It was too slippery for women to venture out, so I began phoning to members of the Lutheran Church whom I believed would come. One man in a bank said, “I am not a clerk. I can't go out this kind of weather for that class of men.” I replied, “I saw you at communion last Sunday, and I venture you promised your God to serve wherever you were needed; here is your first call.” “I shall come at once and bring three other members of the church with me.” That winter the Luther Memorial Church, of Erie, Pa., had sent us a large box of men's clothing, every article mended, clean and in good condition, and just the week before a charitable organization, at Chevy Chase, Md., had sent us two large barrels of men's clothing, and a full half bushel of socks nicely darned and every article clean. So we put trousers on one pile, coats on another, vests on another, underclothes on another, a churchman at each pile. I had charge of the socks, then Mr. Ifft, of the Luther Memorial Church, in the next room superintended the trying on, fitting and exchanging garments. As we handed each garment we said about this, “The ladies of the different churches send you these garments with their love and sympathy.” Many a poor fellow, all unused to blessing, said, “God bless the churches for remembering such as us.” In an hour's time we clothed over seventy-five men. A few did not need complete outfits. We never supposed we had that many garments on hand, but that day cleared out all we had in reserve. Among these men were two Welsh boys, both Christians, not long in this country. They had not known the strength of American liquors (which were doubtless drugged); they were very contrite and were at once put to work, one as a furnaceman, the other in the wood yard. We hear the United States revenue cutters have been after the oyster men and shanghaiing is no longer a common crime. When a friend looked in on that crowd of superior business men helping distribute clothing and saying words of consolation to the broken men, he said, “I believe in my soul you would order in the President of the United States to help at the Gospel Mission.” “Oh, no!” I replied, “President Taft, good man as he is, would not be permitted to drive so much as a tack at the Gospel Mission. He does not recognize Jesus as His Saviour; only orthodox Christians who can tell the sinner of the redeeming power of Jesus the Christ can successfully work in a rescue mission like this.” THE HOLIDAYS are a sore trial to the homeless or to the recently bereaved. Often women of the highest social rank come to the Gospel Mission on Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's, when we give a good dinner to everyone who applies. (These women forget their own woes as they serve others.) The subjoined newspaper letter will give you a good picture of one such occasion: THANKSGIVING DAY AT THE MISSION OF 1910