The startling intelligence that comes to us day after day of moving accidents by flood and field might well make us pause and reflect not only on the uncertainty of human life, but on the strange laxity of human laws that might, if properly enforced more successfully, safeguard the living. In connection with this latter thought, the collapse of the huge steel framework of a building in this city whereby over a score of lives were lost is a sad example of the kind of inspection which goes on in the departmental service of the city government. Yet it must be admitted that the utter lack of moral sense in the mind of the average officeholder is but a reflex of the popular mind from which he is a natural outgrowth.

In the appalling disaster whereby nearly one thousand people perished by the burning of an excursion steamer in the harbor of New York a further illustration of governmental inspection, if such was needed, was forthcoming. In addition to this deplorable laxity, the strange fatuity of those in charge of sailing vessels, whose minds seem only to be capable of appreciating the danger to the vessel under their charge without regard to the lives jeopardized, was also illustrated. If the captain of the General Slocum had purposely determined to destroy every chance of escape of the miserable victims of the blazing vessel he could not have taken a course leading more surely to their destruction than he did. In the face of a strong breeze fanning the spreading flames, he steered his blazing craft for several miles past scores of piers, at any one of which he

could have stopped and given an opportunity to the shrieking mass of perishing humanity to have escaped death. But he only bethought him of a distant sloping sandy beach where the bow of the miserable hulk might strike more easily. It was as if a fire had occurred on a railway train and the engineer had madly kept on his way determined to reach some distant station, preferring rather to stop at a place of safety than to allow the passengers a chance to escape. The spontaneous outburst of generosity towards the bereaved in these terrible disasters is an admirable feature in the character of the American people, and it is to be regretted that a determination to remedy the causes is not equally spontaneous and effective.

The more recent disaster to a Norwegian emigrant steamer on the coast of Scotland shows to what a minimum the greed of corporations can reduce the degree of safety of seagoing vessels. The world moves slowly, but surely from the sad lessons some grain of lasting improvement may be garnered.

Turning to the Orient, where the sinking of ships and the killing and maiming of Russian and Japanese soldiers seem less terrible when done purposely than when done accidentally, it is a strange anomaly that in the end of the nineteenth century we were led to believe that an international tribunal was to be established, with a headquarters in Holland, where all international disputes were to be amicably settled. Inspired by this hollow delusion, our philanthropic countryman, Andrew Carnegie, offered to pay

for the building of a Palace of Peace, and the good work went on. It was a good thing for the builders; but the peacemakers where are they?

In the clash of arms it is surprising to observe how successfully the Japanese have so far outgeneraled and outfought the Russians. Surely these are not the same breed of Russians who stood like adamant for more than a year around the walls of Sebastopol, successfully defying the half of Europe, until a hollow peace was patched, in which Russia lost nothing, and where Britain and France and Turkey came away with little else than the shattered remnants of their splendid armies. Russia is undoubtedly in its decadence, and the awakening of the Mongolian from the sleep of centuries may mark an epoch in the grand march of progress and civilization.

Turning from these saddening themes it is pleasant to contemplate the magnificent Palaces of Art and Industry raised at St. Louis, in commemoration of the one hundredth anniversary of the purchase from the French of the great inland tract embracing nearly one-third of the United States of to-day. No century in the history of the world ever marked such marvelous development of a pathless wilderness into a dozen mighty commonwealths. Nothing but good can come of the spirit of friendly rivalry that brings the far-assembled products of the earth to the white city by the Mississippi. It is a vision of Beauty basking in the Sunshine of Peace. It reflects in the best light the best side of our frail human character.

The two great political parties have placed their candidates and platforms before the people, and to the atmospheric heat of the summer will be added the mental heat of a Presidential campaign.

A hopeful feature of the present is the fact that there is less of acrimony and personal abuse in political discussion than formerly, and the world seems to be growing nearer to the belief of the poet Whittier, expressed in his fine poem, "Our Country":

"Our thoughts of thee are glad with hope, O country of our love and prayer; Thy path is down no fatal slope,

But up to freer sun and air.

"The fathers sleep, but men remain

As wise and true and brave as they; Why count the loss and not the gain?— The best is that we have to-day."

THROUGH THE CRACKS.

When the celebrated divine, Edward Irving, was on a preaching tour in Scotland, two Dumfries men of decided opinions went to hear him. When they left the hall one said to the other:

"Well, Willie, what do you think?" "Oh," said the other, contemptuously, "the man's cracked!"

The first speaker laid a quiet hand on his shoulder.

"Well," said he, "you'll often see a light shining through a crack.

ON THE WAY HOME.

A wind is a wind, from whatever quarkeeper in the Scottish Highlands, of ter it may blow. So thought the hotel

whom a tourist asked:

"Is this a good place, do you think, for a person with weak lungs?"

"Nane better, sir, nane better," was the encouraging reply.

"I have been advised to settle in a place where there is a south wind. Does it blow much here?"

"Oh, aye," was the answer. "It's aye. the south wind that blaws here."

"But it's blowing from the north now!" "Oh, aye, sir, its a' one. It's the south wind a' the same, sir, on its road back again."