The next morning what a walk we had along the coast! How still the sea lay; the waves crept up softly one after another as if so ashamed of their last night's work that they would a little rather not be seen or heard at all. Bits of board, and old tarred rope, and barrel staves and seaweed lined the beach for miles, and coffee sacks by the hundred kept washing in to shore. The vessel had been laden with coffee. People were very busy putting the beach in order, planning how to reach the wreck, wondering whether she could be gotten off, or would have to lie half-buried in the sand and slowly fall to pieces. Here and there were groups of people, listening, while one man talked excitedly; he was a sailor and had his wonderful story to tell of danger and escape. But the happiest man on the beach that morning was one who rubbed his hands in actual glee, and smiling broadly on every one who came up to him, would say in a loud, glad voice, "Yes, I lost everything I had in the world, but my wife and children are all here; yes, baby and all!" and then he would wipe the great tears from his eyes, and laugh so loud and glad a laugh that all the people around would have to join it. All his children safe! They clustered around him, several sturdy-looking boys, and I watched them with eager interest. _Were_ they all safe? Could the father be sure? The ocean had not swallowed them, but suppose some awful rum saloon caught them in its clutches and drew them in and in until they went down in a storm of drunkenness to utter ruin! What was an ocean storm to that? Pitiless ocean, rave as it might, could not touch the soul; but the rum saloon has power to destroy both body and soul. What joy there was over the three-months-old baby! and yet she may live to be a drunkard's wife, and a drunkard's mother, and to cry out in bitterness of soul because the ocean did not swallow her that night. Isn't it strange and sad to think of? The father thought his children safe, and yet so many oceans of temptation lay ready to engulf them! none more bitter, more fierce, more wide-spread in its raging, than this ocean of alcohol. Dear boys and girls, what can we do to help save the children for their fathers? Will you all join the life-saving crew, and work with a will, to rescue victims from this ocean? PANSY. "FATHER'S OLD BOOTS ARE THERE."