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a delightful garden-party at the rectory. The best of this weekly event was that it drew chiefly those of the working people who belonged to the non-church-going Once the Oxford House residents took a religious census of the district, and found that the proportion of church-goers was one to eighty, while out of a thousand boys, nine hundred had the letters 'G. N.' (goes nowhere) written against their names."

I found that one of the present subjects all-engrossing to the ardent soul of the Bishop was that of London Hooliganism. The word Hooligan is a mystery to most people, so far as its derivation is concerned. Its origin is simple enough. Some years ago three brothers named Hooligan were nightly performers at a low London musichall, where their vulgar exhibitions used to excite uproarious and blasphemous hilarity on the part of the rough patrons of the amusements, who after a time came to be called after their mentors. Hooliganism is a very grave matter of concern in London, and it is being manfully tackled by the Bishop of London and a number of kindred spirits, who are determined to leave the problem no longer in the hands of the police. Bishop Ingram plunged eagerly into this topic. "We are

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going to raise a great sum as time goes on," observed he, "and we shall start the fund at a projected meeting at the Mansion House, the Lord Mayor presiding. There is only one way to deal with Hooligans. My experience with the class from which they spring has taught me that. There must be a network of clubs on purpose for the youths, and great sacrifices must be generously made to provide every sort of rational inducement both for instruction and for recreation."

It is a magnificent stimulus to philanthropists to feel conscious that the Bishop of London is ready and competent to be their foremost leader; that the common people have full confidence in him as their true and tried friend; that he has the ear of the highest as well as the lowest; that he is as welcome in the palace and the castle as in the slum and the garret; and that he is one of the finest preachers of the age. Indeed, he is one of the very few who are called the "preaching Bishops." To listen to him is to come under a magic spell. His theological position is peculiar. He belongs doctrinally to a small but powerful academic coterie in the Church which includes some of the High Churchmen, like Canon Gore, and some of the Broad, like Professor Driver.

The Lafayette
Lafayette Monument

By Richard Ladegast

Louvre, Paris, to witness the unveiling and dedication of the reproduction in staff of the proposed statue. The equestrian statue, fourteen feet high, shows Lafayette nineteen years of age, dressed in the historical costume of his age. The model of the statue now stands in the PanAmerican Exhibition at Buffalo. The pedestal is to be built in granite, and will bear on its face the following inscription: Erected by the children of the United States in grateful memory of Lafayette, Statesman, Patriot, Soldier."

OME years a meeting, called by some citizens of Chicago, Ill., was held in New York City to take the first steps for the presentation to the French people of a Lafayette monument, in grateful memory for the services done by the gallant Frenchman to our country in the War of the Revolution. This meeting organized the Lafayette Memorial Committee, and sent out a call to the school-children to raise the money for the proposed monu-" ment. The call was met with enthusiasm from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from the smallest district school as well as from the big city institution of learning. Altogether the sum of $150,000 was placed at the disposal of the Committee.

One year ago, on the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence of the United States, a throng of Americans and Frenchmen gathered in the Court of the

The sculptor who has modeled the equestrian statue is Paul W. Bartlett, born thirty-two years ago, in Boston, Mass. His statues of Michael Angelo and of Columbus, both of which have been placed in the Hall of Statues at Washington, D. C., have made his name well known in the art world.

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IN THE

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COTTON-FIELD

BY MAX BENNETT THRASHER

'HEN I was a boy on a farm in Vermont, where spring and summer and autumn are crowded into one brief, brilliant period between the melting drifts of April and the first whirling snowflakes of November, I used to read of the cotton-fields of the Southland and wonder what they were like. In our sheep-pasture there grew each summer a patch of lusty milkweeds. Many a time I have looked at those milkweeds when the fat green pods were bursting to let out their white, silky contents, and have wondered if a cotton-field looked like that.

Years passed before I knew. Then, one day, I found myself in Alabama. After my work in town was finished I said I wished I might go out on to a cotton plantation. It was in February. The man to whom I made the suggestion said that was not a favorable time of the year to study cottonculture, but added, "I reckon, though, you-all might like it. You surely would see how the crop begins." Half an hour later we were on our way toward a big

plantation ten miles out in the country, our wagon rolling over a clay road so red that where the highway wound about in front of us it looked like a tan-colored_ribbon appliquéd on the gray earth.

My first sight of the plantation showed me a broad, low house, with many verandas, placed far back from the road at the end of an avenue bordered on each side by a double row of magnificent water-oaks, their leaves as glossy green as if the month had been June instead of February. The air was like late May in New England. Wild plum-trees were in bloom. Bluebirds sang in the bushes, and as we drove up the avenue between the oaks barefooted children came out of the cabins to look at us. Two negro women were washing clothes out-of-doors near the house, heating water in an iron pot set on stones between which a fire was built. A litter of black pigs asleep in the road roused themselves and moved out of our way.

The owner of the plantation met us near the house and very courteously gave us

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