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Lo! I see long bissful ages, When these Mammon days are done,

Stretching like a golden evening,

Forward to the setting sun.”

N the whole range of questions pertaining to the well-being and elevation of humanity, there is none so urgently demanding public attention as the one which concerns the means of living. So long as the vast millions of earth’s inhabitants are without Homes, and arc bound down by the ever-gnawing cares of daily want, they cannot be elevated, enlightened or made happy. And it is questionable whether anybody can be happy, while the whole atmosphere is filled, as it were, with the magnetism of so much misery. As the Universe is a Unity, so is Humanity one. If, as philosophers assert, the most minute particles of matter, up to the starry worlds of immensity, act and re-act upon each other, then how can it be otherwise, than that man, who is called a microcosm, or an epitome of the universe, should be affected by the mental, as well as physical conditions of his fellow man? The