingerâ€"and the whole city fell." But how long will the Californian remain humble? At the present time there is little or no money in circulation. Everybody is waiting to see what the insurance comâ€" panies will do, Everything depends upâ€" half a dozen blocks from our quarters, sank the depth of four storeys, so that THE CHILDREN‘S FRIFND. Isabel A. R. Maclean, Another General was said to be worh a whole battalion. _ And who shall enâ€" umerate what God is worth ? " I am with thee, Hast thou not known, hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth is with thee?" Oh, faintâ€" ing Paul! He fainteth not, neither is weary ;there is no searching of His unâ€" derstanding. "l am with thee." It is an inspiring, heartening message â€"the secret of true courage; " lam witha thee, and no man hall hurt thee." In the same chapter the word spoken ist be word accomplished and fulfilled, I wish we could learn that toâ€"day for our own persecutions and our own trials, Our enemics can do us no harm; let them come. . Don‘t make any preparations; don‘t consult; don‘t be afraid. Giving ourselves to Christ, He stands beside us and says: "~Nothing shail hurt you, nothing shall harm you." This is said to the whole Church qs well as to the individual, _ "No weapon that is formâ€" ed against thee shall prosper." $ Redâ€"Letter Day for Tommy, Ma Twaddlesâ€"Why, Tommy, were you sent home from school to-dl.,? Tommy Twaddlesâ€"NXo, ma‘am., Ma Twaddlesâ€"But you were home at il'“" an hour earlier than you were beâ€" ore, "I am with thee, and no man shail set on thee to hurt thee,."â€"Acts xviii., 10. riously plunging and leaping around the raift, the hideous monsters gathering ever more and more audacity, one of the wretched mariners, indiscreetly venturâ€" ing too near the edge being seized bodâ€" ily by one of the gigantic sharks and forthwith sepulchred in its repulsive, voâ€" racious maw. _ And so it goes on, until half the wretched crew have succumbed, and have been cast to the insatiate deâ€" vourers, when the survivors are at length happily rescued by a passing ship from the ghastly horror of that living death. And there are other relentless foos, ever seeking whom they may devour, and ever endeavoring to drag their vicâ€" tims down to perdition, But those who make ur their minds that as for them they will serve the Almighty, and who, trustiny in the atonement made for them by the Redeemer for the pardon of their iniquities, with His neverâ€"refused uid live a godly life, will most assuredâ€" ly be protected from these assaults, unâ€" til they reach that land where these spiritual enemies for ever cease from troubling and the weary are at rest..â€" By A Banker. But now, instead of the unruffied quiescence of the waters, in a moment all is wild commotion and turmoil, For a great shoal of savage and voracious tigers of the deep, has reached the fatâ€" ed raft and they are now fiercely conâ€" tending for the prey, which in a few moments is devoured before the eyes of the terrified sufferers, _ And now hayâ€" ing tasted blood the @ntire shoal is fuâ€" Immovable as though anchored to a rock, the imgrovised sail hanging limp and motionle®s, is a hastily constructed raft, upon which are assembled half a score of shipwrecked mariners, gaunt and cadaverous, their glazing eyebails sunk deep, and gripping hunger, and thirst stamped unmistakably upon their despairing and emaciated. countenances. The last keg of water has been broachâ€" ed, and the last tin of biscuits has been opened and the grim vision of starvaâ€" tion stares them full in the face. One by one they lie down haggard and heipâ€" less never to rise again to taste the joys and to revel in the pleasures of life, And now with a last gasg, the vital spark has fled from one of them, and his lifeless corpse is cast into the deep, â€"Helon Marion Burnside, in Golden Prayer. O, Lord, how manifold are Thy works! In wisdom Thou hast made them all; the earth is full of Thy riches, We praise Thee, 0 God, for the beauty and the proâ€" mise of the opening summer. In grass and leat and blossom, in the seent of flowers, and the song of birds, we recogâ€" nize Thy glory and Thy love. Let Thy power and goodness be manifested aiso in the spiritual world and fill the carth with beauty of holiness. In the wilâ€" derness and the solitary ghce, whore only things of evil flourish, come with Thy transforming grace and make the flowers of righteousness to grow. Let the desert rejc‘=e and blossom as the rose, _ Overthrow the powers of darkâ€" ness, bring to an end the reign of sin, Eo shall joy and gladness come to men and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. Amen., glistening shimmer of light on its leaden surface, but only the glaring full orbed reflection of the blazing sun over head in the zenith. The sky is hot and copâ€" pery, its glorious azure faded to a vivid saftron, and not a cloug, nor a wisp of fleecy vapour, nor a filmy tuft of circus to break the heavy monotony of the secthing firmament; while the scorching, muffled atmosphere is as motionless as death, and as torpid and as inert as in a lethargic trance. Tigers of the Deep. ‘Tis the dead calm, after a storm, The only sea appears as if lifeless and stagâ€" nant, not a ripple upon the face of the waters, not a dancing wavelet, nor a Be strong, true and patient, Hope ail things and pray; Heed not the rough places That cumber the way, The crown of the victor One day they shall win, Who bravely strive forward And never give in. To those ‘twill be sweetest Who never give in. MHope‘s clear mountainâ€"side, Strive onward in patience. The clouds o‘er the valleys Will gather, and hide The sun that ilumines Never give in, girls, Though oft you are fain, When hofi; fades before you, And labor seems vain; Strive onward, keep doing, Somewhat they must win, Who keep the straight pathway And never give in. SsnY 2y 5KS ang) nve onward in ience, When rest shall mh. The Secret of Courage. Never Give In.