is being organized in the
United States; Paderewski, now in New York in the interests of
relief, estimates the losses of his compatriots by the war at
$2,500,000,000; he says that an area has been laid waste equal in size
to New York and Pennsylvania; that 7,500 villages have been completely
ruined; that thousands of persons are hiding in the woods and feeding
on roots.

May 16--The American Commission for Relief in Belgium has now got a
financial system working in Belgium by which the great bulk of food
needed is being supplied indirectly by the Belgians themselves through
their own energies and resources; 75 per cent. of the Belgian people
are being supplied with food through the arrangements made by the
commission, without recourse to charity.

May 20--England has asked American surgeons to man her newest and
largest field hospital; as a result, the medical schools of Harvard,
Columbia, and Johns Hopkins will send thirty-two surgeons and
physicians and seventy-five nurses; the universities will bear the
expenses of the corps.

May 21--Carleton Gibson of the Commission for relief of Poland sends a
report to New York stating that in that part of Russian Poland within
the Austro-German lines conditions are much worse than in the worst
parts of Belgium and France, and that the population is now actually
starving.

May 22--The Commission for Relief in Belgium states that about
1,500,000 persons are now destitute in Belgium through unemployment;
the monthly food requirements of the Belgians involve an expenditure
of between $7,000,000 and $8,000,000.

To the Captain of the U----.

By HARRY VARLEY.

You have drunk your toast to "the Day" that came;
The Cross is won, for you did not fail.
Do you thrill with joy at your deathless fame?
Your hand is trembling, your lips are pale!
Ah! you drink again--but the wine is spilled,
A crimson stain on the snowy white.
Is it wine--or blood of the children killed?
Captain! what of the night?

When the black night comes and the Day is done,
You sleep, and dream of the things that float
In a misty sea where a blood-red sun
Lights up the dead in a drifting boat.
Will you see a face in the waves that swell--
A baby's face that is cold and white?
Will your sleep be sweet or a glimpse of Hell?
Captain! what of the night?

Will you see the stare of the small blue eyes,