voice, asked the surging crowd to step in. We entered with the throng and they occupied every inch of space from end to end of a longer bar than we had ever seen before. Elbowing our way to the rear of the extraordinarily long room we found two seats vacant at a table on the left. Here we remained only long enough to get a good view of the patrons of the place and to fully realize the truth of Mr. Gladstone's words, that the curse of drink "is worse than war, pestilence and famine combined." We withdrew with heavy and sorrowful hearts, pray

ing that God might hasten the time when with one fell swoop, the accursed liquor traffic would be wiped out of existence. No middle course will suffice. Absolute prohibition alone will be effective. Men will find reasons and excuses for drinking so long as temptation is in their way: "If on thy theme I rightly think, There are five reasons why men drink: Good wine, a friend, because I'm dry, Or lest I should be by-and-by, Or any other reason why." (To be continued.)

Leal Transatlantic friend, to me

'Twas joy unfeigned to meet thee, To give warm welcome o'er the sea,

To clasp thy hand, to greet thee. Though met we but to part again,

Thy stay was one of gladness,

The parting filled our hearts with pain, And a lone, weary sadness.

For long years in Manhattan we

Oft shared charmed hours together,

Again we've met, and happily,

Upon our native heather.

Still spared to bless the reverenced one, Thy loved, devoted mother

Than thee ne'er breathed a nobler son,
No truer husband, brother.

Safe be thy waftage o'er the main-
Though parting is keen sorrow-
Hope whispers we'll soon meet again,
Speed on the happy morrow!
Thy wife waits with a longing gaze,

And a deep, soulfelt yearning,

To welcome thee from Scotia's braes,
To cheer thy home returning.

Evanescent are joys below

Life's pleasures are not lasting-
Abaft the genial roseate glow
Are darkening clouds o'ercasting.

THE MISSIVE.

CHAPTER I.

'Rin, Bobby, an' see wha's at the door,' said Mrs. Balbirnie, eagerly listening who it might be. Weel, weel! an' it's yersel', Mrs. McClarty; ye ha'e taen us by surprise,' exclaimed Mrs. Balbirnie excitedly.

'Whit's the maitter, Mrs. Balbirnie? Ye're lukin' awfu' edgitated.'

Naething, wumman! Come awa' an' sit doon. I jist thocht when I heard the knock that it micht be the man fur the missive. We're gaun to flit, ye ken, so we're no' signin' it'

'Ye dinna tell me that!' cried the visitor in a flutter, as she followed her friend into the kitchen and sank into the armchair as if to faint.

'Ay, Mrs. McClarty, it's the truth! Bit I'll tell ye a' aboot it in a wee; tak' this up, it's just a thimblefu'.'

Thenk ye, Mrs. Balbirnie. I'll keep back frae the winda fur I'm feart onyyin sees me.'

'Toots, wumman. tak' it up! Naebody'll see or ken; an' whit naebody kens, 'll dae them nae hairm.'

'Ye're richt there, Mrs. Balbirnie, ye're richt there; an' here's to ye,' said the visitor, as she tipped up the contents of the glass.

'Wis ve rinnin', Mrs. McClarty, fur ye're sweetin'?'

'Ay, I'm sweetin', ma feet an' a'; I met a bull comin' roon' the corner, an' I saw it wis makin' richt fur me, an' the man kept shoutin', "Ye're attrackin' the bull?" Then I jist mindet I wis haudin' up ma froke, an' it micht ha'e seen ma rid petticoat.'

'Ma certy! an' whit a braw yin too, Mrs. McClarty!'

'Ay, it's hem-stitched, ye ken, an' cost three shilin's-an' it's a' pey'd too.'

'Weel, that's been an awfu' fricht ve got, nae wunner ve're sweetin'. Come ben to the room, an' ve can tak' ver braith

while I dae up the fireside an' get masel' clean'd afore the laddies and lassies come hame.'

'I hope ye're no' thrang the day, Mrs. Balbirnie?

'Na! no' a bit. I'm rale gled ye hae cam' th' day, fur the morn's ma washin''

I jist thocht that, an' I said to Tam this mornin' that I wad gang this efternune; this is his kin' a slack day, so he's mindin' the hoose.'

'Ye've a rale guid man, Mrs. McClarty, a rale guid man-noo, ye'll excuse me, an' I'll no' be mony meenits.'

Mrs. Balbirnie busied herself by putting her kitchen in order, and in a very short time returned to her visitor, looking more trim in appearance.

'Wake up! wake up! Mrs. McClarty! ye've been snorin' awfu'.'

'Hiv I? I ken I'm an awfu' snorer. Tam has offen to dunch me at hame aboot it; that wis a big thimblefu' ye gied me, Mrs. Balbirnie, fur it fair sent me ower.'

'Och! ye'll be a'richt when ye get a drap tea.'

'An' whaur is't ye're gaun t'flit to?' enquired the visitor, giving numerous

yawns.

'To Coatbrig, Mrs. McClarty; there'll be mair scope fur the lads gettin' on.'

'An' what aboot yer man, Mrs. Balbirnie?'

'Aweel, his poseetion's no' jist settled, bit he thinks he'll get a job there, so we hae a' that to conseeder, Mrs. McClarty.' 'D' ye ken ony folk there?'

'Jist Mrs, Deveny, the Irish wumman. Ye've h'ard me speak o' her.'

'To be shair, Mrs. Balbirnie. I think her man wis in the killin' hoose.'

'He wis, bit he had to gi'e it up a guid while back; Mrs. Deveny tell't me he got that he cudna pit beef in his mooth, and' he hasna tasted it since.'

'Weel, he'll be nane the waur o' that as lang as he tak's plenty soor mulk an' tatties.'

'Ay, an' a rid herrin' or bit saut fish too, they mak' graun' kitchen to tatties.'

'Deed ay, Mrs. McClartyl Ye're aye sae witty, but come awa' an' hae yer

tea

'Noo, Mrs. Balbirnie, ye didna need to mak' ony fish fur me, bit a' the same ye're makin' ma mooth watter.'

Maybe the wee drap has gied ye an epiteet ?'

Ay; onywey, ye'll hae to excuse me, fur ma mooth aye watters whin I see saut fish.'

'It's a' richt, ma freen; help yersel' roo an' dinna be blate; here, see, tak' nair butter: haud yer breed.'

'I'm gled ye'll hae Mrs. Deveny to ca on at Coatbrig. D'ye think ve'll like leevin' there?'

'Weel, I'm no' jist shair aboot that; bit ye see efter Ne'erday Joe and me. talked ower the hale thing, an' wi' him bein' bent on leavin' the works, we made up oor minds no' to sign the missive.'

Oh, I see! Weel, I think it's no' richt that folks like us sud be made sign fur a hale year.'

'That's ma opeenion too, Mrs. McClarty; if wark wis aye certain, it wud be naething; hooever, Joe an' me gaed to Coatbrig last Seturday an' took the hoose; they're shin ta'en up, ye ken.'

'Ay, indeed, it's aye best to be in time, Mrs. Balbirnie.

Ye've been in this yin a guid wheen years noo?'

'Sax comin' May; the room's needin' paperin' an' the factor'll no' dae it.'

'They'll dae naething ava' Mrs. Balbirnie, bit collect their siller.'

A knock at the door, and Mrs. Balbirnie handed out the unsigned missive. 'That wis him, Mrs. McClarty: I gied him the missive, an' tell't him we're gaun to a new hoose whaur the landlord'll paper oor room an' scrape the auld thing aff'

Mrs. Balbirnie was interrupted by the crving of little Bobby.

'Haw, Bobby!' cried Mrs. McClarty, who took pity on the weeping boy, 'here's a baw-bee to ye. Rin an' buy some mair cheugh geordies.'

Noo' thenk Mrs. McClarty fur it, an' here's a shave o' breed an' jeely, an' rin. oot.'

'Whaur his he got a' thae trinkets?" enquired Mrs. McClarty.

I maun tell ye aboot them. Ye ken, we had a jackdaw; he wis the life o' the hoose, an' we wis awfu' attached to him. He wud aye sit on Joe's shouther at mealtimes an' feed oot his mooth, an' he wud sit at the room winda whin the weans were playin' an' watch them.'

'My!' exclaimed Mrs. McClarty. 'He's jist been ane o' yersels.'

'Ay, an' here, he wud steal the boy's toys an' things whin he wud get the chance; so yin Sawbath mornin' I wis crawlin' in ablow the room bed for Joe's guid hat. I aye mind that Sunday: it wis the Sakeramint, ye ken, an' we had saut fish on the Seturday nicht, an' whin it cam' to Joe's turn to taste the wine, he took sic a big sook o' it.'

'Mercy me! did ye no' feel affrontet, Mrs. Balbirnie?'

'I think I did, an' if it hadna been fur the auld man in the opposite sate takin' a snuff oot his box, I'm shair the hale kirk wud a heard him.'

'An' whit aboot the jackdaw, Mrs Balbirnie?'

'Oh ay! Weel, I wis jist gaun ablow the bed whin he cam fleein' oot richt in ma face; an' here, he had thae trinkets cairret an' drapped in the hole in the flair.'

'Did ye no' catch him on the neb an' gie him it?'

'Na, na, puir thing, he didna leeve lang efter; fur yin mornin' the room winda wisna open faur enough to let him oot, an' wi' him tryin' to sclim through, the stick that was hauden it up drapped oot, an' doon the winda went, richt on his heid, an' crushed him.'

'Dearie me! whit a peety. Ye'll miss him, fur yin dis get attached to sic beasts.'

'Ah! bit he wis a bird, ye see, an' no' a beast, Mrs. McClarty.'

'Och! it's jist ma wey o' ca'in' a' thae things beasts.'

'I hivna asket ye hoo yer ain man's dacin', Mrs. McClarty.'

'Vera weel, thenk ye kindly, Mrs. Balbirnie. The maister gied him twa big rabbits on Ne-erday.'

'Bless ye, that wasna' muckle fur him to gi'e: they're jist vermin, shot frae the wids.'

Auch! bit they're awfu' tasty. He gied the workers a surree whin the dochter got mairret.'

'Ay! an' whit like is she, Mrs. McClarty?'

Naething to luk at, bit they say she's rale nice an pleesant. The man she's gettin' is a Habtist.'

Ye mean a Babtist, Mrs. McClarty.' 'Wull that be it. Ye see, I'm no' guid at the pronooncin,.'

'Whisht, Mrs. McClarty! Is that thunner I hear.'

Mphm, it's jist, Mrs. Balbirnie. Ye're no' feart, are ve?'

'Weel, I dinna like it. If Kirtsy had been in she wud 'a played "Rock o' Ages" on the harmonium. I aye like to sing it whin it's thunner.'

'It mak's ye feel safer, Mrs. Balbienie.' 'Jist that, Mrs. McClarty. We'll stert an' sing it noo.'

The two friends sang their favorite hymn.

'It's fine an' soothin', remarked Mrs. Balbirnie, as they finished.

'It's clearin' aff, so I'll pit ma bonnet on an' be ready to gang when the shoor's aff.'

'Weel, we'll hae anither wee drappie to steady oor nerves.'

'I didna' tell ye that Tam's sister met wi' an accident.'

'Whit in a' the warl' wis she daein', Mrs. McClarty?'

'It's awfu' unfortunate; she wis oot takin' a walk wi' her man last Seterday, an' was sclimmin' ower thonder at the "Spinner's Raw," when she tummelt richt ower the wulkets an' hurt her leg.' 'My! bit I'm sorry to hear that, fur she's an awfu' nice buddy. She wud hae a job walkin' hame.'

'She cudna' walk; so her man went an' got a cab; an' my! she said, “bad an' a' as her leg wis, she couldna help lauchin', fur bein' in a machine mindet her o' her waddin' day.""

'So it wud. An' did she hae the doctur, Mrs. McClarty?'

'Af coorse. An' Mrs. Pawkie, frae next door, went in an washed her fit an' leg afore he wud come. But here, whin he cam, an' saw her leg, did he no' ask to see her ither yin, an' it wisna washed. Mrs. Pawkie tell't me she felt sae annoyed, an' let on she was daein' something at the jawbox.'

'Whit a peety, Mrs. McClarty, sic a thing sud happen. She'll no' can luk the doctor in the face efter that.'

"No' vera weel, I doot; bit she's a' richt nearly. Mercy me! it's five o'clock!' suddenly remarked the visitor, glancing at the clock. I'll hae to be gaun.'

'Dinna fash yersel' noo, Mrs. McClarty.'

'Av, bit I maun be hame afore the whussel blaws, an' I've to buy a wheen cheugh geordies, fur Tam an' me's gaun to a meetin' the nicht, an' I ave like something to sook at thae kin' o' meetin's.'

Is it a prayer meetin', Mrs. McClar

tv?'

'Na! na! it's aboot taxin' oor meat, Mrs. Balbirnie.'

'Och! I ken noo whit ye mean, Mrs. McClarty; bit Joe an' me's no' in wi' that. we luk oot, an' they wud tax the vera sates we sit on, if we'd let them. A' the same, I hope ye'll enjoy it.'

'I'll let ye ken aboot it efter, Mrs. Balbirnie; so, guid nicht the noo.' 'Guid nicht, Mrs. McClarty; an' min' yer feet on the stair.'

(To be continued.)

WHAT IS DEATH?

BY WILLIAM BRYANT.
Death, what art thou?

The cold, stern ending of a life-long sorrow?
The harsh awaking to a darker morrow?
The dimness of the night?

The shudder of affright?

The end of warmth and light and peace?
The cruel foreclosure of life's lease?
The last sad, gasping breath?
Is this what men call death?

Death, what art thou?

The kindly opening of heaven's portal? The entrance of man's soul to the immortal? The last hard struggle gone?

The flashing of the dawn?

The lifted veil, the roseate day?
The change from Winter's clime to May?
The harbinger of bliss?

The Father's welcome kiss?

Westminster.

ST. ANDREW'S SOCIETY.

The Governors of the St. Andrew's Society of New York have decided to hold the 149th Anniversary Banquet in the WaldorfAstoria Hotel on Friday, December 1st, at half-past six o'clock. This change was very desirable, for the banquets of late years have been too large for the dining hall at Delmonico's, and numerous complaints have been heard about the crowded condition of the tables and through part of the diners being placed in side rooms.

In the Waldorf Astoria the guests will be placed at small tables, an arrangement that promotes sociability.

The annual meeting of the St. Andrew's Society will be held on Thursday evening, Nov. 2nd, at 8.30, at the Waldorf-Astoria, 5th Ave. and 34th St. Reports of the Secretary, Treasurer and Almoner will be presented to the meeting; there will be the annual election of officers, and their installment will take place at the close.

CLAN MACDUFF OF NEW YORK is receiving many additions to its membership; at the last meeting six new members were initiated, and nine proposed. Chief John Miller, who has served the Clan for the last few years, has been recently annointed Deputy Royal Chief of New York State, as a reward for his tireless energy in the work. We extend our congratulations to Chief Miller. Chief J. MacMaster of Clan Gordon, Elizabeth, N. J., who also has received a similar appointment as Deputy Royal Chief of New Jersey, was present at this meeting and spoke encouragingly of the work of the O. S. C.

CLAN MACDONALD-BROOKLYN, on October 21st had an unusually large and profitable meeting, several new members were proposed and four were initiated. There were several visitors from the Clans present who met with the MacDonalds as a committee, to consider the advisability of holding an annual gathering of all the Clans of Greater New York: this plan was approved and recommended to the Clans. Mr. James Kennedy, of Clan MacDuff, gave an able and instructive address on Admiral Nelson and Trafalgar, which was received with appreciation. The Glee Club of Clan MacDonald gave several selections, and Mr. J. MacDonald Johnson sang "The Death of Nelson." Mr. John Ritchie and Mr. Ewing also gave spirited songs. Altogether it was a most profitable and enjovable evening.

Clan MacDougall, Somerville, Mass., is fortunate in having such a gentleman of wonderful energy and business shrewdness as Chief. Mr MacNee was born in Glasgow, Scotland, in 1856. He came to the United States in 1879, and settled in Somerville, where he is engaged in the slate and roofing business, and has been very successful. His kind manner and genial disposition made him popular in business as well as in his social life. He is respected and loved for his excellent qualities. Mr. MacNee joined Clan MacDougall in April 13, 1898, being one of the charter members; he has held all the minor offices of the Clan in a satisfactory and faithful manner to the Clan and members He executes his office as Chief with dignity and grace. The Clan MacDougall has become strong and active under his leadership. Many of the members are holding positions of trust and honor in the community.