it's "all because we do not carry all our things to God in prayer."

A prayer is the heart's longing expressed on one single exhalation. Repeating such a prayer three or more times brings immediate relief, because of the expelling of carbons and other gaseous substances detrimental to happiness, if retained in our systems. The dynamics do throw off some, so does the porous system, but wherever there are organic troubles of any kind, however slight, nature cannot do all the work efficiently, unless directed by the mind. The dynamics need stimulation. Mental attention vitalizes the dynamic factors, and renewed efforts discharge all the surplus substances from the system, setting all the organs free to pursue their particular functions.

A few days' trial will convince the practicer of the benefit such attention brings, and interest in self will spur us on. Add prayers to the daily routine. In fact we will never be without prayers once we learn of its efficacy, for there where man prepares his body the God-element enters to awaken the higher consciousness, and transposes spirit into matter and matter into spirit.

FORBID THEM NOT

Every now and then attention is called to the wholesale plagiarism by our contemporaries and how they love to parade Mazdaznan principle under fictitious names, and how the churches and scientific schools copy Mazdaznan methods, simply to divert the people's minds from ever investigating Mazdaznan. Be it so. We "forbid them not" to avail themselves of the opportunity to plagiarize. Altho there are copyright laws, nevertheless to claim our own we would have to go to law and such a step would weaken our cause destined unto Universality. It is our purpose to make the greatest Revelation and message of Emancipation so common that every one may walk within the lane of safety. Plagiarism after all has its virtues. True it does not give the whole of the Declaration or the Complete methods unto Emancipation from sickness, sin and sorrow, still a half a loaf is better than none. There is still more at the source where Wisdom flows from.

HOME TALK

This is but an installment; the October issue has had more material than could be utilized advantageously and a Home Talk is not considered a regular contribution; it belongs to a class that finds its short-cut way into the basket, and thence, where the northwind has no scruples as to the whose-who, but like Omar Khayyam's desert birds blows the coo-coo, and few more oos, without any specified meaning. But we considered our Home Talk of interest to at least some of our friends and associates, and it is said: "Better late than never." Thus this November issue affords us or, graciously gives space to what we have to say. As a rule Home Talks savor of gossip, and a bit of personal news gives occasion to gossip, still a little gossip now and then is relished by youth as well as old roosters (lobster is getting stale). We prefer the rooster as "it" adorns the editorial page of the winning party announcing the victorious candidate for the chair to be vacated March 4th.

But we are not in politics; too much polly in it, and quite a great deal of tick-wood

tick, bedtick and trick. We all fare better without ticks of any kind at this end of the game.

What we wanted to say concerns the whole family. After many calculations we packed bag and baggage and stole away to Oakland and Sacramento, where Saints lay in waiting for our coming. True, it was a case of "I'm a pilgrim and I'm a stranger, I can tarry, I can tarry but a night," but even then night after night was open in holy communion. There were the number of "happy smiling faces." Everyone with their longings, wishes and desires. Those were days of feasting even before the great day of Zarathustra. Tho no special holidays they proved redletter days, inaugurated, instituted by the Saints who participated. To mention names would mean mentioning them one by one. Let it suffice us to say that each one, without reserve, have demonstrated by far greater results than was expected.

We are satisfied and that should suffice. At Portland we found a number of exceptionally earnest students and have concluded that the field is ripe, but the Macedonian Cry has not been answered. The Saints of

God are all very busily engaged making both ends meet, and others, whose coffers are filled to overflowing have no time to spend in reclamation work. They donate their pinmoney to institutions whose sole purpose is to experiment with what they never learned, and for this reason care not for results. But even here we must not be critical. The reason most of us do not come up to our own mark of expectation is because we are not free to do the Father's Will; we are wrapped up in the illusions of our own fancy, and for this reason reap delusions.

September 17th we landed in Seattle. At the depot we were met by a company of Apostles, Patriarchs, Sages and Saints. The brass band was not there; but there was one farther up the street, the kind that ladles out the old-time tune: "There aint no flies on Jesus; there may be flies on me." "Swat the flies" is another popular air that fills the air where dunghills are near.

Conveyed in Pearce's auto, accompanied by so holy a communion, we seemed to hear the tune: "There is joy among the Saints and Angels when a wanderer returns to the fold." There was joy-the most joyful