sources, that it is already preparing to introduce automobiles more widely into the military service.

Not alone the army, but the fire and emergency hospital services of various cities are favorably considering the substitution of automobiles for horse-drawn vehicles, as a result of the lessons taught in San Francisco since April 18, 1906. Some cities, it is true, have already secured automobile fire engines and automobile ambulances. These propose to get more, and those without them propose to get some right away.

Summed up, it may be said that without the automobile in San Francisco in her time of trouble, the injured woul have been a longer time getting to the hospitals, and some would not have reached there at all, at least alive; communication would have been cut off entirely in some cases, and would have been far slower and more uncertain in all cases; the fire would have exceeded the great extent it did reach; the works of

relief, of policing the city, and of newsdespatching would have been greatly hampered and at times impossible; transit would have been slow and irregular and sometimes impracticable; civil and military officers would have had their labors vastly increased.

Leaving wholly out of consideration the matter of human beings saved and succored, and looking only upon the sordid subject of mone" value of property saved through the agency of the automobile, it is exceedingly conservative to estimate that every automobile in Sau Francisco on April 18th saved one hundred dollars for every original dollar.

In the saving of life, in the lessening of suffering in the bringing of comfort and happiness, the work done by the automobile had a value that cannot be estimated in anv financial units, for these things were of value higher than money can buy.

San Francisco's misfortune was indeed the automobile's triumph.

W

WONDERFUL rivers of the blood! How little we think of the courses they take; of the system of circulation the great Unknown has set in harmonic action, and of which we think our duty done when we let it run down, stagnate. While every

blade of grass, every winding creek, every mountain torrent, every drinking growth, every living, every dying thing cries out to us-learn!

If you are shut out of your own heart, afraid to enter, sometimes in indifference of Life-God, you have closed certain passages of the blood. Health is not the possession of a state to be held against the inroads of disease-it is simply a full Consciousness of Living. Different conditions of the circulation flood the body with a joy of breath, or close it to that law. Open your blood to the currents of the Universe; look often to the sky; touch the new softness of leaves; love the soil. Sit for an hour and watch something which is busy living; a flower opening, a leaf unfurling, a bird singing, an animal at play, and before you are aware, vitalizing fluids are absorbed into your veins, are finding a way to your tired heart.

When the circulation of moisture in the earth ceases, is interrupted, turned aside, the soil becomes dry, fissured, lifeless. When the clouds fail to draw, gather, dissolve, all beneath grows old and wrinkled. With the human body, the law is the same. When the tides of blood cease to draw upward through every valve, cell, from all the blood channels and low-lying regions into the brain, sweeping down again into the rivers of the blood; diffusing into every nerve filament-parts or all of the body become old. Desert places appear here and there until gradually all is a barren waste.

Have we no control over this rising and falling of the circulation? Can we not unsettle sluggish streams, teach and guide and make way for the tides of life,

the wonderful rivers of the blood, to keep the heart and countenance young?

If we have no control over the ebb and flow of our own blood, no power to guide aright the body-the one thing most ours -what will we be able to do after all our finding, with any greater universa! truth?

For we seek with the whole of the body; brains are not alone in one part, but in every minutest cell. All these intelligences swarming through the body must be kept alive and active by the flow of the blood. If in any part that flow is sluggish, dormant, the faculties which each nerve controls will be sluggish and dormant, also.

With each second of meeting of the air and blood in the lungs, we are touched with a magic circling. An electric revitalizing current builds the body and expands the soul. The deeper the breath the wider the circle it touches. With each stifled or troubled, evading or unbelieving breath, less of electric force permeates us, and we are cheated of life. What perverse caution is ours when w go to such pains to live with as little breath as possible!

You wander into a realm of vast mvstery; of untold, hidden truth and treasure when you study the exhaustless depths which lie beneath one little inch of your wrist. Something is going on there which has not been fathomed. What will remain unexplained when all the power of the beating human heart is understood? To know the valves of the dead heart will not aid one. The secret will not be revealed by the study of death for it is Life which is singing there under your wrist. Your Own Life. Whence has it come? Where is it going? Do you hear it, singing, beating, ebbing, surging, gathering, coming, going, circling?

The circle is knowledge; the angle distrust. Do not move along one line of thought. From a center spread and reach outward in an ever widening circle.

Watch a rushing river and the slow moving fluids of the circulation run with it quicker and quicker in sympathy. When the pulse is too fevered, stand before the quiet water of a placid lake. The law of vibration is there, unchangeable, everlasting. Ignore it, and you will drift and break against it; understand it, live with it, and it will carry you with the stars.

Those who contemplate long an abysmal depth, physical, or a mental depression which they have opened before them, have an irresistible desire to throw themselves into destruction. Those who look up to great heights are lifted day by day from the danger of the ignoble. The abyss is always there yawning for the unwary. Always there are the stars.

You will be drawn by the force of the elements where you best belong. You are swept out of the sky into the grave to make way for better life, or with the Awakening of the spirit you turn and take hold of this vibrating current. You make your own Electricity. You hold out your hands to it. You weave the e'ements into your being with abiding Control. No longer are you broken and tossed aside by the years. The Cosmic Life in you cannot die, but the body you have gathered together will waste, wither,

Do not leave the beautiful body unlifted, untaught. A glorifving thought, a breath from God, must reach to the end of each nerve filament to be truly yours. Your soul must reach to your finger tips, must beat in your heart, must throb in the utmost ways of your circulation.

Those who in a sordid, restricted life find no beauty, are still blind when all the beauty of the Universe is opened upon them. The healthful soul creates beauty; for if the blood is red in the veins, if the nerves are amber-colored in their sheaths, the fluids of the body responsive, exuberant, there will be no wasting back on one's self, but an ever-upward circling pulse for life which must become beautiful.

Beauty of the body is an answered prayer to the striving beauty of the soul. If we see beauty it will radiate from us, and no manner of real sight can exist without the full circling pulse. Thus are we created; this is the law. The Heart throb must beat in tune with All; aspiration is measured by the Heart grasp on the Universal.

The body is an Alembic where, day by day, with the circling pulse the Drink of Death is distilled, or the Elixir of Life.

President Dailey, of the State Normal School, San Jose.

A

and inspiration in the groves of the old Normal Square marked the last June closing of the normal school at San Jose. And it was a graduation in Arcadia. The cruel earthquake Norn holding grim possession of the classic assembly hall of the stately Normal building, a rustic amphitheatre was temporized, and here, among maples and redwoods. such as vie in beauty with the boughs that cast their shade where Sapho sang or Plato taught, the most memorable California commencement of this year was held. It began with the sessions of the Pacific Short Story Club, and ended with the graduates' reception.

The State Normal School at San Jose is a network of organization. There are clubs, literary societies, students' guilds, besides the student-body, all working on the most up-to-date and approved plan. These organizations list not only students, but members of the faculty, as well, are welcomed as workers in the

ranks. This organization on the intensive plan made the famous week of festivities possible, for every club and circle had its programme to present, and made an important unit in the whole.

Even the remnant of students who by chance did not belong to a regularly organized society caught the spirit of the time, promptly threw themselves together, becoming the unique Ne Plus Ultras, and making the hit of the week by giving a burlesque faculty meeting in which the frailties and foibles of dignified Normal professors were made the butt of kindly fun. In all, twelve of these coteries working harmoniously under control of a general committee, the moving spirit of which was President Dailey, planned the general programme.

was

With the exception of principal addresses and orations, school talent furnished entertainment, and even the wellprinted general announcement made by the amateur boy and girl printers of the training school on the training school press.

As the Normal School has an alumni body of nearly four thousand, a big share of the enthusiasm centered around this association. Those of the former graduates who flocked home to the mother grove came intent to boom "California Education," the technical educational magazine, the publication of which was recently undertaken by the association. Their work bodied forth a delightful comedy, in

which prominent alumni, Alexander H. Sheriffs, Alice Harris, Ida Baker and Edgar Woodcock so wooed the smiling muse that the shaky finances of the journal were put on a sound basis.

and criticism contributed by club members who come from all parts of California to participate. While the name of the club indicates that its workers are devotees of story writing, yet there are in its links all classes of writers from the reporter on the daily press to the magazine writer and aspiring poet. The names of many of the club members have crept into Western magazines and dailies, and the club has received a modicum of praise and encouragement from men high in the ranks of literary art, as Herbert Bashford and Charles Warren Stoddard. At these San Jose meetings stories and