and it is quite another to carry it out sympathetically and wisely; but an illustration of both phases the plan, and its administration-is furnished by "Sunshine Corner," (to use its local name,) a center of disinterestedness, whose spiritual nerves throb with life six days in the week, not alone for the enterprising, nor yet the poor, but for the needs of the neighborhood as a whole. The recent characterization of Hull House Social Settlement in Chicago by the Dean of Ely might fitly be applied to its Oakland miniature "A bright sunshiny center of

tribute to the population, the most conspicuous types being the Italians and the Portuguese, low-browed and ill-favored, who look with surliness on visitors who come to spy out the nakedness of the land. As a class they are more anxious for what they can get than what they can learn. One does not find much contented squalor among them; but there is intense jealousy of inspection and interference, thus calling for great tact in dealing with them.

In general, it is a hard-working population. There are those, however, who could not find work if they would; some would

friendship in a weary wilderness of mean streets."

The district under consideration lies south of Seventh Street between Oakland Point and the locality where California's first Vacation School experiment was tried. It is as if one had turned down the leaf there at Third and Linden Streets, then opening the book some distance farther on, at Third and Peralta Streets, the reader finds another chapter of similar conditions and problems. It is an ugly locality, lined with small, unattractive, crowded dwellings; it is not uncommon to find a family occupying only one room. The region is traversed by numerous lines of railways. Claim is made that twenty-one nationalities con

not if they could; and some when they can and do work, make the omnipresent saloon their savings-bank, a bank which takes in good money but pays out only worthless tokens. It is an unsavory spot in moral and material aspects, and gives weight to the statement that the modern city is a constant confession of social failure. Indeed, it is not difficult to imagine the city sitting in the center and judging all the inhabitants, placing the fortunate, the powerful and the prosperous on its right hand among all things desirable, and saying to others, "Sit thou on my left." And here there is a lack of churches, parks, playgrounds, readingrooms, and all remedial agencies, but a surfeit of saloons, for beer is at once the

was formed with a board of managers, and the school became permanent, supported by monthly subscriptions. Six hundred children have had the loving ministrations of that kindergarten.

Weighty were the words of Richard Watson Gilder, who has done so much to secure kindergartens for New York: "Plant a free kindergarten in any quarter of this overcrowded metropolis, and you have begun then and there the work of making better lives, better homes, better citizens and a better city."

"Many of the so-called philanthropic movements of the day are only the mechanical whirling of the spindles by hand, with the vital fires utterly gone out in the furnaces below," wrote Bishop Brooks. Not so with the several activities of Sunshine Corner; each is designed to stimulate and develop the virtues the community is most in need of-industry, perseverance, patience, dexterity, economy, cleanliness, and thrift. The work is many-sided and flexible, and sometimes leads far afield from its starting-point;

patches, with accurate matching of stripes, then gathering and back-stitching, till the children are able to sew with reasonable quickness and neatness, when instruction in the garment-class is the reward for their diligence. Every garment they make is given them at a nominal price of ten or fifteen cents to make them feel that they give an equivalent for what they receive, though, to be sure, the material upon which they sew is usually a gift to the class. The sewing-hour is a pretty scene. The room on the lower floor of the Settlement House is bright with flowers. There is a piano, and a few good.

homes. The one hundred and thirty girls seated in tiny sewing-chairs are grouped about low tables under the guidance of the several volunteer teachers. The children sew from three to five o'clock, and during that time there is a busy hum of voices, childish laughter and words of counsel and encouragement strangely mixed. Sometimes, though rarely now, there are tearful complaints sure to be met with patient cheerfulness and helpfulness. The closing time comes all too soon, to judge by the expressions of childish dismay. The work is folded up and ticketed, ready to be put away till the next time of meeting. and in song we catch the refrain of their motto on the wall, "If our work we do, and are happy too—”

It is a picture to remember, filled with pathetic beauty.

There is orphaned Margie, only eight years old; her baby sister was burned to death last week in the absence of the old grandmother. One little foot drags help

for her mother recently killed by the Seventh-Street local train. She is the sole housekeeper and home-maker for her father, two brothers, and a sister. How the great sad, hopeless eyes lighten as her teacher tells her she may enter the garment-class next week!

The Girls' Recreation Club, embracing within its hospitable organization all the older girls of the neighborhood, grew very naturally out of the sewing-class. The club has at its disposal a large, artistically furnished room where the girls are welcome every evening they choose to come. Here they find a teacher of fancy sewing, books and magazines, rest and comfort.

The members of the Girls' Club bear with indulgent patience the sounds of the Boys' Club in the rooms below. This organization, which now numbers sixtyeight, had its origin in the wide-awake boy-instinct to find out what is going on, the instinct that leads to exploration of new territory and a share therein, by con

quest, if necessary. So, when the brothers of the girls gathered in troops outside the building and peered trough the windows, they were invited within to participate and finally to organize by themselves.

The first requirement, growing in time to be a privilege, was that of washing up, and the appliances for a thorough course in "Scrubology" and "Soapology," to use General Booth's terms, were stationed in the yard in the rear of the house. How they scrub! Soon below the collar, beyond the wrist-band, and at length they wash for the sake of being clean. One sees the instinctive recognition that courtesy and refinement have a charm excellent to aspire to, exhibited in the furnishings of their club-room, all delicate blue and white-" because they look real clean," said the boys in expressing their preference; the mirror, with a white

Brooks, Washington-portraits with character written upon their faces to fire and touch the heart of a boy.

The first steps of the club were work in stamped leather, the making of rope-mats and scrap-books, playing of games, and military drill has recently been added; but these have more than a surface value they are the open door to what lies deeper and beyond in Boys' Club work if it is to have lasting results-that is the imperative necessity for a definite and positive training of their higher selves.

In all the business matters of the club the Arnoldian principle of self-government has been developed, and there is a deeper significance in their boyish usages than one is at first disposed to admit. A student of moral and social phenomena as presented by the development of a primitive society, would find

much