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and women. They tax the public treasury to watch and punish them. They flood our community with the odor of moral decay that nauseates and makes sick the whole population. The whole thing is wrong from start to finish. Every principle of manhood revolts against the toleration of such prac tices in the cities of to-day. The New City. I have had a vision of the new city; the city as we should make it; the city as we can make it. The people had tired of bowing to immoral men as their masters, and fired by the spirit of real reform, they arose and placed in control men who would enforce the law. They only needed men with nerve to do what they had sworn to do. It caused a great sensation. Every candidate for office from mayor down, including council, solicitor, judge, ju ror, and all the rest, was asked only one question: “Will you regard your oath of office?” On this issue, the battle of ballots was fought, and when it was all over, it was found they had elected men, every one of them, to keep his oath in every particular, or die. Then the work of sure enough reform began. What a stir it created! Things that hitherto had been winked at were knocked out. Crime that had before been regarded as a necessary evil was punished and stopped. Ev ery saloon in the slums was shut up because the keepers could not comply with the law with ref erence to good moral character. Every house of bad repute was closed. The Sabbath day was re garded. Every druggist and fruit vender and every man violating the law was arraigned before the grand jury, and convicted by the court. Do you tell me that this would not be a better state of affairs than we now have? Do you say it is a fairy dream of a wild, fanatical dreamer, and it cannot be brought to pass? Then, I say to you it is not a dream of a fanatical dreamer, that it can be brought to pass. That we can have it any time the Church makes up its mind to stop playing the hypocrite and gets down to business. The Price of Blood. Do you say it will take blood to bring it to pass? Then, I say, let the blood flow. I like the spirit of the old Moorish chief, who, in the days of the cruel Spanish oppression, when he had stood it as long as he could, went to hold a conference with the Spanish representative. When he found there was to be no let up by Spain, the old chief took a pen knife from his pocket, and thrust it into his biceps, saying, as the blood spurted, “You see that! How do you like it? Me have a nation that will spill every drop of it before we will longer submit to the injustice brought upon us.” Such heroism in the cause of right never fails. It will carry here in our own midst with reference to matters about which we are speaking. When the Christian manhood and the manhood of our community, or any community, gets to the point that it is clean up, and clean out, or quit, then we are going to have a moral government. Then, we shall obliterate the festering sores that infect the atmosphere with their immoral odors. We can get rid of the dive business, we can have law enforced any day under the sun when the Church will vote as it prays, and demand of its represen tatives that they shall be true to their oath. We can have this long coveted condition of affairs—it is a simple thing to obtain. Oh, men and women, have we not reached the point where we are ready to get rid of these evils? Have we not smelt the odor of their decay long enough? Is not that army of wretched men and women big enough? For Mother’s Boy. Surely the man who is unconcerned about this matter has not had a vision of the wretchedness of human life. Young men, fond mothers, boys are caught in the mill, and crushed to pieces. They cannot reform. They have gone beyond the limit of hope if left to themselves. Do they not appeal to us? The Golden Age for September 20, 1906. Poor, sin-crushed and Satan-bound souls! When I see them, I almost hear a voice from another world, and, turning, I see a beckoning hand. It is not the hand of an angel; it is the hand of one closer than the angels; it is the hand of mother. So piteously it beckons, not to the poor, wretched boy or girl, but to me. Why to me? I am straight. My life is fortified. There is nothing the matter with me. Ah, it beckons to me to help save and keep saved the boy or girl who is damned. Once they were pure, and full of hope, but now they are gone. Oh, the beckoning hand of help! This is the cry that makes men and women cranks for God and humanity. It is the cry that put Catherine and William Booth out of the Church on to the street to preach the everlasting Gospel. It is the cry that has caused the tap of their drum to reverberate around the globe. It is the cry that fired Jerry McAuley, the prison thief, and set him in the way of the “Glory Hallelujah” song, which has opened mission doors and houses of refuge throughout the world. It is the cry, which, when once heard, brings the prince from his place to greet the peasant in his hut. Oh, men and women, have you heard this cry? Have you seen this piteous, beckoning’ hand? Then, why longer wait? Let us go to-day and start the march for victory. It is easy to bring to pass. Our brothers and sisters are in bondage, and Satan and his cohorts have them in chains. They are in our midst. We can hear their own cries for de liverance. Are we longer to delay, or will we lift up the hand, the united hand, and drive back the monster, and set the captive free? Dr. Broughton in London. “Churchmen, defend your schools.’’ This is post ed over the door of one of the school buildings which I passed to-day. What does it mean to an American? Well, nothing especially. But to those people it means much. It means that the Church of England is calling upon the church to stand for the abominable system of ecclesiastical education, which is now the great issue over here. The gov ernment forces every teacher in the schools to teach the creed of the established church. Non-conform ists, consequently, are not allowed to teach. And yet their money, in taxes, has to go to support the schools, and their children must be taught the established creed. The non-conformists, or free churches, as they are called, are making a most vigorous fight against this injustice, and it now looks like the liberal gov ernment, which is in power, will change the law, if they do not completely annul it. This is why the sign is posted. It is a call to rally. What a call for a church to make! Everybody knows the thing is unjust, and everybody is bound to see that it is in strict contradiction to the teach ing of Christ. How any such call can come from a Christian church is a thing I cannot understand. Women as Bar Maids. But there are lots of funny things about the English way of doing things. They have women keepers of barrooms. The prettiest women in the country they try to get to keep saloons. I sup pose you want to know how I come to know about the looks of the bar maids? Well, I’ll tell you. I have seen them, and I know a pretty woman when I see her. Ordinarily it makes me feel good to look at a pretty woman. I think God intended that I should. But every time I see one keeping a saloon I feel bad. I just know she is not in the place God wants her and so does everybody else. And yet, why not a woman keep their barrooms? Is there anything wrong in that business? Some people have away of saying there is not. Many of the women drink. I never pass a saloon that I do not see women going in and coming out. "What a sight! God forbid that it shall ever be so with us. The London Heat. Yesterday was the hottest day London has had in 30 years. Some one suggested that it was a spe- cial act of Providence to please me. But I am not so well pleased—93 in the shade in London is about 110 at home. My! I am about to melt now while I write. If I was at home this afternoon I think I would get in my “Billygobile, ” (Bill is the name of my horse. We call him “Billy” for short) and ride out to the woods instead of being shut up here in my room losing the five pounds of extra flesh that I got on the ship while crossing. Eeverybody that can, and a good many that can not, is using automobiles these hot days. I like the auto. It is a very fine instrument, but I must say I like the “Billy” the best, and I think it is much more in keeping with my purse at this spe cial time, for a man who comes to London will soon find that his pockets are very light even if he does occupy a room on the top floor of some hotel and eat from lunch wagons, and pick his teeth around the door. It is a great privilege, though, to be able to spend a while in London. It is indeed a wonderful place. I’ve preached here many times before this. I’ve thought about the people and the country, but it seems to me that I am just begin ning to know them. They are inexpressibly great in many, many lines. They have got great churches and great preachers. It does one good to rub up against them and sec how they do it. While here I am making - much study of their churches and charity work. I want to be able to do better and wiser work when I get home. Dr. Morgan in London. Dr. Campbell Morgan is, to many of the leading church people, the greatest preacher in London. I thank God for him. He is certainly a man set apart of God for this day and time. There are other men, also, who stand out conspicuously in the London public. But he measures up to any of them, and, according to many of the best judges, excels them all. The work he has done in the two years he has been here is wonderful. But Tie can not be judged in his work except in connection with his associate, Rev. Albert Swift, who looks after details and organization and institutions. It is in deed a combination that seems to be heaven-made. Mr. Swift is a fine Bible teacher, and is really an expert in Christian socialism. Os course one of the greatest factors in the London pulpit, as every one knows who has been long here, is Rev. F. B. Meyer.. He is in better shape now than I’ve seen him in several years. I must not write more. The weather is too hot. I am greatly enjoying my work with Dr. Morgan’s church. I am taking, in addition to the Sundays, the Friday night Bible lectures. I give the first of them Friday night, when the Bible schools re open. I am not trying to take Dr. Morgan’s place. I am just trying to do my own little work in my own little way. Fraternally, Len. G. Broughton. Conklin’s Recipe For Success. When the late Senator Gorman, of Maryland, first came to the Senate, Mr. Conkling ami he happened to be seated together upon a sofa in the Senate chamber while a well known statesman of the period occupied the floor. “Gorman,” said Conkling, “you have come here in good season. Let me give you a sure recipe for success. Begin every speech you make with the assertion that you and you alone are the purest man that ever lived, and end each with the declaration that you are the bravest.” And then Gorman asked Conkling why he himself had not followed this recipe. Conkling answered with a sigh, “I learned it too late.”—Henry Wat terson in the Reader. For many years the question as to the exact seat of intelligence in the human brain has occupied the attention of scientists. At the present time there is an “Interacademic Brain Research Move ment” being conducted at the Wistar Institute in Philadelphia, but the mystery has not yet been solved by the eminent scientists engaged in the work. 5