Justice to San Francisco demands that we append to this deliverance of the club the following editorial response, which appeared the same week in the _Mission Mirror_, a paper published in the section of the city in which Bethany Church and Bernal Heights are located: “MOBOCRACY. “If that Bernal Heights Club don’t quit fooling with the bull, the first thing they know, that animal will turn and gore them. Their late pronunciamento against the Protestant Christian churches generally, and Rev. W. C. Pond in particular, for teaching the English language to the ignorant heathens in our midst, stamps the majority of that club as a body of men who, in point of civilization, stand away below the ignorant, helpless pagans at whom they profess to strike. No one for a moment believes them so reckless as to mob a Christian church. It is only another one of those little bluff games, for which political anti-Coolieites have become famous, and in which they propose to frighten somebody into their way of thinking. We greatly mistake the callibre of Mr. Pond if he is not more than a match for the whole mob. We agree with the great body of intelligent people on this coast that “the Chinese must go,” but the course proposed by this club will only tend to prolong their stay in this country. There is, at least, abundant opportunity yet for the fool-killer, if not the hangman, to reap a rich harvest on Bernal Heights.” FOOTNOTE: [A] A mistake for _Bethany_. * * * * * THE CHILDREN’S PAGE. * * * * * ALBERT, THE SLAVE BOY. MRS. A. K. SPENCE, NASHVILLE, TENN. Twenty-three years ago, in one of the northern counties of Mississippi, there was born a little slave boy. No white blood coursed in his veins. No one cared for his birth save, perhaps, his weary slave mother. Some one called him Albert, and that was all, for slave children had only one name. No future opened before him, for slave children had no future, but service to a master. He grew up to a life of poverty and toil and neglect, and early learned what it was to be cold and hungry and sorrowful. By and by began the fierce struggle between slavery and freedom. The slaves were sent from place to place, to prevent their escape to the Union army. Albert wandered about with them—to Tennessee, to Texas, to Georgia—till the close of the war found him back in Tennessee, and near the city of Nashville. Here he picked up his letters, and, at the age of fourteen, learned to read. In 1869, he went to a school taught by one of the first student teachers from Fisk University, who encouraged him to look to something higher than the spelling-book and reader.