An invariable rule of your experienced yachtsman is to see that an ample quantity of provisions is supplied, for one never knows what delays may occur. By a misconception the supposed lunch basket proved to be only a piece of luggage with needed wearables-a truly barmecide feast for a company of hungry tourists -a sort of picnic, with the best part left out. It was mid-afternoon before we got back, but a generous dinner at the house of the store-keeper made amends for all delays.

parted just in the middle if you would not upset it; and amid shrieks of laughter of the fishing lads and lasses, they were kodaked wriggling out of the quaint sealskin garb.

For these long journeys the most nourishing and portable food is chocolate tablets and Valencia raisins -they will not freeze.

To this remote region we have been in the habit of sending for many years our religious exchanges and back numbers of our papers and magazines, every year about a ton. Some of these

The busy doctor said he had not had a holiday for months, so he took the rest of the afternoon off to show off his dogs, to get out his kyak and komatik and rig up in his winter travelling dress, a queer combination of seal tunic and hood in one piece, which is drawn on the person much as you would draw on a glove, and pulled off as you would skin a seal. The tourists were kodaked in the kyaks, a very totterish kind of skin canoe in which you must be very careful that your hair is

reached the hospital the day before we arrived, bearing our personal address. -a curious coincidence. The fishermen will not work on Sundays and have many enforced holidays when it is too rough to fish, so they read the papers to tatters. Their appreciation is shown by the fact that some of their schooners bear the names of Onward and Sunbeam, and good Mr. Rogerson induced some of them to name their vessels after Barbara Heck and Susanna Wesley.

Living in the presence of perpetual danger, depending for the food they eat upon the harvest of the sea, coming in daily contact with the great elemental forces of nature, they are marked by a simple piety, a fervent faith, which raises their lowly lives above the sordid surroundings and conditions of their existence to the dignity of men and the fellowship of saints.

Our sunset climb on the rocks above Battle Harbor revealed a sweep of sea and shore of wild and wondrous majesty and beauty. The icebergs, afloat or grounded, gleamed like diamonds in the light of the setting sun. One of these during the day had shattered with a noise like thunder and its fragments far and wide strewed the sea.

The Newfoundland Government has provided several Marconi wireless stations along the coast, that the approach of the fish schools might be widely and promptly made known. At one of these it was mysterious and weird to hear and see the viewless voices of the air flashing out with loud detonations their mysterious messages,

The airy persiflage and badinage of the operator, sixty miles away, seemed almost uncanny.

Labrador will come more prominently before the scientific world this year than ever before. A very important total eclipse of the sun takes place, visible over a narrow belt. The Lick Observatory and other astronomical societies are sending observers to record and report this remarkable phenomenon. The Canadian Government is defraying the cost of one of these, in whose personnel will be included several members of the Astronomical Society of Toronto. The totality of the eclipse lasts but a very few minutes, and if cloud or fog obscure the observation the labor will all be lost. The expedition, therefore, has selected a point far up Hamilton Inlet, and important scientific results are anticipated from the observations. This inlet is a majestic fjord which stretches in more than a hundred miles from the sea. It was here that Leonidas Hubbard met his tragic fate two years ago in exploring the wilds of Labrador.

BUST OF SCHILLER.

HE world is so prolific of great men that it is difficult to duly observe the recurring anniversary of their birth or death. Yet it is well to recall God's great gifts to the race in the mighty poets, seers, and sages who have adorned the annals of mankind. In the German Fatherland, in Austria, and wherever the German tongue is spoken, has just been celebrated the death day of the greatest poet, next to Goethe, of the German race. The tributes of the press to his memory and influence have been many and

glowing. A few of them we quote. In an appreciative article The Western Christian Advocate says:

Schiller stands as one of earth's great geniuses, and it is eminently fitting that the centennial anniversary of his death should receive worldwide recognition. Next to that of Goethe his is the most transcendent name in poetry of which Germany can boast. It is one of the grievances against diversity of languages that many must feel when they are conscious of their loss in not knowing such a marvellous writer in his own tongue. Translations are feeble affairs, and what English-speaking peoples deplore as to Schiller and Goethe, Germans must realize as to Shakespeare and Milton.

Schiller, like many another man of literary fame, had to battle with poverty, with narrow-minded interference on the part of men in power, with delicate health, illness, continued pain. But despite these handicaps, despite his lowly origin, he lived long enough, though he died at the untimely age of forty-six, to be recognized throughout Europe as in the first rank of the thinkers and writers of his century, and to be crowned with civic honors and noble rank.

His name will always be associated with that of the great Goethe, whose friendship did so much to stimulate his brother poet's faculties. But, besides Goethe, he was on terms of intimate friendship with such men as Herder, Wieland, Fichte, Schilling, Schlegel, and Humboldt. Like Goethe he came near being a universal genius. He had gone into jurisprudence and medicine. He had had a touch of militarism. As a transla

tor of Shakespeare he was eminent. His philosophical writings, stimulated by Kant-particularly his Letters on Esthetic Culture-mark the the man of profound thought on life-problems, and his greater poems were fundamentally philosophical. He wrote history which has become standardThe Revolt of the Netherlands and The Thirty Years' War-showing full knowledge of original sources and deep insight into and understanding of events.

But it is as a great world-poet that his fame is secure-as a writer of matchless dramas and lyrics. He passed through a youthful storm-andstress period of passionate, pronounced revolt against stupid conventionality as shown in "The Robbers" -to an after condition of reposeful strength. While love for noble literature shall endure his "Wallenstein," "Maria Stuart," "Maid of Orleans," "William Tell," and "Song of the Bell" will hold the admiration of mankind.

As one of his biographers says: "He started in life with high aims, and no obstacle was ever formidable enough to turn him from paths by which he chose to advance to his goal. Terrible as his physical sufferings were, he maintained to the last a genial and buoyant temper, and those who knew him intimately had a constantly increasing admiration for his patience, tenderness, and charity. With all that was deepest and most humane in the thought of the eighteenth century he had ardent sympathy, and to him were due some of the most potent of the influences which, at a time of disaster and humiliation, helped to kindle in the hearts of the German people a longing for a free and worthy national life."

As a message for our own time this

translation of his beautiful lines seems especially appropriate:

"Without haste, without rest:
Bind the motto to thy breast;
Bear it with thee as a spell;
Storm or sunshine, guard it well;
Heed not flowers that round thee bloom-
Bear it onward to the tomb.
"Haste not: Let no reckless deed
Mar for aye the spirit's speed;
Ponder well, and know the right;
Forward, then, with all thy might!
Haste not: Years cannot atone
For one reckless action done.
"Rest not: Time is sweeping by;
Do and dare before thou die.
Something mighty and sublime
Leave behind to conquer Time;
Glorious 'tis to live for aye,
When these forms have passed away.

"Haste not-rest not; calmly wait;
Meekly bear the storms of fate;
Duty be thy polar guide;
Do the right, whate'er betide.
Haste not-rest not: Conflicts past,
God shall crown thy work at last."

Of the personality of Schiller Dr. J. Perry Worden, Ph.D., writes:

Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller, who died just a century ago, was born almost amid the roar of artillery and the clash of arms, at Marbach, Würtemberg, on November 10th, 1759, the same year which gave Burns to the troubled world. Strangely enough, it was the anniversary of Luther's birth; but neither burgher nor statesman noted the coming of a new champion of liberty. Schiller's father was but an army surgeon and barber, unable for years to draw a thaler of the salary he slaved for in the services of his unscrupulous duke; his mother was but the daughter of a country innkeeper, accustomed to the ways of simple folk. The last dream, therefore, likely to elate either Caspar or Elizabeth Schiller would

have been that the faint spark in their frail babe should some day blaze the guiding star of a groping and grateful country.

Humble and impoverished, however, as were the parents of Schiller, they possessed some noble virtues. which contributed in no small degree to the building of the poet. The father, a severely pious and unselfish man, though barred from home for years by war, pondered on the future of the child, and planned to school him well. The mother, dutiful and true, kept little Fritz close to her tender heart and taught him those household virtues which later he sang in his charming "Lied von der Glocke." To all her children Frau Schiller was a haven in time of storm, and if they were conscious of doing wrong, they confessed to her first, that she might punish them herself and avert their father's wrath. She inspired Fritz also with a feeling of religion, in daily walks storing his receptive mind with Bible lore.

"It was a beautiful Easter Monday," writes Schiller's sister Christophine of one of these outdoor strolls and talks, "and our mother related to us the story of the two disciples, to whom, on their way to Emmaus, Jesus had joined himself. Her speech and narrative grew more and more inspired, and when we got upon the hill we were all so much affected that we knelt down and prayed." Science need not tell us why Schiller inherited the physical features of his mother and her character as well.

His schoolmaster, Pastor Moser, in Lorch, had directed his curiosity to the ministry of the Church, and his devout father strove to advance him to that goal. A bitter disappointment, however, was in store for both father and son. Duke Karl established a military school, where in 1770 he had