{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_9390/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_9390","id":"gutenberg_9390","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9390","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: Parenthood & Family Relations","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Prostitution -- California"],"text":"E-text prepared by Joel Erickson, Tonya Allen, and Project Gutenberg\nDistributed Proofers\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nFIFTEEN YEARS WITH THE OUTCAST\n\nBy\n\nMRS. FLORENCE (MOTHER) ROBERTS\n\n1912\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: MRS. FLORENCE (MOTHER) ROBERTS.]\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nA missionary, upon returning from his field of labor in India, was\nmaking an effort to stir up the sympathies of the people in behalf of\nthe heathen. By telling his countrymen of the influence of the gospel\nupon the Indians and of the hundreds, even thousands, of them who had\nbecome Christians, he succeeded in creating an interest among many of\nhis friends. He told many stirring experiences of the difficulties\nencountered in the missionary work, and gave affecting accounts of the\npersecution of the native Christians because of their turning from\ntheir idolatry and former beliefs.\n\nA noted English hunter had just returned from a hunting tour in Bengal.\nThese two men were invited to speak at a certain assembly. The large\naudience listened attentively to thrilling experiences of the hunter as\nhe related the hairbreadth escapes in the jungles and told of the many\nBengal tigers seen and killed. After he had finished his account of his\nhunting tour, he was asked to give a report of the missionary work as\nhe had found it in India. He stated that in all his travels in Bengal\nhe had not seen a native Christian and, further, that he did not\nbelieve there were any, but that there were plenty of tigers. He said\nthat he had not seen a missionary on the field and that the\nmissionaries were deceiving the people by their reports.\n\nThe missionary was stung to the heart. He knew that the people were\nalmost ready to cast him down in derision because of the powerful\ninfluence this noted hunter had exerted over the audience. When he\narose, trusting the Lord for wisdom that he might be able to convince\nhis hearers of the real situation of missionary work in India, he\nkindly referred to the statements of the eminent hunter and said: \"He\nhas related his exciting experiences in tiger-hunting and has told you\nthat tigers abound in that country. Why should I believe his word?\nThough I spent several years in Bengal, yet I never saw a tiger outside\nof a cage nor any one hunting tigers. He says he did not see a native\nChristian or a missionary on the field. I have seen hundreds of them,\nhave lived among them, have taught them, and I am able to verify my\nstatements. Shall I discredit the statements of the hunter because I\nsaw no tigers? I was not looking for tigers; therefore I did not go to\nthe jungles to find them. He was not looking for Christians and\nmissionaries, and for that reason he did not go to the plains where\nthey were to be found.\" The words of the missionary had the desired\neffect, and the cause that he represented was sustained.\n\nIt has often been said that the world is growing better and that the\nplaces of vice are few; but if the veil is drawn aside only enough to\ngive a glimpse of the pitfalls of darkness and sin, one is made to\nstand aghast and lift the hands in horror. How little is known of the\nnext-door neighbor! In our cities many people do not even know the\nnames or the occupations of those living in the next room or in some\nother apartment of the same house. Oft-times dens of vice are almost at\nour door, and we know nothing of their existence until we are awakened\nby some sad occurrence that might have been avoided \"had we known.\"\n\nMany parents fear to inform their children of the evils of the world\nand of the dives and pitfalls of vice. This false modesty, or failure\nto impart knowledge, places children face to face with danger without\ntheir suspecting any harm.\n\nThere are gambling-dens, houses of ill-fame, and various other places\nof vice, where young and old are led astray. The \"white slave\ntraders\"--those who decoy and sell girls and young women for such\nplaces--are ever on the alert.\n\nThe author of this book has spent years in trying to rescue girls from\nsuch a life, and \"Fifteen Years with the Outcast\" will undoubtedly do\nmuch to counteract the influence of these places of vice and infamy.\n\nFathers and mothers should place this volume in the hands of their\nchildren and should encourage them to become sufficiently informed\nconcerning such things not only to protect themselves but also to warn\nothers.\n\nWith a desire that the influence of this book may reach the highest\nanticipations of the author I am\n\nYours in Him,\n\nE. E. Byrum.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nLittle Rosa--A Warning to Mothers and Guardians\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nA Visit to Sacramento--The Outcome\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nMy First Autoharp--I Forsake All to Follow Jesus\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nI am Introduced to the Rescue Home Family--A Glorious Test\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nA Crushing Situation--Wonderful Vision--Story of Rita\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nMy First Call to the Prison Work\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nLeila\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nI Bid Farewell to the Sacramento Home\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nWoodland (Continued)--A Boycott\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nA Brief Call to Sacramento--I Enter the San Francisco Field\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nI am Introduced to the Dives of Barbary Coast\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nMary\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nServices in County Jail, Branch No 3\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nLucy--A Remarkable Experience\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nWe Plan for a Home for Released Prison Girls\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nSanta Clara Experiences\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nCallie's Wonderful Story\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nCallie and I Visit the Jail, the Morphine Den, and the Mission\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nStill Southward Bound--Santa Cruz--Lucy Returns to Her Home\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nJoe's Story\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nI Depart for Pacific Grove--Meet Lucy Again--Her Baptism\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nAnna--We Leave for San Jose\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nNorthward Bound--The Outcome\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\nThe Suicide of L----.--Its After-effect\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\nGood News from Home--Miss Loraine\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\nLucy's Letter--The School Teacher\n\nCHAPTER XXVII.\n\nSan Quentin--We Secure a Lovely Property\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII.\n\nGod's Best\n\nCHAPTER XXIX.\n\nDedication of Beth-Adriel\n\nCHAPTER XXX.\n\nThe Juvenile Court Commission--Henry\n\nCHAPTER XXXI.\n\nThe Annual Board Meeting--Dollie's Story\n\nCHAPTER XXXII.\n\nLost Sheep--The Ex-prisoners' Home--Hospital Scenes\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII.\n\nA Wonderful Leading--How Girls Are Lured to the Dance-halls\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV.\n\nThe Women of B--- up in Arms--The Sisters Taken Home\n\nCHAPTER XXXV.\n\nSanta Cruz--Beba's Letter--The Earthquake\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI.\n\nRelief Duty--San Francisco--Miss B----\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII.\n\nThe Home Repaired--Mrs. S----'s Experience\n\nCHAPTER XXXVIII.\n\nThe Annual Board Meeting--Results\n\nCHAPTER XXXIX.\n\nA Trip East--I Escape from a Confidence Woman\n\nCHAPTER XL.\n\nMy Homeward Journey--Land for the Training School and Home\n\nCHAPTER XLI.\n\nI Call on the Governor and Then Go South\n\nCHAPTER XLII.\n\nLos Angeles Dance-halls and Other Places\n\nCHAPTER XLIII.\n\nWoman Employed at Dance-hall Tells of Many Pitfalls\n\nCHAPTER XLIV.\n\nSarah\n\nCHAPTER XLV.\n\nThe Women Prisoners of San Quentin\n\nCHAPTER XLVI.\n\nVallejo, Mare Island, and Alcatraz\n\nCHAPTER XLVII.\n\nIrene's Awful Fate--The Wages of Sin\n\nCHAPTER XLVIII.\n\nMy Return to the Missionary Field\n\nCHAPTER XLIX.\n\nSome Precious Letters from Precious Children\n\nCHAPTER L.\n\nConclusion\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n\nFlorence (Mother) Roberts\n\nThe Dive-keeper's Daughter\n\nMary\n\nThe Redwood City Street Meeting\n\nScene in a Morphine Den\n\n\"99 years, Mother Roberts!\" Poor Joe!\n\nView of Yard and Prisoners' Quarters, Represa, near Folsom\n\nBird's Eye View of San Quentin\n\n\"Everybody helped grease the hill I was sliding down. I soon reached\nthe bottom\"\n\nPoor Elsie!\n\nScene in a Dive Dance-hall\n\nThe Chittenden Home\n\nSome Mother's Wandering Girl\n\nSan Quentin. Prison Yard\n\nView of Warden's House, etc., Represa\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF SONGS.\n\nWords and Music by Mother Roberts.\n\nThe Messengers (the Doves)\n\nHer Voice\n\nStill Nearer\n\nWas It You?\n\nThe Songs My Mother Sang\n\nThe Value of a Song\n\nSome Mother's Wandering Girl\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nREPLYING TO YOUR QUESTION.\n\n\n\"How did it happen that you became so deeply interested in rescue work,\nMrs. Roberts?\"\n\nHundreds of times has this question been asked of me in various parts\nof this State (California). In order, whenever time and place\npermitted, to answer intelligently, I have replied by relating the\nstory of my conversion, through a vision, which occurred on the\nafternoon of Sunday, Sept. 13, 1896.\n\nFor some time prior to this, with my husband, J. H. Roberts, a mining\nman, also my son, an only child of fourteen, I had been living about\ntwo and one-half miles from Angels, Calaveras County, California.\n\nFor lack of means to carry on the development work of the mine which\nMr. Roberts was at this time superintending, it closed. In order to\nincrease finances in our hour of need, I gave piano lessons. My health,\nnever in those days very robust, soon succumbed to the severe nervous\nstrain to which it was now continually subjected.\n\nTHE VISION.\n\nOn the never-to-be-forgotten date of my spiritual birth, whilst I was\nenjoying a much-needed rest and reading a novel, everything in the room\nseemed suddenly to be obliterated from my view; I became oblivious of\nmy surroundings and was apparently floating in an endless vista of\nsoft, beautiful, restful light.\n\nI was quite conscious of rising to a sitting position, pressing my left\nelbow into the pillow, and with the right hand rubbing both eyes in an\nendeavor to see once more my natural surroundings. But no! Instead,\nsuspended in this endless light, appeared a wonderful colossal cross of\nindescribable splendor. This wonderful cross can be likened only to a\ngigantic opal. Its rays of light seemed to penetrate me through and\nthrough as over my mind flashed the thought, \"I must have died, and\nthis is my soul!\"\n\nFor one brief moment I closed my eyes, then opened them, and now, in\naddition to the vision of the cross, came an added one of such a\nglorious Being that words are utterly inadequate to describe him. No\nwriter, be he ever so skilful, could give a satisfactory word-picture,\nand no artist, be he ever so spiritual, could possibly depict the\nwonderful majesty of our glorious, loving, royal Redeemer.\n\nHis left arm slowly raised. Presently his hand rested on the right arm\nof the cross. Then the wonderful eyes looked into mine. _That one\ncompelling look drew me--forever--to him._ But that was not all. With\nthe right hand he beckoned, reaching downward toward me, and I saw the\nsweet smiling lips move. Though no sound emanated from them, yet I knew\nthey framed the one word \"Come!\" whilst the hand slowly, gracefully\nmoved, pointing upward toward the cross. A ray of light revealed a\nhealed wound extending the entire length of the palm. Soon this\ninvitation was repeated, and so great became my desire to hide (because\nof my unworthiness) beneath the cross that I must at this time have\nslipped off the bed, for when once more conscious of my natural\nsurroundings I discovered myself kneeling on the floor.\n\nThen for the first time in my life I saw myself as I believe God sees.\nWhat a revelation of selfishness and carnality! What a realization of\nutter unworthiness! My righteousness was indeed and in truth no better\nthan \"filthy rags\" (Isa. 64:6).\n\n_Could God, would God, forgive?_\n\nMentally I decided that, had I been in his place, lavishing and\nbestowing innumerable and untold blessings day after day upon one so\ncareless, so heedless of his wonderful love, I should find it very,\nvery difficult, nay, impossible.\n\nOh, how I _now_ longed, _now_ yearned, to be different, as I caught the\nreflection of carnal nature in the spiritual looking-glass! With all my\nsoul I implored mercy and pardon.\n\nSuddenly thick darkness, indescribably thick, seemed to submerge me. I\nfelt as though I were smothering. I tried to find my voice. Presently\nconsciousness returned, and the room appeared as natural as ever. I was\ncrying aloud, \"Save me!\" At the same time it seemed that something\nweighty was rolling up like a scroll off either side of me. I felt\nfree, light as air, and from that moment began to experience the New\nLife, the True Life. _Oh, I was happy! So happy!_\n\nOne, only one, desire now had possession--that I might forever remain\nunder this benign influence. Did ever the birds chirp so sweetly! Was\never parched nature or dried-up grass more beautiful! Oh, why did I\nhave to come back to this world! But how selfish! Now came the longing\nto share my joy with others; I was eager to do so. Would my husband's\nvisitor never go? Finally I heard him making his adieus. Bathing my\nface and smoothing my hair, I went forth to impart the glorious news to\nMr. Roberts.\n\nWell, he listened attentively, as with soul filled and thrilled with\ndivine love, I endeavored to describe my wonderful vision.\n\n\"What do you think of it, dear?\" I asked.\n\n\"I think you were dreaming,\" he replied.\n\n\"Oh, but not so! I heard you talking to Mr. Rouse from the time he\ncame, though I was paying no attention to your conversation. How could\nI?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Nevertheless, my dear, it was only a dream,\" he insisted.\n\nSomething (an inner voice hitherto unrecognized) suggested that I ask\nwhat he thought of it, even though it might be but a dream. He admitted\nthat it was wonderful and beautiful. (Afterwards he told me that he\nwould not have paid so much attention to my recital had it not been for\nthe unusual light on my countenance. \"You can't think how you looked,\"\nhe said. \"Your face shone like satin!\")\n\nTHE AFTERMATH.\n\nImmediately following this God-given experience came the desire to\n\"search the Scriptures\" (John 5:39). I regret having to tell you that\nmy Bible lay very near the bottom of a trunk and that the blessed\nvolume had not been opened for a shamefully long time.\n\nIt took me, in my spare time, something like three months to read the\nbook carefully from cover to cover. Not one word escaped me. I found it\nto be so interesting--at first as a matter of history--that I began it\nall over again. Thus it has been ever since; for to the Spirit-born\nchild nothing will, nothing can, take the place of the Bible. It is\nalways new, always refreshing. It is the voice of the tenderest, most\nloving of parents, ever ready to answer our questions, comforting when\nsorrowful, healing when sick, warning when in danger, ever directing,\nadmonishing, and encouraging under any and all circumstances. \"Oh!\" but\nyou say, \"the chastening! You forget that.\" No, dear one, I do not. All\nwise parents chasten their offspring. Would to God they would lovingly,\nwisely administer more corrections than they do. The outcome, I verily\nbelieve, would be a wonderful foretaste of heaven on earth. But I find\nI am digressing.\n\nImmediately following my conversion came the desire to impart the\nknowledge received, to my friends and neighbors. The result was that a\nreport somewhat like the following was soon circulated: \"Poor Mrs.\nRoberts! Have you heard the news? Her husband's financial losses have\naffected her mind; she is going crazy. Thinks she had a vision!\" etc.\nThen I began to realize what it means literally to \"forsake all to\nfollow Christ.\" Heavier troubles followed, but they did not affect me\nas heretofore. I had had the vision, and it had come to stay.\n\nIllness presently brought me to the very threshold of eternity. With\nanimation temporarily suspended, but my soul and brain never more\nkeenly alive, I mentally implored the dear Lord to spare me for a\nlittle while, because I did not now want to come to him empty-handed.\nOh! the longing to win souls, as I lay there helpless yet realizing\nwhat it might mean to be forever debarred from the things which God had\nprepared from the foundation of the world \"for him that waiteth for\nHim\" (Isa. 64:4). How eager I was to tell the news to any one, no\nmatter to what depths he or she might have fallen! It was the immortal\nsoul that I was now anxious to reach. Lying there, I made an absolute\nconsecration, promising my heavenly Father that if he would restore me\nto health and strength, I would go to whatever place he thought fit to\nsend me, and never hesitate to stoop to the lowliest for his sake and\ntheirs.\n\nRESTORATION.\n\n_God takes us at our word_. I wonder how many of us realize this?\n\nReturning health and strength found me located with my family in\nRedding, Shasta County. Here my husband and I, in the spring of 1897,\nfollowed our Lord's example in baptism.\n\nIn Redding came many delightful opportunities to engage in church and\npersonal work for the Master. While I was visiting in Sacramento in the\nfill of 1897 and attending revival meetings conducted in the First\nBaptist church, came my first real knowledge of the unfortunate of my\nsex.\n\nPrevious to this revival the Rev. Mr. Banks, now deceased, anxious for\nthese special services to be well attended, asked for volunteers from\nhis flock to distribute in every house in their immediate neighborhoods\na printed invitation. Whoever undertook this work was to pledge\nthemselves not to pass one house nor miss any opportunity for personal\nwork. Not two blocks from the place where I was rooming was a district\nthat I hitherto had never explored--in fact, had purposely avoided. God\nnow gave me strength to take up this cross, for which may I be forever\nhumbly grateful. But I shrank at first; for, unable to persuade any of\nmy acquaintances to accompany me, I had to traverse this neighborhood\nalone. Did I say alone? Never did I experience a greater sense of\nguardianship, of protection, of being in the best of company, though\nthese guardians and companions were visible only to the eye of faith\n(Psa. 91:10-12).\n\nThat day I saw tears fall, and heard experiences of which I had\nhitherto had scarcely any conception.\n\n  Touched by a loving hand, wakened by kindness,\n  Chords that were broken will vibrate once more.\n\nSoon after this the first little rescue home for girls in Sacramento\nwas started by some consecrated young people. It was located on Second\nStreet near O. I did not have the pleasure of attending the opening of\nthis \"shelter,\" because of a direct call to service about this time\nwith some traveling evangelists. I assisted them by giving out the\n\"good news\" in song.\n\nWhile I was traveling northward with these evangelists, there came into\nmy possession, in answer to prayer, my treasured, God-given little\nautoharp, No. 1. My second was at one time the property of a now\npardoned State prisoner--his companion in his lonely hours when locked\nin his cell.\n\n\"Where were your husband and your son all this time?\" you inquire. The\nformer was away prospecting--his favorite occupation. The latter,\nbecause of his love for the water and his desire to see other\ncountries, was an employee on an ocean-steamer.\n\nMY SPIRITUAL MOTHER.\n\nOn Sept. 1, 1902, there passed into eternal rest one of the oldest\nmembers of the First Methodist Episcopal church of San Francisco, Mrs.\nSalemma Williams.\n\nFor more than twenty years this dear sainted friend, though I knew it\nnot, daily prayed and believed for my conversion. Five years before she\nwas made aware of the fact, her prayer had been answered. Her joy, when\none day I called upon her to impart the welcome news, knew no bounds,\nand until she passed away we spent many happy days in each other's\ncompany. A few hours before she went home, she gave her children and me\nher parting blessings. The precious prayer of this dying saint as she\nheld her aged hands on my head comforts, sustains, and encourages me\nnow, even as it did then, and I believe that it ever will.\n\nHER BLESSING.\n\n\"Lord, I thank thee for answered prayer. Make this, thy child,\nwonderful for thee, Lord, wonderful for thee! for Jesus' sake. Amen.\"\nThough she spoke with great difficulty, yet every word was distinctly\naudible. About two hours later she sang (with me) the following lines\nas she passed into eternal rest:\n\n  Oh! if there's only one song--I can sing\n  When in his beauty I see the great King,\n  This shall my song in eternity be:\n  Oh, what a wonder that Jesus loves me!\n  I am so glad that Jesus loves me!\n  Jesus loves even me.\n\nSUMMARY.\n\nWould that it were in my power to relate better, in \"Fifteen Years with\nthe Outcast,\" the few incidents of the many which have come under my\npersonal observation. The real names of the principals of the stories\nare withheld, but not so the names of personal friends.\n\nDear readers, I am well aware that this book, judged from a literary\npoint of view, would be regarded as a failure; but I make no\npretensions as a writer, nor do I entertain any aspirations for\nliterary fame. My sole object in endeavoring to present faithfully a\nfew experiences of my brief years of service for the Master is to warn\nmany who are in danger.\n\nInterspersed between these covers are a few songs, the words of which,\nwith scarcely an exception, were written in the night, and, for the\nmost part, were culled from incidents of personal observation and\nexperience. Much valuable assistance has been rendered by a dear friend\nin the transcribing and arranging of the music.\n\nFor those of my readers who do not yet know the dear Lord as their\npersonal Savior and Redeemer, my sincere prayer is, May they while\nperusing these pages catch a glimpse of Him. May they, by faith, \"wash\nand be made clean,\" determining, God helping, to shun forever all evil\nand evil companions. The sinful life never pays.\n\nIn order to make this book suitable for young people to read, much\nconcerning rescue work has been withheld. Parents will readily\nunderstand why and will appreciate the omission. Doubtless they will\nhave little if any trouble in reading between the lines. God grant them\nlove and wisdom to interpret to their questioning boys and girls, and\nmay countless blessings from the Shepherd of our souls attend all into\nwhose hands this book may chance to come.\n\nYours, in precious service for Him,\n\n(Mrs.) Florence Roberts.\n\nP. S. Since the above was written, I had the occasion to visit one of\nour California State prisons (San Quentin). I went at the urgent\nrequest of a young man whom the officials recommended for parole. I had\na portion of the manuscript of this book with me, which the captain of\nthe guard, at my request, kindly allowed the young man and his\ncell-mates to read. In consequence, we are indebted to one of these\ndear boys (God bless him!) for some of the illustrations appearing in\nthis book. Others have been contributed by a young brother and sister\nwho are devoting their lives to God's service at the Gospel Trumpet\noffice.\n\nEXPLANATORY.\n\nThis book was originally prepared for the press under the title, \"The\nAutobiography of an Auto-harp.\" It was then written in verse and\nliberally interspersed with foot-notes. Upon more mature consideration\nand also upon the advice of one of much experience as a writer, I have\nrewritten the work and given it the title, \"Fifteen Years with the\nOutcast.\"\n\nAlthough the change necessitates a continuous repetition of the\npersonal pronoun \"I,\" a word whose avoidance was the primary object in\nwriting under the original title, yet the new form is, I believe, much\nmore interesting. Furthermore, time and experience have occasioned many\nneedful additions.\n\nFor fifteen years \"I have fought a good fight,\" though not so good as I\nwould have desired, and although I am in the evening of life, I realize\nthat I have not yet \"finished my course.\" There is still much more for\nme to do in this sorrowful, sin-cursed world. God has, among other\nblessings, given me a strong physique. By his unmerited power I am\nkeeping the faith, growing in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord\nand Savior Jesus Christ.\n\nMy greatest longing and ambition is some day to see Him whom my soul\nloveth, \"face to face,\" especially to have the joy of bringing some\npriceless trophies to lay at His blessed feet.\n\nMost sincerely yours,\n\nFlorence (Mother) Roberts.\nGospel Trumpet Company,\nAnderson, Indiana.\nSeptember 27, 1911.\n\n\n\n\n\nFIFTEEN YEARS WITH THE OUTCAST\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nLITTLE ROSA--A WARNING TO MOTHERS AND GUARDIANS.\n\n\nWhat I am about to relate is my first experience in rescuing a girl and\noccurred not long after my conversion.\n\nAt this time my husband, my son, and I were living in Redding, Shasta\nCo., Cal. In the house that we were occupying lived another family\nalso, the little four-year-old daughter of which was an especial pet of\nmine. While she was acting naughtily one day, thus hindering her mother\nwith the household duties, I bribed her to be good, by promising to go\ndown-town for some particularly nice candy made by a man who sold it\nevery day at a certain street corner, displaying it on a tray suspended\nfrom his neck and always handling it with the whitest of cotton gloves.\nWhen I reached the place, he had not yet arrived. Desirous of not\ndisappointing my little friend and having learned where the man\nlived--in a tent on a lot near by--I immediately repaired to the place\ndesignated. There I found a disreputable-looking middle-aged woman and\na forlorn little girl about twelve years old. The girl was in tears.\n\nUpon my inquiring what was the matter, the woman immediately berated\nthe child in my presence. Turning to me, she said that this girl was\none on whom they recently had taken pity, and had hired to do chores.\n\nAs there was but one tent, I questioned also as to sleeping\naccommodations. It contained a full-sized bed and one narrow cot,\nbetween which was suspended a thin calico curtain. The cooking, eating,\netc., were done out of doors.\n\nThe poor little one continued to cry bitterly. With aching heart I laid\nmy hand on her bowed head and bade her to be a good girl and try her\nbest to please and obey her employers, then inquired of her whether she\nhad ever attended Sunday-school or knew anything about Jesus. She did\nnot reply. This caused the woman to accuse her of sulkiness, at which\nthe girl looked up with swollen eyes, full of tears. Oh that look! It\nastonished and puzzled me at the time. Hatred? Yes, and despair, and\nmisery, and yearning. There was a volume in that look, which I could\nnot then interpret. Beyond words, it troubled me.\n\nSilently praying, I went on my way. I had walked only a few yards\ntoward home, when I heard the quick patter of bare feet behind me, and\nsome one calling, \"Lady! Lady!\" Turning, I saw the little girl\nbreathlessly trying to overtake me. Quickly she poured into my ears a\nhorrible story of wrong, of indescribable wickedness perpetrated on her\nfor the vile gratification of that man--so celebrated as a candy maker.\n\nSoon I was in the presence of Judge Sweeney (now superintendent of the\nUnited States mint in San Francisco) relating the awful story of little\nRosa. Immediately after my rehearsal the man and woman were arrested.\n\nPrevious to going to live with these people Rosa had made her home with\na young married sister. The sister had a family of little children and\nwas poor: so when an opportunity presented itself for an apparently\ngood home for Rosa in exchange for light services, she quickly, gladly\navailed herself of it, without making the _very necessary inquiry_ as\nto who this man and woman (strangers in Redding) were or whence they\nhad come. Thus thoughtlessly did she relieve herself of a solemn\nresponsibility, the dying request of their mother, who had passed away\nwhen Rosa was much younger.\n\nA physical examination proved, beyond a doubt, the unfortunate child's\ncondition, and the law proceeded to take its course. The sister was\n(temporarily) made responsible as Rosa's legal guardian. Here I quote\nfrom \"The Morning Searchlight\" the article headed:\n\nA SENSATIONAL CASE.\n\nA little Girl Held Captive by G---- E----.\n\nA petition for a writ of habeas corpus was filed in the Superior Court\nSaturday by Mrs. M---- S----. This is the process by which she hopes to\nobtain possession and care of her sister, Rosa L----. The girl is but\ntwelve years of age, her mother is dead, and she has been deserted by\nher father.\n\nSomehow, she has become acquainted with G---- E----, the street\ncandy-vender, and has, of late, been living in his tent in the\nsoutheastern part of the city.\n\nThe petition further states: \"That as your petitioner is informed and\nbelieves, and therefore alleges the fact to be, that said restraint of\nsaid minor by said E---- is for immoral purposes\"\n\nThe hearing of the petition will take place before Judge Sweeney Monday\nmorning. If the points alleged in the petition are true, E---- should\nbe dealt with severely.\n\nThe trial was held behind closed doors. Poor little Rosa was too\nnervous and frightened to give her testimony with sufficient\nintelligence so that the law could deal with the couple as they\ndeserved. Through some technicality they escaped legal punishment, and\nhurriedly stole out of Redding for parts unknown, fearing the vengeance\nof an insulted, righteously indignant community.\n\nThe child was soon under the kindly care of a consecrated Christian\ncouple, and the last time we saw her she wore a smiling and happier\ncountenance. This dreadful experience, however, permanently wrecked her\nhealth, so that she could be of but slight service to her new\nguardians; but they, through wise and loving treatment, through\nportrayal of Jesus in word as well as in deed, were doing all they\ncould do for this little shorn lamb, doing their best to aid in helping\nto eliminate her awful past--a task by no means easy. Poor unfortunate,\nsinned-against little Rosa! Her life forever blighted through the\nshifting and shirking of responsibility on the part of the older\nsister, who had promised the dying mother to carefully guard and guide\nthe little helpless girl. Poor ruined child! Shunned, whispered about\nand pointed at by her schoolmates, she, sensitive girl that she was,\nsuffered so intensely from such treatment that it was deemed advisable\nto have her study, as best she could, at home. There she need not be\nsubjected to the thoughtless torture of children, who, as children\nwill, had undoubtedly listened to, and learned from, the conversations\ncarelessly carried on in their presence by parents and other older\npeople, this unfortunate little girl's cruel, heart-rending fate.\n\nDid this experience affect my future career? It certainly did. Let me\ntell you. I firmly resolved, God helping, to live closer to the Master;\nto aid in rescuing the outcast at any cost; to see and love their\nsouls, forgetting the sinning exterior; to help win them to Christ,\nthen encourage and further their advancement; constantly to sit so low\nat the Savior's feet as to be ever able to discern and obey his still,\nsmall voice; to be sufficiently strong in body, soul, and spirit, as\ngladly to respond to his call at any and all times, whether that call\nshould be in the highways or hedges, streets or lanes, among rich or\npoor, the prison boys or the outcast girls.\n\nEarnestly I prayed, still I pray, for courage to address and warn\nparents and guardians of the pitfalls concerning which I have, in\nanswer to prayer, increased knowledge, having been granted much\npractical experience, sharing many a sorrow with others, mingling my\ntears and sighs with many a parent, many a wanderer, and many an\noutcast, who have poured their troubles into my listening ears.\n\nThe one cry, ever and always, from both parent and child, has been,\n\"_If I had only known_, I should have been less heedless, but now it's\ntoo late, too late! O God! forgive me for Christ's sake.\" Does the bird\nwith the broken pinion ever soar as high again? Only through Christ,\nthe precious Redeemer of souls, the Great Physician.\n\nAre we to take warning from the fate of little Rosa--we to whom our\nheavenly Father has entrusted the care and keeping of his priceless\njewels until he comes to claim his own? May the Lord help us to learn\nand love our lessons; to learn and love them well.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nA VISIT TO SACRAMENTO--THE OUTCOME.\n\n\nAt the time of the preceding experience I was the organist of Redding's\nBaptist church and also superintendent of its Sunday-school. Aside from\nthis, there were my household duties--duties never to be neglected, as\nsome erroneously think, because of drinking in the deep things of God.\nAlso, there were now many outside calls to rescue or to warn poor,\nfoolish boys and girls. The heart-aches now commenced in real earnest;\nfor too many refused to heed, and in many cases the home environments\nwere of such a nature as to prohibit even an ordinary moral tone, the\nunfortunate offspring being the victims of both pre-natal and\npost-natal conditions.\n\nBusiness now demanded my husband's absence from home for some time.\nTaking advantage of the opportunity thus afforded, I, with my son, a\nyouth aged fifteen, made a necessary visit to Sacramento. Here, in the\nFirst Baptist church, I taught a class of young men in their teens.\nSoon after my coming, a revival in the First M. E. church, which I\nconstantly attended, brought me great blessing from the Lord. This\nrevival was followed by a similar one at the First Baptist church.\n\nIn order to insure the success of the latter meeting Rev. A. B. Banks,\nthe pastor, now deceased, a most eloquent and lovable man, whom we\ndelighted in calling \"Father\" Banks, announced the necessity of\ndistributing handbills and asked for volunteers to place one in every\nhome in the districts in which they lived, and also, wherever possible,\nto give a verbal invitation. It so happened that the district in which\nmy son and I lodged contained the resorts of the wandering girls. Some\nof these places were less than two blocks away.\n\nNO ONE VOLUNTEERED FOR THIS LOCALITY.\n\nThere was a prolonged pause, a painful pause. I felt as though every\neye were upon me, and I experienced a sharp struggle; but hallelujah!\nthe next moment the Lord had the victory--and my hand went up. Father\nBanks fervently said, \"God bless you for this, my little sister! and he\nwill.\"\n\nYou may be sure I did not want to go alone. I invited several to keep\nme company; I prayed the greater part of that Sunday night; I visited\nseveral Christians on Monday morning, stating to them that I had never\nbeen in such a quarter, and was timid. \"They all with one accord began\nto make excuse.\" Luke 14:18.\n\nOh, how I prayed for grace and strength! As I traversed that district,\nbelieve me, I felt almost the visible presence of angels, and was soon\ngiving God's message of tender love to inmate after inmate of those\nawful dens.\n\nHow did they accept, you ask? Many with tears coursing down their\ncheeks. Very few but manifested some feeling. Scarcely any, however,\npromised to come out to the revival services. Nearly all declared that\nthey did not believe they would receive kind treatment if they did\ncome, and none of them wanted to be looked upon or treated as an\noutcast. One girl allowed me to come in and pray for her. Later on she\nwas most wonderfully saved and sanctified in the rescue home of which I\nshall now speak.\n\nYes, a rescue home for girls was about to be opened and established in\nanswer to the prayers of many, especially some of the dear Christian\nworkers of the \"Peniel\" Mission situated on K. near Fourth Street. Some\nof these I had become acquainted with since the revival meetings\ncommenced. I learned that Mrs. Glide, a consecrated lady of much means,\nhad guaranteed the payment of a year's rent on a ten-roomed cottage on\nSecond and O. Streets.\n\nDesirous of seeing this home for myself and of assisting, if requisite,\nI soon wended my way to the locality named.\n\nThe building was old and rather dilapidated, and as yet it contained\nbut one piece of furniture, a cheap washstand bureau. Some of the young\nmen were putting new panes of glass into the windows, others were\npapering the walls with odds and ends, which had been donated. Sister\nJennie Cloninger was busy scraping an old bathtub with a piece of\nglass, preparatory to painting it, and Sister Eva Shearer had her dress\ntucked up whilst mopping one of the floors. Every one was busy and\nhappy in the Lord's service.\n\n\"Sister Shearer dear, what can I do to help this blessed work?\" I\ninquired.\n\n\"Sister Roberts, that washstand is all the furniture we have. Please go\nin the name of Jesus and ask for donations,\" she replied.\n\nPrayerfully I started on my errand, and soon had many promises from\nhotel proprietors and others.\n\nShortly after this my son, having an ambition to see more of the world,\ngrew restless. All effort on my part failed to keep him near me. I\nsimply commended him to the One who has promised that if we are\nfaithful \"our righteousness shall be for our children,\" and comforted\nmyself with this promise as I sorrowfully bade him farewell and\nreturned to my lonely lodgings. Did I say lonely? I made a mistake. To\nbe sure, I greatly missed my boy, but he was in our Father's keeping,\nand I was dwelling in \"the secret of his presence\" who doeth all things\nwell.\n\nSoon afterward I returned to my home in Redding, taking the journey as\na singing evangelist with Mr. and Mrs. C. E. Thurston, an elderly\ncouple then in undenominational gospel-wagon work. It was on this trip\nthat, in answer to repeated prayer, I acquired my first autoharp, which\nI shall frequently mention in connection with my work. \"How did I come\nby it?\" I will tell you in the next chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nMY FIRST AUTOHARP--I FORSAKE ALL TO FOLLOW JESUS.\n\n\nThere it lay, all covered with dust, in that auctioneer's window in\nChico. We had just arrived from Sheridan, Sutter County, where we had\nconducted a successful series of meetings.\n\nIn the latter place we had been able to borrow a small organ, and I had\na splendid choir of little children, who crowded our commodious wagon\nan hour each evening before service, that time being devoted to\nserenading the neighborhood with gospel song. There I saw the drunkard\nand the saloon-keeper yield to the blessed influence of the singing by\nthese sweet, innocent little children of songs such as \"Wash me in the\nblood of the Lamb, and I shall be whiter than snow.\" But the time soon\ncame when we must part with the little organ as well as with the dear\nchildren.\n\nHow I longed and prayed for an autoharp! At this time my pocket-book\nwas well-nigh empty, my husband having met with total loss in mining\nenterprises. I possessed exactly $2.50 on the day when we reached\nChico.\n\nAs I looked in that auctioneer's window, somehow I felt that that\nhumble, little three-barred autoharp was to be mine. I stepped in,\npriced it, and presently told the proprietor what use was to be made of\nit. He had at the first asked $5.00; now he offered it, _for such a\ncause_, at half price. Hallelujah! How gladly I parted with my last\ncent and joyfully walked out with my precious little musical\ninstrument, destined to go with me on my visits to comfort and help\nsave the lost. I will tell you of my present one later on.\n\nLeaving Chico that afternoon, we camped in the evening under some\nbeautiful live-oak trees, beside a clear, running creek. This was in\nTehama, Tehama County. There, before retiring, and following our family\ndevotions, I dedicated my little instrument to the Lord's work, praying\nas I did so that he would use it absolutely, together with me and my\nvoice, in helping to win precious souls for his kingdom.\n\nSoon afterwards I was once more in my Redding home and resuming my\nformer avocations in the church and Sunday-school. But what had come\nover me? what had wrought such a change? For, strange to say, I was no\nlonger satisfied with simply the church work. I spent evening after\nevening and all spare time in the humble little mission down-town or\namongst the outcasts, though never neglecting my home.\n\nMy husband, always a reserved, proud man, one day gave me an unexpected\nshock. Without forewarning he quietly, coldly informed me that I must\ndecide between the rescue work and him.\n\n\"Do you mean it?\" I inquired.\n\n\"I certainly do,\" was his reply.\n\nOh, how I agonized with my Lord in prayer as soon as I could have the\nprivilege! Then I opened his Word for comfort, and my answer was, \"Ye\nare bought with a price; be not ye the servants of men.\" 1 Cor. 7:23.\nWhat did this mean? I was too young a child of the King to comprehend,\nand therefore could only wait and pray. So troubled at heart was I at\nmy husband's pride and growing coldness that I at last visited the\npastor of the church where my name was enrolled. He tried to persuade\nme to refrain from any but church work, and also did his utmost to\neffect a reconciliation between my husband and me, but all to no\neffect. Mr. Roberts refused to listen, and the breach widened. I seldom\ncrossed my threshold those days, yet yearned to be out in God's field.\nCircumstances, which it is neither pleasant nor profitable to relate\nhere, soon necessitated the breaking up of my home. I was looking to\nGod for guidance. I did not have to wait long, for a door was soon\nopened. A letter from Sister Belle Trefren, of Sacramento, with whom I\nhad much correspondence, especially relative to the rescue home already\nreferred to, now for several months occupied, informed me of the severe\nillness of its matron.\n\n\"Is it not strange,\" she wrote, \"that in all this great city none come\nto her aid excepting for a few hours at a time? If help does not arrive\nsoon, I fear she will die. Why could not you spend a while with her,\nand thus relieve her of this very heavy burden until she is\nsufficiently recovered to take her accustomed place again? Besides,\ndear Sister Roberts, I have long felt that the Lord wants you to cut\nloose from the shore-lines and 'launch out into the deep,' where are to\nbe found the biggest, best fish. Pray over this, as I am now doing, and\nthe light will surely come to you.\"\n\nI prayed, and the light came quickly. I wrote Sister Trefren that I\nmight soon be looked for in Sacramento, and that I was simply waiting\non the Lord.\n\nI soon resigned my church office, and early one bright, beautiful\nmorning I bade farewell to Redding. Just before the train drew out of\nthe depot, I opened my Bible. My eyes were focused on these words (many\nfriends had gathered to bid me Godspeed): \"And let us not be weary in\nwell-doing; for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.\" Gal.\n6:9. I stood on the rear platform of the train, holding up the open\nBible, and soon Redding and friends disappeared from my vision. I was\nindeed and in truth now alone with my Lord and on the road to the\nlittle rescue home in Sacramento, with my precious autoharp lying by my\nside.\n\nIn the afternoon, as time seemingly dragged and many passengers showed\nsigns of weariness, I picked up the little instrument. Soon from one\nend to the other of the car different ones sang with me familiar song\nafter song of Zion. The journey ended joyously, some being strengthened\nin their faith on that trip, and more than one acquaintance being made\nwhich later ripened into warm Christian friendship. Praise the Lord!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nI AM INTRODUCED TO THE RESCUE HOME FAMILY--A GLORIOUS TEST.\n\n\nMy cherished friend, Sister Trefren was at the depot to greet me, and I\nspent that first night under her roof. Early in the morning came a\nmessage from the home, requesting that, if I felt sufficiently rested,\nto come to them as speedily as possible.\n\nShe was a beautiful girl--I mean the one who responded to my ringing of\nthe door-bell. Oh, how she surveyed me (though not rudely) from head to\nfoot! We shall hear Leila's story in another chapter. Soon I was at the\nbedside of the sick matron, who, though hardly able to speak, greeted\nme lovingly and tearfully. In a few minutes a trusted girl was given\nsome directions, and then I was invited into the sitting-room. There\nwere assembled all the inmates of the home, and I was soon warmly\ngreeting, first collectively and later individually.\n\n\"My, what an opportunity to study character!\" I said to myself as I\nobserved the twenty-four faces into which I had a bare glimpse. I\npresently asked them if they would please kneel and pray with me and\nfor me, and soon I found myself, for the first time, listening to the\nhumble, earnest petitions of these precious jewels in the rough.\n\nBrokenly and tearfully, they thanked God for rescuing them from lives\nof sin, shame, and despair; for providing so good a home, food, and\nshelter (it was all very modest and humble). Some praised Him for\nsanctification as well as salvation. (Perhaps my reader does not know\nthe interpretation of that word, \"sanctification.\" Briefly, it refers\nto a second blessing, following justification, or the forgiveness of\nsins; a second work of grace, whereby the nature becomes purified and\nkept free from sin by the operation and power of God's Holy Spirit--now\nthe indwelling presence.) Then how fervent were the prayers for the\nhealing of the sick matron! and now, \"O God, please bless Mrs. Roberts\nfor coming to her aid and ours,\" ending by thanking him for answering\ntheir earnest appeal for help in their time of great need.\n\nI forgot all my own heartaches as I drank in and indorsed every word,\nand then, with all my being, offered the closing prayer. Soon the\ntrials and testings commenced in real earnest.\n\nIn such a place it does not require many days, nay, many hours, to\ndiscover the subtlety of the enemy of souls. For some time my nerves,\nnever too strong, were so wrought upon that I was under a constant\nstrain, and more than once, fearing a breakdown, felt that I should be\ncompelled to relinquish my arduous duties.\n\nIn answer to prayer, our Father, ever mindful of his own, strengthened\nme and bestowed the necessary knowledge and wisdom, so that I was soon\nable to cope with the situation, which was this: None of these precious\nones had long been established; some were not yet saved. Cravings, in\none form or another, for the old life, perhaps a thirst for liquor,\nwould at times secretly take possession of one or another, and\nfrequently some saved girl would come to me, saying, \"Sister Roberts,\nMamie [or some other] has gone out without permission.\" Then I would\nquickly telephone to police headquarters to be on the lookout for her\nand to have her privately detained until some one from the home could\ncome. Often we were compelled to tell the erring one that the law would\nhave to take its course if she rebelled or refused. Sometimes such a\none would almost hate us because she did not comprehend how much we had\nthe interest of both body and soul at heart.\n\nAh! reader, do you realize what it means to \"stand still\" in the trying\nhours? to watch our Father's Spirit working in the lives and natures of\nthe outcast? Truly it is marvelous, marvelous! Soon I will relate the\nstory of one of our family, but before I do so, permit me to give you\nmy first Sunday's experience. I think it will be interesting.\n\nI arrived at the home on Tuesday. On Friday morning, Sister B----, the\nsick matron, said as I stood by her bedside: \"Sister Roberts, all our\nfamily of girls whose health will permit are in the habit of attending\nSunday morning worship in one of the churches; in the afternoon, those\nwho wish, attend the mission; and in the evening we have prayer-service\nat home. I shall not, as you know, be able to go with them for some\ntime to come. That duty devolves upon you, dear, for the present.\"\nImagine, if you can, my feelings. \"Sister, I fail to see that the Lord\nrequires any such sacrifice on my part,\" I impulsively replied. \"I\nthink it sufficient to work with and for them _here_ in the home. What\nwould my former society friends say or think should any chance to meet\nme with them?\" And the tears of (righteous?) indignation filled my\neyes. \"My dear,\" she gently replied, \"take a little time in your room\nalone with God. He will make it clear, what he would have you to do.\"\n\nSoon I was locked in, where I sat for a few moments on the side of my\nlittle bed, as rebellious and indignant as ever I was in all my life.\n\nWhen I grew somewhat calmer, I fell upon my knees and sobbed out my\ntroubles at the foot of the cross. Painfully, I at last submitted,\n_provided it was the will of God_; and in my prayer I requested\n\"_Should such be thy will_, please see that none of my friends of\nsocial standing chance to cross my pathway on this occasion.\" Then I\narose from my knees.\n\nSunday morning found thirteen girls neatly clad and all impatiently\nwaiting for my appearance. Never in all my lifetime did I start on a\ntrip more fearfully or timidly. We had not traveled half a block when,\non turning a corner, I saw a family whom my family and I held in high\nestimation. We both received a never-to-be-forgotten shock. I was\ngreeted with a surprised bow of interrogation from the wife, whilst the\nhusband very slightly raised his hat. My girls behaved beautifully,\nlittle dreaming the state of my feelings.\n\nOld Adam dies very hard sometimes, doesn't he? I soon met others and\nstill others. Never did I so long for even a knot-hole into which to\ncrawl, but no such place presented itself. Precious Lord, thou knewest\nwhat was for my best interest when thou didst in thine infinite love\nand wisdom thus answer such a selfish prayer.\n\nThe next chapter will introduce you to the naughtiest girl in the home.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nA CRUSHING SITUATION--WONDERFUL VISION--THE STORY OF RITA.\n\n\nWe had not been very long in the second-from-the-front pew of the First\nBaptist church, when Rita, who, at the private suggestion of the\nmatron, I had placed next to me, began to embarrass and disconcert me\nby her actions, causing the rest of the girls to titter (sometimes\naudibly) and thus to attract the congregation, also the pastor, so that\nfinally an usher had occasion to whisper to me, admonishing me to\nretire with her, to which she replied, \"I ain't agoing out.\"\n\nMortified beyond measure, I let my head sink forward on the back of the\npew in front of me. I soon became oblivious of my surroundings, for _I\nwas being blest with a wonderful vision._\n\nI saw the Garden of Gethsemane. It was night, and sleeping souls lay\nall around. One there was who was not sleeping. He was prostrate in\nagony of prayer. As he wrung his hands, the blood started through his\npores, and dripped down upon the ground. Then a light shone around him,\na glorious light. Presently he arose, and the place filled suddenly\nwith soldiers who led him away, shouting in triumph as they did so.\nQuickly the scene changed. Christ was now before the high priests.\nAgain the scene changed. He was passing by a man who was strenuously,\nindignantly denying that he knew or had had anything to do with the man\nunder arrest. Oh! would that words of mine could picture the suffering,\nsorrowful countenance, as Jesus gave poor Peter that parting, yearning\nlook. Pilate's hall was soon in sight, and the men in charge of Jesus\nwere mocking and smiting him. It was cold, and scarcely dawn of day.\nWhat a throng, as they crowded into the presence of Pilate.\n\nAgain the scene changes. The Christ is being mockingly arrayed in a\nonce gorgeous, now old, shabby robe. Soon he is wearily pulled and\npushed back to Pilate's hall, where they strip the Son of God in the\npresence of that howling mob, and beat him, until the blood streams\ndown his poor, lacerated back. Surely that is sufficient; but no! they\nspit in his face. They press a cruel crown hard down upon his brow. Now\nPilate has washed his hands, and the Savior of the world is led away.\nThe soldiers are compelling him to bear some heavy wooden beams in the\nform of a cross. Oh! can't they see that he is too weak, suffering too\nmuch, to be able to carry such a weight? They do not care; but look! he\nhas fainted! Some one is helping him now. God forever bless him! 'Tis\nSimon the Cyrenean who enjoys that precious privilege. Simon, the\ncross-bearer.\n\nI can not bear to witness any more. But I must. I must watch to the\nend.\n\nOh! the awful thud, _thud_, THUD, as they hammer the spikes, the cruel\nspikes into his hands and feet, and he never once cringes. How can he\nbe so courageous?\n\nI am looking up at him now, and he is looking down with such an\nuninterpretable look _on me_, and I hear him faintly say: _\"For you.\"_\n\n\"Yes, Lord, I know.\"\n\n\"And now won't you try to love my poor shorn little lambs? 'Tis for\nthem also.\"\n\n\"Yes, dear Lord, I am trying to.\"\n\n\"Would you be willing to lay down your life for little Rita, for the\nsake of her soul?\"\n\n\"Blessed Savior, surely that will not be required, but fill me full of\nlove, a great love for her soul and other souls. I promise that with\nthy help I will do my best, for oh, how I love thee now! how I love\nthee! and I will do anything thou dost require to prove my love.\"\n\nSome one is pulling my sleeve. I turn my head to find Rita leaning\nagainst me and quietly whispering, \"Mother, don't cry; I'll be good.\nDon't cry.\"\n\nFrom that time on the change in Rita was unmistakable, and although she\nhad many hard battles to fight, to lose, and to win, she came out\ngloriously victorious.\n\n\"Who was Rita?\" I'll tell you.\n\nRita was a roguish, fun-loving, childish little woman, twenty-one years\nold, who neither acted nor looked her age. Her mother had been a\nwaitress in one of the dives of a locality called \"The Barbary Coast,\"\nSan Francisco, where are many low, vile haunts of vice. Her father, she\nnever knew. She was very dark, apparently part Spanish, quite\nattractive, and rather pretty.\n\nSome time prior to my advent she was brought to the home in a\nsemi-intoxicated condition by one of the Lord's consecrated\nmissionaries. Full of mischief and depravity, she was, from the first,\na trouble-maker. From her earliest recollection, her companions had all\nbeen of the type with whom her mother associated; therefore it would\ntake time, great and loving patience, and a constant waiting on the\nMaster for her to harmonize perfectly with new environments.\n\nThis poor girl had seen no other life, up to within a few weeks of my\nmeeting her, than a life replete with vice from one day's ending to\nanother. Much of the time she had participated. But be it recorded to\nthe credit of her mother that, to the extent of her knowledge, she had\nguarded her girl from criminal assault as long as she was able to\ncontrol her, and that, when told of Rita's being in the rescue home,\nshe seemed greatly pleased that at last her daughter had found friends\nwho would do their utmost to help her lead a better life.\n\nRita had an uncontrollable temper, in consequence of which the entire\nhousehold was sometimes made to suffer keenly; but she would eventually\nyield to earnest persuasion, then kneel down and ask forgiveness of God\nand the family. She was very ambitious to learn to read, being entirely\ndevoid of education. Different members would take it in turn to teach\nher, and it was a proud day when she could decipher a few words in her\nBible. I never shall forget the evening of her first realization of the\nprice Jesus had paid for her. It dawned upon her soul so suddenly, so\nbeautifully, following a mid-week prayer-meeting, in which some of the\nChristians interested in this work often participated, that a great\nshout of joy went up, and when we retired that night, some of us were\ntoo grateful and too excited to sleep. Oh, how the adversary attacked\nand tried over and over again to get her back to his territory! He once\nso well succeeded that we finally deemed it necessary to exchange her\ninto another home. I was the one deputized to take her there, and very\nsoon was introducing myself to Mrs. Elizabeth Kauffman, whose noble\nwork for the erring, in San Francisco and other places, is known to the\nthousands. After placing Rita under her kind care in the rescue home,\nthen situated on Capp Street near Twenty-first Street, in San\nFrancisco, I returned to my post of duty in Sacramento, little dreaming\nat that time what an important place I was destined, in the future, to\noccupy with Sister Kauffman.\n\nErelong I learned, through correspondence, that my little Rita (who, by\nthe way, was the first one outside of my own family to give me the\nendearing title of \"Mother,\" which title has clung to me ever since)\nhad found a warm friend in a deaconess whose name I have forgotten, but\nwho took a loving interest in her and greatly aided her, especially\nfrom the spiritual point of view.\n\nRita, with the approval of her guardians, married a Christian young\nman. Together they are bringing up their little ones to know and love\nthe Savior so precious to them; and, through the daughter's example the\nmother, so long a wanderer in paths of degradation, was, I have\nunderstood, finding purity and peace for her soul. At the time of the\nearthquake and great fire in San Francisco, Rita and her loved ones, I\nam told, escaped without so much as the loss of a dish. This remarkable\nfact proves that God is ever mindful of those who put their entire\ntrust in him and who live as does this precious jewel and her family,\non the promises of the ninety first Psalm.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nMY FIRST CALL TO THE PRISON WORK.\n\n\nAfter I had been in the Sacramento home about a month, the matron\nbecame sufficiently recovered to go into the country in order to\nrecuperate. In the meanwhile the dear Lord had laid it upon the hearts\nof two consecrated workers to assist me, so that I was now occasionally\nfree for some outside work. Taking advantage of this, a lady who had\nbeen a constant attendant at the jail services for many years, urged me\nto come on the following Sunday afternoon with my little autoharp.\nThis, by the way, was an every-day friend in our family, for most of\nour girls could sing, and we were soon learning many beautiful hymns,\nwith either my modest instrument or the parlor organ for an\naccompaniment. When something would go wrong, the matter would be laid\nbefore the Lord in prayer, and singing was the next thing in order. How\nyou would have appreciated and enjoyed hearing our family joining in\nwith all their hearts--\n\nI must tell Jesus all of my trials,\n  I can not bear these burdens alone;\nIn my distress he kindly will help me,\n  He ever loves and cares for his own.\n\nThey would repeat it over and over until sweet peace filled their souls\nonce more.\n\nBut to return to the invitation to the county jail. I begged to be\nexcused on the ground of sensitiveness. I felt that I could not bear to\nlook upon any more distress than I was a daily witness to outside of\nprison walls. To see human beings caged up like so many wild animals I\nthought would be more than I could bear; therefore I unhesitatingly\nsaid so. She continued her pleadings, adding, \"O Sister Roberts, you\nwill never know how much good you could accomplish or how much precious\nseed might be sown if you would only come with that little autoharp of\nyours.\" But I was unyielding. She left me with sorrow on her\ncountenance.\n\nThis refusal was followed by deep condemnation--condemnation which\nlasted a whole week. When, at last, I promised the Lord I would take up\nthis cross and go if once more invited, the burden lifted.\n\nAbout two o'clock the next Sunday afternoon I found myself, with a band\nof about twenty workers, behind iron bars, looking into the faces of\nnearly two hundred men and boys and a few women. Oh! but the tears\nflowed from my eyes, especially for the boys, many of whom were so\nyoung, as I wondered what would be the outcome of their present\nassociation and environment. It seemed awful! awful! I sang song after\nsong; then I was invited to speak. My heart was too full for many\nwords, but when the invitation was given to seek our Savior, many hands\nwent up for special prayer. The meeting soon closed. Then as those\nterrible but necessary iron doors again unlocked and the prisoners\nfiled past us one by one to their lonely, cheerless quarters, I made up\nmy mind to come whenever I could, and, whenever permitted, to do and\nsay what I could to help he \"whosoever wills,\" also to use my influence\nin certain quarters for the betterment of the children prisoners, not\none of whom but doubtless had been cheated out of his birthright by\nuntutored, ofttimes wilfully ignorant parents or guardians.\n\nLet me call your attention to one of the women prisoners, whose\npeculiarly repulsive countenance was so remarkable that when we came\naway from the jail I interrogated one of the workers concerning her. To\nmy amazement, I was informed that the woman (Nell) was regarded as a\nhopeless case, and also that she had enjoyed musical educational\nadvantages, her people having sent her to Paris to complete certain\naccomplishments. There, in that wicked capital, she became very gay,\nsoon acquired the absinth habit, and rapidly descended in the social\nscale, and now she was scarcely ever out of prison. It was very\ndifficult to realize that this poor soul, who now was never known to\nuse any but vile language and oaths, was once a beautiful young woman,\na linguist, pianist, singer, also otherwise accomplished person. Though\nall efforts (there had been many) in her behalf had proved futile, I\ndetermined to make an attempt to save her. Accordingly I paid a special\nvisit to the women's quarters. So far as she was concerned, it was all\nto no purpose; but oh! praise the dear Lord! I found others who would\nheed, and I had a blessed time of Bible reading, song, and prayer with\nthem.\n\nOne of these was a young girl, Anita, who had been arrested at the\nrequest of her mother--yes, her own mother. \"Why, what kind of\nunnatural mother could she have been?\" you ask. Not different from many\nothers with whom I have been brought in contact. The daughter implored\nme to call on her mother and beg her not to consent to her being sent\nto the reform school, the girl solemnly promising good behavior in the\nfuture. How she clung to me as I tried to picture the merciful, loving\nSavior. We knelt in prayer in her lonely, dismal cell, where she\nfollowed me in a petition for God to save her soul and show her the\nway. Anita appeared to be about seventeen years old; but her mother\nwith whom a few hours later I had an interview, and a most distressing\none, I assure you, told me that the girl was but fourteen, that she had\nbeen so petted and spoilt from her babyhood up (parents and others,\nplease take note of this) as to be absolutely unmanageable, that she\nwas out at all hours of the night, in all sorts of places, with all\nsorts of company.\n\nThe mother appeared to regard herself as a very much wronged, greatly\nabused parent, and when I gently but firmly endeavored to place the\nblame where it belonged, she all but ordered me out of her house. Her\nconduct led me to the conclusion that her daughter would be better off\nin the place to which she was about to be sent than under the\njurisdiction of such a parent.\n\nSad at heart, I returned to poor expectant Anita, remaining some time\nto comfort her as best I knew how and promising to write to her and,\nGod willing, to visit her in her new home. The first promise was soon\nfulfilled, and about one year later I had the pleasure of personally\nhearing her expressions of gratitude. The discipline had been most\nbeneficial, and, besides, she was learning to be a good cook and\nhousekeeper--something that could never have happened in her mother's\nhome. A few years later, while I was holding a meeting in one of the\nlocal churches, many came forward at the close to greet me. Among them\nwas a fine-looking young woman with a pretty baby in her arms. \"Don't\nyou remember me, Mother Roberts?\" she said. \"I'm Anita.\" Soon she was\ntelling me of her marriage to a young farmer about eighteen months\npreviously. The next morning she came in her buggy to take me to enjoy\na few hours in her cozy home.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nLEILA.\n\n\nLeila was that beautiful girl, the first to welcome me as I crossed the\nthreshold of the home. She was a rather reserved, high-strung,\naristocratic-looking girl, who did not always take kindly to requests\nmade with regard to little household duties required from each member\nof the family, health permitting, of course.\n\nOne day shortly after my advent in the home I had occasion to reprimand\nher. She turned on me with such language and so evil, so distressing an\nexpression as to shock and grieve me terribly. Presently the dear Lord\ngained a glorious victory. I hunted her up; for, in her anger, she had\ngone into hiding, and, putting my arms about her, lovingly implored her\nto forgive, as I had not intended to offend or in any way remind her of\nher dreadful past. From that time on we were great friends. Before long\nshe confided to me her troubles, past and present.\n\nHer people were poor and proud, and she did not take kindly to her\nenvironments either at home or at school, and did not go quite through\nthe grammar grades. Her mother, from whom she inherited her temper,\nfrequently quarreled with her and also disparaged her. At the age of\nfifteen, partly because of her restlessness and partly because of her\ndesire to earn money, for she would no longer go to school, she, being\nquite a tall, well-developed girl, procured a situation as waitress in\na wealthy family near her home in the city of San Francisco. She was a\nCatholic. Because of her duties, she attended early mass. One Sunday\nmorning, whilst she was returning from church, her prayer-book\naccidentally slipped out of her hand. Upon stooping to pick it up, she\ndiscovered that she was forestalled by a well-dressed gentleman (?),\nwho handed it to her with an admiring look and most respectful bow.\nRaising his hat, he politely passed on.\n\nAs Leila never expected to see him again, imagine her astonishment at\nmeeting him the following Sunday, when again, with a glance of\nrecognition, which flattered this poor victim, he most respectfully\nraised his hat. The third Sunday the same thing occurred again, but now\ninstead of passing by, he politely accosted her with words to this\neffect: \"Good morning, young lady. I trust you will please pardon the\ngreat liberty I am taking. I never more earnestly wished to know of\nsome one to introduce me, but because I do not, will you not kindly\ntake the will for the deed, waive all formality, and permit me the\nhonor of walking at least a portion of your way with you? _I am a\ngentleman with whom you need not for a moment hesitate to be seen;_ and\nnow, may I have the pleasure of learning your name? Mine is Claude\nForrester.\"\n\nPoor innocent, ignorant, flattered Leila began blushingly to confide to\nthis villain her true name, her occupation, and much concerning her\nhome life. As they neared her employer's residence, they parted, she\npromising to meet him for a walk one evening during the week. Her heart\nfluttered with joy, her silly head was completely turned at having\ncaptured so fine an admirer, and she could hardly wait for the time to\ncome when she was to enjoy that promenade.\n\nYou may be sure he was on hand at the designated corner. Leila, in\norder to keep the appointment, resorted to falsehood. She asked\npermission of her mistress to be allowed to go home for some trivial\narticle, promising to return by a given time. She kept her word as to\nthe time, but the leaven of the adversary was rapidly working. He led\nher to believe that he was the son of a wealthy widow who expected him\nto make \"a good match,\" but that he was in the habit of gaining his\npoint with this indulgent parent whenever he so desired. He intended,\nhe said, to confess to his mother that he had fallen in love with the\nmost beautiful, innocent, and virtuous girl in all the wide world, and\nto tell her that he should never be happy again unless she would see\nLeila and eventually consent to her becoming his dear little wife. He\ntold the confiding girl that he intended to lavish on her all his\nwealth. He pictured the beautiful garments that she was to wear, the\njewels, the carriage, the home. He promised also to give her private\nlessons in order to fit her for her position as his wife. Poor, poor\nlittle girl! Who does not pity this worse than motherless child?\n\nHow distasteful her position now appeared, and how she longed for\nSunday morning when she again would see her grand, wealthy sweetheart!\nWhen they met, he informed her that his mother would like to meet her,\nrequested her to look her prettiest on the following Tuesday evening,\nand to be at the appointed street corner, and said that he would take\nher to his home and introduce her to the one now so desirous of making\nthe acquaintance of the girl with whom he had fallen so desperately in\nlove.\n\nAlas, poor Leila! By another falsehood she procured permission to go\nout. She was ushered into a fine-looking room in a house on Mason\nStreet, and soon a grandly dressed lady, young looking to be this\nvillain's mother, greeted her very cordially, asked many questions, and\nthen rang for refreshments, which a Chinaman servant soon carried in on\na tray--and _when Leila next awoke it was broad daylight_. What was she\ndoing in this strange room?\n\nIt wasn't long before she succumbed to all the vices and evil\ninfluences governing the life she was now destined and even resigned to\nlead.\n\nAbout a year later, when she was no longer of value to her betrayers,\nwhen she was an outcast whom no one wanted--no one but her Savior and\nsome of the consecrated children of God--at this time she was sitting\non a table in a \"Ladies' entrance\" department of a saloon. There one of\nGod's rescue missionaries so lovingly approached her that Leila,\nlonging to get away from San Francisco for fear of being recognized by\nher mother and friends, was easily induced to come to the home, where\nshe had lived for several months when I first met her.\n\nThe time came when she gave her heart to her Savior and then followed\nhis example in baptism. It was one of the sweetest experiences of my\nChristian life to help prepare her and some others that evening for\nthis beautiful, sacred ceremony. What a happy, happy family returned to\nour home and retired to our rest an hour later!\n\nBut alas! some acquaintance discovered Leila's whereabouts and conveyed\nthe information to her mother. One day, on coming home from some errand\nof mercy, I was informed by the matron, now sufficiently recovered to\nbe with us once more, that she had a surprise for me, and she asked me\nto guess. My first guess was, \"My darling boy has come back to me.\"\n\n\"No; guess again.\"\n\n\"Then it must be my husband.\"\n\n\"No; I am going to tell you. Listen! Do you hear that loud weeping in\nthe parlor?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"It's Leila's mother. She is in a fearful state because her daughter is\nan inmate of a rescue home. Come in and help me to try to pacify her.\"\n\nIt was a difficult task, but on our promising to bring her daughter in\nif she would be calm, an effort on her part soon proved successful.\nSoon mother and daughter were alone. In about fifteen minutes Leila\ncalled us, and in our presence the mother promised that, if we would\nonly let her dear child return with her to her own home, _under no\ncircumstances would she ever remind her of the past_ and also would\nmake her life pleasanter for her in the future. It was impossible to\nrefuse. Leila, with tears and prayers, soon bade farewell to us all.\n\nI would that I might record that in the future it was well with her and\nher soul, but alas! I can not. One day her mother, because of some\ntrivial offense, forgot her solemn promise. Poor Leila flew into a rage\nand, without even waiting for her hat, rushed out of the house never to\nreturn, and once more the enemy had her back in his territory. Long but\nvainly did we search for her until she was so far gone that she coldly\nrefused all God's and our overtures of mercy, and no language of mine\ncould describe her awful physical condition. She was only nineteen, but\nan utter wreck, morally as well as otherwise. Her own mother would not\nnow have been able to recognize her.\n\nWe find no occasion to moralize in closing this story. We know that\nyour tears will fall and that your heart will ache, but oh! be warned,\nand warn others. Full well do we who are rescue workers know there are\n_thousands of cases today parallel with this one_.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nI BID FAREWELL TO THE SACRAMENTO HOME.\n\n\nGod's \"still, small voice\" bidding me to prepare for other fields of\nlabor came very definitely soon after his Spirit gave me the song\nentitled \"The Messengers,\" a song which has proven of great value,\nespecially in the prison work. I informed the matron, who insisted upon\nit that I was mistaken and deliberately laying down my cross, but I\nknew better; for God's Word makes no mistakes, and the Spirit always\nagrees with that Word, which now told me what I must soon prepare for,\nsaying, \"Go out quickly into the streets and lanes of the city and\nbring in hither the poor and the maim, the halt and the blind.\" Luke\n14:21. It was most difficult to cut loose from these dear ones, but \"to\nobey is better than sacrifice.\" 1 Sam. 15:22.\n\nRequiring a rest, I took lodging in my former quarters, where, on first\ncoming to Sacramento, my son and I resided, and there quietly waited on\nthe Lord; for my having received no monetary compensation whatsoever\nfrom any one placed me in a most blessed position of faith and trust,\nwhich our Father did not long permit to go unrewarded. I told nobody of\nmy needs, but simply asked God for the things needful, which he sent\nthrough his children. Soon I was supplied with remunerative work\nsufficient for my immediate requirements, and, as did Paul of old, I\n\"labored with mine own hands because I would not be chargeable unto the\nbrethren.\"\n\nDuring those few days I was a regular attendant each evening at the\nPeniel Mission, already mentioned, and there once more met Brother and\nSister Thurston, who, as you will recall, were using a gospel-wagon.\nThey were now about to respond to a call from Woodland, Yolo County, to\nopen a mission. Again I was invited to join them. Feeling led of the\nLord, I accepted, and soon we were in our new field of labor.\n\n[Illustration: SHEET MUSIC\n\n     THE MESSENGERS\n\n     (The Doves.)\n\n     Words and Music by Mrs. FLORENCE ROBERTS.\n\n       The messengers tap on the windows.\n       The windows of the soul.\n       They carry this news from our Savior,\n       \"I died that ye might be made whole.\"\n       \"I died that ye might be made whole,\n       I died that ye might be made whole.\"\n\n       The messengers tap on the windows.\n       And beat their wings on the bars;\n       They carry the news to the sinner,\n       \"You can become bright as the stars.\"\n       \"You can become bright as the stars.\n       You can become bright as the stars.\"\n\n       The messengers tap on the windows.\n       Three times they come and they go;\n       Jesus saith, \"Tho' your sins be as scarlet.\n       Trust me. I will make them like snow.\"\n       \"Trust me. I will make them like snow.\n       Trust me, I will make them like snow.\"\n\n       The messengers tap on the windows;\n       Behold, I freely forgive\n       Whoso-ever will come, let him do so,\n       Partake of salvation and live.\n       \"Partake of salvation and live.\n       Partake of salvation and live.\"\n\n       The messengers tap on the windows;\n       Sweet peace from our Savior they bring;\n       Sweet peace which is past understanding,--\n       The windows now open. Come in.\n       The windows now open. Come in.\n       The windows now open. Come in.]\n\nIt was very precious, very blessed. Erelong, however, my companions in\nthe work received a call to other places, whilst I received a definite\ncall to remain. That first evening alone on the rostrum--shall I ever\nforget it? All day I had been praying (not always on my knees) for a\ntext for _my first public message_ or sermon, but not one could I\nsettle on. Whilst the audience was gathering, we sang many hymns. This\nwas followed by a few voluntary prayers; then came the embarrassing\nmoment. I was compelled to inform the congregation--and it was a large\none--of my predicament, and besought them to kneel again with me in\nbrief supplication for a text. \"Praise God from whom all blessings\nflow!\" my Bible fell open, my eyes riveted on these words: \"And\nimmediately the angel of the Lord smote him because he gave not God the\nglory, and he was eaten of worms and gave up the ghost.\" Acts 12:23.\n\nPositively the message came from the Lord. As I spoke I was as though\nin a trance. The altar filled with seekers, and souls stepped into that\nprecious fountain still open in the house of David. How happy I was! To\nGod be all the credit, all the glory.\n\nAmongst the seekers was one who presently told me that for _forty-one\nyears he had been a drunkard._ He certainly looked as if he had--poor,\nbloated, filthy, loathsome, ill-smelling creature. I can not find\nadjectives enough to describe him. Everybody avoided him. It surely was\na testing time for me. Also, I had trying experiences thereafter with\nthis particular soul; for, though he certainly found salvation, he was\nsuch a weakling that he was ever leaning upon the arm of flesh; in\nconsequence of which I endured much persecution. He haunted me much of\nthe time, morning, noon, and night, so that I was subjected to unkind\nremarks and ridicule; but, remembering the words of our Master in Matt.\n5:11, 12 and Paul's in Phil. 2:7, I endeavored to bear this for the\nsake of his soul. Much later, when I was in the work in San Francisco,\nhe took up his abode there, and shortly afterward the blessed Lord saw\nfit to provide him with an earthly companion (he was a widower), a most\nworthy Christian woman, who tenderly ministered to his needs until\nFather called him home, little more than a year following the\nearthquake and fire of that great city. Concerning that catastrophe he\nwrote me as follows:\n\nSan Francisco, Potrero Camp, Opp. S.P.R.R. Depot, Third and Townsend\nStreets, April 29, 1906.\n\nMy dear Sister Roberts:\n\nWe are alive and well. Praise the Lord. On the morning of the\neighteenth we were roughly thrown from our bed by earthquake, and our\nhouse broken all to pieces, and it was afire before we were rescued.\n\nTwo men (God bless them!) took my dear wife and me with ropes, and by\nthe time we were in the street the house was burning furiously. Two\npoor women on the lower floor were burned to death. We lost all we had\nexcept the clothes we had on and our Bibles. These we had been reading\nthe night before and had left at our bedside. As we went out, we each\ntook a Bible. I had a very fine collection of religious books, some\nvery valuable, but all went in smoke; but, thank God! he saved our\nlives. I assure you we have thanked him in prayer many times since we\nescaped.\n\nWe got over on the Potrero and we had to sit in the hot sun all day the\neighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth, and in the cold night wind, and\nwe had nothing to lie down on nor to cover us to keep the cold out. My\nwife asked a woman to loan her a blanket to throw around me. She would\nnot do it, yet she had enough extra ones for a dozen people. Finally\nnear morning of the second night a lieutenant from the Presidio\n(regular army) came along and saw us sitting in the cold, and asked if\nwe were so bad off as that. I told him yes. He said he would see about\nthat. He went and took a heavy pair of blankets from that woman and\nbrought them to us. We wrapped ourselves up in them and sat down again.\nAfter that we got along comfortably until morning, but the woman took\nthe blankets away as soon as morning came.\n\nThen we got into a Santa Fe car, which kept us out of the wind, but we\nhad no bedding. After two days we all had to get out of the cars, as\nthe company had to send them to Los Angeles to load them with sugar.\nThen we were out of doors again; but, praise the Lord! Mr. John A.\nHedges, a showman, gave us a comfortable house, and he says we can have\nit as long as we stay. His dear wife gives us hot coffee and food every\nday, and good coffee and food, too.\n\nThey have two fine boys, sixteen and eighteen years of age. The boys\nhave found jobs to work to help their father and mother. There are\nhundreds of able-bodied men around the camp, but they will not work.\nThey can get from $2.00 to $2.50 a day, but they would rather live off\nthe liberality of others. But when the soldiers find them they are\nforced to work, and they get no pay, only something to eat....\n\nI am alone in our little house today. My dear one is out visiting some\nfriends. She will soon be with me. Sister, she is a dear one to me. God\nbless her!\n\nMr. A. D. Porter, a banker of Woodland [now deceased], came down to\nhunt me up, and had a hard time to find us; but day before yesterday\nwhile looking around and asking for us he met Mr. Hedges, and he\nbrought him to us. He told us to come to Woodland, and we could have\nrooms without cost. He is going to fit up rooms with kitchen and\ncooking utensils, etc., so we can live comfortably and without charge.\n\nWe will go on Tuesday or Wednesday, first or second of May. He also\npays our car fare. We are thankful to him for his kindness. So you can\nwrite to us in Woodland.\n\nYou have no idea how often my wife and I have said we wished we could\nsee our dear Sister Roberts. We can not begin to say all we want to in\na letter. There is so much to talk about at this time. My wife got out\nin her night clothes. She did not have a chance to get her hat to cover\nher head. Some of the people are very kind to us.\n\nMy wife has got back to camp and is sitting by me while I write. I will\nnot try to say more at this time. Good-by. I hope you had no trouble at\nBeth Adriel [the San Jose rescue home to be referred to hereafter]. God\nbless you and your work. With love from\n\nBrother and Sister Mosby.\n\n\n\nGod wonderfully strengthened me and aided me to be faithful to this\naged brother's soul, who through that awful demon, liquor, for years\nhad been well-nigh an imbecile when first we met; and I expect one of\nthe first ones to welcome me when I reach the glory-land will be my old\nfriend, Brother Mosby.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nWOODLAND (Continued)--A BOYCOTT.\n\n\nOne of the greatest and most agonizing trials of faith and trust\noccurred shortly after my being placed in charge of the Woodland\nundenominational gospel mission. The test well-nigh prostrated me. A\nletter from my son, then in San Francisco, abruptly broke the following\nnews:\n\nDear Mother:\n\nBy the time you receive this I shall be on my way to Manilla. It will\nbe a good opportunity for experience, and to see the world. I go as an\nemployee on board the \"Logan.\"...\n\nHoping to see you again in about three months, I remain. Your loving\nson,\n\nCharlie.\n\n\n\nTo leave me, with only this for a farewell! \"O God!\" I cried, \"I am\nindeed bereft of all my earthly treasures.\" No word from my husband had\nreached me for many months, although occasionally I had, through\ninterested friends, been able to locate him. He never, from the time of\nmy leaving home, contributed one cent toward my support. So I was\ngiven, as but few are given, a glorious opportunity to trust daily,\nhourly, and prove our dear heavenly Father--and he never has, nor ever\nwill be, delinquent, unless I fail in my love and duty.\n\nNo collections were taken in the mission. Freewill offerings supported\nthis work, which system gave occasion for some blessed testings; for\nsometimes rent-day would find us with an empty treasury, together with\nGod's warning not to appeal to any but him. My cupboard was empty at\ntimes. I prayed, and he bountifully replenished it.\n\nThe first Christmas season in Woodland was a notable one. We were to\ngive a dinner to the converts. Many were the gifts of edibles.\nChristmas eve found Sister Simpson and me very busy preparing and\ncooking, aided by two prospective guests. While I was thus engaged, a\nmessage arrived requesting me to go quickly to a certain street and\ncabin, where a girl lay dying. Carrying my Bible and little autoharp,\nmy constant companions, I soon arrived at the place designated.\n\nPoor Nell! How grateful I am that God ever permitted me to meet you,\nfor now--not until now have you felt your great need. We spent a very\nprecious, profitable time in that mean, forlorn abode. Soon Nell gladly\nyielded to Jesus; then whilst I was softly singing, \"Jesus knows all\nabout our struggles,\" she went to sleep. Commending her for all time\nand eternity to His loving keeping, I stole softly out.\n\nEarly on Christmas morning word arrived that Nell had never awakened,\nbut had passed quietly away, shortly after midnight. Hers was the first\nfuneral service at which I officiated. It was well attended. Instead of\neulogizing the dead, as is common on such occasions, I delivered, for\nthe blessed Master, a precious fruit-bearing message to the living.\nHallelujah!\n\nThe passing of Nell did not prevent our having a happy Christmas. All\nmy guests, save two sisters, who were gospel workers, were wonderfully\nredeemed, blood-washed men and boys. After all of us had enjoyed to our\nhearts' content the good things to eat, we lingered round the table\nrelating one experience after the other. Some of the boys had been in\nprison time and again, and they rehearsed some of their escapades\nwhilst serving the devil. All agreed that the primary cause of their\ndownfall was disobedience to parents or guardians when very young, a\ncontinuation of this in youth, then the tobacco and liquor habits in\nconnection with disobedience. Then, nothing but sorrow; now, nothing\nbut peace and joy if they would only remain true to our wonderful\nRedeemer. Doubtless most of my readers have never attended such a\ndinner party. Let me tell you something. We had for our guest--_the\nKing_. To be sure, we did not see him with these fleshly eyes, but the\nspiritual vision wonderfully revealed his presence, beyond a doubt, to\neach of us. It was a \"feasting with my Lord.\"\n\nIn the days gone by, before becoming acquainted with my Savior, I had\nboth entertained and been entertained sumptuously; but never, never had\nI so enjoyed a banquet, never had I been more happy than with these\nguests.\n\nIn the summer-time of that year following these occurrences we were\nboycotted. Strange and various worldly procedures for the raising of\nmoney in the different churches were causing much comment. The matter\nreached my ears, and, like Jeremiah and some of the other prophets of\nold, I proceeded to tell Father what a stumbling-block this was to both\nsinner and saint and how it grieved my soul, and besought him to warn\nthem.\n\nHe gave me answer from Isaiah, sixth chapter. (Please read it.) He\nspoke to my soul in the night, saying, \"Thus saith the Lord, Say unto\nthese people, Thou shalt read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest,\nEzekiel, third and fourth chapters, also Matthew, sixth chapter,\ntwenty-fourth verse.\" He brought Isa. 6:6-8 so before my mental vision\nthat I lay on my bed trembling from head to foot.\n\nA union prayer service, the last of the season, was to take place in\none of the churches on the following Wednesday evening. I was impressed\non Tuesday to announce to the mission audience that we should on that\noccasion attend this union service. I made no mention to them of the\nmessage the Lord was trusting me to give, nor did I know how he would\nhave it delivered. My soul was heavily burdened, and a great fear took\npossession of me, as I entered the basement of that church, which was\nsoon filled with members and pastors representing the various\ndenominations, also many of the mission attendants. The subject I well\nremember--\"The Forgiving Spirit.\" It was beautifully discussed and\nhandled, causing me to think that under these circumstances the Lord\nwould possibly excuse me. In order to find out, I reverently opened my\nBible. My eyes fell on one word in big capitals--\"JONAH.\" Oh! I must\nobey; but how? I waited and watched. Soon came a call for voluntary\nprayer, and I received my cue when Brother Smith of the Seventh-day\nAdventists prayed. Testimony was next in order. Following one or two\nbrief testimonies, I mechanically arose, and gave out the message just\nas it had come to me from the Lord, and then sat down--_a great burden\nnow off my soul_. Painful silence followed, but finally a brother\n(Sunday-school teacher) arose. \"Let us see what this means,\" he said.\n\"I will read Ezekiel 3\"; and he proceeded to read. Then a brother on\nthe opposite side spoke--\"I will read Ezekiel 4.\" Pastor M--- next\nsaid, \"And I will read Matt. 6:21, after which we will proceed with\nour testimonies.\" But they did not. They could not. After a long\nsilence only one arose. She gave an honest answer, promising God never\nso to offend him in the future.\n\nOn my way home Satan said to me, \"Now you're in for it.\" Sure enough. I\ncomforted myself by audibly singing as I walked along, \"Jesus Lover of\nMy Soul.\" Maybe you think I was frightened and miserable. Not so. I\ncould not have been happier; for the load was lifted, my conscience was\nclear.\n\nOn the following Monday evening we expected one of the pastors, by\nprevious appointment, to preach in the mission. We waited. He never\ncame. I was sent for to come to his parsonage the following morning,\nand there I learned this: \"At a special ministerial meeting, which took\nplace on Monday morning, the Woodland pastors took action with regard\nto the attitude assumed toward the churches by the woman, Mrs. Florence\nRoberts, now in charge of the City Gospel Mission. A motion was made,\nseconded, and unanimously adopted to boycott said mission and said\nworker.\"\n\nWas the mission thereafter a failure? No, praise the Lord! It\nprospered, and it still prospers in the hands of the various workers\nthe Master sends from time to time. He kept me there three years, and\nnever did I lack for the things needful. In that time was I absent\ntwice for short periods, but the mission nightly continued its precious\noffice work under the guidance of the Holy Spirit.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nA BRIEF CALL TO SACRAMENTO--I ENTER THE SAN FRANCISCO FIELD.\n\n\nBoth those periods of absence were occasioned by the return of my son,\nwho now had made two trips to and from the Philippines. After the\nsecond one he decided to return to Sacramento, if I would make a little\nhome for him. His stay was of but a few months' duration\nnotwithstanding our cozy, comfortable quarters, for the spirit of\nroving still possessed him, and erelong he shipped as an employee on\none of the large passenger steamers bound for Australia. Then, at the\nrepeated requests of many, I returned to Woodland, from which place I\neventually accepted a call to the rescue work in San Francisco. There I\nmade my home with Sister Kauffman, whose name and calling has already\nbeen briefly mentioned. For a long time we worked together for the\ninmates of The Home of Peace, and each Sunday morning at 9:30 o'clock\nI, with other Christians, could be found at the county jail, No. 3,\nadjacent to the Ingleside district and about three and one-half miles\ndistant from the city center. Of this branch of the work we will speak\nhereafter.\n\nThe duties and the expenses of the San Francisco home were great; for\nthere was always a large family, most of whom, on coming, were\ndestitute of decent apparel, and, with scarcely an exception, all\nneeded physical treatment, some permanently, so that we toiled\nincessantly either in the sewing-room, the sick-room, or the nursery,\nwhere were several dear little babies. Who does not love a baby? You\ncan not imagine how attached we were to them, soon forgetting their\nunfortunate advent, and doing what we could to instruct and aid their\nuntutored young mothers. The feeding of the family was alone often a\nproblem (I mean as to the source), so that we had to be very much in\nthe spirit of prayer.\n\nSometimes our Father would see fit to test us to the limit, for\ninstance: Shortly after my coming, the one in charge of food supplies\nsaid, \"Sister Kauffman, we are out of everything. There is only enough\nfor today, and perhaps tomorrow morning's breakfast.\" The worker whose\nbusiness it was to visit The Mission merchants for any donations of\nfood, etc. came home late that afternoon with but meager results for\nher day's hard labor. In the morning, following earnest prayer with the\nfamily gathered around that poorly supplied breakfast table, Sister\nKauffman and I started out to plead for absolute necessities. All\nwithout exception commended this laudable work for the wandering girls,\nbut oh! the excuses. To this day I am amazed at many of them. In one\noffice was a portly, good-natured-looking gentleman puffing away at an\nexpensive cigar. (Reader, there was a time in my life when I enjoyed\nthe fragrance of a good one, for my husband was a smoker.) He declared\nthat he could not afford to assist _one cent's worth, that he was too\npoor_. I dared to inquire gently how many cigars he smoked daily and if\nthey were not at least twenty-five cents for two. \"Worse than that,\" he\nproudly replied; \"twenty cents apiece. But I only smoke half a dozen a\nday at the most. I'm not an inveterate smoker; besides, it's my only\nbad habit.\" When I told him that the cost of one day's smoking would\nfeed all our hungry family with a substantial meal, he turned his back\nand began to get busy at his desk, and thus we considered ourselves\ndismissed. There was excuse after excuse, refusal after refusal,\nprincipally on the plea of there being so many appeals for charity\nequally worthy and only a limitless pocket-book being requisite to meet\nthe many demands.\n\nNoon-time discovered us in front of the _Call_ building, corner of\nMarket and Third Streets, both of us faint, weary, hungry, and slightly\ndiscouraged, yet still hopeful. We stood on the street corner for a few\nminutes holding each other's hands, and, unknown to the passers-by,\npraying for strength of body and soul, imploring our heavenly Father to\nrenew our faith and courage. After resting a little while on one of the\nstone seats near Lotta's Fountain, we once more began to toil up office\nstairs or ride in elevators. At four o'clock we were near the city\nfront in the wholesale district. Still our faith was being tested, for\nmost of those from whom we had expected help had either gone for the\nday or were absent from some other cause. At last I weakened.\n\n\"Sister Kauffman, I can stand this awful strain no longer,\" I said.\n\"Perhaps God has sent in food to the girls during our absence. Let us\ntry to get back home.\" We could not telephone. That would mean a\nnickel, and we didn't have it. \"Once more, dear, once more we'll try,\"\nreplied courageous Sister Kauffman. So we ascended a long flight of\nstairs, only to find the door fast locked. Bless her noble soul! she\nwas just as tired, weak, and hungry as I, but infinitely less selfish.\n\nAs we came out on the sidewalk, she suddenly remembered one who had\nsome time previously promised help whenever she happened in that\nvicinity again. It was but half a block distant. Thither we dragged our\nweary bodies. When we reached the top of that stairway, a gentleman was\njust in the act of locking a door. His greeting was:\n\n\"Well, well, Sister Kauffman, how do you do, and how are all your\nfamily? You're just in time. I was about to go home. Glad to make your\nacquaintance, Sister Roberts. Ladies, come in a moment and rest after\nyour hard climb.\" He handed a piece of money (five dollars) to Sister\nKauffman, remarking as he did so that he had been saving it for her\nseveral days.\n\nThen something happened--something totally unlooked for by any of us\nthree. Sister Kauffman and I burst into tears and wept unrestrainedly\nfor several minutes, whilst the kind friend retired, I suppose, to a\nremote corner of the large room. Presently, when we had become somewhat\ncalm, we told him what we had endured since early morning. It was not\nat all strange (now was it?) that this good-hearted man, during our\nshort recital, resorted to frequent use of his handkerchief. But it was\nnow fast growing dark, and we had to hurry.\n\nMany samples of canned goods were upon the shelves. (This was a\nwholesale commission merchant's office.) He filled my net shopping-bag,\nmade up another package, then forth we went with smiling faces and\nhappy hearts. Presently he helped us on to our car, then left us. \"Oh!\nSister Roberts dear, we'll have to break our five dollars to pay our\ncar fare,\" said Sister Kauffman. When the conductor came our way and\nshe inquired whether he had change for five, he answered, \"Your fares\nare paid.\" God bless that noble-hearted, thoughtful gentleman. I do not\nremember his name, but I do hope he will read or hear of this. Whether\nhe does or not, the generous deed is, I feel sure, recorded to his\ncredit in heaven.\n\nWhen we turned the corner of our street, some of the family,\ndisregarding the rules, rushed out to greet us and to help us in with\nour load. Soon our five dollars was purchasing bread, potatoes, and\nother things for an immediate meal, to which we all quickly sat down,\nand, after reverently thanking our heavenly Father ate--shall I\nsay?--yes, _ravenously_.\n\nReader, do not imagine this as being a common every-day experience. By\nno means, although we were ever subject to tests in one form or\nanother. This taught us to pray more, and not to labor quite so\nhard--an excellent and profitable lesson; also, to pray God to reprove\nthose who, though well able to help, had refused. \"For inasmuch as ye\ndid it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me.\" Matt.\n25:45.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nI AM INTRODUCED TO THE DIVES OF BARBARY COAST\n\n\nSister Kauffman was well acquainted with the dives of Barbary Coast,\nshe having occasionally to seek some one inquired for, or perhaps a\nlost member of the family returned to former haunts of sin. The next\ntime she had occasion to go, I requested that I might accompany her.\nShe very gladly consented.\n\nAt nine o'clock that night we were in a horrible neighborhood. I had a\ntight grip on her arm, and no wonder, for we were now where every vice\nand crime were common and reigned supreme.\n\nPlainly do I still see the first place we entered. It was called \"The\nKlondyke.\" \"Come, sister, don't be afraid: God is watching over us,\"\nwhispered Sister Kauffman as she walked me through a screen door and\ninto that gaudy, low barroom, where were congregated a most deplorable\nmixture of degraded men and youth in various stages of inebriety. The\nplace reeked with the vile odors of whiskey, beer, tobacco,\nuncleanliness of body, etc., so that my stomach revolted, and I felt as\nif I should be compelled to return to the fresh air; but Sister\nKauffman, who had obtained permission from the proprietor (tending\nbar), took me through another doorway, which led into a dance-hall.\nPositively I was as though rooted to the spot, and I said to myself,\n\"This is even worse than anything of which I read or hear.\" I do not\ndare to describe the situation; for I know that young people are going\nto read this book and I have not the least inclination to sully their\nminds. Suffice it to say, I was looking upon a shameful scene of total\ndepravity participated in by both sexes, some of whom were little more\nthan in their teens.\n\nAn intoxicated girl sidled up to me. How sickening was that vile breath\nin my face as she said. \"Say, what yer got in that case?\" It was my\nauto-harp. \"Sing something for her, Sister Roberts,\" said Sister\nKauffman, at the same time drawing the girl and me into a remote\ncorner. I sent up to the throne of grace a quick, silent petition, and\nthe answer immediately returned, for strength came. Taking my little\ninstrument in my arms. I commenced, with shaky voice, the song that you\nwill find between these pages entitled, \"Her Voice.\" \"Don't, oh! don't!\nOh! for God's sake don't!\" sobbed and shrieked that poor wanderer as\nshe threw herself upon me and buried her head, with its tawdry covering\nand matted mop of dirty hair, in my lap.\n\n[Illustration: SHEET MUSIC\n\n     Andante\n\n     HER VOICE.\n\n     Words and Music by Mrs. Florence Roberts.\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     1. Hark! I hear the sweet-est music Float-ing\n     2. Once a-gain I hear sweet voi-ces I've not\n     3. Years have passed since they have left us, Still the\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     round me o'er and o'er, Such a min-gling of sweet\n     heard for man-y years, Join-ing in the heav'n-ly ten-der\n     mem-o-ry Of these sing-ing saint-ed\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     voi-ces, Sing-ing as in days of yore; And I\n     cho-rus; And my eyes are filled with tears, As I\n     loved ones Lin-gers round my heart to-day. Now I'm\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     feel such peace and glad-ness Steal-ing o'er me ten-der-ly,\n     hear my saint-ed moth-er, With the loved ones free from care,\n     wait-ing and I'm lis-t'ning For the one that I love best.\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     As I hear my moth-er sing-ing, \"Je-sus\n     Sing a-gain as in my child-hood, Of no\n     Je-sus, bid-ding me to blend My voice in\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     loves me, e-ven me, loves me, e-ven me.\"\n     sor-row o-ver there; sor-row o-ver there,\n     sing-ing with the blest; sing-ing with the blest.\n\n\n     Refrain. 1st Verse.\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     \"I am so glad that Jesus loves me, Je-sus loves e-ven me.\"\n\n     Refrain. 2d Verse.\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     \"There'll be no more sor-row there, There'll be no more\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     sor-row there; In heav-en a-bove, where\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     all is love, There'll be no more sor-row there.\"\n\n     Refrain. 3d Verse.\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     \"In the sweet bye and bye We shall\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     meet on that beau-ti-ful shore; In the sweet bye and\n\n     (Illustration)\n\n     bye, We shall meet on that beau-ti-ful shore.\" ]\n\nThis drew the attention of the dancers, causing a temporary halt. One\nof her companions tried to pacify her and to draw her away, but she\nresisted and only clung the closer. I forgot the awful surroundings as\nmy heart went out in tenderest pity. Placing my hand on her shoulder, I\noffered soothing words and inquired if I could help her, if I could\ncomfort her. Presently she said: \"Lady, God must have sent you here\ntonight. I'm sober now; I was drunk when you came in. I want to let you\nknow my mother is dead.\" How she sobbed! The dancing was resumed,\nwhilst the girl, somewhat recovered, continued her story. \"She only\nleft me a year ago. She was a good Christian, my mother was; and just\nbefore she died, she sent everybody out of the room so as to have a\ntalk with me. 'Hazel,' she said, 'You've given me a heap of trouble and\nanxiety, but I forgive you, dear, I forgive you. Now kiss Mother, and\npromise to be a better girl. I've been praying many a long day for you,\nmy child. I'm going to leave you. The doctor says I may not see\nmorning. Don't cry, dear. Don't cry.' .... And then she prayed aloud.\n'O God! make my naughty girl a good girl. Save her soul, O God, and may\nI some day meet her in heaven. Please, God. for the dear Savior's sake.\nAmen.' ... Just look how I've kept my word! What's your name, lady?\"\n\n\"You may call me Mother Roberts, dear, and, furthermore, you may come\nwith me and that other lady over there, to our home if you wish.\"\n\nBefore we left that place, and between dances, a man sitting in drunken\nstupor on a bench suddenly tilted back his hat, stared at me, and\naccosted me thus:\n\n\"Howdy-do, Mother Roberts.\"\n\n\"My! who is this that recognizes me in such a den?\" I questioned\nmyself. \"Who are you, my man, and where have we met?\" I inquired.\nImagine my chagrin at his replying:\n\n\"In the jail at Sacramento.\"\n\n\"How awful! What will these people think--that I am an ex-jail bird?\"\nSuch were the thoughts that were running through my mind.\n\n\"Yep; you gave me a speel there, and I don't forget it. Say, kids, this\n'ere woman's all right. I wish I'd a minded wot she said, 'n I wouldn't\nbe 'ere ter night.\"\n\nHearing these last words, Sister Kauffman, who had been busy dealing\nwith many souls all of this time, said:\n\n\"If you mean that, come with Mother Roberts and me down to the mission,\na block away. The dear young men workers there will be only too glad to\nhelp you.\"\n\nThen we immediately wended our way out. I with my precious autoharp\nunder one arm and the infinitely more precious human treasure's arm\ntucked safely under my other. We soon reached the humble mission, left\nthe man in safe keeping, and took a homeward-bound car, retiring about\n2 A.M., grateful and almost too happy to sleep.\n\nHazel stayed with us some time and then obtained a permanent situation\nin a Christian family as their trusted domestic.\n\nThe ice, now broken, soon thawed, and night after night two or three of\nus workers went to the slums, dance-halls, and dives, endeavoring to\nrescue some mother's wandering boy or girl. Did we always succeed? By\nno means. Often the small hours of the morning found us wending our way\nhomeward weary and disappointed, but never greatly discouraged. At the\nleast, we sowed the precious seed, claiming God's promise in Isa. 55:11\nas we did so.\n\nMany a time I have seen a girl quickly tuck away in the bosom of her\ndress some little tract (we always were well supplied), perhaps bearing\nthese words. \"Jesus the Savior loves you, and sent me to tell you so\";\nfor not always, by any means, would the proprietors or proprietresses\npermit us to converse with their victims. Sometimes we were so\nfortunate as to procure a girl's lodging-house address; then we had the\ngratification of calling there in the daytime and privately dealing\nwith her, always with more or less good results. On such visits I took\nthe autoharp; for singing is a great, indeed I may say, an invaluable\naid in this work.\n\nOn one occasion, when three of us were seeking the lost, making saloon\nto saloon, dance-hall to dance-hall visits, we went into a place where\nmy attention was immediately drawn to a beautiful, modest-looking young\nlady (about seventeen years old) standing alongside of a gorgeous bar\nand trying to repel the advances of a pompous, sporty-looking\nmiddle-aged man. The man behind the bar was frowning and saying to her,\n\"Here, none of those monkey-shines, miss. You tend to business. D'you\nhear?\" Sister Kauffman and the other worker had gone into the\ndance-hall in the rear. Quickly stepping up to the girl, I inquired of\nher what he meant, what so young and modest a girl was doing there, and\nwhether she did not desire to leave, and implored her to let me aid in\nrescuing her from her wretched life. Quickly she told me that she was\nmotherless and also that she had been home from an Eastern school only\nabout twenty-four days. \"My child, what has happened that you are\nhere?\" I inquired, astonished beyond measure. Before she could reply\nthe big blonde man tending bar said:\n\n[Illustration: THE DIVE KEEPER'S DAUGHTER]\n\n\"Here you\" (addressing me), \"make yourself scarce. You and your kind\nare ---- ---- hoo-doos to our business\"\n\n\"Please, please go,\" the girl pleaded.\n\nJust at this juncture Sister Kauffman and her lady companion came\nthrough the dance hall double doors. The latter held them wide open and\nin her loud, penetrating voice slowly uttered these words:\n\n\"What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own\nsoul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?\" ...\n\n\"Come, Sister Roberts.\"\n\n\"Yes, in a minute,\" I replied as I motioned to them I would join them\noutside.\n\n\"I will not leave,\" I said to the girl, \"unless you give me some good\nreason for not accompanying me, seeing you express a desire to be\nrescued.\"\n\n\"---- ---- ----!\" shouted the man, \"if you don't clear right out, I'll\nbrain you\" He held suspended in the air a full soda water bottle, one\nof the heaviest.\n\nThe girl, pushing me away from her, said, \"Go! go! He'll do it.\" And\nthen she whispered:\n\n\"_He's my father_.\"\n\nI rushed out, excitedly informed my companions, and then quickly sought\na policeman, who, when I informed him, simply shrugged his shoulders\nand remarked: \"I can't interfere. The man has a license, his daughter\nisn't of age, he's her legal guardian. Don't know what you can do about\nit; you'll have to consult higher authority than me\"--a course which we\nproceeded to follow in the morning.\n\nIn the evening we visited that same place, accompanied by an officer in\nprivate clothes. A large, showy woman and also a bar-tender stood\nbehind the bar. \"Are you the party what was here last night trying to\nmake trouble?\" she inquired. \"Well, you're left. The bird has flown.\nHa! ha! I'm running this place now, and I don't need your help,\nneither. Don't you come here while I'm in charge of it,\" etc.\nEvidently, the policeman first accosted had given the alarm. I have\nnever heard what became of that poor girl and her wicked, unnatural\nfather. A tenderhearted woman in that awful neighborhood, one who had\ntried to protect her, told me this:\n\nThe girl's mother died when she was a babe. The father (not then a\nsaloon man) sent her to New York to be raised by her aunt. When old\nenough she was placed in school. The aunt died. She was removed to\nanother school, and there she remained until called for by her father,\nwho all these years had been her provider. He brought her to San\nFrancisco, where he now kept a dive and dance-hall. She being a rather\ntimid girl, it can be readily understood why she submitted to his\nauthority and tyranny.\n\nMy mind now reverts to two of the soldier boys, returned from the\nPhilippines and seated one night in one of those places where we were\npermitted to work and also to sing. Toward the close of the song,\n\n  Can a boy forget his mother's prayer,\n  When he has wandered God knows where?\n\nI discovered them with their arms about each other's shoulders and both\nwith the tears silently coursing down their cheeks. Setting my\ninstrument on one side and remembering my own dear son, the daily\nobject of my prayers, I essayed, in earnest, gentle tones, to admonish\nthem. Both acknowledged having been carefully reared by Christian\nmothers, one of whom was dead. Had they been my own, I could not have\nmore earnestly pleaded with them. In consequence of my admonition they\nsoon took their departure, promising as they did so never again to\ncross the threshold of any place where they would be ashamed to have\ntheir mothers find them, and also to seek once more their neglected\nSavior. Both were soon reclaimed; for I had the pleasure of meeting\nthem later in a house of worship on the Army's camp-grounds, at the\nPresidio.\n\nChristian parents, you that through death or other means have been\ndeprived of the companionship of your children, why not occasionally\njoin some of the rescue workers in their efforts to save somebody's\nwandering boy or girl, instead of sitting in a rocking-chair, nursing\nyour sorrows? Speak the kindly, loving word of warning or advice;\nencourage the wayward son or daughter to reform; and thus better your\ncondition as well as theirs. This will _surely_ bring an indescribable\npeace and satisfaction to the soul, assuage much grief, and help to\npromote the Master's kingdom. He takes us at our word. We sing:\n\n  I'll go where you want me to go, dear Lord.\n  Over mountain, or plain, or sea,\n  I'll say what you want me to say, dear Lord,\n  I'll be what you want me to be.\n\nDo we mean it?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nMARY.\n\n\nOf all the pathetic stories from members of our family, I deem Mary's\nfar in excess of others though all, without exception, are woefully sad\nGod knows.\n\nOne day a telephone call came to us from the city and county hospital,\nsituated in a suburb known as The Potrero, inquiring if we had room for\na delicate young mother with her three-weeks-old babe. They informed us\nthat her time as a patient had expired and, moreover, that they had\njust been quarantined for smallpox, but that she had as yet suffered no\nexposure. The workers were quickly consulted, also a few trusted\nconverted girls, and together we knelt in prayer and then consulted\nGod's Word. Praise his name! we opened it on the ninety-first Psalm.\nWhat better assurance than in verses 10, 11, and 12?\n\nSoon we were welcoming one of the most forlorn specimens of humanity\nthe home had ever received. Jack, the delicate-looking baby, had the\nfacial expression of a tiny old man, but oh! such beautiful eyes! We\nrealized that both would require very tender care for some time to\ncome. When Mary became able to work, she rendered valuable service, for\nshe liked to cook and was efficient and economical. Whilst she was thus\noccupied, her babe was being well cared for in the nursery.\n\nSeveral months passed by, during which every means was resorted to in\norder to help Mary learn to seek and find her Savior, but all without\navail.\n\nLittle Jack, never very strong, was taken seriously ill and soon, from\nthe waist down, was paralyzed. Mary now relinquished all other duties\nin order to nurse her sick treasure. We never witnessed greater love\nand devotion. For ten days before he died, she did not leave his\nbedside one moment longer than necessary, never changed her clothes,\nexcepting once, and never lay down to sleep. On more than one occasion\nit became my privilege to share the night vigils, for which she was\nsincerely grateful. How my heart yearned for this poor, hopeless\nmother! How I longed to impart to her the secret of salvation and of\nthe Burden-bearer!\n\n\"Mary,\" I said, \"if you would only try my Savior, dear, I assure you\nthat you would feel better, body and soul, I've never heard _your_\nstory; won't you tell it to me whilst we're watching beside Baby?\"\n\n\"I've never felt as if I could before, but I will, Mother Roberts, I\nwill.\"\n\n\"I lost my father and mother when I was quite small, and my\ngrandparents raised my little brother and me. I never remember when\nthey didn't have beer on the table for dinner and supper, and if\ncompany came in, they always treated them. If I didn't feel quite well\nor was tired, Grandmother would say, 'Have a drop of beer, Mary child,\nit'll do you good and put new life into you.' It took some time to get\nused to liking it. I didn't enjoy the bitter taste at first, but by and\nby I loved it--yes, really loved it.\n\n\"I grew up, and, like many another girl, had my young friends come\ncalling. I liked Tom S---- best of all, and one day promised I'd marry\nhim if the old folks would agree. They were awfully pleased, and _soon\nlet Tom and me go about alone everywhere_. He was a baker, and a good\none. Earned fine wages, so that I was expecting to have a very\ncomfortable home.\n\n\"_I wish Grandmother or some one had talked plainly and honestly to me\nabout a few things, but they didn't; so what did I know when Tom told\nme that in God's sight an engagement was as good as a marriage and that\nwe'd soon, for the sake of appearances, and to comply with the law, go\nthrough that ceremony_. My God! Why didn't some one warn me? Oh! Mother\nRoberts, very few girls loved a man better than I loved Tom.\n\n\"By and by Grandmother says, 'What's become of Tom? I haven't seen him\nlately. I didn't know he'd left his job.' So I told her his work was\nslack and he'd gone away to hunt a place where he could get better pay.\nYou'll not be surprised to hear she soon grew suspicious, and one day I\nwas obliged to confess.\n\n\"Did I tell you Tom drank beer? Oh yes, and enjoyed it with me and them\nmany's the time.\n\n\"Was he a stranger to me and my folks when I first met him? Well, no,\nnot exactly, although I must confess I knew very little about him\nbefore he was introduced by one of my girl friends at the baker's and\nconfectioner's ball. _Oh but he was an elegant dancer! and that got me,\nin the first place._\n\n\"My! but didn't Grandmother take on something awful! She ordered me out\nof her sight up to my little bedroom till Grandfather should come home.\nI sat there listening to her wailing and moaning and asking the dear\nMother of God what she had done that such a cruel, cruel misfortune\nshould have befallen her. Poor Granny! Mother Roberts, I was longing to\ngo down and comfort her, but I durs'n't. So all that I could do was to\nwalk the floor, or sit and cry. Sometimes I tried to tell my beads, but\nI couldn't take any pleasure in them. They didn't comfort my poor,\nsinful soul one bit. I wished I could die then and there, but what was\nthe use? I couldn't, though I thought fear would indeed kill me when I\nheard Grandfather come in and knew Grandmother was telling him. I heard\nhim raving and cursing while she was begging him to keep quiet for fear\nthe neighbors would hear.\n\n\"Pretty soon he opened the door that led upstairs. 'Mary,' he shouted,\n'you --- ---- come down and be ---- quick about it, I tell ye.' And\nwhen I did, he said, 'I'll see whether we'll own any one what will\ndisgrace their poor, respectable, honest grandparents, _what has\nbrought ye up in the way ye should go_, in their old age! Out ye go,\nand be ---- quick about it.' I can see him now, and Grandmother, who\nwas sitting at the kitchen table, sobbing with her head buried in her\napron. I crawled on my hands and knees toward him; I begged him not to\nturn me out; I clung to him so that he could hardly walk, while he, in\nhis rage, was backing along the hall out toward the front door, and\nthen he managed to open it, me still clinging to him, and threw me,\nwith a curse, out into the dark, cold, wet night.\n\n\"I lay there on the doorstep until I found I was getting a soaking, and\nthen I went to a neighbor about a block away, who always had been very\nkind to me, and had a girl of her own a little younger than me. Did I\ntell her? Of course I did; I had to. So she took pity on me and let me\nsleep there that night on a shake-down in the parlor, although Mattie\n(her daughter) had a large bed to herself, and I told her not to go to\nso much trouble, that I could sleep with her as I'd done before, many's\nthe time. But she said girls would get to talking, and she didn't want\nher innocent Mattie to know a girl could ever bring such disgrace on\nhonest, respectable parents. But she didn't know how Mattie and I used\nto talk for hours after we'd get in bed at night, about our 'fellers'\nand such like, but now, who was I that I should tell her mother this?\n\n\"In the morning after breakfast (she kept Mattie out of sight\nsomewhere) she took me into the parlor, shut the door, and said:\n\n\"'Mary child, I'm sorry for you, I am indeed, but I can't keep you\nhere. You know where the county hospital is, don't you? Well, you go\nthere, and they'll take you in. They'll take such cases as yours.\nHere's a quarter to pay your car fare. You needn't let on you stopped\nwith me. You may be sure _I_ won't, for I respect your Grandfather and\nGrandmother highly. I don't want them to find out I know anything about\nyour trouble or that I took you in. Why, they'd never speak to me\nagain. There, there, don't cry. Good-by and good luck to you, Mary.'\n\n\"I got on a car and pretty soon was asking the gate-keeper of the city\nand county hospital how I should apply to get in. 'Patient?' he asked.\n'Yes, sir,' said I. So he directed me to the office. A lot of people\nwere there, waiting their turn. After a while a doctor interviewed me\nin a little office. He asked me a good many questions. No, I didn't lie\nto him, but I told him as little as I could. He said, 'We can't take\nyou in yet. Come on such a date,' and put my name on a book, then wrote\non a card something about admitting the bearer, Mary H----, maternity\nward, with his name and the day I was due there. I told him I'd no\nplace to go; he said I was able to work for a while. So I went out to\ntry and find some work. Before evening I got a job washing dishes and\npreparing vegetables in a small restaurant, for the sake of my board\nand bed, and I stayed there until it was time to go back to the\nhospital.\n\n\"I forgot all my troubles for a while when Jack came.... Mother\nRoberts, how can I think God is good? He's going to take my baby from\nme; he's going to let him die. I can't stand it. I'll kill myself--yes,\nI will....\"\n\nTwo nights later little Jack still breathed, though scarcely\nperceptibly, and again I shared poor Mary's vigil. About midnight I\nasked if she felt able to finish her story. Presently she continued:\n\n\"When my little Jack was three weeks old, the nurse of our ward took\ndown the card from the head of my bed, and told me I could go now. I\nwas dismissed, and they wanted my corner for another patient.\n\n\"I stood outside the big gate that afternoon wondering where I could go\nand holding my pretty little Jack against my breast. I'd a nice warm\nshawl, so he was good and comfortable. A thought like this struck me.\n'Grandfather is so fond of babies. I'll go there. _Perhaps when he sees\nthe dear, innocent little baby, he'll forgive me and take me back.'_ It\nseemed as though I would never reach their house [in the neighborhood\nof Sixth and Clara Streets, reader], and I had to rest on some one's\ndoorsteps very often, I was that weak. It was pretty near dusk when I\nknocked on the door, and the fog was coming in. Grandmother opened it.\nShe threw up her hands when she saw me; didn't ask me in, but hollered\nfor Grandfather to come, and _come quick_, which he did. Oh! Mother\nRoberts, to my dying day I'll remember how he cursed me when he saw me\nand my baby's darling face, and then he closed the door with an awful\nbang. Well, I was dazed like for a little bit, then Baby cried. I sat\non somebody's doorstep and nursed him, then kept on walking and\nresting; going, I hardly knew where.\n\n\"It must have been well after seven o'clock when I found myself on\nMontgomery Avenue and not very far from North Beach. My! but I was\nfaint, although I'd had a good meal at the hospital at noon, but you\nknow a nursing mother needs plenty of nourishing food and often. I saw\na light in a little notion shop, and went in and asked the woman if she\ncould spare me a bite to eat. Bless her kind heart, she gave me a big\nbowl full of bread and milk, and warmed some stew, and helped me make\nJack clean and comfortable, but she had no place for me to sleep, which\nshe told me sorrowfully. Her family was large, and she did not have a\nbit of extra bedding, besides she was poor. I was feeling better now\nand more cheerful. My! 'tis wonderful what a good meal can do for you\nwhen you're hungry, isn't it? I thanked her kindly and told her I'd\nsoon find friends; then went out on the street and began to watch the\nfaces. At last I stepped up to an elderly laboring man, told him I had\nlost my way, was broke, a stranger, and a widow, and asked him if he\ncould direct me to a respectable lodging-house, which he did (bless his\nkind heart!) and paid the woman for a night's lodging, she asking no\nquestions; and soon I was in a clean little bed with my Jack. I don't\nthink my head had hardly touched the pillow when I was fast asleep, all\nof my troubles forgotten.\n\n\"Morning came all too soon. And now what was I to do? I dressed, then\nmade baby as comfortable as I could under the circumstances, went down\nthe stairs, meeting no one as I passed out of the house into the\nstreet. Pretty soon I'd made up my mind. I'd walk down to Meigg's wharf\n(not far away) and with my darling would drop quietly off the end of it\ninto the bay; and I was soon looking into the nice quiet water, just\nabout to fall in when I heard a voice, for sure I did, Mother Roberts,\nsaying, 'Don't Mary.' Maybe you don't think I was scared as I looked\nall around and could see no one nearer than a block and a half away,\nand that was a man piling up some lumber on a wagon; besides, the voice\nI heard was a woman's, not a man's. I began to back away from the\nwater, wondering if I'd heard an angel speak....\n\n\"Yes; I admit I am naturally superstitious, but don't you think in a\ncase like this, it's a good thing?\"\n\n\"Yes; I do, Mary, but go on, dear, I'm anxious to hear what became of\nyou.\"\n\n[Illustration: MARY.]\n\n\"I went back to the woman who gave me my supper, and she gave me my\nbreakfast, then advised me to put my baby with the sisters of Mount St.\nJoseph. _But I never could do that, could you?_ I said good-by to my\nkind friend and started out for where, I did not know. All of a sudden\nI said to myself, 'I'll go back to the hospital and offer to scrub and\ndo chores; anything, so they'll take me and my baby in.' It took me\ntill nearly one o'clock to reach there. Every time I sat down to rest\nand a policeman came along, I'd get up quickly and walk on, for fear he\nmight arrest me as a suspicious character.\n\n\"The man at the gate didn't want to let me in; said they had been\nobliged to quarantine; but I rushed past him up to the office, threw\nmyself at a doctor's feet, and begged him for God's sake not to send me\naway. He sent for the head nurse; they gave me my dinner, made Baby\nnice and clean and comfortable, and pretty soon one of the nurses came\nand told me they had found me and Baby a good home, and here I've been,\nas you know, ever since. But oh! Mother Roberts, my little Jack is\ngoing to die, he's going to die!...\n\n\"Four days since you opened your beautiful eyes and looked at Mother,\nPrecious. Four long, long days....\n\n\"_Mother Roberts, I think I would believe and trust God if he would\nonly let my baby look at me once more before he goes. I really think I\nwould.\"_\n\n\"Kneel down with me, Mary, and we'll ask him,\" I said.\n\nWe clasped hands over the foot of that little bed, and if ever I\nprayed, I prayed then that the merciful Father would, for the sake of\nhis Son our Savior, and for his own glory, open the eyes of the babe\nonce more before the angels took him home. The poor worn-out mother\nsobbed herself to sleep, her head resting on little Jack's lifeless\nfeet. I watched, earnestly and intently watched, for my prayer to be\nanswered. Toward daylight I observed a slight movement of the little\nhead. \"Wake up! wake up, Mary!\" I cried, whilst I shook and continued\nto shake her. The voice awoke many of the family, who quickly hastened\nto the sick-room. Mary with bloodshot eyes gazed at the baby. Soon his\nbeautiful eyes opened wide, with a long, loving look at the faithful\nmother, then closed; and now the angels had him forever in their\nkeeping.\n\n\"O God, O God, you are good, you are good,\" sobbed poor Mary. \"I'll\nnever, never doubt you any more.\" And she never did. From that day,\nand, so far as I know, up to the present time, Mary has been one of our\nFather's and Savior's loyal subjects.\n\nAs soon as able, she took a situation, so as to earn money to pay\nJack's funeral expenses and to purchase the lot where lie his earthly\nremains. I was told that her mistress accepted the Savior because of\nher faithful daily walk. Later, her brother, returned from the\nPhilippines, claimed and took her back there with him, where,\ndoubtless, she is seeking and finding jewels for the Master's crown.\n\n\"What became of the grandparents--the ones responsible before God for\nher misfortunes?\" During the first few weeks of Mary's stay under our\nroof, Sister Kauffman and I called on them, hoping so to picture the\nSavior's tender mercy and love as to be able to touch their hearts, to\ndiscover to them their self-righteous condition, and to get them to\nrealize where the blame really lay. All our efforts were fruitless. The\nearthquake and fire of San Francisco swept away all their property, and\nin all probability they perished in the flames, for they were never\nagain heard of.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nSERVICES IN COUNTY JAIL, BRANCH NO. 3.\n\n\nCome with me this beautiful Sunday morning. Join with me and this\nfaithful band of young workers from various denominations, in the nine\no'clock services, and satisfy yourself as to the good they, by the\ngrace of God, are able to accomplish.\n\nGood morning, gate-keeper. Have the rest of the band arrived yet?\n\nYes?\n\nThen we'll pass in.\n\nWe enter the beautifully laid-out grounds surrounding the women's\nquarters. What lovely lawns! What a variety of fragrant flowers! But we\nmust hurry, for we can not afford to miss the services. We ascend the\nlong flight of steps and are now greeted by the superintendent and his\nwife, the matron. Next we traverse a long, wide hallway. Turning to the\nleft, we mount a few steps, and then come up against a solid iron\ndouble door. Through an aperture in one side of it we get a glimpse of\nthe throng within. The door is unlocked for our admission, and, passing\nthrough, we find ourselves facing anywhere from forty to sixty girls\nand women, for the most part neatly attired in dark blue-print gowns.\n\n\"What a heterogeneous gathering we are confronting! Some look so\nrefined; doubtless they are from the better walks of life. Why are they\nhere?\"\n\nFor offenses of various kinds too numerous to mention. \"That dignified,\nwhite-haired woman, third row on our left?\"\n\nAsk me about her later on. I will tell you on our way home.\n\n\"That pretty fair-haired girl about sixteen?\"\n\nVagrancy. Her sentence expires in two weeks. We're trying to persuade\nher to come to our home, because her own is undesirable. Both of her\nparents drink; her older sister has taken the downward course and\nrefuses all our overtures; and her two brothers are constantly in\ndrunken bouts and then imprisoned.\n\n\"That old, old woman; what of her?\"\n\nShe's awaiting her trial for malpractice. She'll probably have to serve\ntime in San Quentin penitentiary. But I'll tell you more by and by.\n\nBrother Edstrom of the Y. M. C. A. speaks--\"Let us all heartily join\nin singing, 'Pass me not, O gentle Savior,' Gospel Hymns No. 27.\" How\nthey sing! and what beautiful voices some of the prisoners have!\n\n\"Brother St. John, will you lead in prayer?\"\n\n[Illustration: SHEET MUSIC\n\n     STILL NEARER\n\n     Words and music by Mrs. FLORENCE ROBERTS\n\n     (Illustration: music)\n\n     1. Oh, help me live near thee, my Savior, Oh, keep thou me\n     2. I love thee, my Fa--ther, and Sav--ior, For what thou hast\n\n     (Illustration: music)\n\n     close by my side; I need thee, Lord, dai--ly and hour--ly,\n     done for me; Me, one of the great-est of sin-ners,\n\n     (Illustration: music)\n\n     My Coun-sel-or and my Guide. I can--not have thee too\n     I mar--vel, such welcome from thee! Won-der--ful con-quest o'er\n\n     (Illustration: music)\n\n     near me, Ei-ther by day or by night; For when thou art nigh\n     the Sa-tan's Al--lur--ing paths of sin; My Sav-ior, to thee the\n\n     (Illustration: music)\n\n     tempt-er doth fly, Thou dost help me to put him to flight,\n     glo--ry all be, Now help me some lost ones to win.\n\n     REFRAIN.\n\n     (Illustration: music)\n\n     Near--er, still near--er, Come to me o'er and o'er.\n\n     (Illustration: music)\n\n     Near-er to thee, Sav-ior, I'd be, Now and for--ev--er--more]\n\nWithout exception all kneel as the consecrated young brother makes\nfervent, passionate appeal to the throne of mercy and grace.\n\n\"Will one of our congregation now call for a song?\"\n\n\"No. 18.\"\n\n\"Very good, we will sing No. 18.\"\n\n  Rescue the perishing, care for the dying,\n  Snatch them in pity from sin and the grave;\n  Weep o'er the erring one, lift up the fallen,\n  Tell them of Jesus the mighty to save.\n\nYou can't keep back the tears as you listen, and this is not to be\nwondered at.\n\n\"Sister Burton, we will now listen to your reading of the fifty-fifth\nchapter of Isaiah.\"\n\n\"Sister Roberts, I see you have your autoharp with you. Please favor us\nwith one of your God-sent songs.\"\n\n\"Nearer, Still Nearer.\"\n\nThe prisoners sing refrain twice over with me and then request a\nrepetition. It is inspiring to hear them, it surely is.\n\n\"We will now spend a few minutes in testimony. Who will be the first to\nwitness for Jesus this morning?\"\n\nThree or four are on their feet at once, some thanking God that, even\nthough they are behind prison bars, he has washed away their sins in\nthe precious blood of Jesus, and declaring their intention of leading\nclean lives, lives that will honor the Lord; adding that they are\nasking him to give them honest jobs in respectable quarters, so that\nthey need never again be obliged to return to their former environments\nof vice and degradation. And so on, until time for testimony is up.\n\n\"How many desire an interest in our prayers, that you may lead lives\nthat will fit you for heaven instead of sending you down to an awful\nhell? Please raise your hands. One, two, three, six, ten; nearly all\nwho have not testified. God bless you! Let us pray.\"\n\nBrother Edstrom so earnestly petitions the loving Father for mercy and\npardon for these poor souls that some of them weep audibly. Again we\nall join in singing; the benediction is pronounced; then those\nconducting the meeting repair quickly to the men's quarters in an\nadjacent but separate enclosure. There a similar service is held, after\nwhich the majority hurry away to the various houses of worship for the\neleven o'clock services.\n\nWhen not otherwise engaged, I find it pleasurable as well as profitable\nto linger, but on this occasion I shall not remain. As we walk along, I\nwill keep my word concerning some of the inquired-about inmates.\n\nThe dignified, white-haired woman spends the greater part of her time\nin that prison-house.\n\nShe is addicted to the morphine habit, and, in consequence, she resorts\nto any means to procure the drug. It has made a petty thief of her,\nthus causing her frequent arrest and incarceration for three or six\nmonths.\n\nShe was the wife of a prominent professional man, and, so far as this\nworld's goods are concerned, she enjoyed everything that a loving\nhusband was able to lavish on her. At the time of, and following, the\nbirth of her third child, the attending physician, in order to assuage\nher excruciating pain, administered morphine. She continued to resort\nto it, and _soon she was its slave_. Everything known to human skill\nwas done to cure her of the habit, but without much effect. She began\nto inject the drug into her flesh with a hypodermic needle and also to\nmix it with cocaine. Thus she soon became a mortification to her\nhusband, relatives, and friends, and erelong they felt that she had\nforfeited all claims to their consideration. They forsook her,\nabsolutely refused to recognize her. In process of time the husband\nprocured a divorce and sole guardianship of the children.\n\nSoon she disappeared from her home neighborhood and for the future was\nlost sight of by all except police judges, and officers, prison\ncompanions, and habitue of morphine dens. Every home missionary I know\nof in San Francisco had made some attempt or sacrifice for the\nredemption of this unfortunate woman, but apparently with little, if\nany, effect. One day she told me that _I was wasting my time, for she\nloved her drug better than her God_. I wondered if she really meant it.\n\nYou ask if this is an exceptional case? Not by any manner of means. I\nam able to relate many others, all different in detail, but all alike\nin the main, the family physician being primarily responsible.\n\nMy heart goes out tenderly for the younger inmates of the prison, most\nof whom are there for a first offense, and who are now in great danger\nof contracting bad habits, such as cigarette-smoking, from older\noffenders. \"What!\" you exclaim, \"do they permit women and girls to\nsmoke?\" I'm sorry to tell you it is only too true. Furthermore, the\nweed is procured from those in authority over them. And from that habit\nand others acquired during incarceration, deeper demoralization\nresults, so that many come forth worse than they ever were before their\nimprisonment. Nevertheless, realizing the limitless value of even one\nsoul, the home missionary keeps, ever keeps in view Gal. 6:9--\"And let\nus not be weary in well doing; for in due season we shall reap, if we\nfaint not.\"\n\nWith but very few exceptions the prisoners of both sexes admit that\nliquor or drugs, or both have cursed their lives, made every type of\ncriminal out of them, forfeited them their liberty, some for life, aye,\neven life itself. I have dealt with some of the ones condemned to die.\nI learn this from their own lips.\n\nWhen, oh! when will that awful octopus, that curse of the world be\ndestroyed? When, oh! when will our lawmakers and our officers eliminate\nforever the accursed poisons that ruin men and women both physically\nand morally?\n\nWhat chance do God's consecrated workers have, with this band of demons\nconfronting them on every hand, dragging souls down to hell every hour\nof the day, yea, every minute?\n\n'How long, O Lord, how long?' Psa. 94:3.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nLUCY--A REMARKABLE EXPERIENCE.\n\n\nFollowing the services one Sunday morning, several of the inmates\nwaited on me in a body. \"Mother Roberts,\" the spokesman began, \"there's\na dying girl in one of the cells in the smaller dormitory. She's\nspitting blood something dreadful, and she's so bad. Bad and all as\nsome of us are, we're scared the way she goes on. Her language is just\nawful! She never comes out to the services, yet she's been here for\nmonths. Says she has no use for 'them hypocrites,' and 'don't want none\nof 'em near her.' Says she'll curse 'em if they do come. Say, Mother\nRoberts, couldn't you make some excuse to get into her cell? We haven't\nthe heart to see her deliberately go to hell.\"\n\nFor a few minutes silence reigned, whilst I thought and inwardly\nprayed. Then I felt it to be of the Lord to carry out an impression to\nwalk quietly into her cell as though by mistake, trusting the Divine\nDirector for results....\n\nPropped up in one corner of her bunk, wrapped in grey blankets,\nreclined a hollow-eyed, ghastly-looking girl, gasping for breath. Some\nblood was trickling from the corners of her mouth. She glared at me,\ntried to speak, but failed. Quickly I took out my handkerchief, dipped\nit into the granite ewer close by, and wiped her poor face and mouth;\nthen she whispered, \"Again.\" Repeatedly this was done, the Spirit of\nGod all this time impressing me not to utter one word aloud, yet giving\nme a wonderful, most blessed realization of his presence and power.\nAfter I had made her as comfortable as surroundings would admit, she\npresently slept. Then I quietly tip-toed out; exacted a promise from\nher companions not to reveal my identity, which promise they faithfully\nkept, though under difficulties; had a conference with Mrs. Kincaid,\nthe matron; then went away.\n\nI returned the following morning and for four more consecutive days.\nStill the dear Lord did not permit me to speak. On Friday afternoon as\nI was about to leave her (by the way, she had observed almost stolid\nsilence so far), she called me to come back.\n\n\"What is it, dear?\" I asked.\n\n\"Say, do you mind telling me who you are?\"\n\n\"Why? Why do you wish to know?\"\n\nAfter a prolonged silence I once more was about to depart, but she\ncalled again:\n\n\"I'll have to say it.\"\n\n\"Say what, Lucy?\"\n\n\"Say this: _you act like a Christian_.\"\n\nOh! praise God, praise God! the ice was broken, and my pent-up soul gave\nvent to a copious flow of refreshing tears, as I bowed in gratitude at\nthat prison bunk, beside that wandering sick girl, and poured out my heart\nin earnest prayer for the dear Father to guide her into all truth, and to\nmake me ever-wise in my administrations to the needs of herself and\nothers. Then, kissing her on the brow, I left her.\n\n     [Illustration: SHEET MUSIC\n\n     WAS IT YOU?\n\n     Words and Music by Mrs. FLORENCE ROBERTS.\n\n\n     Some one spoke to me of Je--sus, Said he'd come to call on me,\n     Some one told me how he suf-fered, Said, \"For you and me he died.\"\n     Some one gave the in--vi--ta--tion, And we bowed in humble prayer;\n     Lov--ing Sav-ior, how I thank thee Some one came to me that day-Oh,\n     I know that man-y oth--ers Would be glad if \"some one\" came.\n\n\n     Said no mat-ter how I'd fall--en, He from sin would set me free.\n     \"Does, oh, does he love so dear--ly? Tell me more of him,\" I cried.\n     Soon I felt my sins for-giv--en; Thro' his grace I'll meet you there,\n     Some one rep-re-sent-ing Je--sus, And I turned thee not a--way.\n     Bring-ing lov--ing in--vi--ta--tion From their lives of sin and shame.\n\n\n     Some one told me how he loved me, And was knocking at my door;\n     Some one told me he is com-ing Soon to take his loved ones home,--\n     There in mansions bright with glo-ry. Oh,'tis won-der-ful to me\n     Bless, oh, bless that loving some one, Sent by Je-sus Christ our Lord;\n     In--to lives of peace and glo--ry, Thro' the blood of Christ the Lamb:\n\n\n     He had oft-en stood there plead-ing, Had been man-y times be-fore.\n     Told me he was there to par--don, If I now to him would come.\n     That the vil-est he is seek-ing From their sins to set them free!\n     Help me, now that I am blood-washed, Wit-ness to thy precious word.\n     Send me pray-ing, bless-ed Je--sus, With that song, \"Just as I am.\"\n\n\n     Was it you? Was it you? Was it you?]\n\nOn the following Sunday I returned and found her eager to see me, also\nmuch improved in health. After our greeting she told me that she had\nbeen trying to discover who I was, but that no one would inform her.\n\"Ain't they the limit?\" was her smiling expression.\n\n\"You'll tell me, won't you? Say, who was that singing out in the big\ndormitory a while ago?\"\n\n\"Every one was singing, Lucy.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I know, but I mean some one sometimes alone and playing\nsomething that sounds like a guitar-mandolin like we have at home?\"\n\n\"Would you care to hear her?\"\n\n\"Sure I would. Please go ask her to come in.\" Soon I returned with my\nprecious little instrument.\n\n\"Is that it? Wouldn't she come?\"\n\n\"Of course she would. Listen. Lucy.\"\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\nOh! those blessed tears she shed as she pillowed her head on my breast;\nthose blessed, blessed tears!\n\n\"Come tomorrow, please come.\"\n\n\"God willing, Lucy, yes.\"\n\n\"Why do you say, 'God willing'? Of course he'll be willing.\"\n\nAnd I went forth, scarcely able to contain myself for very joy.\n\nThe next morning I returned and spent many hours with this precious,\nvery precious jewel. There was no longer any restraint. She listened\neagerly whilst I imparted choice portions of the Word. (Reader, the\nutmost precaution had to be used, for she had not yet accepted her\nSavior. Believe me, there is danger of excess in surfeiting with the\nBible. I lovingly admonish you to seek earnestly for divine wisdom with\nregard to dealing with souls. My lessons on those lines have thus far\nbeen dearly purchased; for I have ignorantly, zealously, made many\nmistakes, thus for the time being, hindered, more than aided their\nspiritual progress. To illustrate: A janitor's child has a toy broom.\nPapa has just swept one part of the hall and is about to remove the\naccumulated dust. \"Papa, let me help you,\" and forthwith the child\nsweeps a large portion of the dust over the already cleaned floor. Papa\nsighs, sadly smiles, says nothing, but patiently proceeds to clean up\nagain. Reader, I'm sure you see the point.)\n\nNot many days thereafter, when Lucy was again able to be up and\ndressed, she asked me to pray for her, and before we rose from our\nknees, she knew my Savior was hers. Even so, yet she still smoked\ncigarettes. This grieved my soul, but I waited until of her own accord\nshe inquired whether I thought it a sin to smoke. She excused herself\non the plea that smoking quieted her nerves and also induced sleep. She\ntold me, however, that she was now trying to curtail, as she had\nhitherto indulged in as many as twenty a day. I asked if she would wish\nher dear Redeemer to see her rolling and smoking cigarettes, referred\nher to Rev. 22:11, and soon, without further comment, took my\ndeparture.\n\nShe was able to attend services the following Sunday. I still see her\neagerly absorbing everything said and sung. As soon as the meeting\nclosed, she took possession of me, marshaled me to her cell, kissed and\nseated me, and then said:\n\n\"I want to tell you something so badly, I could hardly wait until the\nothers were through. Mother Roberts, after you left last Wednesday, I\ngot to thinking about my filthy habit, so I went on my knees, and did\nwhat you told me; I prayed, if it wasn't right, for God to make me hate\nit. My! but I was nervous an hour later, and _had_ to have a smoke. I\nwoke up in the night wanting another, so rolled my cigarette and was\njust in the act of lighting it when something seemed to say, 'Lucy, if\nyou'll let it alone you shall never need one again!' I put out the\nmatch and lay down, but I couldn't sleep. I was that nervous; so I\nreached over to the window ledge, picked up my cigarette, put it\nbetween my lips once more and struck a light, when again I distinctly\ngot that impression. Oh! but I was tempted, so for fear I would weaken\nI got out of bed, and with my bare feet crushed the dirty weed all to\nsmithereens. I slept soundly till morning, and woke up smelling the\nodor of tobacco-smoke. Mother, I want to tell you the strange part of\nit; the smell actually made me sick at my stomach. How do you account\nfor that? To be sure, I'm very nervous, but nothing on earth could\ntempt me to smoke again.\"...\n\nDear Lucy grew in grace very rapidly. Erelong she confided who her\nfamily were, also read me portions of their letters, and at her request\nI wrote to her mother, who soon replied at length.\n\nThe time was approaching when my dear spiritual daughter would soon\nhave her freedom; but I learned that, for good and sufficient family\nreasons, it would be impossible for her to return to them for some time\nto come. The mother wrote, asking if it would be possible for me to\nassume temporary guardianship.\n\nOwing to impaired health, I was not at this time residing at the Home\nof Peace, but instead was occupying quiet quarters in the cottage of a\nsister missionary, who was absent much of the time and who, in return\nfor light services, gave me the use of a nice large room furnished for\nlight housekeeping. I asked and obtained her permission to have Lucy\nshare the room with me--this with the proviso that Lucy's identity be\nclosely guarded. Also, I obtained sanction from the judge (who, when\nsentencing her, ordered her removed from San Francisco at the\nexpiration of her term) to keep her with me, but under close\nsurveillance.\n\nLucy joyfully placed herself in my keeping, without knowing what\ndisposition was to be made of her. Frequently she petitioned to be\nlodged in my immediate neighborhood. In reply, I simply smiled. You can\nnot imagine how much I was enjoying my delightful secret nor with what\npleasure I prepared new clothing purchased with the money sent by her\nown dear mother. Lucy and I were now counting the days, soon the hours.\n\nMy pretty room, with its folding-bed, organ, sideboard, decorations of\nglass and chinaware, underwent, the day before her freedom, an extra\ncleaning in preparation for my guest, and I arose at three o'clock the\nfollowing morning in order to add finishing touches and also to prepare\nfor an immediate meal on our return. At five o'clock I boarded a car,\nwhich shortly before six landed me in front of the long driveway\nleading to the prison grounds.\n\nLucy was ready even to her hat and gloves. She was regaled with such\nremarks as, \"Oh, but you're the lucky girl!\" \"Wish some one would take\na like interest in me,\" \"Come back and see us once in a while,\" or,\n\"Won't you write me? It'll be such a comfort to hear from you, Lucy.\"\nNext she received very kind, parental advice from the Captain and Mrs.\nKincaid. Then we went down the steps and terraced walks, the door in\nthe prison wall swung wide open, and once more Lucy was free.\n\nBut why does she stand stock still? Why inhale such long, deep breaths?\n\n\"Isn't it lovely, Mother Roberts, lovely, lovely!\"\n\n\"The air is just as fresh in the garden we have just left, Lucy dear.\"\n\n\"No doubt, but this is freedom! Praise God, this is freedom! Good-by\n[this to the guard on the lookout]. When I come again, it will be to\npreach the gospel. God bless you. Good-by. Come, Mother, I'm ready.\"\n\nI was loathe to check her enthusiasm on the way home, but had to do so,\nin order not to attract the attention of the passengers. We reached our\nstreet. I opened the door with my latch-key, led the way up-stairs,\nentered my room, and bade her welcome in the name of the dear Lord. She\nhad prostrated herself at my feet, but I quickly raised her, and we\nknelt in prayer and thanksgiving. _It was worth all the gold in the\nKlondyke to me to hear that girl's prayer_. She couldn't eat, and I\ndidn't do much better. The rest of the day Lucy spent in writing a\nlong, long letter to her parents. If I remember right, she covered\nthirty pages of ordinary letter paper.\n\nBedtime arrived.\n\n\"Where am I to sleep, Mother dear?\" Lucy inquired. \"With me, Lucy, here\nin the folding-bed,\" I answered.\n\n\"Mother, do you mean it? Would you let me sleep with you?\"\n\n\"Why not, dear? You're my honored guest. You're my spiritual daughter.\nJesus says, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of\nthese, ye have done it unto me.' Don't you understand, Lucy? In\nentertaining you, I am entertaining Jesus.\"\n\n\"My! Mother, how you must love me! Oh but God will bless you for this!\"\n\nSure-enough he has, over and over, countless times, aye, even up to the\npresent moment. We shall hear more of Lucy in the next chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nWE PLAN FOR A HOME FOR RELEASED PRISON GIRLS.\n\n\nHours had slipped away. We had both been silent, but I wondered whether\nLucy, like myself, was not sleeping, but simply resting quietly for\nfear of disturbing me. One-thirty, then two o'clock. I whispered:\n\n\"Are you asleep, Lucy?\"\n\n\"No, Mother dear,\" she answered; \"I haven't slept a wink for thinking\nof the goodness of God and wishing lots of other unfortunates had such\ngood luck as me tonight.\"\n\n\"I also, Lucy; furthermore, I'm pondering how to proceed to procure\nthem a home with nice large grounds in which they can work and take\npleasure, but I haven't any means. All I now own is my bicycle. I left\nit for sale in Woodland. Perhaps God will soon find a purchaser; if so,\nI will take it as a sign that he wants me to travel from place to place\nin their behalf. Give me your hand, Lucy.\" She clasped mine under the\ncovers whilst I prayed in a low tone, \"Father, art thou impressing us\nto seek a home for the girls, a home removed from city temptations and\nenvironments? If so, I pray thee, seal the impression with thy Word. In\nJesus' name I ask this\"; and Lucy fervently echoed my Amen. Next I\nlighted the lamp on the little stand by our bed side, on which lay a\nwriting tablet, a pencil, and my Bible. Reverently opening the latter,\nwe found ourselves looking down upon Genesis, twelfth chapter, first\nand ninth verses. Thus did our Father seal the impression of the Holy\nSpirit with his Word. \"We will prepare for a long trip, Lucy,\" I said,\n\"and when we start we will journey toward the South.\"\n\nWithout further notification, I received by mail, within the following\nfortnight, a cheque for twenty dollars (purchase price of wheel). This\namount procured us some necessaries, paid a few small bills and our\nfares to Redwood City, leaving us with the sum total of sixty cents.\n\nBefore proceeding on this undertaking, we occupied every hour of the\nday, with but few exceptions, in active preparation; our evenings and\nSundays we spent in church or prison, or among the outcasts. I am\nindebted to Lucy for admission into many heretofore forbidden places,\nwhere she would be invariably welcomed with such a greeting as this:\n\n\"Well, hello, Kid! glad to see you. When did you get out? How's all the\nrest of them?\"\n\n\"This is my dear Mother Roberts,\" she would say. \"Please welcome her\nfor my sake. I want to tell you I'm not one of you any longer. I've\nfound my Savior. Don't I look different? Don't I look happy?\"\n\n\"You bet yer life y' do, Kid. Say, we don't mind being preached to if\nyou'll do the preaching. Go on girlie, pitch in, we-uns would like to\nhear from the likes of you, cause we know you,\" etc.\n\nThe precious girl! How she enthused all of us as she told the wonderful\nstory and implored them to seek the Savior! Always we finished with\nprayer. Even bar-tenders, saloon-keepers, and women overseers over the\ngirls in the various dives were touched by Lucy's brief messages from\nGod. The time was all too short on these occasions. As we said our\nfinal farewells (July 1, 1903), it was impossible to count the number\nof those who said: \"Y've done me good, Lucy, Y've done me good. Yes, I\nmean to heed what y've said. I know it's right. Stick to it, girlie,\nstick to it.\" And not a few said they had sold their last drink or had\ndrunk their last drop.\n\nI wish you could appreciate how wonderful all this is to me now (Sept.\n5, 1911) whilst recalling and writing it, here in my quiet, pretty room\nin the Gospel Trumpet Company's home for their consecrated workers. It\nseems as though but a few days, instead of years, have elapsed since\nthat marvelously profitable time.\n\nIn the interval between her coming to me and our departure we visited,\nas frequently as possible, the prison, the place of her incarceration.\nonce taking a modest treat, purchased by a little of Lucy's\npocket-money. I can not describe the appreciation of each prisoner as\nthey received, at her hands, a small package of something toothsome\ndone up in a pretty paper napkin, with an appropriate text inscribed\nthereon. This distribution was followed by a special meeting, for the\nmost part conducted by my dear Lucy.\n\nAfter the tearful farewells had been said, we went into Captain and\nMrs. Kincaid's quarters, where the latter furnished us with the names\nof some for whom she desired our special interest in the event of our\ncoming in touch with them. They were all ex-prisoners, some of whom we\nwill hereafter mention.\n\nAs though to give us a specially bright send-off, the sun arose in\nglorious splendor on that second day of July. Following a very light\nearly breakfast, Lucy and I, accompanied to the depot by some Christian\nfriends, one of whom was the late Brother Mosby, soon boarded the train\nat Twenty-fourth and Valencia Streets, and in a short time arrived at\nRedwood City.\n\n\"What are we going to do next?\" inquired Lucy. \"You don't know any one\nhere, do you, Mother?\"\n\n\"No, dear. I'm going to ask the depot-agent if he can tell me who is\nthe most consecrated Christian in this town.\"\n\nImagine, if you can, his astonishment.\n\n\"Say that over again, madam,\" he said.\n\nI repeated my inquiry, whilst he scratched his head and pondered over\nthis simple but no doubt perplexing question, and also glanced at us as\nmuch as to say, \"I wonder if you are altogether right in your minds?\"\n\nLeaving in his keeping our two telescope baskets, containing all our\nearthly belongings, we soon reached the residence of the Congregational\nminister, only to discover that he, with his family, had left that very\nmorning for his summer vacation. His neighbors directed us to the\nMethodist minister, an old gentleman, who received us very cordially,\nsaid many encouraging words on learning of the nature of our errand,\nand wished us God's blessing as we took our departure to the next\nplace, at that moment unknown.\n\nI now decided to make our errand known to the editors of the local\npapers. We found two, in close proximity to each other. They received\nus kindly, inspected the letters of endorsement with which I had\nprovided myself before leaving San Francisco, and took notes.\n\nNoon-time found my faith not sufficient to invest our capital or even a\nportion of it for the food we now so much needed. Moreover, it was\nextremely warm, and we were clad in heavy garments, suitable to the\ncolder climate from which we had come. I made the same inquiry of the\neditor of the _Gazette_ as I had made of the depot-agent, and I shall\nnever forget the editor's surprised smile as he replied: \"Really, Mrs.\nRoberts, I'm the last one of whom to inquire, as I make no profession\nwhatsoever of religion. There is a lady living on the edge of town,\nformerly of the Salvation Army; she might do.\"\n\nIt was a long walk, or rather seemed so. We soon discovered that this\nlady was in no position to entertain us over night, and as it was long\npast noon, she must have taken it for granted that we had dined. Before\nleaving I requested a season of prayer. Her aged mother preceded her, I\nfollowed, then Lucy, who drew tears from our eyes by her fervent\npetition for guidance. After we had made our adieus and had walked a\nfew yards, the daughter called and ran after us, to inform us that she\nhad just thought of the landlady of the Tremont Hotel (Mrs. Ayers).\n\"Her dining-room is closed for the season. She is a very kind-hearted\nwoman. I have no doubt of her inviting you to remain under her roof\nwhen she learns your errand,\" said this newly-found friend. I thanked\nher most sincerely, and we proceeded once more to town.\n\nI again called upon the _Gazette_ editor, for I had it in mind to hold\na street-meeting that evening and make public announcement of our\nerrand. He promised the presence of himself and of others in the event\nof my doing so.\n\n\"Mother dear,\" inquired poor, tired, hungry, over-heated Lucy, \"I\nwonder if God really wants us to hunt a home for the girls, after all?\nI can't stand much more.\"\n\n\"Neither can I, dear child,\" I replied, \"but we'll ask him. Give me\nyour hand.\" (We were walking toward the hotel.)\n\n\"Father,\" I prayed, \"hast thou sent us on this errand? If so, please\nseal it with money before the day ends. I ask in Jesus' name.\" And Lucy\nsighed, \"Amen.\"\n\nMay God forever bless dear Mrs. Ayers, who cordially welcomed us,\ngiving us one of her best rooms and expressing her regret for inability\nto supply meals; God abundantly bless her and her dear ones.\n\nWe shut ourselves in, knelt together at the bedside, and wept--wept\ntears of gratitude, hope, and joy. Still weeping, both of us, in broken\nlanguage, thanked the One who never makes any mistakes for guiding us\naright and raising up friends in our trying hour, and closed our\nprayers by imploring his pardon for our having not better stood his\ntestings and by promising with his aid to be braver in the future.\n\nI now invested a quarter to have our baggage immediately brought from\nthe depot, then refreshed ourselves, and soon I crossed the street,\nreturning presently with a nice fresh loaf of bread and a dime's worth\nof bologna. On these and water, we humbly, gratefully dined. I have\npartaken of many costly, delicious viands, but never in all my\nexperience have I enjoyed a meal as I did that simple one. Hallelujah!\n\nThe sun was gradually disappearing when Lucy and I crossed the street\nand stood on the corner in front of Mr. Behren's bank. We had carried\none of the hotel chairs over with us, for I have never yet learned to\nplay on my autoharp while standing. I now sat at a convenient angle in\nthe street. Lucy composed one of my audience on the sidewalk. At first\nI felt somewhat timid and very nervous, but not for long. While the\ncrowd was gathering, I sang the song,\n\n  I know my heavenly Father knows\n    The storms that would my way oppose\n  But he can drive the clouds away\n    And turn my darkness into day.\n\nThe people gathered so fast that before I had finished the second verse\nI was well surrounded.\n\n[Illustration: THE REDWOOD CITY STREET MEETING]\n\nThere was a fair sprinkling of women, also carriages. Before singing\nanother song, I took advantage of the situation to tell my audience why\nI was in Redwood City and on that street corner. If God ever gave me\nliberty of speech this was the occasion. After I had finished my\naddress, which was not very long, one of my audience, named Lewis as I\nsoon learned, stepped forward, took off his hat, and spoke as follows:\n\n\"Ladies and Gentlemen: I for one am convinced of this stranger's\nearnestness and the needs of such a home as she desires to get. Let's\ngive her a collection. We're going to squander lots of Fourth of July\nmoney day after tomorrow. Here's my quarter, whose next?\"\n\nThe money kept dropping, dropping, dropping into that hat, nickels,\ndimes, quarters until the sound made me nearly shout for joy. It was\nall I could do to contain myself.\n\nThen some one in a carriage sent a request for me to sing again. I\ngladly responded, after which my audience bowed with uncovered heads\nwhilst I thanked the loving heavenly Father and pronounced the\nbenediction. Thus gloriously ended my first street meeting conducted\nwithout other human aid.\n\nWe were the happy possessors of $13.20 toward the fund for the promised\nhome, and no mortals on earth retired that night more grateful and\nhappy than dear Lucy and her \"Mother\" Roberts. To God be all the glory\nand praise forever.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nSANTA CLARA EXPERIENCES. THE SAN JOSE HOME.\n\n\nAll the next day we remained in Redwood City in anticipation of\nreceiving mail, and our hopes were realized. There were letters of\ncheer and encouragement from Mrs. Dorcas Spencer, State Secretary\nW.C.T.U.; Mrs. Augusta C. Bainbridge, State Superintendent Purity\nW.C.T.U.; Mrs. Elizabeth Kauffman, matron of the Home of Peace; the\nchaplain of the Sailors' Home, in which place I had held frequent\nmeetings; Mr. and Mrs. George S. Montgomery; Judge George Cabaniss;\nCaptain and Mrs. Kincaid, the superintendent and matron of the county\njail, Branch No. 3, and other friends alike interested. Also, Lucy heard\nfrom her people. It gives me pleasure to copy one of my letters:\n\n622 Golden Gate Avenue, San Francisco, Cal June 30, 1902.\n\nMrs. Roberts.\n\nMy dear Sister:\n\nHow I do praise the Lord for laying that burden on you! I have prayed\nfor it so long. I knew he would lay it somewhere soon. The Woman's\nChristian Temperance Union have a special department for jail work, and\nsome lovely Christian women in charge. The State, county and local\nsuperintendents of jail, hospital, purity, mother's work, evangelistic\nand other departments would be glad to help you. I am State\nsuperintendent of purity. Let me know now I can help you.... If you\nwant the directory you can get it at headquarters, 132 McAllister\nStreet. You can show this letter to either of the ladies there, and\nthey will know I endorse you and your work....\n\nYours in love,\n\nA. C. Bainbridge.\n\nWe decided to go to Santa Clara on the morrow. Accordingly, the next\nday we were mingling with a great throng of merry-makers--_with them,\nbut not of them_.\n\nMr. Lewis' mother, with whom we had dined the previous evening, had\nrecommended a certain private boarding-house. Hither we repaired, and\nwere fortunate in finding a Christian hostess, who made us very\nwelcome. Lucy helped her, she having a great Fourth of July crowd for\nmeals, whilst I rested.\n\nOn the following day I went forth in quest of means to help swell the\nfund started in Redwood City. I walked and talked all day; toward\nevening I returned to our boarding-house with only a poor report. Lucy\ngreeted me cheerfully and said:\n\n\"I'm going to earn your board and mine, Mother dear. The landlady needs\nhelp; so as long as we're here, it will not be necessary to touch the\nfund. You needn't think you are to bear all the burden. No, indeed. I'm\ngoing to do my part, too.\"\n\n\"God bless you, Lucy! I'm so thankful!\" I replied. \"How good the dear\nLord is and how wonderfully he provides!\"\n\nAt the end of nearly a week of toil, I had apparently made little\nimpression. One night as I sat in our room, too tired to go to the\ndining-room, Lucy came in, took off my shoes and stockings, cried over\nthe swollen, blistered condition of my feet, bathed them, made me\nretire, and brought to the bedside a tempting meal.\n\nThe next day, after making a few calls and receiving some small sums by\nway of encouragement, I felt impressed to return to our room and then\ngo to a handsome home directly across the street from the\nboarding-house. Soon I was ringing the bell. A lady greeted me with a\nlovely smile, bade me enter, and encouraged me in making known my\nerrand. Calling her husband, she asked me to repeat my story. When I\ntook my departure, after receiving overwhelming kindness and a cordial\ninvitation to return when convenient, I held in my hand my first gold\npiece for the fund. The donors were Mr. and Mrs. Chas. E. Moore, who\nhave been my warm, interested, personal friends from that time to this.\nThey did all in their power to aid me, particularly through\nintroductions to people of means in their home town.\n\nSoon I was led to make myself known to the pastors of the various\nchurches, one of whom agreed to give me an opportunity of addressing an\naudience from his pulpit. His name was Thurston, and I shortly learned\nthat he was a nephew of the people with whom I had traveled in\ngospel-wagon work. The following notice in the Santa Clara News of July\n7, 1903, heralded the prospective meeting:\n\nFOR A RESCUE HOME\n\nMrs. Florence Roberts, who is known in San Francisco as the Rescue\nMissionary and Singing Evangelist, will address the public in the\nBaptist church next Sunday on the subject of the establishment of a\nnon-sectarian home for women near San Francisco.\n\nShe comes highly endorsed by prominent citizens and Christian\nsocieties. There are, she states, thirty-five thousand women on this\ncoast to be reached, and she is endeavoring to procure funds for a home\nto which they can come for reformation. A free-will offering will be\ntaken at the conclusion of the address.\n\nPrior to this meeting I learned of a little rescue home in San Jose,\nthe adjacent city, and one afternoon Lucy and I visited it. We went\nwithout previous announcement, for I wanted to satisfy myself as to its\nmerits. It was a pretty old-fashioned cottage of about eight rooms,\nlocated at 637 East St. John Street. There were but two girls--one a\nmother, the other a prospective one--and, sad to relate, a most\ninefficient matron. I quickly took in the situation, and, for the sake\nof the inmates, privately decided to accept erelong her invitation to\nsojourn temporarily under that roof.\n\nAfter I had thoroughly canvassed Santa Clara, I, acting upon divine\ndirections, took Lucy and went to the San Jose rescue home.\n\nBefore long it became my sorrowful duty to report conditions as they\nexisted. The president of the board of managers, Rev. J. N. Crawford,\nwas absent on his summer vacation. Upon learning that the\nvice-president, Mrs. Remington (now deceased), was sojourning in San\nFrancisco, I boarded the train and a few hours later was in earnest\ndiscussion with Mrs. Remington and her friend, Miss Sisson. This\nconsultation terminated in their sincere plea for me to take upon\nmyself certain responsibilities, concerning which I promised to pray.\nThe result was that I felt led to go further south for a while, but not\nbefore some better conditions existed for those two poor girls and\nothers who might follow.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nCALLIE'S WONDERFUL STORY.\n\n\nOne day while I was visiting Mr. and Mrs. Helms, Sr., in Santa Clara,\ngood friends of the cause, the latter said:\n\n\"Sister Roberts, have you ever met Callie----?\"\n\n\"No, Sister Helms,\" I answered, \"but I have heard of her. She was\noften, before my missionary work there, an inmate of the county jail,\nBranch 3, and gave much trouble when a prisoner.\"\n\n\"I want to let you know she is wonderfully converted and one of our\nmost remarkable missionaries. Try and take time to call on her. She\nworks in the R---- boarding-house and will be glad to see you, for she\nknows of you quite well. Ask her to tell you her story. You never heard\nanything equal to it; furthermore, you never have, I doubt ever will,\nmeet any other like her. She is _a living marvel of God's power to save\nto the uttermost_.\"\n\nThe following afternoon, leaving kind-hearted Lucy (without offense to\nthe matron of the home) to administer to the comforts of the inmates, I\nwent to the place designated. Soon there came into my presence a\nsmiling, healthy-looking woman about forty years of age, who told me\nthat she was the person for whom I had inquired. No sooner did I\nmention my name than she threw her arms about me exclaiming, \"God love\nyou, Mother Roberts! God love you! It's good for sore eyes to see\nyou\"--and she rattled on. When I told her the nature of my errand, she\nreplied that she would come to the home that evening and would then\nrelate the story of her life and wonderful conversion. She was on hand\nat the appointed time, and soon Lucy and I were listening to what I\nwill now relate.\n\n\"I first saw the light of day in the slums of St. Louis, Mo. I never\nknew, nor did any one ever tell me, who my father and mother were. All\nI know about those days and up to my fourteenth year is that one or\nanother of the women of that neighborhood fed, clothed, and sheltered\nme. I had no schooling; didn't know how to read or write till a few\nyears ago. I never heard much besides bad language, seldom saw anything\nbut drinking, gambling, and so forth; never saw the inside of a church\nand seldom saw the outside, 'cause I wasn't out of my own neighborhood\nvery much. It was too much like a fish being out of water. Never heard\nthe name of God or Jesus Christ except when they were taken in vain,\nand never troubled my head to find out who was God or who was Jesus\nChrist.\n\n\"Before I was fifteen years old, I married a gambler. He was a\nfine-looking fellow, considerably older than me, and sometimes had a\npile of money.\n\n\"Yes, he gave me what I asked for. Sometimes I spent quite a bit on\ndress and treating my friends, 'cause there ain't a stingy bone in my\nbody. I've no use for stingy folk, have you?\n\n\"Tom wasn't a heavy drinker, but he used to 'hit the pipe.'\"\n\n\"What is 'hit the pipe', Callie?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Don't you know? Why, smoke opium. Also, he had the morphine habit, and\nif anything, that's the worst one of the two, but, between you and me,\nthere's little or no choice. It wasn't long before I, too, commenced\ntaking morphine, and kept it up until two years ago. Look here!\"\n\nWith that she stripped up the sleeves of her dress, and we were gazing\nat arms which from the shoulder to wrist were one mass of tiny bluish\nspots. I doubt if there was room to place a pin between them.\n\n\"Oh! Callie, what are they?\"\n\n\"Shots--shots from the hypodermic needle that we used to inject the\nmorphine.\n\n\"Hurt? No, not much; besides, we get to be such slaves to it that we'd\ngladly hurt our bodies for the sake of it. It's the most demoralizing,\nhard-to-break habit on earth. But glory to God! I'm saved and\nsanctified now, and I'll tell you how it came about.\n\n\"I suppose I'd been serving my fifteenth sentence, to say the least, in\nBranch No. 3, and they'd put me down in the dungeon, as usual, as they\nmost always had to do for the first few drays, 'cause I wanted the drug\nso bad (they give you some there, but it never was enough) that I used\nto disturb everybody, and besides, was very troublesome. I'll never\nforget the day when I tried to knock my brains out on the dark cement\nfloor, but couldn't; so I cried, 'O God! if there is a God, and some of\nthese missionary folk that come here say there is a God, and a Christ\nwhat can save, _save me, save me, please save me_! I don't want to go\nto hell! I've had hell enough! I don't want to go to hell!'\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"There was a little quiet-looking old lady visiting the jail that day,\nand she asked Matron Kincaid if she couldn't go down and try to help\nthat poor afflicted soul in the dungeon, and Mrs. Kincaid gave\npermission.\n\n\"Mother Roberts, her very presence was soothing, and pretty soon she\nput her arm around me and prayed. Oh, how she prayed to her God and\nSavior to come, and come quickly, to help and save me through and\nthrough! By and by she told me of Jesus who died for sinners. I\ncouldn't bear to part with her, but I had to let her go soon, she\npromising to come back again. I was still suffering, but after hearing\nher, and her being so kind to dirty, loathsome me, I made up my mind\nI'd try to 'grin and bear' the misery if it took my very life.\n\n\"Next time she came, I was out of the dungeon, up on the next floor in\nmy cell. Say, Mother Roberts, you wouldn't have known me if you had\nseen me then and as I look now. I didn't weigh ninety pounds. Now I\nweigh close onto one hundred and seventy. Praise the Lord!\n\n\"I was always a mass of filth and rags whenever the cops [police] would\nrun me in.\n\n\"What did they arrest me for? Why for stealing of course. We'll swipe\nanything to supply ourselves and our chums with 'dope' [morphine,\ncocaine, opium, etc.]. That last time I'd been sentenced for three\nmonths. When my time was up, my missionary friend called for me, and we\ncame down on the train to San Jose. She hired a hack at the depot;\nwasn't she considerate? God bless her!\n\n\"When we reached this home, the matron [Sister Griffith] met me at the\ndoor, and, said she, 'Welcome, dear child, welcome in the name of the\nLord.' Then she put her arm around me, and led me into this very room\nwe are sitting in now. I fell in love with her right on the spot. She\nhad a lovely face and the beautifullest white hair I ever saw.\n\n\"I asked her to please let me go to bed, and would she gave me a room\nwhere I couldn't escape; also to please take away all my clothes, all\nbut the bedding and a nightdress. I told her I'd come there to fight it\nout, that I'd been in hell on earth for years, _that for twenty-seven\nyears I'd been a 'dope' fiend_, and that I wanted all of them who knew\nhow to pray to pray for me, 'cause I knew there was a Christ and a God,\nbut I hadn't found him yet. She did as I asked, and after a while tried\nto get me to eat, but I couldn't. Did you know the 'dope' fiends lose\ntheir appetites for everything but the drug? Yes, they do. I often\nwondered what kept us alive. It surely wasn't the food we ate.\n\n\"My, what a struggle I had! what a fight for the next three weeks! for\nI was determined from the time my sentence expired, never, if it killed\nme, to touch the poison again, and I was bound to keep my word. God\nalone knows what I suffered. One morning a little before daylight (I'd\nheard the clock strike one, two, three, somewhere) all of a sudden the\nroom was lit up with a strange soft light, and somebody was whispering\n(or it seemed like whispering), 'Daughter, be of good cheer. Thou art\nhealed.' Oh but I felt beautiful, beautiful! and soon slept the\nsweetest. Not an ache or pain. Just like a new-born baby. When I woke\nup I could tell the girls were at breakfast. I took my stick and\nknocked on the floor. Pretty soon Sister Griffith came up, and I told\nher. She cried with me for very joy, and knelt by my bedside to thank\nGod for answer to prayer, then went down to tell the family. Glory,\nglory be to God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit! I was saved and I knew\nit--saved through and through.\n\n[Illustration: SCENE IN A MORPHINE DEN]\n\n\"From that on I gained rapidly, enjoyed my meals, and pretty soon was\nable to go down-stairs. No fear any more. I've never wanted the drug\nfrom that day to this, and I'm trying by the grace of God to help other\npoor souls like afflicted. Say, Mother Roberts, when you go to San\nFrancisco again, will you let me go with you? I want to surprise the\nfolk at the jail and in the morphine dens; besides, I'll show you a\nplace you never have seen or heard tell of, where these poor souls\nlive--a place condemned by the authorities, but not torn down yet.\"\n\nI told her that, God willing, I should be very glad to have her\naccompany me. Then she took out of her pocket a letter, saying, as she\ndid so, \"I wrote this to some one you know.\" (Here she described one of\nthe poor prisoners.) \"You can take it up to your room and read it if\nyou like, and mail it for me tomorrow, please.\"\n\nSoon we joined the rest of the family in their evening devotions, and\nCallie went back to her place.\n\nI read and reread that wonderful letter before retiring, and as soon as\nconvenient the next morning I telephoned to Callie to ask whether I\nmight copy it before mailing it. She gladly gave me permission, and now\nI give you the letter almost word for word:\n\nSan Jose, Cal. Aug. 18, 1903.\n\nDear Nan:\n\nNo doubt you will be somewhat surprised to receive this from me, but it\nis surprising--and wonderful the way God has of lifting us up out of\nsin. Now what has been done for me will be done for you if you will\nonly let him have his way with you. Surely \"the way of the transgressor\nis hard,\" and the devil is a poor pay-master. I know you are so tired\nof that life that you will be willing to say, \"O Lord, anything but\nthis; 'better a dry crust of bread with quietness than a house full of\nsacrifice, with strife.'\" The truth is a bitter pill, and many have\nchoked to death on it, but while \"the mourners go about the streets,\"\nthe truth goes on just the same. Now my greatest sacrifice was -- --.\nWith him the house was full of strife, for I had to produce for it all,\nand no peace in the end; so to get away from the whole thing and keep\nout of San Quentin [one of the State prisons] I had to not only die to\nhim, but myself. So now, glory to God! I am sanctified and my sins and\ndead yesterdays are under the blood, and Just as the branch is to the\nvine, I am joined to Christ and I know he is mine.\n\nNan, as I look back to Mrs. J----'s time [a former jail matron] and the\nhell we had, trying to live through, and of poor Minnie B---- and\nMinnie E----, who have gone out in the darkness--[Minnie B---- was\ndead, Minnie E---- dying, when the trusty rushed into the room where\nthe matron, Mrs. J----, was engaged in a game of cards, and begged her\nto come quickly, to which she replied, \"Let her die; 'tis a pity a few\nmore of you don't go the same way\" and then coolly continued the game\nshe was playing.] If we had continued along on that plane, such would\nhave been our fate also; but he, our Lord, is so patient and\nlong-suffering that the moment we are willing to give up and let him\nhave his way with us, then the work begins for our good. Now, Nan, I am\nonly too glad to be able to help you in any way I can.\n\nI owe the H---- of T---- $10. I stole $40 for \"dope\" from them while in\nthe \"hypo\" state. I have now paid back $30, and when your time is up, I\nwill be able to pay your fare down here, and your board until you can\nsee and know for yourself what real liberty there is in Christ.\n\nEverything did not go just as I liked at first; but, as you know, a\ngood thing is not easily gotten, and if you will only try half as hard\nfor liberty in Christ as you do for those you love, it will not be long\nere you are out and out for Christ, and your dead yesterdays will be as\nthough they never had been, and if you will let me be a mother to you,\nI would divide my last drop of blood to save your soul.\n\nO God! bless my erring sisters, \"who love not wisely, but too well,\nbearing their sorrows alone in silence with an anguish none can tell.\"\nNow, dear, weigh this well, and \"choose this day which you will\nserve,'\" God or mammon. T am not the only \"hypo\" fiend that the Lord\nsees fit to take out of hell; so be of good cheer, for he has said, \"I\nwill never leave thee nor forsake thee.\"\n\nStart in with a fervent prayer, saying, \"Create in me a clean heart, O\nGod, and renew a right spirit within me.\" Just as soon as you are\nwilling to take your Savior for your satisfying portion every door of\nhope will be open to you with outstretched arms. My strength is in God\nand I want you to feel some of it. I do not know the extent of it.\n\nPoor M--! I feel sorry for her. Mrs. Roberts called on me. She is O K,\nand her heart is in her work. Dear child of God, she is sowing seeds of\nkindness all along her line. May God bless her! The little lady who is\nwith her [Lucy] speaks highly of you. Nan, and we all see the Lord in\nyou if you will only give up all to him. Tell Mrs. ---- I still have\nfaith for her [the dignified-looking white-haired prisoner already\nspoken of], for God is still looking around for the impossible things,\nto move mountains. Love to K--, G--, Mrs. S--, Mollie R--, and all the\nrest of the girls.\n\nNow, Nan, we have seen the tough side of life together, so come on out\nand up, and say, \"With the help of God I will be a woman.\" That is not\nyour element by right, Nan, so the sooner you seek, the sooner you will\nfind.\n\nNow, good-by, and may God and his holy angels guide and protect you,\nand may your whole spirit, soul, and body be preserved blameless until\nthe coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.\n\nGive my love to all the girls. I pray for you all every day.\n\nCallie ----\n\nP.S.--To Mrs. Captain Kincaid. I know you will be happy to know I am\nstill true to God. It pays in the end for if we sow to the flesh, we\nreap corruption, and if to the Spirit, everlasting life. I am a Bible\nstudent, and as soon as the Lord can trust me with the seal of the Holy\nSpirit, I am to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ, the power of God\nunto salvation Glory, glory, glory for liberty in him!...\n\nI still have your present in mind. It is forthcoming in the near\nfuture.\n\nRespectfully yours,\n\nCallie ----.\n\nThe only alterations I made in this remarkable letter were in some real\nmines, the spelling, capitalization, and punctuation. Otherwise it is\nher language, word for word.\n\nOh! bless the dear Lord forever! What an example of\n\n  \"Whilst the lamp holds out to burn,\n  The vilest sinner may return\"!\n\nLater we paid our proposed visit to San Francisco. Our experience on\nthat occasion will be found in the next chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nCALLIE AND I VISIT THE JAIL, MORPHINE DENS, AND THE MISSION--THE\nOUTCOME.\n\n\nSome time elapsed before we took that trip together. I have much to\nrelate regarding the occurrences during the interval, but first let me\nwrite about our San Francisco trip.\n\nShortly before Christmas occasion required my presence in San\nFrancisco. I notified Gallic, and one morning bright and early we\nreached that city. We immediately repaired to Branch No. 3.\n\n(Before I give an account of our experiences, please allow me to relate\nan incident that occurred on the train. In a seat almost parallel with\nthe one we occupied sat two women, one of whom was richly dressed. She\nrepeatedly looked my way. Her face seemed familiar. Presently I\nventured to accost her with that fact. She smilingly replied: \"Of\ncourse it is. I'm ---- ----. You came to my house in Santa Cruz dressed\nin a Salvation Army bonnet. If it hadn't have been for that, you would\nnever have got in. One of my girls left because of what you said and did\nthat day. I'll be glad to have you call. I always want to help save a girl\nif I can. Perhaps you can persuade her sister.\" Hallelujah! \"It came to\npass\" less than a month later.)\n\nThe gate-keeper passed us into the grounds, and soon I was being warmly\ngreeted by Mrs. Kincaid. Presently I inquired if she recognized my\ncompanion. She smilingly shook her head.\n\n\"You've met her many times, Mrs. Kincaid,\" I said.\n\nShe guessed any but the right person. Finally she said slowly:\n\n\"It might be Callie----; but she was nothing but a bag of bones; as\nforlorn-looking a specimen of humanity as I ever looked upon, whereas\nthis woman is fine-looking, robust, and has a splendid expression.\nSurely it can't be Callie!\"\n\n\"But it is Callie. Look!\" And Callie proved her identity by pulling up\nher sleeve--convincing evidence beyond a doubt. Never did I see matron\nmore delighted. Presently, following some rapid questions and answers,\nshe said, \"How would you like to surprise your former companions,\nCallie?\"\n\n\"Just what I was hoping for, Mrs. Kincaid,\" Callie answered.\n\n\"Very well; I'll have all of them called into the large dormitory. You\nwait here a few minutes.\"\n\nThere was an enthusiastic welcome for me, but no one recognized my\ncompanion--_no, not one_. She stood beside me, speechless and\ntrembling. Finally I said:\n\n\"Speak to them, dear.\"\n\n\"I can't,\" she whispered, and the tears were in her eyes.\n\n\"Girls, I've brought some one with me today whom you all know and know\nwell, but I see you do not recognize her.\" (A long silence.)\n\n\"Who is she?\" some one asked. (Another long silence.)\n\n\"Show them who you are, Callie.\"\n\n\"Callie? Callie ----? Surely not, Mother Roberts. She was,\" etc., etc.\n\nBut she was showing them; choking down her sobs of joy, or rather,\ntrying to, as she rolled up her sleeves to convince them. Even so, they\nfound it very difficult to believe, very, very difficult.\n\nI gladly retired to a remote part of the dormitory, a grateful observer\ntemporarily forgotten, whilst Callie was being questioned and\noverhauled by about seventy delighted women and girls. They went into\nraptures of joy, they shouted, they wept, they hugged and kissed her,\nuntil she was obliged to say, \"Sit down. I want to talk to you. Do,\nplease.\"\n\nIntense silence reigned whilst she related the wonderful story of her\nconversion and sanctification. There was not a dry eye present. Then\nshe gave an invitation. Without one exception all responded and then\nknelt. She prayed--oh! how she prayed! and some of the women wet the\nboards with their tears whilst they, too, called upon Callie's Savior\nfor pardon and mercy. How I wish we might have stayed there the\nremainder of the day! but we could not, for my time was limited.\nFeelingly and reluctantly we said our \"farewells,\" promising to come at\nsome future time if God so willed.\n\nBefore we left, they all lovingly inquired for Lucy, sending her many\nkind messages of love and remembrance.\n\nWhen we returned to Mrs. Kincaid's quarters, she inquired if I should\nlike to see a photo of Callie as she formerly looked?\n\n\"Indeed, I would,\" I replied.\n\nWell, to this day I do not wonder at their failure to recognize her.\n_In that picture she looked like a dirty, emaciated, old vagabond._\nThis is the best I can do in the way of description, dear reader. I\nwish I had a copy of her \"Before and After\" to put in this book. You\nwould be sure to say, \"Mother Roberts did not exaggerate one iota.\" If\nany of you know Mrs. Kincaid, go to her and ask her whether she won't\nplease show it to you....\n\nWe were soon on the street-car, and then downtown, where I quickly\ntransacted my business, after which I was once more at Callie's\ndisposal.\n\nI followed her to a place on the south of Market Street, to a building\nwhich resembled a deserted, tumble-down stable or blacksmith's shop\nplastered with old hand-bills and posters. There were some dirty old\nwindow-frames in the second story, but I do not believe there was one\nwhole pane of glass left.\n\n\"This is the place, Mother Roberts,\" said Callie.\n\n\"Surely no human beings dwell in such a terrible place as this,\nCallie,\" I replied.\n\n\"You come with me and see for yourself,\" she rejoined. \"Don't you\nremember what I told you? I said I would take you to a place you didn't\ndream existed. This is the one.\"\n\nSure enough. _And this was once her home!_ She opened a disreputable\ndoor, and we climbed a dirty and fearfully rickety stairway; next we\ngroped our way along a dark passage. \"Mind, there's a broken board!\nLook out you don't break your ankle,\" said Callie. She spoke none too\nsoon. I narrowly escaped an accident. Now we turned a corner and got a\nlittle better light, this disclosing another old partly-broken-down\nstairway with nearly all the balustrade gone. Up these we climbed,\nhugging, as we did so, the filthy wall, for safety. On reaching the top\nshe rapped gently an a cracked door, but received no answer. She rapped\nlouder. Still no answer. Presently some one called from somewhere\nbelow. Then she rapped still louder. This time a man's voice inquired,\n\"Who's there?\" There was the sound of shuffling footsteps, and then the\ndoor opened, disclosing two women, one young, one old, and three men,\nall young, but all old-looking, cadaverous, starved, ragged, filthy,\nand indescribably loathsome. Furthermore, the odor issuing through that\nopen doorway was almost intolerable.\n\nCallie knew all, with the exception of the young girl, and called each\nby name; but, as usual, they did not recognize her, and, in the same\nmanner as heretofore described, had to be convinced, whilst she again\nrehearsed her wonderful experience. Presently she said: \"I'm going to\nhunt up some of the others, and I'm going to ask this lady to sing for\nyou while I am gone. She's brought her autoharp with her.\"\n\n[Illustration: SHEET MUSIC\n\n     THE SONGS MY MOTHER SANG.\n\n     Words and Music by Mrs. FLORENCE ROBERTS.\n\n     DUET Or SOLO.\n\n     1. One day I found a precious book\n        Containing many a gem\n        Of song my mother used to sing\n        It takes me back again\n        Across the vista of the years,\n        When, by her loving voice,\n        Melodious invitation came\n        To make the Lord my choice.\n\n     2. She sang about the previous blood\n        Christ shed on Calvary;\n        And how, to save our souls from hell,\n        He died in agony. \"Come, sinners, to the gospel feast\"\n        Methinks I hear her still\n        Singing, as silently she prayed\n        \"Lord, break that stubborn will.\"\n\n     3. This blessed soldier of the cross\n        To her reward has gone;\n        But oh, the tender memories\n        She left in sacred song.\n        And, tho' I wandered far from God,\n        And wasted many years,\n        The songs my mother used to sing\n        Will oft-times bring the tears.]\n\nUp to this time I had not uttered a word. The scene had practically\nrendered me temporarily speechless; but now I took a few steps into the\nroom, whilst one of the men found an old soap box and turned it upside\ndown for me to sit on. At a glance I saw vermin crawling in the cracks\nof the filthy floor. Oh! it was awful! Soon, however, I lost sight of\nmy loathsome surroundings, for in answer to silent prayer the dear Lord\nwas giving me a message in song. Never was there closer attention than\nwhile they listened to the song which you will find between these pages,\nentitled \"The Songs My Mother Sang.\" Then I knelt and prayed, and prayed.\n\"On that dirty floor?\" you ask. Yes, dear reader; I quite forgot the dirt\nand the vermin. I only saw souls going to hell if they didn't get help\nfrom God. (Afterwards I observed that neither vermin nor dirt clung to\nme.)\n\nWhen once more conscious of my surroundings, I discovered how dirty\ntheir faces were, for now there were clean channels on many cheeks.\nTheir tears! One girl and two men agreed to forsake sin, and I was\nhappy in the thought of conveying her to San Jose on our return next\nday, whilst Callie planned for the men. We did what we could for the\ntime being and then went out into the fresh air. I asked Callie how\nmany lived under that roof. To my amazement, she said, \"All told, about\nforty just at present.\"\n\nHer next mission was to the various places from which she had pilfered,\nand they were many. One was a harness-shop. She addressed the old man\nthus:\n\n\"How d'you do, sir? Do you remember me?\"\n\n\"No, mam, I don't. Who are you?\"\n\n\"I'm a woman who once stole a dog collar from you while your back was\nturned. I've come to pay for it. I'm converted now, but I used to be a\n'dope' fiend.\"\n\n\"You were? You don't look like it.\"\n\n\"No, because God, for Jesus Christ's sake, forgave all my sins, cured\nme of all my bad habits, and has set me on the solid Rock, and I'm on\nmy road to heaven. When you knew me I was on my road to hell.\"\n\n\"But I never knew you.\"\n\n\"Yes, you did. I'm Callie ----.\"\n\n\"What! You don't say so! Well, well! wonders will never cease. It's\nenough to make a man believe there is a personal God, I declare it is!\"\n\nCallie availed herself of this opportunity, and when we left there, the\nharness-maker had promised to serve her wonderful Savior and he kept\nhis word.\n\nNext we visited the rescue home, where we were received with open arms\nby dear Sister Kauffman. After having a precious time with her family\nand partaking of her hospitality, we went down-town again. There we\nspent a glorious evening at a street-meeting. Callie testified.\nAfterward we went to the Emmanuel Gospel Mission, where she gave a\nmessage from that most precious parable, \"The Prodigal Son.\" When the\ninvitation was given, the altar filled with seekers, most of whom went\nfrom there with victory in their souls.\n\nWe were the guests of the mission superintendent and family over night.\nCallie was my room-mate. Then it was that I saw what the hypodermic\nneedle had done for her. _There was no place_ (_save down her spine_)\n_that was not marked_, and no wonder, she had been a morphine slave for\ntwenty-seven years--its abject slave.\n\nThe next morning, as soon as we could politely leave our kind host and\nfamily, we returned to that 'dope' den, Callie to prepare the two\nyoung men, I to take charge of the girl, and all of us to return on an\nearly train to San Jose. Alas! my girl weakened, and nothing would\ninduce her to part with her drug; but the men went with Callie to an\nadjacent barber-shop for baths, hair-cutting, and shaving. During these\noperations Callie and I quickly went to the Salvation Army's secondhand\nshop, where Callie procured the men complete outfits of respectable\nclothing. What a transformation when we beheld them again! Then we took\nthem to breakfast; but they ate sparingly, and were not satisfied until\nthey had taken some of their favorite drug.\n\nTwo and a half hours later Callie and I were it home once more, and our\nyoung men were in the safe keeping of two sanctified brothers. Although\nthese brethren were severely tried and tested time and again, they so\nheld on to God for these precious souls that they are now saved and\nsanctified and on their road to heaven.\n\nGallic kept her situation for some time longer and then went forth to\npreach the glorious gospel. The last time I heard of her, she was being\nwonderfully blest in preaching in southern California. May God forever\nguide this precious woman and keep her true until Jesus calls, \"Well\ndone, thou good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy\nLord.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nSTILL SOUTHWARD BOUND--SANTA CRUZ--LUCY RETURNS TO HER HOME.\n\n\nThe occurrences of the previous chapter took place several months after\nthe happenings now to be related.\n\nThe latter part of August found Lucy and me in Santa Cruz, one of\nCalifornia's beautiful ocean resorts, where again we were fortunate in\nsecuring lodging with a Christian landlady, Mrs. Hedgepeth, who took\npleasure in furnishing much information. She also introduced us to\nseveral, who, later on, became warmly interested in the cause we\nrepresented.\n\nIn the main, ours was now a house-to-house work. Lucy would take one\nstreet, and I another, seeking for means to be applied to the home\nfund. For days we met only at noon and eventide, weary in body, often\nsomewhat discouraged, but always with new and varied experiences. A few\nof these we will relate.\n\nOne evening Lucy said: \"Mother, I called at a lovely home today where\nwere a great variety of beautiful birds and strange little animals in\nbig cages in the yard. The gentleman who was feeding and caring for\nthem seemed pleased at my interest, leaned over the fence and conversed\nwith new about them, telling where he had discovered some, how costly\nwere others, what special care and food most of them required, and much\nmore; but oh! Mother dear, he had no use, no time for Jesus, or\nanything relating to him. He turned away and left me when I tried to\ntell him. Isn't he to be pitied? I had better success a few doors\nhigher up. The lady was very kind. She put her name down for one\ndollar. I've collected $---- for the fund today,\" and she smiled with\njoy as she handed me the money.\n\nOne reputed wealthy woman, after hearing my story, highly commended the\nenterprise and said, \"I would be glad to help you, but all I can spare\nI contribute to the Salvation Army.\" I pleaded further, but in vain.\nLater, and quite by accident, we learned that her contribution\nconsisted in occasionally purchasing a _War Cry_. What a sad, sad\naccounting will have to be given by many on that day when the Judge of\nall the earth shall sit upon his throne!\n\nSeveral of the local pastors manifested most kindly consideration, some\ngave lists of names of charitably disposed people, and a few invited me\nto share their pulpits.\n\nNever shall I forget the day when Lucy and I called at a handsome\nresidence on Washington Street. The door was opened by one of the most\nspiritual-countenanced young ladies I have ever had the pleasure of\nmeeting, and from that day to this she has been one of my warmest, most\nloyal friends--Sister B---- G----. More times than I can count I have\nacted upon and profited by her wise and kindly advice, and never did\nshe fail me with sympathy and help in a trying hour. Her widowed mother\nwas the first large contributor to the fund. Only God knows my heart's\ngratitude the day she handed me that cheque for one hundred dollars.\n\nThrough the daughter I learned who had spiritual charge of the jail\nwork, and soon, acting on her suggestions, made the acquaintance of\nMrs. Mason. She invited us to attend the following Sunday morning\nservices at 9:30 o'clock. In consequence of my responding, the next\nchapter will relate the sad story which came to me from the lips of a\nyouth sentenced to Folsom penitentiary for ninety-nine years.\n\nWe soon located the neighborhood of the poor wandering girls, where\nmany gladly bade Lucy and me welcome. Also, we were informed that,\nowing to circumstances at that time, the only religious people who\nwould be admitted to certain houses were Salvation Army lassies.\nLearning our errand, one of these kindly disposed women of God\naccompanied us, we wearing bonnets loaned for this occasion. The\nlandlady of one of these houses was the one we met on the train, when\nCallie accompanied me to San Francisco on that important trip.\n\nAt this time a gospel-tent was pitched in the rear of the court-house\nand city hall. Each night there congregated large numbers of people,\nmost of whom came from the humble walks of life. In that precious\nlittle tabernacle many souls sought and found salvation. At this time\nthe services were conducted by Brother Williams and his wife, whilst I\nserved as organist, and also, occasionally, as the Lord would lead,\ndelivered His messages.\n\nOne night whilst a girl was at the altar pleading for pardon and mercy,\nshe was suddenly seized by a dark-haired, portly woman, dragged off of\nher knees, and hurried away. This unusual procedure took us workers off\nour guard and so startled us as temporarily to disable us from acting\nas we otherwise would have acted. The woman ran down the aisle, firmly\ngripping the speechless, frightened girl, declaring as she did so that\nit was her daughter, that she would see to it that this would not\nhappen again; then both disappeared in the darkness. How subtle, how\npowerful is the adversary of souls! Later we learned that that poor,\npoor girl had just escaped from this madam (the pretended mother), who,\nsuspecting her victim's whereabouts, had stealthily followed. We worked\nfor her release, but in vain. The girl being of the age of consent, the\nauthorities could not act. Besides, she was now once more subservient\nto the devil's hypnotic power and influence. All we could do was to\nhope and pray that the tender Shepherd would, in his own wise way, set\nher free from her wretched life and save her from the fate awaiting\nher.\n\nWhen it became known that two newcomers, practical rescue workers, were\nin town, we were soon overwhelmed with responsibilities too many to\nshoulder. Moreover, the San Jose and San Francisco rescue homes,\nhitherto but little heard of in Santa Cruz, began filling to\noverflowing with wandering girls.\n\nOne day Lucy received a special letter, requesting her immediate\npresence at home on account of the sudden illness of her mother. We\ntemporarily parted, I promising to join her (God willing) in October,\nin order to spend my birthday with her and her dear ones. How much I\nmissed my ardent, loving companion I can not say; but as \"the King's\nbusiness requireth haste\" (1 Sam. 21:8), I stifled my feelings and\nbusied myself more, if possible, than heretofore in meeting\nrepresentative people, calling on unfortunates, and, as often as\npermitted, visiting the prisoners.\n\nIn one of these I became so greatly interested that I am sure you also\nwill as you soon read his story.\n\nBefore I left Santa Cruz, the Lord had graciously raised up many\nfriends in that place. Time and again it has been my pleasure to return\nthere, always to be warmly welcomed in many homes, and especially\nentertained by Sisters Green, Mary Perkins, Van Ness, and Brother\nWestlake and wife. The latter were traveling in gospel-tent work when\nfirst I met them. It was when making my home in Redding, where occurred\nthe rescue of little Rosa.\n\nWhilst I recall these precious times, so many instances of special\nseasons of prayer, special answers, personal kindnesses, and loving\nconsiderations come before my vision that I more than ever desire to\nbow humbly before the wonderful heavenly Father in thanksgiving and\npraise for graciously permitting so many, many of his loved ones to\ncheer, advise, and help me; also for enabling me to look past the\nsinful exterior and to see, by faith, the priceless souls of humanity,\nsouls that are starving and perishing for lack of proper nurture.\n\nAnd I am still praying for more strength, more grace, more wisdom, more\nlove, to aid me and his other chosen missionaries in the winning of\nsouls and the rescuing of the perishing, for I do not want to go into\nhis heavenly kingdom empty-handed. Do you?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nJOE'S STORY.\n\n\nIn giving you Joe's story, I realize that I am taking considerable\nliberty, having not asked his permission, but I am confident of his\nwillingness because of the lesson of warning to other boys--and they\nare so many--whose early lives correspond to his. I am one of Joe's\ninterested friends. I have frequently visited him in the prison\nadjacent to Folsom, near Sacramento, Cal., and have learned from Warden\nReilly that he is a model prisoner. I am hoping, and praying that, if\nit be the will of God, he will soon be out on parole.\n\nWhilst he was detained in the Santa Cruz jail awaiting a rehearing of\nhis case, it was frequently my privilege to visit that place through\nthe week and, with my little autoharp for accompaniment, to sing for\nthe prisoners. One afternoon, whilst I was sitting by the bars in front\nof Joe's cell, and just following that blessed song, \"Tell Mother I'll\nBe There,\" he broke into agonizing sobs and tears, and for a long while\ncould not control himself as he lay prostrate face downward on the cold\nstone floor. I waited and prayed, my very soul in agony for his, as I\nbegan to appreciate and realize his awful situation. Stretching forth\nmy hands through those iron bars, I reverently placed them on his head,\nand with all my heart implored our Lord for comfort, mercy, and pardon\nfor the soul of this stricken young man, who that morning had learned\nthat the sentence already pronounced at a former trial had been\nconfirmed and that it was immediately to go into effect. There was no\nescaping his fate now.\n\nI was permitted, by the kind-hearted sheriff, to spend hours with Joe\non that occasion. When his grief had somewhat spent itself, this is\nwhat he said:\n\n\"O Mother Roberts, Mother Roberts! if I only could recall the past! If\nI only could!\n\n\"I started in wrong from the time I can remember. Lots of naughty\nlittle things I would do even when I was quite a small shaver. _Some\nthings I did the folks would think smart and cute. They would laugh and\nbrag of me to the neighbors, right in my heating, too, and that's where\nthey made a mistake; for, young as I was, it only made me bolder, also\nsaucy._\n\n\"Some of the youngsters in our neighborhood were awful. I do believe\nthey were born bad; anyhow, I knew they swore, and so did some of their\nparents. They gave them many a cuffing, but they didn't care, only\nswore worse than ever. My folks used to forbid me to go near them, and\nwhen any of them came into our yard, used to say, You go right home; I\ndon't want you here. Joe can't play with you.' But Joe did, and that's\nthe reason Joe has to suffer now.\" ...\n\n[Illustration: \"NINETY-NINE YEARS, MOTHER ROBERTS!\" POOR JOE]\n\n\"Poor boy! don't tell it, if it distresses you so badly,\" I said; but\nhe continued.\n\n\"The time came when I was old enough to go to school. These same kids\nwent to the same one I did, and do you think I could shake 'em? No,\nmam; they stuck to me like leeches. They were now harder than ever to\nget rid of. In fact, I couldn't, but managed never to let my folks see\nme with them if I could help it, and they knew they dare not come near\nour house. It didn't take me very long to learn to swear like them,\nwhen in their company. I thought it sounded big and smart, although\ndeep down in my heart I knew it was wrong. One day one of them got hold\nof a deck of soiled playing cards, and the oldest kid undertook to\nteach the rest of us how to play casino. It didn't take long to learn.\nI used to often get home late from school now, and when asked what kept\nme, always told a lie. I hated to do that at first, but it soon got to\nbe easy. The folks so loved me, had such confidence in their 'smart\nlittle Joe,' that they never suspected, because I learned my lessons\nquickly; besides, always had a pretty good report from school.\n\n\"We used to play sometimes in a vacant lot. There was a saloon near by,\nand sometimes the man would treat to soda-water, sometimes we paid for\nit, and by the time I was thirteen I had learned to love beer and\nwhiskey, also to smoke cigarettes, which we would make from the tobacco\nwe kids stole from our fathers' and other people's pockets when their\nbacks were turned, though sometimes we'd buy it.\n\n\"It began to be hard work to get up in time for breakfast and school of\na morning, and I'll tell you why. When the folks thought, after I'd\nsaid 'Good night' that I'd gone to bed, I'd lock my door, then pretty\nsoon, in my stocking feet, holding my shoes in my hand, I would drop\nquietly out of my window into the garden, and as quick as I could, by\nprevious arrangement, would join the others in a game of cards for the\nsmokes or the drinks. Father more than once said, 'Joe, I've heard\nyou're keeping bad boys' company. I hope it isn't true. If I have your\nword for it that it isn't, I'll believe you, because _I've never yet\ncaught you in a lie_.' I confess I used to feel awfully ashamed and\nguilty as I'd say, 'Whoever told you that told you a lie. You know\nwhere I am at nine o'clock, sir.' And he'd say, 'That's so, my boy.\nThey must have mistaken somebody else for you.' But I knew better.\n\n\"When I was about sixteen, I went to work driving a bakery wagon, so\nthat I didn't see quite so much of my former pals, but delivering bread\ntook me into places where no honest or moral man or boy ought to even\ndare to set his foot, let alone one like me; so I fell still further.\n\n\"For all that, a pure, good girl fell in love with me, and I with her.\nI hated to deceive her, but made up my mind that I would cut it all out\nwhen we were married, if she'd promise to be my wife; and so we became\nengaged. But--I didn't cut it out. More than once she said, 'O Joe,\nyou've been drinking! I smell it.' I'd laugh, and make some kind of an\nexcuse, and she'd forgive me every time. Say, Mother Roberts, I hated\nmyself from head to foot for lying as I did to that pure, sweet girl.\"\n\n\"Go on, Joe, I'm listening.\"\n\n\"One night I joined the boys in a game of cards in a saloon on Sequel\nAvenue. It appears that Mr. L----, the proprietor, who, by the way, was\na veteran G. A. R. man, had received quite a sum of money that day--his\nback pension. _As God is my judge, I did not know this when I went in\nthere that evening._ We had a round of drinks after the first game, and\nafter the second, another round; then I said 'Good night' and went\nhome.\n\n\"Father and I slept in the same room, and I hadn't been in bed very\nlong when a knock came on our door.\n\n\"'Who's there?' asked father.\n\n\"'Me, Constable ----, where's Joe? I want him.'\n\n\"'Joe's out, Constable. What do you want him for?' asked father.\n\n\"'No, I'm not out, Father. Here I am,' I said, at the same time jumping\nout of bed. 'What's up?'\n\n\"'Joe, my boy, I'm sorry for you, but you're my prisoner. Dress as\nquick as you can and come with me. Mr. L---- was murdered tonight. He\nisn't dead yet, but he's dying. You were in his saloon a while ago,\ndrinking and playing cards, and you are one of the three accused of the\ncrime of murdering him for the sake of robbing him.'\n\n\"The shock was so awful that I couldn't speak, and oh! poor old father!\nHe shook me, saying, 'Speak, Joe. Tell the constable it's not so.'\n\n\"Constable, my boy doesn't drink anything to speak of, and I don't\nsuppose he knows one card from another; do you, Joe?'\n\n\"Nobody answered this, and pretty soon we were in the presence of the\ndying man. Oh! Mother Roberts, it was like a horrible nightmare. I was\ndazed with the shock and the fright of it all. I could hardly get my\nvoice when some one asked me where I had spent the evening, and at what\ntime I had left that saloon. He must have been murdered right after I\nleft. They tried to rouse him to see if he'd recognize me. He claimed\nto, but I'm sure he didn't; for he couldn't see and didn't know what he\nwas talking about.\"\n\n\"What of your two companions, Joe?\" I asked.\n\n\"One of them was there, in charge of the sheriff; I don't know where\nthe other one was. From that night up to this we have been here in\nprison, though we haven't met. He's in a cell on another floor. He's\nsentenced to San Quentin for life.\n\n\"Father mortgaged our pretty home [he afterwards lost it, the mortgage\nbeing foreclosed] and has done everything under the sun he knows of to\nclear me, so have my lawyers; but they've failed! Mother Roberts,\nthey've failed! and I'm to be sent to the penitentiary for ninety-nine\nyears. Think of it, ninety-nine years! That means that unless the real\nmurderer turns up, some day I'll die and be buried in a dishonored\ngrave--and _all through starting out wrong to begin with, then keeping\nit up_.\"\n\nMy heart felt torn all to pieces for this poor unfortunate lad. How I\nshould have liked to sit beside those bars all night in order to\ncomfort him! but as that could not be, I presently, after commending\nhim to an ever-merciful God and Savior, whom he could not, as yet,\naccept or understand, took my departure, as sad and burdened a soul as\never walked the earth. As the tears coursed down my cheeks, I resolved\nto try to help him, and, moreover, by repeating his story, to warn\nmothers and fathers to guard their little ones closely every hour of\ntheir young lives. Also, I purposed not to spare myself in addressing\nthem, whether individually or _en masse_, but to confess my own\ncarelessness and shortsightedness, when, as a young mother, I was much\nof the time heedless with regard to my little spoilt son, for _whose\nsoul and body God was some day going to hold me responsible_. Had it\nnot been for God's tender mercy and love in pardoning and directing my\nfuture life, in answering my earnest prayers for his tender watch-care\nover me and mine, who knows but that my only and well-beloved son might\nhave shared a similar fate? If he had, I alone would have been to\nblame.\n\nMany and many a time I have been used of God in trying to comfort\nstricken mothers who were visiting their children now behind bars. \"O\nGod!\" they have cried, \"what did I ever do that my child should get\ninto such trouble as this?\" Poor mothers! You were guilty as was I, but\nyou haven't recognized that fact. Yes, you were; and now you begin to\nrealize it when well-nigh too late. But it isn't yet. Just kneel down\nand throw yourself on the mercies of a merciful, loving God. Confess to\nhim. Plead with him to forgive you. Ask him to direct every hour, every\nmoment, of your future. Surrender your children to him; tell him you've\nmade a blunder of their lives as well as of your own; then wait on him.\nListen to what he says: \"Come _now_, and let us reason together,...\nThough your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, though\nthey be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. If ye be willing and\nobedient, ye shall eat the good of the land; but if ye refuse and\nrebel, ye shall be devoured with the sword: for the mouth of the Lord\nhath spoken it.\" Isa. 1:18-20. \"They that wait upon the Lord, shall\nrenew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they\nshall run and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint.\" Isa.\n40:31. I have proved, daily am proving, all this, to my constant peace\nand satisfaction. So may you, dear reader, _if you will_. God bless you\nand yours.\n\n[Illustration: VIEW OF YARD AND PRISONERS' QUARTERS, REPRESA, NEAR\nFOLSOM]\n\nNot long ago I visited Warden and Mrs. Reilly at Folsom and had a long\ninterview with Joe. He told me that his poor old father was dead and\nthat he was now alone in the world. I asked him if he wanted to apply\nfor parole. \"No, Mother Roberts,\" he answered; \"parole is for guilty\nprisoners. I want a pardon.\" \"But, Joe,\" I replied, \"if you are\nparoled, in two years afterward you can apply for and receive your\npardon.\" ... I did not prevail, but I am hoping that before finishing\nthis book I shall receive good news concerning Joe. If so, I will\nsurely tell you.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nI DEPART FOR PACIFIC GROVE--MEET LUCY AGAIN--HER BAPTISM.\n\n\nNot very long after poor Joe was removed to Folsom, the call of God\ntook me to another beautiful ocean-resort--Pacific Grove. It was only a\nshort journey. There was no one to welcome me, for I was a stranger,\nbut in less than twenty-four hours one of the Lord's loved ones, a\nwidowed sister, Mrs. Hill, now departed to her eternal home, welcomed\nme under her roof. On the following evening I was introduced to Miss\nFannie Rowe and her mother. The former lady, in gratitude to God for\nwonderfully raising her up instantly from a state of helplessness and\naffliction of many years' duration, had consecrated her all to him,\nand, in addition to innumerable responses to calls for prayers and\nfinancial aid, had opened and was supporting a mission in the Grove,\nanother in the adjacent town of Monterey, and one for the Indians,\nsituated at The Needles, Ariz. I gladly responded to her kind\ninvitation to address the patrons of Bethel mission one evening. She\ngave liberally toward helping to procure the home for the wandering\ngirls.\n\nMany were the private requests for personal work with those who were\ntoo young and inexperienced to realize that their attitude and heedless\nwords and deeds were having a demoralizing tendency upon themselves,\ntheir schoolmates, and others. This work, let me assure you, dear\nreader, calls for special prayer for wisdom, diplomacy, and deep love.\nYoung people, especially girls at the difficult age (between thirteen\nand eighteen), are very hard to persuade, if their earlier training has\nnot been as wise as it should have been. Therefore permit me to advise\nmuch and earnest fellowship and prayer with the Father before making\nany efforts of this nature with them. A false move too often creates\nrebellion, frequently followed by disastrous results.\n\nBut to proceed. An invitation came from the chaplain of the Presidio of\nMonterey to visit army quarters, situated between the two towns. There\nI was taken through every department and afterwards invited to address\na large body of stalwart young soldiers. You may be sure that, as I did\nso, my mother heart tenderly went forth to them, as I thought of my own\nprecious son, who was now on the high seas and whom I had the privilege\nof seeing so seldom, and then only for short visits.\n\nAfter luncheon with the chaplain and his wife we visited the hospital.\nI was, as usual, accompanied by my autoharp, and so was able to give a\nlittle cheer to the many lonely, suffering ones as well as to speak\nbriefly about the Great Physician and also pray for them. It was all\nvery sad, yet so precious. I would that I could, in the name of Jesus,\nhave temporarily mothered one and all of them. They appeared to be so\nappreciative, and to be suffering as much from homesickness as from the\nmany other ailments.\n\nEvery church threw its doors open to me, the interest grew, God blest\nmy every step, and I (by faith) saw our hopes soon realized. About this\ntime a letter forwarded from Santa Cruz, postmarked San Jose, reached\nme, telling of the return of the president and also the vice-president\nof the board of rescue home managers, and urging my return for a\nconference with them in regard to much renovation and also enlargement\nof their borders, for the present home was now altogether inadequate to\nits necessities.\n\nEarnest prayer failed to bring me light on this matter. I could only\nawait God's time. Then came a loving letter from my dear Lucy, stating\nthat her mother had fully recovered and reminding me of my promise to\nspend my birthday with her and her dear ones. There being no reason why\nI should not accept, I bade farewell to many newly-found friends, and\nin a few hours I was being warmly embraced, also overwhelmed with\nkindness and gratitude, by my spiritual daughter and her refined,\ndelicate-looking mother.\n\nImagine, if you can, how I, for several days, fared. It was most\nembarrassing, but very, very precious to my soul, especially so when\none day Lucy followed her Savior's example in baptism in the presence\nof her family, her mother, and me. Placing her wet arms about my neck,\nshe rejoiced my heart by saying, \"O Mother Roberts, I've just had a\nwonderful vision of Jesus, and I want to say this to you: Much as I\nlove my mother and dear ones, I would rather continue with you in the\nwork if you'll take me; will you, dear?\" \"Will I? I should say I will,\"\nI answered, and gladly, humbly, thanked and praised God for the blessed\nprivilege. So not long afterwards we took our departure for Los\nAngeles, our next field of labor, and, permit me to add, at this time a\ndifficult one. There was an agitation on foot for the closing of all\nthe questionable resorts, and this meant much strenuous, problematical\nwork on the part of the agitators. Amongst these I make mention of the,\nlate Rev. Sidney Kendall, a noted writer and rescue worker, a person\nwho proved to be one of our very valuable friends and advisers during\nour sojourn in that great and beautiful city (Author of the \"Soundings\nof Hell,\" etc.)\n\nMatters, through correspondence with the San Jose board, were now\nassuming such shape that indications were that we should soon return to\nthat place. In the meanwhile we were much occupied, through the daytime\nlargely, in making personal visits to the poor outcasts, who were in\ngreat stress of mind at this time. Consequently, many returned to their\nparental homes, others were taken care of or furnished with situations,\nbut not nearly so many as we could have wished, and all for lack of\nfinances. Oh, how I have wished that those who pray God's will to be\ndone in their lives would only mean it and live up to their prayers,\nprofessions, and privileges. What a rich harvest the Master, at the\nfinal summing up, could then reap! but alas! not many live the prayer.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nANNA--WE LEAVE FOR SAN JOSE.\n\n\nOne evening, during the temporary absence of Lucy (on a few days' visit\nwith friends), Sister Taylor, matron of the Door of Hope, home for\ngirls, and I were invited by Brother Trotter of the Rescue Mission,\nthen situated on Main Street near St. Elmo Hotel, to take charge of the\nmeeting. When the invitation to seek the Savior was given, the altar\nfilled with many mothers' boys, both young and old, and in all sorts of\ncondition--semi-intoxicated, ragged, dirty, etc. (Reader, I have seen\nthis sight scores of times in similar places.)\n\nSeveral workers joined us on the platform in aiding the seekers. As I\nwas kneeling with my autoharp lying across my lap and my eyes closed, I\ninadvertently opened them. Out at the open door, about forty feet away,\nstood a throng of observers, amongst them a girl. Never did I so long\nto leave the platform, but I feared that an interruption might mean\ndisastrous results to both workers and seekers. Soon the meeting\ngloriously closed, the doors were shut, and we were hurrying home. As I\nwalked up the street with Sister Taylor and presently stood waiting\nwith her for her approaching car, my lodging being in close proximity,\nI told her of my seeing that girl by the door and of my longing to have\nobeyed the impulse to go and speak to the stranger. Sister Taylor\ncomforted me with the assurance of God's never-failing response to the\nprayer of faith for even the unknown, and urged me to pray for the\ngirl. I replied that it would have been infinitely more satisfactory to\nhave dealt with her face to face.\n\nSuddenly some one gently touched me on the shoulder. Turning about, I\nbeheld a tall, pretty, but weary-looking young woman. It was the girl\nwhom I had noticed in that open doorway.\n\n\"May I speak to you a moment?\" she asked.\n\n\"Yes, dear, gladly! I was wishing I might only meet you, for I saw you\nlooking into the mission just now. Come with me to my room,\" and I\nplaced my arm through hers.\n\n\"No, no!\" she replied, \"you wouldn't want my kind to visit you there.\"\n\n\"Indeed, I would, and do, dear child, so come along. Good night, Sister\nTaylor. Remember us in your prayers.\" ...\n\nIt was nearly two o'clock in the morning, and Anna had told me her\nstory--her sad, sad story. Girls, you ought to hear it; so presently\nI'm going to relate it for your benefit, but first I want you to know\nthat before we left my room, she had surrendered her future to her\nloving Savior. Before we were off of our knees, she, with the tears in\nher eyes, suddenly exclaimed:\n\n\"Oh! I quite forgot, I quite forgot. Let's go quickly. Poor Flora, my\nchum, is awful sick, and I came out to hunt her friend and take her\nsome medicine.\" We hurried away.\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere lay a dark-haired girl moaning and gaping for breath. She managed\nto inquire:\n\n\"Who's this, Anna? Who've you brought with you?\"\n\nSoon I was reassuring the poor sufferer, whilst endeavoring to make her\nmore comfortable.\n\n\"Dear, have you a mother?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Yes, only two blocks from here; but she doesn't know I'm anywhere near\nher. She never comes near such a neighborhood as this. Don't tell her.\nplease don't. It would break her heart.\"\n\n\"Very well, my child; I won't.\"\n\nBut she hadn't told Anna not to tell; so I excused myself, called Anna\nout of the room, and whispered:\n\n\"Get me a certain medicine; and if you know where her mother lives, go\nthere, gently break this news, and tell her that if she still loves her\nchild to come immediately with blankets, pillows, and a hack; to be\nvery, very gentle and quiet with her; to talk as little as possible.\nAnd we will help to take her home; then she must send quickly for a\ndoctor.\"\n\nBefore five o'clock poor, forgiven, suffering Flora was in bed in her\nmother's home, where we shall leave her for the present, in order that\nwe may hear Anna's story.\n\nShe said: \"I'm not seventeen years old till next month, and I'm\nthe oldest of five children--three girls and two boys. My father is a\nmechanic, but sometimes he's out of work, and then didn't he used to\nscold! Just as though we were to blame! Poor Mother! I've often pitied\nher for marrying my father, who was naturally cross and ill-tempered\neven when things didn't go wrong. Half the time mother daren't say her\nsoul was her own, and, besides, she was naturally one of those meek,\ntimid kind that would put up with anything for the sake of peace.\n\n\"Winter before last when he was out of a job for quite a while and\nmother was having a hard time of it trying to keep us warm and fed, I\nheard of a place in the next town, just a car-ride away, where I could\nwork for my board and get my fifty cents a day and car-fare if I wanted\nto go home at night. It was to work in a nice, genteel restaurant; so I\ncoaxed mother to let me take it, which she did. I didn't ask father.\n\n\"No, he wasn't what you'd call a drinking man, though he liked a glass\nof beer once in a while.\n\n\"I soon caught on now to do my work well; sometimes used to get tips,\nbut not often, 'cause I had the family and ladies' department to wait\non. There was one swell-looking lady used to eat there, and used to\ncome to my table whenever she could. We weren't allowed to chat with\nthe customers, though sometimes we did, if the boss wasn't looking. One\nday she told me she was very much taken with me, asked if I had a\nmother and father, and several other questions. So I told her just how\nit was with us and how I happened to take a situation until father got\nback to work. Then she asked where I lived. I told her, but that now I\nwas only going home once a week in the afternoon for a little while, it\nbeing too dark and cold to get up so early to take my car, and that,\nbesides, I had to work late sometimes, so the boss gave me one dollar\nand fifty cents extra a week to pay my room rent. She asked if I liked\nmy room.\n\n\"'Well, nothing extra. One can't expect much of a place for one dollar\nand fifty cents a week, can they?'\n\n\"She said no, certainly not; but as she had taken a fancy to me, and\nhad a nice house with a nice little spare room in it, if I liked it\nbetter than where I was stopping, she would rent it to me, and for me\nto come and see it that afternoon; which I did. Of course I took it. It\nwas fine! Worth double. She said she did it to encourage me, and for me\nnot to say a word to any one about it, as it might make the other girls\njealous; besides, she didn't keep lady roomers. So I promised, and I\nkept my word.\n\n\"Some way, I can't just tell how, I got acquainted with one of her\nroomers. He soon began to say nice things and make love to me, and we\ngot so well acquainted that he'd leave his door open when I was off\nduty of an afternoon and would call me in for a chat. But one day--oh!\nI hate to tell it--he closed the door, and by and by who should walk in\non us but Madam herself. I was scared half to death, she raged so, said\nI'd lose my job, threatened to tell my father, and ordered me to leave\nher house. By and by she cooled down, and as I'd been crying till I was\na sight, said I needn't go back to the restaurant, she'd take care of\nme, because, after all, she was sorry for me, and as things were so bad\nfor me at home, she'd see what she could do for another situation for\nme, so for me to stay in and keep quiet.\n\n\"The next day she said she'd just fortunately received a letter from a\nfriend of hers in Council Bluffs, Iowa, who wanted a girl like me right\naway. I wanted awful bad to go and say good-by to Mother and the\nchildren, but I was too ashamed, so I did as she advised. I just wrote\na little note to tell them I had got a fine situation out of town, and\nwould soon send full particulars and my address; but I never did, no\nnot from that day to this. I couldn't. You know I couldn't, and you\nknow why.\"\n\n\"Yes, dear child, I know. You fell into the awful clutches of that\nprocuress and her accomplices. Poor, poor Anna! There are thousands of\ncases similar to yours, my poor child. Of course you did not know. They\nall say that. But go on with your story, Anna.\"\n\n\"I was awful homesick, Mother Roberts, and my conscience was hurting\nme; my, how it was hurting! There was I decked out in gay cheap silks\nand laces, drinking, and smoking cigarettes, and carrying on and doing\nthings to please people that I just hated; but I had to; there was no\ngetting out of it. All the time I was longing to go home or to send\nmoney to my mother, though I didn't want to send any that came out of\nthat house. No, indeed. Besides, I had to give it nearly all to Madam.\nOne day I told her I was going back home and for her to give me my\nmoney. She told me she didn't owe me any, that I owed her.\n\n\"'What for?' I asked.\n\n\"'For your clothes, jewelry, board, lodging, and the good will of my\nhouse,' she said.\n\n\"'I thought you gave all that to me,' I said.\n\n\"Mother Roberts, you ought to have heard her laugh. It makes me shudder\nwhen I think of it, it was so cruel and fiendish! Presently she added:\n\n\"'You can't leave till you've paid your debts. I'll have you arrested\nif you do.'\n\n\"'How much do I owe you?' I asked.\n\n\"'Pretty near six hundred dollars,' she said.\n\n\"I nearly fainted with fright, but what was I to do? _I was afraid to\ndie, or else I'd have ended it then and there...._\n\n\"That night I told a friend of mine, a railroad employee, and he said\nfor me to keep a 'stiff upper lip,' and he'd get me out of there next\ntrip; so I kept my own counsel, and Madam concluded I'd decided to stay\nwhere I was and make the best of it. She didn't know I was counting the\nhours for three days, until my friend got back.\n\n\"When he came, he advised me to play drunk, and to go out with him to\ndinner. He said I need never go back; he'd take me with him on his\ntrain when it went out that night.\n\n\"'What about my debt?' I asked him.\n\n\"'Debt nothing!\" he said. 'She can't have you arrested. She can't\ncollect one cent of a debt like _that_. Don't take any clothes, for\nfear she'll suspect.'\n\n\"Pretty soon I staggered down the stairs, but I wasn't drunk; no,\nindeed.\n\n\"'Where are you going, Anna?' she inquired.\n\n\"'Out to dinner with ----. Any objection?' I asked.\n\n\"'No, only be in in time for business.'\n\n\"Oh, thank God! I never laid my eyes on her again, nor she on me from\nthat day to this. But I don't want you to get the idea that that escape\nfrom her ended my troubles. By no manner of means. Listen!\" And then\nshe told me of experiences too dreadful for publication--experiences in\nOgden and Salt Lake, Utah; Reno, Nevada. Now she was in Los\nAngeles--farther away from mother and home than ever; as unhappy, as\nhomesick, as miserable a girl as ever trod the earth. When she happened\nto be passing the mission door, some one was singing, \"Just as I am\nwithout one plea.\" After that door had closed for the night, she\nfollowed Sister Taylor and me, trying to summon up courage enough to\napproach me, fearing that if she did not I should soon get on a car and\nher opportunity of ever meeting me would be lost.\n\nAt the time of our meeting, Anna was well-nigh homeless, friendless,\npenniless, and, worst of all, Christless. In less than four hours,\npraise God! she had her greatest needs supplied, and, best of all, she\nhad found her Savior.\n\nIn memory of this, one of the songs appearing in this book was\nwritten--\"The Value of a Song.\" It was a particular favorite with our\nfamily in the rescue home, some girl often remarking, \"Doesn't it just\nseem to fit my case, Mother Roberts?\" Then she would get me to relate\nthe story of Anna or of some other poor unfortunate. Alas! their name\nis \"Legion.\"\n\n\n\nTHE VALUE OF A SONG.\n\nWords and Music by Mrs. Florence Roberts\n\n1. A poor girl was wand'ring alone on the street Of a great busy city,\nthro' dust and thro' heat, With despair in her heart as she walked to\nand fro, When she heard a sweet voice singing softly and low:\n\nCHORUS\n\nJust as I am, without one plea, But that they blood was shed for me,\nAnd that thou bidd'st me come to Thee, O Lamb of God, I come, I come!\n\n2. As she noted the words of this beautiful song, Her thoughts wandered\nback to the days that were gone; And in fancy she hears her dear mother\nonce more Sweetly singing the song she now hears thro' that door.\n\nCHORUS\n\n3. \"O God, I have sinned, I will do so no more, If thou wilt forgive\nand a sinner restore; For the sake of my Savior, for mercy I pray:\nLord, give me a home with some Christian to stay.\"\n\nCHORUS\n\n4. \"Thou knowest my weakness, my sorrow, my sin, Now grant me, dear\nLord, a new life to begin.\" And soon came the answer to this earnest\nprayer,--A pardon, a home, and motherly care.\n\nCHORUS.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nNORTHWARD BOUND--THE OUTCOME.\n\n\nMore correspondence, also the return of Lucy, decided our length of\nsojourn at Los Angeles. After prayerful consideration, we, with Anna,\nsoon took our departure for San Jose, where we were warmly welcomed by\na now former matron (Callie's dear Sister Griffith). At this time the\nfamily consisted of fifteen girls and two workers. Imagine our crowded\ncondition!\n\nThe following day the entire board of managers convened, specially to\nmeet me. After prayer and the reading of Scripture, there was an\nearnest discussion regarding the need of an evangelistic and field\nworker. Because of my being constantly referred to as the person for\nsuch office, I requested permission to retire for brief prayer, also to\ngive them more freedom.\n\nGoing to the matron's room, I bowed before the Lord, earnestly\npetitioned to know the mind of his Spirit, and sought a test. The test\nwas this: If it was his will that I accept this office, the board\nshould, on my return for further conference, give satisfactory answers\nto the following questions: \"Are you willing to incorporate?\" \"Are you\nwilling to change the name of the home?\" and \"Are you willing to\npurchase desirable property?\"\n\nWhen I was once more in their midst, the president, in the name of the\nboard, honored me with the above-mentioned call, stating in detail its\nnecessities. Responding with words of appreciation, I propounded the\nthree questions named.\n\nAnswer No. 1: \"Yes, quite willing, but unable to do so, for lack of\nfunds. An empty treasury.\"\n\nAnswer No. 2: \"Can you suggest a better name?\"\n\n\"Yes, a God-given one,\" I answered. Then I stated the objection of many\nwho disliked being styled, \"One of the Rescue Home girls.\" I suggested\n\"Beth-Adriel,\" meaning \"House of the flock of God.\" All being delighted\nwith this name, it was adopted.\n\nAnswer No. 3: \"Yes, if you will accept the office of field\nrepresentative.\"\n\nIn the name of the Lord I accepted; then agreed to pay for\nincorporation (a matter that was immediately attended to) and to place\nthe remainder of the money in my possession, minus five dollars, into\nthe Beth-Adriel treasury. (This sum amounted to over three hundred\ndollars.)\n\nBefore the board adjourned, Lucy, at my request, was appointed\nassistant matron, and a most efficient one she proved, until illness\ncompelled her resignation several months later.\n\nAll the details of the preliminaries being duly attended to, I now\nproceeded to fill official engagements, the first of which the\nfollowing press notice announced:\n\nMrs. Florence Roberts, a singing evangelise and noted speaker, will\nsing and speak in the Presbyterian church of Los Gatos, Sunday evening.\nMrs. Roberts is the field secretary of the non-sectarian industrial\nhome for women in San Jose; the same is now being incorporated under\nthe name of Beth-Adriel.\n\nThe Lord graciously encouraged me with a large and deeply interested\ncongregation, who contributed liberally toward the fund. (This was in\nNovember, 1903, four months from the time of my leaving San Francisco\nfor Redwood City with sixty cents in my purse. Traveling and other\nexpenses came out of the fund. Praise, oh! praise the blessed Redeemer\nforever!)\n\nThe following notice is copied from the _San Jose Mercury_, May 7,\n1904:\n\nLAND FOR BETH-ADRIEL HOME.\n\nThe California Non-sectarian Home for Women.\n\nThree years ago last September a number of Christian men and women\nestablished a home at 673 East St. John Street for unfortunate women\nand girls. The work still continues at the same place. Last autumn it\nwas incorporated, but to adequately carry out the intentions of the\nhome, there has always been felt the need of a permanent building,\nplanned with reference to the work.\n\nThrough the generosity of parties interested, there is a little sum on\nhand toward the purchase of land.\n\nThe board desires to secure a piece of land from two to five acres,\nwhere the inmates of the home can raise chickens also cultivate\nflowers, plants, etc., giving them a percentage on their efforts to\nencourage them.\n\nThe opportunity is now given to some philanthropic party to either\ndonate or sell on easy terms land, as above described, on or near any\none of the car lines.\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\nImmediately following our first Christmas in Beth-Adriel I was taken\nsuddenly and dangerously ill, so that my life was despaired of. Many\nwere the prayers for my restoration. How devoted were my dear young\nfriends, especially Lucy and Anna! Praise God! I was unable to resume\nmy duties until April, 1904. Then I responded to a call from Boulder\nCreek, a lovely town in Santa Cruz mountains; next I went to\nWatsonville and vicinity; and after that I returned home for a rest,\nfor I was not yet very strong. I arrived at home June first.\n\nBeing impressed that my next field of labor was to be in a city in the\nextreme northern part of California, I, after a week of loving\nintercourse with my precious girls, sailed for Eureka, Humboldt County,\narriving there on June 8, 1904. As usual, the local papers immediately\nannounced my coming, one saying, through the interviewing reporter,\nthat I had $1,200 toward purchasing property.\n\nTwo days later I was the guest of Rev. and Mrs. Franklin Baker, whose\nhome became my headquarters during my stay of over two months'\nduration. I was now in an excellent field of labor amongst the fallen.\nMoreover, I fulfilled pulpit engagements in practically every church\nand organization in Humboldt County.\n\nFrom noon until about 5 P.M. each day (with very few exceptions) I was\nengaged in house-to-house work in the undesirable districts. After word\nhad been passed around that I was sincerely the friend of the fallen,\nmany a poor wandering girl listened with profound respect to God's\nloving message in word and song. Even most of the landladies of these\nhouses of sin and shame invited me in, when convenient. Frequently have\nI been humbly asked to join them at their repasts. Never did I refuse.\n(Reader, our Savior ate with publicans and sinners; are we, professed\nChristians, better than he? God forbid!) What golden opportunity to\nconverse whilst we ate! How the best, the very best, would then rise to\nthe surface! On one of these occasions B---- F----, soon to quit\nforever this mode of living, said:\n\n\"Mother Roberts, I've a friend close by. She's taken to drinking\nheavily lately; otherwise she's refined and accomplished. Can you spare\ntime to see her today?\"\n\n\"Most assuredly, B----. Can you accompany me?\"\n\nShe gladly, hurriedly changed her attire, and soon appeared, heavily\nveiled.\n\n\"Why are you veiled, B----?\" I asked.\n\n\"I don't suppose you will want to be seen walking on the street with\nme, Mother Roberts,\" she replied.\n\nWith my own hands I removed the veil whilst the tears of tender, humble\nappreciation and love, gathered and flowed down her cheeks. We were\nsoon at J----'s place, where B---- knocked at a side door, because of\nthe noise of carousal in the front of the house. A beautiful but\ngreatly intoxicated young woman opened the door and began upbraiding\nB---- for bringing me. But B---- marched right in, pulling me after\nher.\n\n\"We'll go into your bedroom if no one's there, J----,\" she said, and\nforthwith proceeded to do so.\n\n\"B----, you shouldn't have done this. I'm drunk. I don't want a lady\nlike this one to see me in such a beastly state. You shouldn't have\ndone it, B----,\" said poor J----.\n\nSuch a noise of rowdyism was proceeding from the front room that\npresently she said: \"I'll stop that!\" and to me, \"Please excuse me a\nmoment.\"\n\nThere was a hush and then sounds of several footsteps. She threw her\ndoor wide open, marched them all in, turned the key in the lock, and\nput the key in her pocket. What did this mean? I soon found out.\n\n\"Talk to them, too. They all need it as much as I,\" she said.\n\nThey surely did. All told, there were nine, not including B---- and me.\nFour were mere lads, who were so ashamed that they tried to hide their\nfeatures by pulling their hats as far over their faces as possible. I\nsang a song; they called for another, and still another. During the\nsinging of the third one, J----, with her beautiful hair streaming\nabout her face and shoulders suddenly threw herself lengthwise on the\nfloor, crying out, and calling on God for mercy. Mary Magdalene,\nprostrate at the Master's feet, was being reenacted once more. I\nquickly knelt, put my arms around her, and prayed and prayed and\nprayed. Before I finished, every boy and girl in that bedroom was\nkneeling.\n\nSome of them I again met, though never in such a place. As for J----,\nshe immediately disappeared, and I have never heard of her since. B----\nwent East and became a trained nurse, one who spiritually administers\nto the patients in her charge.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\nTHE SUICIDE OF L----. ITS AFTER-EFFECT.\n\n\nAfter much effort and following repeated calls with \"not at home\"\nresponses, I at last was able to meet one Miss Blank. Seated in her\nprivate reception room, I listened respectfully to her recital of\nvindication because of her present position, and then told her the\nnature of my errand.\n\nThe door was partially open. A beautiful, very beautiful blonde girl\nattired in pale blue stepped partly in, saying as she did so, \"May I\ncome in. Miss Blank?\" \"No, not just now,\" was the answer. \"I'm engaged\nfor the next few minutes.\" At her request I sang.\n\nI sang a song entitled \"My Mother's Voice.\" I was sitting where I had a\nview of a portion of the stairway, and, as I sang, I saw a little blue\nslipper and part of a dress. That girl sat there listening.\n\nI soon left. Before doing so I asked if I might call again, and\nreceived permission.\n\nThe following Sunday evening, after I had addressed a large audience in\nthe Presbyterian church and just as the meeting closed, two ladies\nhastened forward and thus excitedly addressed the pastor (Reverend\nS----) and me:\n\n\"Oh! we thought the meeting would never end. Do you know a girl shot\nherself just now in Miss Blank's house? She may be living yet. Hurry!\nYou may be able to get there in time to save her soul before she dies.\"\nI ran, without even my hat, the pastor quickly following. When we rang\nthe bell, Miss Blank came to the door and, throwing herself into my\narms, exclaimed:\n\n\"Oh! if I had only let her in! if I had only let her in! Mrs. Roberts,\nit's the girl who asked to come in the other day when you were calling\non me.\"\n\n\"Is she living yet? Quick! let me see her. This is the Rev. Mr. S----\nwho accompanies me,\" I said.\n\n\"Too late! Mrs. Roberts, too late! She died in awful agony about twenty\nminutes ago. Those two men in the hall whom you saw as you came in are\nthe coroner and the doctor. Oh! my God! my God! Pray, please pray for\nher soul,\" wailed poor Miss Blank.\n\n\"Miss Blank, she's gone, never to return. We want to pray for your\nprecious soul,\" pleaded Brother S----.\n\n\"No, no, oh! no,\" wept Miss Blank, and nothing we could say or do would\ninduce her to kneel with us. She only clung the closer to me, and wept\nand mourned piteously.\n\nIt was early morning before we left.\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\nAll that was mortal of beautiful unfortunate L---- had been removed to\nthe morgue, and, the name and address of her parents having been\ndiscovered, the following telegram had been sent: \"Daughter L---- died\nsuddenly. What disposition of remains?\" As quickly as possible came\nthis reply: \"Embalm. Leave for Eureka immediately.\"\n\n(Father's name.)\n\nOn Monday afternoon I was once more with Miss Blank, now sufficiently\ncalmed to relate this:\n\n\"L---- was taken with a spell of despondency Saturday. [I was there\nFriday afternoon.] It wasn't like her, for she usually was the life of\nthe house. She didn't get up all day Sunday. I went up after dinner to\ntry to jolly her up, and soon left her, as I thought, more cheerful.\nPresently we all were startled by the firing of a pistol, followed by\nsome one screaming: 'Oh! my God, my God! what have I done? Help me,\nplease, for God's sake help me!' But she was soon past all earthly aid.\nAll of us were paralyzed with fear, as you may readily understand.\"\nThen she wept, as few weep, whilst I also in tears sought to comfort\nher and to point her to the merciful Savior, but she would have none of\nhim. All I could do was to wait patiently and pray.\n\nI went to the undertaker's to view the remains. He and his wife\nremarked that they had handled many a corpse, but none so beautiful as\nthis one. But I was grieving for the lost soul. Where, oh! where was it\nnow? Where, where were the others going?\n\nThe steamer arrived, and on it not alone the father but also the mother\nof beautiful L----. No one had expected the mother. To me was assigned\nthe painful task of breaking the news to her. I believe I was the most\nburdened woman on earth at that hour and time. Rev. S---- introduced me\nto the stricken father in the hotel office, who presently took us up to\ntheir room. To my dying day I shall see that scene. After the\nintroduction to the mother, the father and Brother S---- retired to\nanother room. I was standing there alone with the mother, who leaned\nagainst the dressing-case, her hands behind her back, gripping the\nwoodwork. She was a magnificent, majestic-looking lady; the father also\nwas a tall fine-looking man. It was easy to discover whence the\ndaughter had inherited her beauty.\n\n\"Who are you?\" she gasped.\n\nI explained.\n\n\"Tell me, did you know my darling girl?\" she inquired.\n\n\"No, dear lady, not in life, although I had seen her,\" I replied.\n\n\"Where? where had you seen her?\" she next interrogated.\n\n\"In the house where she boarded,\" I answered.\n\n\"Was her husband with her?\" she inquired.\n\n\"No, not that I heard of,\" was my reply\n\nNext came that dreadful, dreadful question. She shrieked it:\n\n\"Tell me, madam, was--it--all--right--with--my--baby--girl?\"...\n\nMy tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. I tried to answer. Not one\nword could I utter. The mother with the exclamation. \"O my God!\" went\ndown in a heap on the floor and I with her. For a long time the silence\nremained unbroken. She was the first to speak:\n\n\"It is so kind of you to come; so kind to help me in my terrible\ntrouble. God will reward you. I never can. Now, dear, I must have\nparticulars, if its kills me. To help get them, I must tell you this:\nMy L---- was my youngest, my petted, spoilt, baby girl. Her every wish\nwas gratified from the time she drew her first breath. Nothing was too\ngood for her, and no expense spared. We sent her to Europe to complete\nher education. Did you ever hear her sing?\"...\n\nErelong this soul-stricken mother lay in her bed sleeping as only the\ngrief-exhausted can sleep; then I left for a much-needed rest. After a\nfew hours I returned. When I left her late that night, she had sent for\npoor terrified Miss Blank.\n\nWhen I came down-stairs the following morning, Mrs. Baker told me that\nsome one was anxious to talk with me over the telephone--some one who\nwould not give her name, only her number. Going to the telephone, I\nsoon recognized Miss Blank's voice.\n\n\"Good morning, Mrs. Roberts,\" she begin. \"I've been very anxious to get\nyou, but would not have your rest disturbed, as I was sure you must be\nworn out. I've been talking to L----'s poor mother all night long, and\nshe has agreed to a funeral service which we can attend. Neither she\nnor her husband will be present; _only our kind_. We want to know if\nyou will conduct it for us.\"\n\n\"Where, Miss Blank?\" I inquired.\n\n\"In the undertaker's chapel tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock. They\nare going to take her remains back to her old home on Monday's steamer.\nDo say you will, Mrs. Roberts, _please_.\"\n\nI consented, provided I should be allowed to give a message to the\nliving. She gladly acquiesced.\n\nWith difficulty I made my way through the crowd that blocked the street\nin front of the undertaker's the following afternoon. None were\nadmitted but L----'s associates. There she lay, apparently sleeping\nsweetly, but this was only the beautiful, fast-decaying mortal form.\nThe remains were surrounded by fragrant tributes of exquisite floral\npieces, and girls dressed in black robes, heavily veiled, and weeping\nbitterly. With great effort I at last spoke and sang. I do not remember\nif I had a text; I do know that _the message came to the living\nstraight from the throne of grace_. Even until recently some one has\noccasionally reminded me that she was present on that occasion and that\nit brought about her reformation. The father and mother departed with\ntheir precious burden the following morning. They came early on board,\nin order to avoid curious eyes. I spent the time with the mother in\ntheir stateroom until they sailed. When that casket was lowered into\nthe hold of the steamer, I so obstructed the doorway that she could not\nlook past me.\n\nBefore our final parting the poor mother gave a farewell message for\nother mothers. It was this:\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts, I was too indulgent, too weak, with my little girl. All\nshe had to do was to tease until she got her own way even though I knew\nit would prove to be detrimental to her good. If I resisted or advised\never so little, she would overrule every time.\n\n\"When she returned from Europe, she sang in our church choir and proved\nto be a great attraction. She and the tenor singer, ---- ----, were\nbetrothed, and with our consent. He was a schoolmate of hers. For some\ntrifling offense on his part, she became angry and unfortunately showed\na relentless spirit; consequently, the breach widened.\n\n\"Poor darling! She was so impetuous, so impulsive. I have never quite\nrecovered from the shock I received when she suddenly announced her\nmarriage to an utter stranger--an educated young scoundrel, as we soon\nlearned to our sorrow. Papa and I decided to make the best of it now\nthe deed was done; so he took him into his employ in order that our\nbaby girl might be near us. He robbed us in less than six weeks of\nseveral hundred dollars; then Papa told daughter that she was welcome\nto her home as long as she lived, but that he must go; that she would\nbe compelled to choose. I know she did not want to; but, oh! she was so\nproud, and she would not give in. She chose her husband, and _that was\nthe last I saw of her until_--Oh! I can not, can not bear it. Mrs.\nRoberts! It is killing me!\"\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Miss Blank knows him. She had more than once ordered him out of her\nhouse for abusing L---- and living off her dreadful earnings....\"\n\nWhen the steamer was far away, almost out of sight, Brother S---- at\nlast turned to me and asked whether I had seen L----'s dairy, now in\nher father's possession. \"No,\" I replied; \"I had no idea she had kept\none.\" Then, as we walked home, he repeated some recent entries in it. I\ngive them to you as best my memory serves me:\n\n(Date) \"Just as I feared: Bert has been grafting again and has lost his\njob....\"\n\n(Date) \"We're going to Spokane. My! but I'm homesick; I'd like to give\nin, but I won't! I won't!...\"\n\n(Date) \"Bert has secured a job at last. Better than nothing--clerking\nin the soda fountain department of ----'s drug store. Hope he'll quit\ngrafting.\"\n\n(Date) \"I've a good position now in ---- ----'s cloak and suit house.\nAfraid I can't keep it long, my health is so poor lately....\"\n\n(Date) \"Bert and I had words tonight. He's quit. I suppose he had to.\"\n\n(Date) \"There's a very pleasant lady in the next bed to mine\n[sanitarium]. I'm going back with her when she goes home, and until\nBert is on his feet again....\"\n\n(Date) \"How much has happened since I last wrote in my diary! I've some\nfine clothes and jewelry. Bert is sporting a suit of fine clothes and\ndiamond pin, but--I can't write any more.\"\n\n(Date) \"Miss Blank says Bert will have to keep away. I'm glad of it.\nHow I hate him!...\"\n\n(Much later) \"A lady called yesterday. Wish I might have talked with\nher. Sang about mother I wish, oh, how I wish--what nonsense I'm\nwriting....\"\n\n(Next morning) \"I'm so wretched, so very wretched.... Oh! mama, mama,\nmama! If you could only read between the lines--\"\n\nAnd that was all. No name was signed. But--we can all of us read\nbetween the lines, yes all of us.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\nGOOD NEWS FROM HOME--MISS LORAINE.\n\n\nLetters from different members of Beth-Adriel board were now constantly\nreaching me. They contained interesting accounts of the doings at home\nand also much concerning various properties, none of which, from all\naccounts, appealed to my fancy. Reader, I was hard to please. I wanted\nsomething better than had as yet been described. Somehow I felt God had\nit for us. Sure-enough, as I discovered on my return home in August.\n\nA letter from the vice-president described a property of ten acres of\norchard and grounds, all under cultivation; a commodious dwelling,\npartly furnished; outhouses, etc., situated just outside of the city\nlimits. It was not for sale; but as the owner, who resided on the\npremises, was a Christian man, it was thought that he might, for such a\npurpose, be induced to sell. It was deemed best, before approaching him\nto await my return. You will be pleased to hear more concerning this\nlater. Just now I want to tell you about Miss Loraine.\n\nThere was one house in Eureka into which I had never been admitted. One\nday whilst I was visiting another, the landlady asked:\n\n\"Have you ever called on Miss Loraine?\"\n\n\"I have been there more than once,\" I answered, \"but as yet I have been\nunsuccessful in gaining admittance.\"\n\n\"Would you still go if you could? I can get you in. I am a personal\nfriend of hers,\" said Miss ----.\n\n\"Thank you, I shall be very glad to have you make the necessary\narrangements,\" I replied, upon which she went to her telephone, took\ndown the receiver, and held the following conversation:\n\n\"Hello! is that you, H----? Good morning....\"\n\n\"Quite well, thank you. How are you?\"... \"I called you up to tell you\nof a lady who is calling on me, and who would like very much to meet\nyou. We all call her 'Mother' Roberts.\"\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"No, she isn't a crank.\"...\n\n\"Now, look here, H----, you'll have to see her. You ought to know\nbetter than refuse me.\"\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Well, when will you be at home? At five o'clock? Wait a minute.\"\n\nPutting her hand over the mouthpiece and turning to me, she asked:\n\"Can you call at five this evening?\"\n\nI could; so she made arrangements, hung up the receiver, and then wrote\na note of introduction, wording it thus:\n\nDear H----\n\nThis will introduce my friend, Mother Roberts. She is all O. K. Hoping\nyou will have a pleasant time together,\n\nYours as ever, ---- ----\n\nThis I presented with my card at Miss Loraine's door at exactly five\no'clock. A Japanese page dressed in uniform ushered me into a\nconventional but well-furnished reception-room. There sat a young woman\nin a handsome silk negligee, who invited me to be seated, remarking\nthat Miss Loraine was out, but would soon return, and that she was to\nentertain me in the interval. In a few minutes there came up the steps\nand then entered the room three splendid-looking young women, richly\nattired. The one in black silk, Miss Loraine, received me with all the\nmanners of a lady of birth and good breeding, and soon asked me if I\nwould come with her to her private quarters, so that we could converse\nundisturbed. I followed her up-stairs into a Dresden-draped bedroom,\nwhere ensued the following conversation:\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts, I feel I owe you an apology for not sooner receiving\nyou. To be candid with you, my door is closed to all who have not made\nprevious engagements; then, too, I shrink from the embarrassment of\nmeeting any ladies from the better walks of life,\" etc.\n\nWhilst endeavoring to reassure her, I happened to look at a\nsilver-framed photograph of a handsome, white-haired old gentleman.\nQuickly remarking this, she reverently handed it to me, saying:\n\n\"I notice you are attracted to this. Would you think there was anything\nout of the common in any of these features?\"\n\nUpon my replying in the negative, she added:\n\n\"This is the photograph of my dearly loved father. He is stone blind.\"\n\nI expressed my astonishment, for there was no indication in the\npicture.\n\nAfter a pause she said, \"Mrs. Roberts, will you please do me a favor?\"\n\n\"If it lies in my power,\" I replied.\n\n\"It does,\" was her rejoinder. \"Will you honor me by dining with me this\nevening, half an hour hence?\"\n\nFor one second I hesitated, but on interpreting her expression I\ninstantly replied, \"With pleasure,\" for like a flash came a mental\nvision of the King of kings dining with Simon the leper (Mark 11:3-9).\nThen she absented herself for a few minutes, doubtless to make\nnecessary arrangements.\n\n\"I feel disposed, if you care to listen.\" she said on her return, \"to\ngive you a synopsis of my life.\"\n\nI assured her of a great desire to hear it and, if possible, to prove\nmore than simply a hearer. Briefly, it was this:\n\nShe was an only child of rich parents. She was reared in a luxurious\nhome, where card-playing, theater-going, dancing, and all other high\nsociety amusements were continually indulged in. When she was entering\nher teens and most needed a mother's care, her mother died, and her\nfather placed her in a fashionable boarding-school. She remained there\nuntil she was seventeen, when he sent her, under the chaperonage of\nfriends, on a trip to Europe.\n\nWhilst she was in Rome, she received from her father a cable message\nreading, \"Come home on next steamer.\" Upon arriving in New York, she\nsoon learned from her father's lips of his total failure in business\n(he was a stock broker) and also of the fast approaching\naffliction--blindness. Property of every description was swept away.\nShe soon secured a position as nursery governess, but erelong she\nrealized that she was unqualified, never having been coached for any\nbut high social life.\n\nThe gentleman (?) whom she had expected to marry some day proved untrue\nas soon as her riches fled.\n\nJust at a time when her employer had gently informed her of her\ninability to fill her position of governess satisfactorily and of her\n(the employer's) intention of dismissing her, the tempter, in the form\nof an unprincipled but well-to-do man about to make a trip to the\nPacific Coast, crossed her path and ensnared her. Under promise of\nmarriage, she agreed to go with him. After telling her now blind\nfather, who was being provided for out of her earnings, that she had\nsecured a position for better pay, but that it would take her away from\nNew York for a time, she bade him a tearful farewell.\n\nBefore long the rich reprobate deserted her, but he was merciful enough\nnot to leave her penniless. With a considerable sum at her disposal,\nand for advisers one or two whose morals were at a low ebb, she came\nNorth and furnished the house in which I was now sitting.\n\nShe was in constant correspondence with her father, who supposed that\nshe was married and that the fifty dollars or more (never less) which\nhe monthly received came from his wealthy son-in-law. And now hear her\nown words:\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts, I believe you will give me an honest answer to my\nearnest question. Would it be possible for me to secure any honorable\nposition whereby I might continue to send my dear father fifty dollars\na month, as well as live respectably myself?\"\n\nReader, what answer would you, had you been in my place, have made? I\nwas in an awkward position--in the presence of one who had never\nattended any but a fashionable church and hence--who knew little or\nnothing of God and his Son, one who had never been taught anything\nwhich in the event of accidents or business failures would prove\npractical. She was indeed and in truth to be pitied. My reply was a\nquestion:\n\n\"Could you not have kept a respectable lodging-house, my dear Miss\nLoraine?\"\n\n\"Perhaps, had I been advised by the right kind of people, but I met the\nwrong ones,\" she replied. \"As long as my dear father lives,\" she added,\n\"I must send him this sum for rent and ordinary comforts. The moment\nword reaches me of his demise, I will forever cease living such a life.\nI will quietly disappear to some remote corner of the globe.\"\n\nThen she showed me a letter just received, one beginning, \"My dear Son\nand Daughter.\" How my heart ached as I silently prayed to know what to\ndo!\n\n\"What about the inmates of your house. Miss Loraine? How do you procure\nthem?\"\n\n\"Pardon me, but I can not explain that. I will say, though, each of\nthem has a sad story. They are, as you will presently infer from what\nyou see, refined, more or less talented girls; but they will soon drift\ndownward. The life is too rapid, and nature will not long stand the\nstrain and abuse. I never interfere if a girl shows an inclination to\nquit; on the contrary, I gladly help her.\"\n\nHere a gong sounded, announcing dinner. She preceded me to the\ndining-room. When we entered, I saw five handsome young women, whose\nages varied (I should judge) from eighteen to twenty-six. They were all\nattired in quiet dress, surely in honor of the occasion, which courtesy\nI greatly appreciated. Permission being granted, I invoked a blessing.\nThe meal was served in courses, and we were waited upon by the Japanese\npage. I ate very sparingly, in fact, made only a pretence of eating,\nfor God's message lay so heavily on my heart that I had to deliver it.\nThey listened with rapt attention, and all but one shed tears. How\nstolid she appeared to be! yet she was possibly the one many months\nlater most impressed. I met her again. She was home then in her\nfather's house once more, but was not yet a Christian.\n\nAs for Miss Loraine, I never saw her again, but about a year later I\nlearned that her father had died and that she had taken her departure\nfor parts unknown. I can only pray and trust that she will, if living,\nturn to the ever-merciful Savior.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\nLUCY'S LETTER--THE SCHOOL TEACHER.\n\n\nOn July 29, I received several letters, one of which is well worth\ncopying:\n\nBeth-Adriel, San Jose, July 27, 1904.\n\nMrs. Florence Roberts, Dear Mother:\n\nI wrote you a letter several days ago, but have had no answer to it as\nyet, but thought I would write again, as it seems so long since I saw\nor heard from you.\n\nI wrote and told you all about my trip to San Francisco, and what a\ngood time I had [on that occasion she visited the jail where she was\nonce a prisoner and where she was converted on or about Feb. 14, 1903],\nbut I presume you have been very busy, or you would have answered.\n\nWell, I can praise God for some wonderful victories, and I do praise\nhim every day. Just last night I was talking to our matron [Mother\nWeatherwax] and saying how perfectly wonderful his strength was; for it\nis his strength, and not mine, that has kept me up and is still\nkeeping--me up from day to day.\n\nThe home is full now.... We have one case of clear-cut answer to\nprayer, where it just took real faith to hold on. But isn't it just\nlike our dear, good heavenly Father to do and answer just the\nimpossible. It was a case of abduction and attempted seduction of a\nlovely Christian girl, the daughter of a Free Methodist minister, into\na terrible house of ill-fame, one of those notorious road-houses, and\nit was such a filthy, vile place, that the chief of police [Carroll]\nwould not let Mother W---- and another lady go with the officers and\nthe lady's husband after the girl. Thank God, He gave us the law on our\nside, and we have the girl here safe and well and doing fine; and I can\nsay the same for all of the rest of us girls.\n\nThe girl referred to had come from her Eastern home to southern\nCalifornia for her health. As her means were limited, she sought\nemployment, and one day answered an attractive advertisement for a\nhousekeeper for an invalid lady. A favorable reply, urging her to come\nat once, quickly came, stating that in the event of her paying her fare\nit would be refunded on her arrival, also that she would be met at the\nSan Jose depot by a lady wearing a bunch of red roses on her left\nbreast.\n\nWhen she arrived, she was welcomed and taken in a hack to the awful\nplace of which Lucy wrote. She managed to write a note with a match\nstem, wrapped the paper round a small piece of rock which she found in\nthe room where she was imprisoned, and prayerfully threw them through\nthe grating: toward a man who was watering his horses at the trough and\nwho evidently knew the nature of this notorious resort. Praise God, the\nstone did not miss its mark. The man was wise enough to notify the\nauthorities, and that place was compelled to go out of business in\nshort order.\n\nI have not been able to go to church for three weeks now, but God is\nhere at home with me, and I am learning more of him every day. My verse\nfor today was Ezek. 34:12, and I think it is so beautiful, especially\nabout the dark and cloudy days.\n\nWe went to Alum Rock [a beautiful resort adjacent to San Jose] three\nweeks ago Thursday, and I got so badly poisoned [poison-oak] that there\nwas not an inch of my body that was not covered and my eyes were\nswollen shut for two days. I was sick in bed with it all day the Fourth\nand here alone; but not alone, for if ever I had a happy day, it was\nthat. Lots of times I feel discouraged to think I can not remember the\nScriptures that I read, but it was just marvelous the way they would\nroll over my mind on those two or three days that I could not see even\nto read. I believe God just wanted me to see when my eyes, hands,\ntongue and feet were quiet how active my mind was.\n\nMy head and throat are still very bad, and I go to the doctor about\nthree times a week, but still have those terrible ulcers gathering and\nbreaking in my head. I am so thin that I can not wear the black dress\nyou made me at all. Mother W---- says she is afraid something will give\nway in my head one of these days. She wants me to go home for a rest,\nbut if I did, then Mama [her own mother] wouldn't come here for a rest,\nand I want her to have a rest, and then, too, I would have to ask them\nto send me money to go home on. [Lucy's services were gratuitous.]\n\nJust the other day I was reading how much Delia did for the Lord in her\nshort Christian life [Before conversion known as the \"Blue Bird\" of\nMulberry Bend of New York], and it has made me feel bad; for here I\nhave been saved over a year, and what have I done? It is said that she\nhad over six hundred souls in three months, and I can not claim one\nthat I know of. I know that I have tried to be what God would have me\nbe, if ever a girl did try. [Indeed, indeed you have, dear child, and\nGod smiles on you for it.]\n\nThere is one thing sure. I have prayed a great deal for you lately for\never since two weeks ago Tuesday night, which was our prayer-meeting\nnight of course, I had a real hard fight with Satan, and he had tried\nto get the better of my better self, and Miss Sisson came and told of\nyour being at a house to see the landlady and then of your going back\nin a few days to preach the funeral services over the dead body of one\nof the girls [suicide]. Oh, how it helped me to see what I had been\nspared from and how much I had to praise God for! and it also showed me\nhow many prayers you needed to help you in your work, and so I have\nheld you up more than ever before His throne, and maybe if I can not\nreap myself, I can pray for those that are in the field.\n\nGod has been so good that all through my sickness I have missed but two\ndays' work, that is, there were but two days that I was not able to get\nthe meals (all of them). It is perfectly wonderful, the strength,\nwillingness, and determination He will give us if we but want it.\n\nSometimes lately when my head has been so bad, I have thought, what if\nI should be taken now. It would be grand to go home; but I have talked\nwith Mother W---- so much lately, and I do not feel I could go till I\nhave done something for Him who did so much for me. Pray for me,\nMother, that I may get better and do something. I want to go and tell\nMattie [a former companion in sin] and the girls, that what God has\ndone for me he will do for them.\n\nI'll tell you what Doctor A---- says is the matter with me. She\nexamined me, tested my blood, and said it was not in the system from\ndisease of myself, but that sometime, when my throat was sore, I\ninhaled the germs from some sick person, that the throat was just in\nthe condition for them to germinate, and now my throat and ear are\neaten out terribly. [Cigarette-smoking the probable cause ] She hasn't\nsaid she couldn't cure me, but that it will take a year's solid and\ncontinuous treatment, without any neglectfulness whatsoever.\n\nOh! isn't it true that if we sow to the flesh, we must reap corruption.\nI know that I did, and am willing to suffer the pain and endure if I\ncan only tell others--yes--warn them. But I know that I can not do it\naway from here until I can do it better here, so I want more courage to\ndo it better here.\n\nMania doesn't know much about my throat, only what Mother W---- wrote\nher that tune.\n\nOh! this is an awfully long letter, so I must close it. I am nervous\nand can't write well.\n\nPray for us, as we pray for you. Everybody sends you their love, and\nGod bless you.\n\nYour daughter in faith, Lucy ----.\n\nHow I loved to receive her appreciative, newsy letters! but oh, how\nthey saddened me as I more than ever realized the truth of that\nstatement that \"whatsoever we sow, that shall we also reap,\" Gal. 6:7.\n\nBut one more incident and story before we leave Eureka.\n\nOne day, on one of my house-to-house visits, and following considerable\ndisappointment, for so few were at home, or else the inmates did not\nwant to receive me, I at last received a response from a frail-looking\nwoman of about twenty-four years of age, who said, \"I should very much\nlike to have a heart-to-heart talk with you, but this is no place for\nit. Can you come to my private room in the ---- ---- lodging-house. Go\nto room No. --, first floor at 1:30 tomorrow, where we can converse\nundisturbed.\"\n\nAt the appointed time I was kindly received, and soon I was listening\nto her troubles; but before rehearsing them she called my attention to\na framed diploma on her wall, a teacher's certificate.\n\n\"Have you taught school?\" I inquired.\n\nShe simply answered, \"Yes.\"\n\n\"Are you not taking great chances by having that where strangers can\nsee it?\" I asked.\n\n\"No,\" she replied; \"I do my own work, and have a patent lock, so that\nnone but my husband and me have access to this room.\"\n\nI was still more at sea. Over the head of her bed hung a picture which\nI never shall forget. Let me endeavor to describe it:\n\nThe beautiful nude form of a young woman lay on a couch. Horror was\ndepicted upon her countenance, and she was frantically but vainly\nstruggling to free herself from the great boa-constrictor which had\ncoiled his ugly thick body about her. Standing beside her and looking\non with a dreadful expression of devilish satisfaction was a\nrepresentation of Satan, whilst coming in at the open door reeled a\nyoung man in a woeful state of intoxication.\n\nThe old, old dreadful story! When, oh! when will they ever profit by\nthis only too true picture, being really enacted every day, every hour,\nby some mother's wandering girl?\n\nWould that I might be able to tell you that this ex-school-teacher\nyielded to our Lord and Savior, but alas! that boa-constrictor had too\nfirm a grip on her. Listen to her story:\n\n\"Less than four years ago, I was a happy young woman, living with my\nparents in the South, in a modest but very happy home, and surrounded\nby loving friends.\n\n\"My downfall dates from a picnic. I was exceedingly fond of dancing,\nwith no ill effect from indulging in what hitherto I had regarded as a\nmost innocent pastime, but that day I was introduced to one who\npeculiarly affected me. Why, I used to laugh to scorn, and express\ncontempt for, any one who could be so very weak as to succumb to evil\ninfluences through the dance, never dreaming that my day of doom would\ncome.\n\n\"How I loved him! and how I hugged my secret! At least, so I thought;\nbut he read me, read me like a book. He was a traveling man, and showed\nme many excellent letters. I told my parents, who felt interested, and\nthe next thing I was enjoying his company in our home, where he made\nhimself very agreeable to the old people. Soon I was attending several\nsocial functions, some at his invitation, particularly where there was\ndancing, for I loved to feel his arms about me, his breath on my cheek.\n\n\"A day came when, for love of him, I bartered my soul. The remorse\nwhich soon followed was so deep that I took what little money I had,\nstole away from home, and my relatives haven't seen or heard from me\nsince, although I hear of them through a trusted friend, who has\npromised not to further bruise the old folks' hearts by letting them\nknow of my downfall or whereabouts. I'm dead to them forever; dead to\nthem forever!\"\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"I was the supposed wife of my first love for over a year. How I begged\nhim to marry me! but he only laughed and asked if I wanted to have him\narrested for bigamy. Then he left me.\n\n\"My baby was born dead. Thank God for that! and now as soon as able, I\nmust move on.\n\n\"Some of these girls on the downward path are so kind-hearted, Mrs.\nRoberts.\"\n\n\"Yes, Saidie, I know it well,\" I said. \"I've been their friend for\nseveral years, and I know many of them and their good traits and deeds;\nbut pardon me for interrupting.\" \"I drifted from place to place,\" she\ncontinued; \"now I'm here--here facing an awful future. No God, no home,\nsick in body and soul, not fit to live and certainly not fit to die.\"\n\n\"How happened it that you met the man you called your husband, Saidie?\"\nI asked.\n\n\"Just as nine-tenths of them do,\" she replied. \"We take up with some\none who is seemingly kind. It's an awful mistake. _They profit at our\nexpense every day_. They take our earnings of sin, and are often brutal\nbesides,\" she sobbed.\n\n\"But does not the vagrancy law protect you?\" I asked.\n\n\"No; not so long as they can prove they are working,\" she answered. \"He\nis a bar-tender.\"\n\n\"Saidie, I want you to leave this life,\" I pleaded. Come with me, dear.\nI will treat you as though you were in deed and in truth my own\ndaughter.\n\n\"Listen, I will even go further; you shall travel with me. I need an\namanuensis and secretary. I am overworked, dear. Say you will, and I\nwill make all the necessary arrangements.\"\n\nHow I begged her to consent! I wanted to take her then and there, but,\n_unfortunately, no one I knew would harbor, even temporarily, such a\ngirl, until I was ready to leave--not one_. I could linger no longer\nthat day, excepting for short earnest prayer, in which she took no\npart. We agreed to meet the following day at noon in a certain\nrestaurant, where we could enjoy privacy. She kept the appointment, but\nsomething--I could only conjecture--something had cooled her ardor. I\napparently made very little headway with the Master's message. She was\nsilent, obdurate, and she soon left. The next day I followed her up,\nonly to learn from the scrub-woman that Saidie was intoxicated. Again I\ncalled; for I was to take the next steamer, and felt I must make one\nmore effort in her behalf. I was told that she had received bad news,\nthat she was drinking deeper than ever to drown her misery, and that it\nwould be worse than useless to see her. After returning to San Jose, I\nwrote a renewal of my offer, but received no reply. In all probability\npoor Saidie, _another victim of the dance_, now lies in one of the\nnameless graves.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII.\n\nSAN QUENTIN--WE SECURE A LOVELY PROPERTY.\n\n\nOn or about August 18, 1904, I was in San Francisco. Thence I went to\nSan Quentin, State's prison, where I was graciously given an\nopportunity of addressing over one thousand prisoners and also of\nhaving many individual heart-to-heart talks, the latter a favor which\nhas been granted me for many years. At this time there was no admission\ninto the women's quarters; under the new and present administration I\nhave been allowed this valuable privilege. To see the faces light up\nand to hear the hearty expressions from warden, officers, and prisoners\nwas always well worth a special trip at any time; consequently, I\nlooked forward with pleasure, though sad at heart, to visiting our\npenitentiaries whenever opportunity afforded. Sometimes my efforts\nseemed barren of results, but only in eternity may we learn of the good\naccomplished through faithful seed-sowing.\n\nOn this particular occasion I had requested of Captain Ellis (captain\nof the guard) an interview with a young girl, sentenced for two years\n(I think) for robbery. Before leaving me, she told me of an old woman,\na life prisoner, who had not seen the outside of the women's quarters\nin over twenty years, and asked me if I would not please give her the\nnext call. Captain Ellis having consented, I was soon shaking hands\nwith a very neat, white-haired life prisoner. In a few moments she\nasked me if I would have any objection to her gazing out of the window\nat the beautiful bay and scenery, it having been so very many years\nsince she had enjoyed that pleasure.\n\nYou can never know the impression made on me by this humble request; my\nonly regret may be readily surmised. How I do praise God that he put it\ninto the heart and mind of the present matron, Mrs. Genevieve\nGardner-Smith, to appeal to kind-hearted Warden Hoyle and the board of\nprison directors for a special concession in behalf of all the\nwell-behaved women prisoners. She asked for a monthly holiday, to\nconsist of a two-and-a-half hours' walk within the grounds on God's\nbeautiful green hills, so that these poor women might briefly feast to\ntheir heart's content on the lovely landscape and view of San\nFrancisco's unsurpassable bay. A motion being made and passed, one of\nthe many new and excellent concessions is this one of a Sunday walk on\nthe hills once a month in charge of the matron, after the male\nprisoners are locked in for the day. The first time this occurred, some\nof these poor women knelt on mother earth and bathed it with their\ntears. Ah! reader, are you not, with me, daily demonstrating the fact,\nthat _only godly wisdom, coupled with love, can win_?\n\n[Illustration: BIRD'S EYE VIEW OF SAN QUENTIN]\n\nMy visit was all too short. I had to hasten to San Jose, where the\nboard of Beth-Adriel managers were awaiting my arrival to inspect some\nproperties. Please, if you can, imagine the welcome home from my dear\nLucy, Anna, and the rest of the family. A warm attachment soon\ndeveloped between the new matron, Mother Weatherwax, and me. She held\nthe matronal office until health no longer permitted. (Our readers will\nprobably have observed the tendency toward illness on the part of the\nworkers. In this branch of home missionary work there is a great need\nof strong physique and nerves; otherwise there will be frequent\nprostration from the constant strain on the system.)\n\nThe first joyous greetings over, next in order was inspection of\nproperty. After many trips for this purpose I at last saw a place which\ndelighted my heart; but--would the owner part with it? It was the one\nspoken of previously--the one consisting of ten acres, a commodious\nhouse, etc. Some of the members of the board knew the owner, Mr. R. D.\nNorton. We were all in the spirit of prayer whilst they laid the matter\nbefore him. He asked for time to consider, the ultimate result of which\nwas his decision to sell it for such a purpose. Oh, how we thanked and\npraised our kind heavenly Father! The purchase price was\n$10,000--$2,000 to be paid by October 9, the remainder on time at six\nper cent interest. Above all expenses, there was now in our treasury\n$1,300. We gladly agreed to accept the proposed terms and to wait on\nthe Lord for enough means to make up the deficit.\n\nOn October 8 while I, with the other members of the board, was in Judge\nRhode's court negotiating for the mortgage, word was sent over the\ntelephone that Mrs. Mary Hayes-Chynoweth, now deceased, would like to\nhave me come to her residence, Edenvale, a most beautiful spot adjacent\nto San Jose. There was barely time to make the train, but the Lord was\non my side. It being a few minutes late, I caught it, and was shortly\nin earnest conversation with this charitably disposed elderly lady. She\nasked me many questions and introduced me to her daughters-in-law, Mrs.\nJ. O. and Mrs. E. A. Hayes, who listened with marked attention to my\nrecitals. Presently Mrs. Chynoweth said, \"Mrs. Roberts, I am going to\nrequest you to excuse me briefly. I wish to pray with regard to this\nmatter; my daughters will be pleased to entertain you during my\nabsence.\"\n\nIn about a half hour she called both of them for private conference,\nleaving me with some of the grandchildren. Soon I was invited into the\nnext room. With a smile, this dear lady said, \"I feel that God wishes\nme to give you $500.\" Before I had a chance to speak, the Mmes. Hayes\nsaid, \"We will add $100 apiece.\" Reader, I was too happy to reply\nimmediately; and when I did, I could but poorly express my gratitude,\nfirst to God, then to them.\n\nIn answer to prayer we had our $2,000--first payment--according to\nagreement. Hallelujah! A $10,000 home for my dear prison friends, in\none year, three months, and six days from the day Lucy and I arrived in\nRedwood City, strangers, with two telescope baskets containing all our\nearthly possessions, sixty cents, and a little God-given faith.\nHallelujah! Did I regret the past toil, privations, and\ndisappointments? Never, never; but soon went on my way rejoicing, to\nsecure future support and payments.\n\nDuring my absence of little less than one month (for I was to return\nfor the dedicatory exercises of the new Beth-Adriel, to take place\nTuesday, November 22, 1904) sad news reached me. My poor Lucy was taken\nso alarmingly ill as to necessitate her immediate removal to her own\nhome. Although I have often heard from her, I have never since had the\nprivilege of meeting her face to face. Her fond dreams of seeing the\nbeautiful new home she had so greatly aided in procuring, were never,\nso far as I know, realized. If she is still living, I hope she may have\nthe pleasure and satisfaction of reading this book and of knowing how\ndearly I loved her and how much I appreciated her every effort. This I\nknow, that she sufficiently recovered to resume work for the Master;\nbut on account of the removal of her people, I temporarily lost track\nof this trophy for the Master's crown. God forever bless her wherever\nshe is.\n\nThe night previous to our removal from the little old home on St. John\nStreet, I was lying on my couch in the parlor, sleepless for very joy,\nand reading God's blessed Word. I happened to look up. On the wall hung\na motto bearing these words:\n\n  God has his best for those\n  Who dare to stand his tests;\n  His second choice for those\n  Who will not have his best.\n\n\"Lord!\" I said, \"I want your best.\"\n\n\"My child,\" came my soul-answer, \"It is for you; but there are hard\nroads still to travel, hard battles to fight and win, privations,\ndisappointments, losses, much more. 'Can thine heart endure, or can\nthine hands be strong, in the days that I shall deal with thee?' Ezek.\n22:14.\"\n\n\"Lord, thou knowest,\" I answered.\n\nThen came a desire to write. I took up tablet and pencil, always ready\nto my hand on the little stand by my couch, and spent the rest of the\nnight writing the verses that you will find in our next chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII.\n\nGOD'S BEST.\n\n\n  _Child, did I hear you say you want my best?\n  With nothing less--will you be satisfied?\n  You add you'll follow where I choose to lead,\n  Though all forsake, e'en to be crucified.\n\n  You ask you know not what ... Well, let it be\n  As you desire ... And now, a little test:\n  Your social standing I shall first require;\n  A humble place must bring to you--my best.\n\n  It hurts? ... Of course it hurts--the snubs, the slights,\n  From those whose favor you delighted in,\n  When they were told you'd found \"The Priceless Pearl\"\n  And willingly renounced this world for Him.\n\n  The step you've taken, they pronounce insane!\n  Wilt go a little further on this road?...\n  Your reputation. How you shrink! Too much to pay?\n  Child, I do only take you, at your word._\n\n  _Beloved one, still more I now desire;\n  Your worldly comforts -- e'en your home which you enjoy.\n  Can't part with them? Step out, my child, and try;\n  I promise you I'll substitute -- my joy.\n\n  You do not understand? But soon you shall:\n  I'm going to trust you in a hard, hard place;\n  Therefore destruction of your idols I must make,\n  To help you run --and win- this glorious race.\n\n  Come! take your place within these rescue homes,\n  Where I have brought some priceless gems of earth,\n  To cleanse, to cut, then polish for my crown:\n  Your services I need to enhance their worth.\n\n  The world has long rejected them with scorn,\n  These human gems from out the mire and dust;\n  A lapidary I would make of you,\n  Whilst I some precious gems with you entrust.\n\n  Your patience and forbearance will be taxed\n  Beyond endurance! And you've none, you say.\n  Then I must teach these lessons to you, child;\n  You promised to go with me all the way._\n\n  The trials are too great! Nay, say not so.\n  Privations too! and disappointments sore!\n  And just as the gem begins to scintillate,\n  My search-light doth disclose some dreadful flaw.\n\n  And you must start anew the task again....\n  Cheer up, dear child. I never will forsake.\n  Come, dry those tears and rest a while with me.\n  I soon will rectify your very sad mistake.\n\n  Think not you are the only one who fails,\n  For all have failed. Not all have tried again;\n  Thus have they missed my best, for which they prayed.\n  Courage. Be brave. The attempt was not in vain.\n\n  Now then, that gem with such a dreadful flaw,\n  Bring it to me.... Ah yes! I now will prove\n  Too soon the surface you did undertake\n  To polish--e'er the ugly flaw's removed.\n\n  Plunge it anew into the precious blood of Jesus,\n  Thus anew--the work's begun....\n  You're wining? My beloved, obedient child,\n  Not many live the prayer, \"Thy will be done.\"\n\n  I'm going to prove this precious gem by fire;\n  'Tis next in order. This, to consume the dross.\n  It's size will be reduced. Nay, do not fear;\n  Perfect and flawless gems must suffer loss.\n\n  For further process, see these varied wheels\n  For grinding, till the blemished spot we reach.\n  Not too much haste! Be careful. Watch and pray;\n  Soon then you'll learn each lesson as I teach.\n\n  You wish to know the names of all these wheels?\n  These two are Joy and Peace, and this, Long-suffering.\n  This one is Gentleness, then Goodness next.\n  Now to the front the wheel of Faith I bring.\n\n  And are these all? Not quite. The Meekness wheel\n  So gently polishes. Then Temperance comes in\n  To aid in handling gems with special care:\n  Thus give the final touch of polishing.\n  (The nine fruits of the Holy Spirit. Gal. 5:22-26.)\n\n  You ask what motive power propels these wheels.\n  Dear child, your teacher is the God above.\n  He tells you. Surely you have learned his name;\n  His motive power is Love, and only Love,\n\n  Press on, press on. The secret now you know;\n  The willing, the obedient stand the test.\n  Supported by my love, your eye on me,\n  Surely I have--for you--my very best.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX.\n\nDEDICATION OF BETH-ADRIEL.\n\n\nWe now busied ourselves putting our new home in order. It was a\nblessed, blessed day, that day on which the dedicatory exercises took\nplace (Nov. 22, 1904). They were participated in by an immense\ngathering of representative men and women, and account of which you\nmay, if you so desire, read in the San Jose and San Francisco dailies\nof that evening and succeeding morning. Amongst others who delivered\naddresses was my now personal friend, Mrs. Mary Hayes-Chynoweth, the\nreport of whose speech it gives me pleasure to quote:\n\nShe expressed her thankfulness at being present and seeing so many\ninterested in a line in which she had been working over fifty years.\nShe emphasized the necessity of having the spiritual life of God in the\nheart to live a Christ-like life. She spoke trenchantly of the need of\npurity, not only on the part of young girls, but young men and old men,\ntoo. She bespoke the help of all for those engaged in this work.\n\nYoung men need much attention, too. If they had more, there would be\nless need to work for women. If the heart is pure, no temptation\noutside can have the power to overcome. If every man were in that\ncondition, there would be no temptation for girls. Let all work\ntogether, men and women, nor one think or claim to be better than the\nother, etc.\n\nThe pastors of all the denominations were present, some making brief\naddresses, and a most excellent program was enjoyed by all.\n\nFor some time my work, with the exception of taking an occasional trip\nafter some dear child, lay in the immediate suburban towns, or in San\nJose proper, so that I was able to spend Thanksgiving, Christmas, and\nNew-Year with our now large family. In February, 1905, I again started\nout on a protracted trip, through central California, making brief\nstops to address audiences in Mountain View, Palo Alto, San Mateo, and,\nbefore going further, Redwood City. There was no trouble now to obtain\na church in the latter town in which to plead the cause so dear to my\nheart. The only trouble was that the building could not admit the\noverflow of people. Thence I went to San Francisco. There I was warmly\nreceived by dear Sister Kauffman, whose hospitality I accepted whilst I\nwas filling church engagements and visiting once more the county jail\nNo. 3. Numberless were the questions propounded by the inmates. Many\nhad gone, but alas! many more had filled their places. The work\npromised to be endless.\n\nIt was early in May when I returned to San Jose. No sooner had I\narrived than the chief of police telephoned me to come to his office at\nmy earliest convenience. This was by no means uncommon. Frequently\nChief Carroll had some one whom he preferred should have the benefits\nof Beth-Adriel rather than be sentenced to a term in jail.\n\nI hurried to town and was soon in conference with him concerning a\nyoung woman that had arrived in San Jose that morning with a youth, who\nwas caught in the act of trying to secure lodging for her in a\ndisreputable house. Evidently it was her first incarceration behind\niron bars. When we approached her cell, we could hear her screaming and\ncrying with both fear and distress. Upon seeing me, she ceased\ntemporarily. I put my arm about her in tender pity and tried to say\nwords of comfort. The Chief had informed me that she had applied to the\nhealth officer for medicine as soon as placed in a cell, her physical\ncondition being by no means good, in consequence of the sinful life she\nhad been living. I prevailed upon him to have her committed to\nBeth-Adriel, where she was taken late that afternoon.\n\nAt the time we had a new matron, of whom I had heard through\ncorrespondence with the board, but had only just met. My impression of\nher was by no means satisfactory, nor was I wrong in my estimate, for\nshe telephoned to my lodgings to say that, on account of this poor\ngirl's physical condition, I should have to remove her _immediately_.\nOn receiving this word, I made application and obtained a pass from one\nof the supervisors for her admission into the county hospital, and then\nwent to Beth-Adriel to convey her thither. Poor, poor child! That\nmatron had barely allowed her to sleep under the roof, and at daylight\nhad ordered her out on to the back porch and there had given her her\nbreakfast in discarded dishes. In fact, the matron treated her as\nthough she had leprosy or smallpox. By the grace of God I kept silence,\nbut resolved what should be done when the board convened the following\nweek.\n\nI left Martie at the hospital, only to receive word before the day was\nover that I had made another mistake, that they did not take cases like\nhers. \"What is a county hospital for?\" I inquired of the one who was\ntalking to me over the telephone. Answer: \"Mrs. Roberts, were we to\ntake in those kind of cases [venereal] there wouldn't be a building in\nCalifornia large enough to receive them. We're sorry, but _she must_ be\nremoved from here.\" However, as it was late, they isolated her for me\nuntil the morning. In the meanwhile I again conferred with the chief of\npolice, and also I received a severe reproof from the supervisor for\nnot informing him of the nature of poor Martie's complaint.\n\nUpon our discovering that she came from Oakland, Alameda County, I was\nrequested to remove her early the following morning to that place. Poor\nwronged child! She was perfectly pliant in my hands. I felt as though I\ncould not be tender enough. On the train she told me her story.\n\nHer father and another man were hung by a vigilance committee in\nnorthern California for highway robbery and murder. The shock and\nhorror of this cost her mother her life. Martie was an orphan as soon\nas she came into the world. Her grandmother cared for her two years,\nand then she died. On her death the baby was placed in the Salvation\nArmy home for homeless children at Beulah. At the age-limit (fourteen)\nshe was hired out as domestic for a lady about to become a mother, who,\nas soon as able again to resume her household duties, discharged the\ngirl. Then Martie began to drift. No one really cared for the poor\nwronged child. For about a year she procured one temporary situation\nafter another in inferior places, visited cheap vaudeville shows and\ndances, and made the acquaintance of undesirable people, amongst whom\nwas the young man now awaiting trial for vagrancy in San Jose.\n\nUpon reaching Oakland, I at once repaired with my charge to the office\nof the chief of police. He referred me to the mayor, who, in turn,\nreferred me to the supervisors. Not knowing any of the latter, I threw\nmyself on the kind mercies of the chief, who, after much difficulty,\nsucceeded in locating one; and late in the afternoon I procured a pass\nfor Martie into a certain ward of the county infirmary of Alameda\nCounty.\n\nRest assured I did my utmost in the short while at my command to convey\nthe Master's message of love and pardon for her and \"whosoever will\";\npromised to write, also soon to visit her; and then, my heart heavily\nweighted, bade the poor, wronged girl farewell. It was indeed and in\ntruth farewell. I never again laid eyes on her, for she disappeared\nwithin two days, and not until I read two years ago of her death by\ncarbolic acid, did I learn the ultimate fate of this another victim of\npre- and post-natal conditions.\n\nIn consequence of this and other similar cases that were being refused\nthe home, I realized that we must have a sanitarium on our grounds as\nsoon as the bulk of the debt had been wiped out.\n\nOn returning, I had a heated discussion with our board, only succeeding\nin gaining the reputation of being rather ill-tempered and hard to\nplease. But oh! dear reader, I was not. I was only zealous, so zealous\nfor the cause. God knows. Nevertheless, I refused to work until they\npromised to be on the lookout for a more efficient matron;\nconsequently, the next time I met with them, an elderly couple, husband\nand wife, were in charge. I perceived, however, that the work was\ndrifting from its original purposes and fast becoming that for which it\nwas not incorporated--a maternity home. This tendency was hardly\nperceptible at first, but ere-long I discovered to my keen sorrow that\napparently much of my labor had been in vain. What to do or what course\nto take I did not know. I prayed earnestly and continued to work,\nthough with less fervor than at the first. How could I? During my\nabsence such new rules and regulations were being adopted as made it no\neasy matter for any needy girl to become an inmate of Beth-Adriel.\n\nFeeling, after constant prayer, that my loving Lord would have me\nexercise patience and forbearance until the annual board meeting in\nJanuary (it was now November). I refrained from further interference or\ndiscussion, and again put a distance between them and me, though I kept\nin constant communication with several of the family.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX.\n\nTHE JUVENILE COURT COMMISSION--HENRY.\n\n\nWhilst I was in one of the Coast towns, the mail one day brought me the\nfollowing notification, which, rest assured, was at the time as the\n\"balm of Gilead,\" leading me to believe that God, who never makes any\nmistakes, was going to take me into more definite work for the\nunfortunate children.\n\nOffice of County Clerk, Santa Clara County, California. San Jose, Dec.\n13, 1905.\n\nMrs. Florence Roberts, San Jose, Cal.\n\nDear Madam: You will please take notice that pursuant to an order made\nthis 13th day of December, 1905, by the Honorable M. H. Hyland, Judge\nof the Superior Court, in and for the county of Santa Clara, State of\nCalifornia, in Dep't 2 thereof and duly entered into the minutes of\nsaid Court, that you have been appointed a member of the Probation\nCommittee of the Juvenile Court, and you are hereby directed to appear\nin said Court on Monday, December 18, at 10 o'clock, A M. Very\nrespectfully, Henry A. Pfister, Clerk. By J. C. Kennedy, Deputy.\n\nThis changed the nature of my plans, though at first not interfering to\nany great extent with the work already in hand.\n\nAs never before I began to get insight concerning the disadvantages\nunder which many a wronged child was, and is laboring, and oh! how I\nthank and bless God that there is now protection and help for many\nthrough the officers and the instrumentality of the Juvenile Courts.\nThis subject, however, will furnish material for another book;\ntherefore it will be but lightly touched upon at this time, for I want\nto have you again visit with me San Quentin and on this occasion become\nacquainted with Henry. I first heard of him through Captain Randolph,\ncaptain of the yard, and next through Captain Sullivan; then I obtained\npermission from Captain Ellis to interview this young man.\n\nHe was sentenced from ----- County to serve twenty-five years for\nhomicide. Over seven years had now expired, and seven, I assure you,\nseems like twenty-seven, even more, to every one of these poor\nprisoners. He was a very bright young man, aged about twenty-five\nyears, and he had the record of never having yet lost a single credit\nsince his incarceration. I listened with intense interest whilst he\ntold me this:\n\n\"I don't suppose I differed much from other boys in my school days, was\njust as full of fun and mischief as any of them, but there was no real\nharm in me that I knew of. My father is a miner, a prospector, always\non the lookout for, and locating, claims. Mother was always a\nhardworking little woman, and raised a large family. We had a neighbor\nwho didn't like us, neither did he like my dog, which, just as any dog\nwill, intruded on his premises once too often; so he shot and killed\nhim, remarking with an oath as he did so, that there'd be more than one\ndead dog if we didn't make ourselves scarce--anyhow, words to that\neffect. The killing of my pet made me very mad. I am, unfortunately,\nvery quick tempered, though I soon cooled down. I felt as thought I\ncould have killed him then and there for his dirty meanness, but pretty\nsoon father and mother succeeded in quieting me.\n\n\"We had no more trouble or communication with these neighbors for some\ntime; then one day, when I was playing ball with some of the neighbor\nboys with some potatoes, he happened to pass and one of the potatoes\nstruck him. It didn't hurt him a bit, but he ripped out an awful oath\nat me, and called me and my mother by a name that no man with a spark\nof spunk in him would stand for a minute. He threatened me at the same\ntime. I hurried home, changed my clothes, and told my father I was\ngoing over to the county seat (near by) to have him bound over to keep\nthe peace, as I was afraid he would carry out his threat. Before I left\nthe house I took down father's gun. 'Henry, what are you doing? You put\nthat gun right back where you got it,' he said. 'I'll not do it,' I\nreplied. 'He's threatened to kill me. I'll need it for protection,' and\non I walked, too quickly for him to overtake me.\n\n\"As I was passing ----'s warehouse on the county road, this neighbor\nwalked into it out of his yard, and just as I came opposite the door he\nstuck his head out and put his hand into his hip pocket. Before he got\na chance to shoot, I had shot him through the fleshy part of his right\nhip. He lived several days. I feel sure he needn't have died, if given\nproper care.\n\n\"I laid a long time in jail before the trial. My people were too poor\nto get me all the defense I needed. Unfortunately, my lawyer, though a\nbrilliant man, was a drunkard. Father impoverished the whole family to\nraise money to clear me, all to no effect. I am here for twenty-five\nyears, when I ought to be out trying to help make them comfortable in\ntheir old age. I hear they are very, very poor. Oh, how I wish I could\nhelp them!...\"\n\nHe told me where they lived, and I resolved, God willing, to take a\ntrip, in the interests of Beth-Adriel, in that direction, and told him\nI would try to see them, though making no promises toward aiding him in\ngaining his freedom, for as yet I had only his word as to the truth of\nthis story.\n\nIt was a whole day's journey, and, being very tired on reaching my\ndestination, I did not look them up until morning. I can yet see that\nvery clean, poverty-stricken room. I sat on the only chair it\ncontained, the little mother sat on the bed, the father on an old\ntrunk. The father hadn't \"struck it rich\" yet. Prospectors are always\nhopeful, sometimes realizing their hopes, but not often. The mother,\nwhenever able, worked in the fruit. In some way they managed to eke out\na bare but honest living. They could not have been much poorer.\n\nWe discussed Henry's case pro and con. Evidently he had not overdrawn\nthe truth. Before the day was over we were in consultation with a\nfriendly disposed attorney, who drew up petition papers. Before these\nwere out of the printer's hands, I had held conferences with several\npeople and clergymen, and had also made engagements in the interest of\nBeth-Adriel. The Lord was touching hearts and money was being added to\nits treasury. Soon I was doing double duty, aided by Henry's father. He\nwent on his bicycle from place to place in the county where this\nhomicide had been committed, whilst I took the stage or the train as\nthe case might require, speaking in his behalf as well as securing\nfunds for the home. Finally we reached the county seat. There I learned\nfrom many--even officials--that Henry's sentence was unjust; but,\nowing to their political positions, I could obtain very few of their\nsignatures. The judge who had sentenced Henry told me that he could not\nsign, he being then the attorney for the widow of the dead man.\n\nA very severe cold, threatening me with pneumonia caused me to leave\nhurriedly for home, where for several days I was well-nigh prostrate.\nThere were many earnest prayers for my speedy recovery. These the dear\nLord heard and answered, so that before long the work so suddenly laid\ndown was, through his loving kindness and grace, resumed.\n\nHenry's father sent by express the package of signatures he had\nprocured, and I felt the witness of the Spirit that we now had\nsufficient. The next move, as I thought, was to present them at\nSacramento to the Governor. He received me most kindly, talked at\nlength on rescue work, Henry's case and other cases, etc., but informed\nme that he would have no jurisdiction to act until the matter had been\nduly presented after receiving the written approval of the board of\nprison directors. At their next monthly meeting I was present; but,\nowing to stress of other matters, Henry's case could not at this time\ncommand their attention, nor for three successive meetings. Then\noccurred an adjournment until July. Henry wrote that he could not\nconscientiously ask me to come again, but the still, small voice bade\nme try once more. Oh, praise the dear Lord for answering many prayers\nin his behalf! Henry was granted his parole. The news was telephoned to\nme early in the morning. I hurried down to Captain Ellis' office to\noffer Henry my congratulations, but, above all, to direct his mind\ntoward the Author of his freedom. What a blessed opportunity to honor\nthe Master! and he promised to try to serve him thereafter.\n\nThen he whispered something to the Captain, who replied, \"Certainly,\nyou have my permission.\" Excusing himself, he hurried into the inner\nyard. Presently he returned with an oblong box. Handing it to me, he\nsaid: \"Mother Roberts, I have long observed that your little autoharp\nwas wearing out. This one, my companion in my lonely hours, must now\ntake its place. I know the use you will make of it. I wish, how I wish,\nyou might be able to appreciate with what pleasure I make this slight\ntoken of my eternal gratitude!\"\n\nI had not dreamed of my prayer for a new instrument being answered in\nthis manner, I having never learned that Henry was musical or possessed\nany such thing. It was a much finer one than mine. Had I been presented\nwith a gold mine, I could not have felt better pleased. From that day\nto this autoharp, No. 2, and I have been inseparable.\n\nBut I must proceed. Before taking up other matters, I will add this:\nHenry made good for two years, received pardon from Governor Gillett,\nmarried his faithful little sweetheart, and named his first little\ndaughter after me. A few days ago I received a letter telling of the\nbirth of another little daughter. He took up a claim, and he is now\nfarming his own homestead.\n\nMany were, and no doubt still are, his trials and temptations. Not\nalways was there victory, but I am sure as he reads this that the tears\nwill come. He will probably retire to some quiet spot, fall on his\nknees in gratitude to God, who pardons our sins even though they be\n\"red like crimson,\" and then ask him to guide him in the way he should\ngo and to help him to bring up his dear little family in the fear and\nadmonition of the Lord. May God forever bless Henry, his faithful\ncompanion, and his dear children, is my earnest prayer.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI.\n\nTHE ANNUAL BOARD MEETING--DOLLIE'S STORY.\n\n\nI believe the spirit of prayer rested mightily on every one of us\npresent at that very important business meeting, yet I doubt if any\nmember realized its vital importance more than I myself. Like David of\nold, I inquired of the Lord as to whether to continue with them or\nstart anew? The token asked was a unanimous reelection to the office he\nhad called me to fill. It was by ballot, and was unanimous. I was\nsatisfied, and for another year cheerfully continued to fill the office\nof field secretary and evangelist.\n\nI now visited Sonoma, Mendocino, and other counties in that locality. A\nkindly reception awaited me everywhere, and no wonder--I petitioned the\nLord to go before me. He answers such a petition out of Isa. 45:2: \"I\nwill go before thee, and make the crooked places straight: I will break\nin pieces the gates of brass, and cut in sunder the bars of iron.\"\n\nOne day whilst I was making calls amongst the unfortunate, I was met at\na certain door by a neat, intelligent-looking young woman, attired as\nthough for a journey. A glance through the open doorway revealed the\npresence of three others; they, however, were in house dress peculiar\nto their mode of existence. One of these spoke, \"O Dollie, invite the\nlady in. It's going to be lonesome without you.\" She, none too\ngraciously, extended the invitation. If I had any pride left, I stifled\nit for the sake of these poor lost souls, sitting around in their\ntawdry finery, smoking cigarettes. My heart went out in tender pity for\nthem as I attempted to introduce our loving Savior.\n\n\"Hold on,\" said Dollie, at the same time looking at a beautiful gold\nwatch on her breast, \"I think I will have time before the train comes\n[the depot was but a block away] to tell you my story....\n\n\"When I was fourteen years old, I had the misfortune to lose my dear\nmother, who died in childbirth. Father was a very hard-working man, a\nmechanic. He broke up housekeeping for two reasons: First, because\nmother had been very indulgent, so that I didn't know the first thing\nabout domestic duties, so wouldn't have been able to even get him a\ndecent breakfast. Next, because everything spoke to him of mother, whom\nhe fairly idolized. I used to see him evenings when he came home from\nwork to the place where we boarded. Seldom in the mornings. Guess I was\ntoo lazy to get up in time for anything but a hasty breakfast, then\nhurry off to school.\n\n[Illustration: \"EVERYBODY HELPED GREASE THE HILL I WAS SLIDING DOWN. I\nSOON REACHED THE BOTTOM\"]\n\n\"We used to have Friday evening dances in our neighborhood, which I\nattended with my classmates. My but I loved to dance! It got so that\nFriday evening wasn't enough, so many a time found me with some of them\nat a hall down-town enjoying the public dance. The school-dance was\nalways private. It didn't take long for some one to turn my silly head\nand make me believe he was dead in love with me. What did a little\nfifteen-year-old fool like me know, with no mother to teach her, and no\nwoman to take a real interest? That wretch could fill me with, and make\nme believe, the biggest lies you ever imagined, and I drank it all in\nas though it were gospel truth. To this day I sometimes wonder if all\nmen are liars.\n\n\"I'm not going to mince matters. I fell; and pretty soon _everybody was\nhelping to grease the hill I was sliding down. In consequence, I soon\nreached the bottom._\"\n\n\"Some one told father; but I denied everything, yet I was so afraid he\nwould make the statements be proven, that in my fright I ran away, and\nI have never seen him since. He's dead now. Poor father! I expert that,\nwith his other sorrows, this trouble finished him.\n\n\"Two years later found me in just such a place as you have discovered\nme today. One afternoon, a sweet-faced Salvation Army lassie called.\nShe talked as only you people can talk. I was but seventeen, still\ntender-hearted (wish I was yet); so it was not difficult to yield to\nher earnest persuasions to kneel beside her while she prayed. There was\nanother girl in the room at the time, but she had a caller, so got up\nand went out. I learnt my first prayer from that Salvation Army girl.\nIt was 'Our Father.' I used to see it framed on a wall in a house where\nmy mother visited, but never did I understand it till that day. Then\nshe asked me to talk to God in my own way. I felt sorry for what I'd\ndone, and the life I was leading, and said so; so when she explained\nhow God would forgive me, I believed her and told her I'd quit if she'd\ntake me away, and she did. I left with her about dusk. She took me to\nher lodgings and for several days I shared her bed and board, until she\ngot me a situation to do light housework at fifteen dollars a month.\nLight indeed! It was the heaviest, washing included; but I did as she\nsuggested--prayed to God to help me as I worked, and he did. They were\nJewish people and so did their own cooking; otherwise I couldn't have\nkept my job.\n\n\"Never shall I forget the joy of receiving my first month's wages. As I\nlooked at that little sum in my calloused hand, I said, 'Dollie, it's\nthe first honest money you ever earned; doesn't it make you feel good?'\n\n\"Before long my Salvation Army friend was called away to another field\nof labor. I promised to write to her, and to this day I am sorry that\nthrough my own carelessness I lost track of her. But I always did hate\nto write letters, so it's all my own fault.\n\n\"A girl told me of a nice place out near Golden Gate Park; only two in\nfamily, and twenty-five dollars a month. I called on the lady and she\nhired me. My but she had a dainty flat! One peculiarity I couldn't help\nnoticing. She was always afraid some one was deceiving or going to\ndeceive her, and would often make the remark, 'No one ever gets the\nsecond chance with me, no indeed.' And I used to say to myself, '_I\nwonder what she would do if she found out who Dollie was?_' She was a\nChristian. No, I'll take that back. She called herself one, and was the\nsecretary of the ladies' aid of her church. Sometimes we had teas for\nthem, and then she would take them all over the house and brag on my\nwork and me. I knew how to cook pretty well by this time. She taught\nme. There was nothing I did not do to try and please her.\n\n\"One day I heard the hall door bang. Some one was coming up-stairs in a\ngreat hurry. Next she threw open the kitchen door, and I shall never\nforget the ugly face of her as she said, while I ran in my bedroom with\nfright and shut the door, 'Dollie! I want you to pack right up and\nleave this house, you ---- ----! How dare you impose yourself on me?'\nOh! I ran and groveled at her feet; I begged; I cried; I besought her\nnot to turn me away. I told her that I had repented and that God had\nforgiven my sins and that _if she was a Christian she'd help me_. That\nonly seemed to make her madder than ever. 'Pack up your things and get\nout. Here's your money. I won't put up with deceit from any one.'\n\n\"I went into my room, and in my rage and despair tore my clothes off\nthe hooks, emptied the bureau drawers, jammed everything any which way\ninto my trunk, and in my anger went out, called the nearest express\nman, ordered my baggage to my old address, where the Salvation Army\nlassie first found me, told all the girls down the row what the\nChristians were like, and then plunged deeper than ever into a life of\nsin. _My heart, once so tender, is hardened forever._ Save your tears\nfor some one who is worthy. You can never touch me. I wish to God you\ncould. I must go; but you're welcome to remain and talk to the others,\nif you think it will do any good. Good-by, lady. Good-by, girls. I'll\nbe back in less than a week\"--and she was gone; but oh! could I, could\nthese girls, ever get over this recital and its impression.\n\nAs soon as I could find my voice, I begged, implored them, not to let\nthat story further influence them on the downward course. I pictured\nthe judgment-day with that woman who turned Dollie away being\ninterrogated by the King of kings, and the terrible doom awaiting all\nwho did not repent and forsake sin; but, apparently making no\nimpression, I soon left, unable to proceed further with the work that\nday because of the great burden with which this poor girl's story had\nweighted me.\n\nI lay on my bed shortly afterwards, meditating upon the probable\nresults had this mistress been loyal to her Lord, whom she professed to\nlove and follow. I tried to picture her as saying:\n\n\"Dollie, a distressing story has reached me. It concerns your former\nlife, but I know you must have repented, or you would not be doing\nhard, honest work for your living. Surely there are many you know and\nwould like to help lead better lives. It is in my heart to assist them,\nDollie. Let us together look some of them up. I realize that few,\ncomparatively speaking, attempt this line of work. They think it is too\nhumiliating, degrading, demoralizing, but it is what our Savior did\nwhilst on earth, and I have vowed to follow him.\"\n\nWhat think you, dear reader, would have been the outcome? How many\ntrophies for the Savior's crown would have been hers? How many outcasts\nwould have been turned from the error of their ways, and, having found\ntheir Redeemer, would have instructed their former companions in sin?\nIt may never be revealed how many souls were lost through this\nprofessed Christian's shameful unfaithfulness.\n\nChrist, when teaching occasion to avoid offense, uttered these words:\n\"It is impossible but that offenses will come: but woe unto him through\nwhom they come. It were better for him that a millstone were hanged\nabout his neck, and he cast into the sea, than that he should offend\none of these little ones.\" Luke 17:1, 2\n\nHave you, my reader, helped \"grease the hill\" that \"one of these little\nones\" was sliding down, so that she soon reached the bottom? or are you\nhelping and cheering them on the upward way until they reach the goal?\nMay God help and bless.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII.\n\nLOST SHEEP--THE EX-PRISONER'S HOME--HOSPITAL SCENES.\n\n\nWho does not love that beautiful, most pathetic song entitled \"The\nNinety and Nine\"? but how many have literally helped to emulate the\nGreat Shepherd's example? Methinks I hear now, as I often have heard,\ngreat throngs singing:\n\n  It may not be on the mountain height\n    Or over the stormy sea,\n  It may not be at the battle front,\n    My Lord will have need of me,\n  But if by a still, small voice he calls\n    To paths that I do not know.\n  I'll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in thine,\n    \"I'll go where you want me to go\"\n\nOur Lord takes every one of us at our word, whether we are singing it,\npraying it, or testifying to it. He does, indeed. _He takes us at our\nword._ How many of us make excuses? Because of this, how many souls are\ngoing to be lost? Oh! the pity of it, the everlasting pity of it!...\n\nIn my possession are several photos. Most of them have been handed to\nme by the weeping mothers of lost, stray lambs; some have come through\nthe mail; all contain the one cry: \"Dear Mother Roberts, ... Won't you\nplease try to find my poor little girl? She may be in prison, or in the\nslums, or perhaps sick and dying in some hospital.\" And then follows a\nminute description of every feature, height, weight, peculiarities of\ncharacter, etc. Many times the parents admit their own weak traits and\nfailures. Poor, poor mothers! poor fathers! Not very often do we find\nthem for you, sometimes where we would rather not; but you said that,\nno matter what their condition, I should tell them that you still loved\nthem and that you would gladly welcome them home. We've found them\nsometimes when too far gone ever to come back to their earthly home,\nand but just barely in time to be rescued from eternal ruin.\n\nNot always is the wanderer a girl, either. Sometimes a broken-hearted\nparent is looking for a lost boy, and solicits our help. I've met a few\nof them in the penitentiary, who have all but sworn me to secrecy.\n\n\"I'll be out soon,\" they've said. \"No need to grieve the old folks at\nhome by letting them know I've been in trouble.\"\n\n\"But, my boy,\" I've replied, \"how are you going to account for your\nlong absence and explain where you have been?\"\n\n\"I'll fix it some way. Say I've been traveling or off in the mines.\nAnyhow, I'll fix it so they shan't find out.\"\n\n\"But don't you know, dear boy, you are going to live in constant dread\nif you do that? The Bible says, 'Be sure your sins will find you out,'\nand also that 'nothing that maketh a lie shall enter the kingdom of\nheaven,' I can not write a lie to your parents, and they've written to\nme, asking me to try to find you. Besides, you'll need money to take\nyou home. It is not so easy as you think to step out of here and obtain\nimmediate employment. Even if you do, some one will be constantly\ncrossing your path and demanding you to pay him 'hush money' to keep\nhis mouth shut.\"\n\nThen I have recommended them to the care of Mr. Charles Montgomery,\npresident of the board of prison commissioners, who, through great\nself-denial, toil, and energy, succeeded in establishing, little more\nthan two years ago, a beautiful home and mission for discharged\nprisoners. It is located in San Francisco. To it they may go and be\nwell provided for until employment is procured for them. Truly this is\na most blessed work for the Master. This home is the outcome of a plan\nlong cherished by Brother Montgomery, who for nearly fifty years has\nlabored for the reformation and welfare of convicts and ex-convicts. It\nis now situated at 110 Silver Street, near Third Street, and is well\nworth a visit from those who have the interest of these men at heart.\nIt was opened June 9, 1909, and it has been doing an immense amount of\ngood, helping many a discharged prisoner to be once more a desirable\ncitizen and a man of honor. I would also add that it is a work of\nfaith.\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\nWill you come with me to one of our county hospitals this afternoon?\n\nSoon we are kindly greeted by the matron, and almost the next words she\nutters after welcoming us are: \"I'm especially glad to see you today,\nMother Roberts, because in Ward X a girl who is dying has been asking\nif I knew where you were. You're none too soon. She can't last much\nlonger, poor thing!\" and she leads us to the bedside of the dying girl.\nI recognize her as Ruby ----, with whom I have more than once earnestly\npleaded to forsake the wretched life she was living, warning her of the\nultimate results of such a course. How changed she is as she lies there\nscarcely breathing! She opens her dying eyes at the sound of our\nfootsteps. \"Ruby dear, do you know me?\" A barely perceptible nod. \"I'm\nso glad Jesus sent us to you today, dear child. Won't you take him for\nyour Savior right now?\" In as few words as possible she is told of the\ndying thief on the cross. As she can not speak, we ask her to pray with\nher mind, whilst we kneel with her hand in ours, calling on Jesus for\nmercy, for pardon in this the \"eleventh hour.\" The tears which she is\ntoo weak to wipe away are wetting her pillow, but we observe a look of\npeace stealing over her countenance. Soon we leave, believing that some\nday we shall meet her among that great throng of the blood-washed.\n\nFollowing a mothers' meeting one day in a Northern town a\ncare-worn-looking woman invited me home with her. Here she related\nanother heartrending story of a lost girl, an only child, for whom she\nhad toiled day and night at the wash-tub, so as to send her to school\ndressed as finely as the other girls. \"I have had to work very hard as\nlong as I can remember,\" the poor mother said, \"and when I married, I\nmade up my mind that if I ever had a daughter I would not teach her\ndomestic duties, for fear she also would have to be a drudge all of her\nlife.\" So she raised a lady (?). The girl grew to be very independent\nand disrespectful to her breadwinner, her mother, who was a deserted\nwife. At the age of sixteen Elsie, without even a note of farewell,\nleft her comfortable little home and heart-broken mother, never to\nreturn. She had intimated her going, but the mother had attached no\nimportance to these remarks, but she recalled them after her daughter's\ndeparture. Furthermore, Elsie carried away nearly every dollar of her\nmother's meager, hard-earned savings.\n\nAfter a long look at a photograph I perceived that, because of a\npeculiar mark on the cheek, not removed by the retoucher, perhaps\noverlooked, I could readily recognize Elsie. Therefore, when visiting\nthe slums, jails, and hospitals I kept a lookout for her as well as for\nothers, and also notified some coworkers.\n\nOne day whilst visiting the old city and county hospital (where Mary's\nbaby was born), I passed a cot where lay an apparently old woman; she\nlooked to be fifty and appeared to be in the last stages of some\ndreadful form of tuberculosis. _That identical mark was on her cheek_,\nbut surely this could not be twenty-three-year-old Elsie. Surely not.\nSo I passed on to the next cot. The impression to return to the former\none was so strong that it was acted upon. Stepping over to her, I\nsoftly said, \"Don't be frightened, dear, but is your name Elsie?\" The\nnext moment I was quickly calling the nurse, for I feared the shock had\nkilled the woman. The nurse came and administered some restorative and\nthen advised me not to excite the patient further, for she was dying;\nbut the girl had sufficiently recovered to be able to ask questions.\n\n\"Who told you?\" she whispered.\n\n[Illustration: POOR ELSIE]\n\n\"It won't hurt you if I tell you?\" I asked.\n\n\"No; please.\"\n\n\"Elsie, it was your dear mother, who has never ceased to love you and\nto look for you all these years, and has kept the home so pretty and\ncomfortable, waiting for you to come back.\"\n\n\"Where is mother? Don't, oh! don't tell me she is here.\"\n\n\"No, dear, she is at home. It is nearly a year since she asked me to\ntry to find you.\"\n\n\"Elsie do you love Jesus?\" I continued. \"Have you asked him to forgive\nyou?\"\n\n\"It's too late, I've been too bad.\"\n\n\"We have all sinned, Elsie. 'All have come short of the glory of God.'\nMay I pray for you?\"\n\n\"Yes, if you think he'll hear.\"\n\nAfter my prayer she offered one--so short but oh! so contrite, so very,\nvery contrite.\n\nI called again the next day. She could barely speak even in a whisper,\nbut she managed to let me know that she had had a beautiful dream and\nthat after her death I was to write her mother that Elsie's last words\nto me were, \"Tell mother I'll meet her in heaven,\" but not to let her\nknow when and where her daughter died. She passed away that night. The\nletter to the mother was very brief, and no address given, so that\nthere was no opportunity of subsequent correspondence. Three months\nlater news came to me that the poor, loving, well-meaning, though\nmistaken mother had gone to join her dearly loved, lost and found Elsie\nin that \"land that is fairer than day.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII.\n\nA WONDERFUL LEADING--HOW GIRLS ARE LURED TO THE DANCE-HALLS.\n\n\nEarly in March, 1906, I returned to a board meeting at Beth-Adriel,\nfollowing which I began speculating as to my next move, for as yet I\nhad no direct leadings. Before retiring I prayed earnestly to know the\nmind of the Spirit. It was in the neighborhood of 2 A.M. when I\nawakened with the impression to \"Go to B---.\" As I knew it would be an\nexpensive trip, I decided to ask the ticket-agent whether he would\ngrant a stop-over privilege on my half-rate ticket. Learning that he\nwould, I decided to take every advantage of this and eventually, say\nwithin six weeks, to reach B---. That afternoon, whilst on the train, I\nsuddenly remembered that I had ordered my trunk checked to B---, and\nagain I felt that strong impression to _go right through_. So when the\nconductor called for tickets, I forfeited all stop-over privileges.\n\nI arrived there about 2 A.M., and at once went to the leading hotel.\nAbout ten o'clock the following morning I was asking the gentlemanly\nclerk a question similar to the one I had asked the Redwood City\ndepot-agent. It quite disconcerted him for a moment; but, upon learning\nmy object, he referred me to a Salvation Army woman, whom I immediately\nlooked up and fortunately found at home. She was pleased to receive one\non such an errand, and agreed to accompany me to the dance-hall and\nslum district that night.\n\nMy next errand was room-hunting. Very seldom do I remain more than one\nnight in a hotel in a strange town, for almost invariably many doors\nare soon opened to the non-salaried workers in the Master's vineyard.\nThen the next thing is to walk around in order to get my bearings and\nfamiliarize myself with the town, the churches, the press, the pastors,\netc As soon as possible I call upon the pastors and make engagements to\nfill pulpits. This privilege, however, is granted only after the\nministers have, to their satisfaction, examined my credentials and\nindorsements.\n\nAt seven o'clock that evening I was again with Mrs. Wilson, now attired\nin her regulation uniform, and at half-past eight we stood in one of\nthe popular dance-halls. Here dancing, drinking, smoking, and gambling\nwere being indulged in by black, white, tan, and mulatto of both sexes.\nBarring a few exceptions, I have never seen such an array of the\ninferior type of nationalities. The place was crowded; for this was\nSaturday night and also St. Patrick's Day.\n\n[Illustration: SCENE IN A DANCE HALL]\n\nWhile Mrs. Wilson was at the bar asking if I might sing and speak, a\nslender, fair-haired girl suddenly seized my left hand and quickly\nwhispered: \"Lady, we are trapped. Quick! your number. Where do you\nlive? Act as though you weren't speaking to me. The proprietor may be\nwatching. I'll be there at ten in the morning.\" I immediately gave my\nstreet and number, and she skipped away, just as Mrs. Wilson returned\nto tell me that she had not succeeded. This refusal was only what we\nhad expected. After distributing a few tracts we were requested to\ndesist; so we concluded to go elsewhere. _That sight was sickening._\nAnd that refined-looking girl--who was she? What did she mean? We shall\nsoon learn.\n\nOther places which we visited that night were equally as bad, in fact,\nindescribably so, and they were numerous. However, we did what we\ncould; but only once could I make use of the autoharp, and then only to\nsing to the poor souls coming out of the first dance-hall, for we held\na brief street-meeting. I observed that not one girl or woman put her\nhead out of the door; afterwards I learned that a fine of $2.50 was\nimposed for every offense of this nature between the hours of 7:30 P.\nM. and 3:30 A.M.\n\nUpon returning from my breakfast the following morning, I was informed\nby my landlady that two young women were awaiting my return. After the\ngreeting both commenced to talk so excitedly that I requested one to be\nthe spokesman for the other. They appeared to be nearly of an age,\nabout sixteen and seventeen, and were sisters. As nearly as I can\nremember, this was their story:\n\n\"We were attending high school several miles from our home. When we\nreturned home at the time of the spring term, we learned that father's\ncrops had failed and that mother was almost disabled from rheumatism.\nWhat little reserve fund they had was almost used up for medicines and\nnecessities; so after a discussion of the matter they agreed to let us\ngo to the city (San Francisco) to work, provided we should promise not\nto separate. This would leave our fourteen-year-old sister to help\nmother, and the two boys to assist father.\n\n\"A few days later we, alter kneeling in prayer with our mother, started\non our journey. In a few hours we were asking the matron at the Oakland\nferry-depot for a respectable lodging-house. She directed us, and from\nthere we obtained situations as waitresses in a first-class private\nhotel on Bush Street, where we remained and gave satisfaction for some\ntime; but one afternoon we were foolish enough to yield to the\npersuasions of some of our girl companions to take a car ride to the\nPark and Cliff House. I suppose we were enjoying ourselves so much that\nwe did not realize how quickly the time was slipping away until some\none remarked, \"O girls, look at the clock!\" It was within fifteen\nminutes of the hour when dinner must be served. We all ran for our car.\nWhen we arrived at the hotel, the landlady had put a new crew in our\nplaces. She would listen to no excuses, but told all four of us to go\nto the office for what wages were due us. Ours wasn't much, for we had\nbeen sending most of it home right along; so we were soon reduced to\nour last dollar.\n\n\"One of the girls who had worked with us told us to go to a certain\nemployment agency (situated then on Ellis Street). The man behind the\ncounter seemed to have lots of situations, but only one where we could\nwork together, and as _neither one of us knew how to cook_, we couldn't\ntake it. It was for cook and second girl in a private family. 'Hold\non,' he said, as we were about to leave and try some other agency;\n'would you be willing to leave town? If so, I have a nice place for two\nwaitresses in a resort patronized by none but the best people of the\nneighborhood.' We told him we couldn't afford to take it unless some\none would advance our office fees and our fares. 'I'll see to that,' he\nreplied. 'Can you be ready to leave right away?' There was nothing to\nprevent, as our trunks were packed with the expectation of obtaining\nimmediate employment; so all we had to do was to go quickly to our room\nwith an expressman, then take a car to the depot, where the agent would\nmeet us, check our trunks, put us aboard our train, and leave us, with\nour tickets, bound for B----.\n\n\"My! how we did hurry through! The girls who roomed with us had gone\nout; so as our weekly rent was paid in advance, we didn't see even the\nlandlady when we left our lodgings. We reached the Oakland Mole, took\nour train, and after a long day's journey arrived at our destination in\nthe early morning hours. We were met by some woman, who brought us in a\nhack to the place where my sister spoke to you last night--only she did\nnot take us into the dance-hall, but somewhere up-stairs, into a\ncomfortable bedroom. In a few minutes she came with a nice meal on a\ntray, told us to eat, to put the tray outside the door after we had\nfinished eating, and then to go to bed and sleep as long as we wanted\nto, as she knew we were tired; then she left us.\n\n\"It seemed to be pretty noisy in the neighborhood, but we were too\nweary to care, so were soon asleep. When we went to leave that room in\nthe morning, we found we were locked in. Sister hammered on the door,\nand soon the woman came. She told us she had done it to keep the other\nlodgers from disturbing us; but before evening we knew that something\nwas wrong, for she never lost sight of us for a moment. Then she told\nus there was going to be a dance that night, and asked us to look our\nbest.\n\n\"About half-past seven we went with her downstairs and then along a\npassage-way into that hall where you found us last night. Sister and I\nlooked around for a minute, and then both of us said to the woman,\n'What kind of a place is this?' There was a long bar, and two or three\nyoung men were cleaning glasses and wiping bottles, and there were lots\nof girls in fancy dresses standing around, chatting and some smoking\ncigarettes, also a few men, young and old. We were [reader, I will give\nyou their exact expression] scared stiff. The woman, after introducing\nus to a fine-looking young man, said to him, 'These are the young girls\nsent by ----, the Ellis Street employment agent.' Then she took us into\nthe dance-hall a few feet away. She told us that the young man was the\nproprietor of the place and that he would be a good friend, as would\nshe, if we wouldn't 'do any kicking.' About 8:30 the crowd began to\ncome in earnest, and by 9:30, and from that on, men and girls drank,\ndanced, and cut up until closing-time.\n\n\"Mother Roberts, I can only liken our first night in that awful saloon\nand dance-hall to a bad nightmare.\n\n\"The woman didn't require us to dance unless we wanted to, until the\nsecond night; then she said that _we must_, or else we would be fined,\nand that as we already owed our fares, also other debts for incidental\nexpenses, the sooner we made the best of the situation the better it\nwould be for us. She called some girls to come and tell us how much\nthey enjoyed the life they were now leading, and how much money they\nwere making in percentage on the drinks that were sold across the bar\nto the men and them. They said we needn't drink whiskey if we didn't\nwant to, as we would need to keep our heads if we were going to make\nall we could out of the men in getting them drunk.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you appeal to the authorities, girls?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Mother Roberts, _they only laughed at us. We tried. It was no use.\nThey seemingly stood in with the proprietor_. Millie went to the\npost-office, accompanied by one of the girls, an old hand, the second\nday after we arrived, to see if any mail had been forwarded, and on the\nway back stepped into the ---- Hotel to inquire if they had any\nvacancies for two waitresses? The clerk asked, 'What address?' She was\ntoo ashamed to tell him where we really were; so told him to drop a\ncard into the post-office general delivery as soon as he had situations\nfor two. About three days afterward she got a post-card saying there\nwas one vacancy; but we couldn't take it, as we were more determined\nthan ever not to separate.\"\n\nWhen I told them how it happened that I came, those two poor girls\ncried with joy and thankfulness. And now to act quickly. We all knelt\nin prayer. They agreed to stay in my room whilst I went out to notify\nMrs. Wilson and the pastors. Never in all my life did I work faster,\nand in an hour I had these sisters safely housed with Mrs. W--, as she\nwould not be suspected of secreting them. At two o'clock the pastors\nmet me in one of the church studies. They decided to call immediately\nfor a mass meeting of women on the following afternoon, to be addressed\nby me. Notices to this effect were gladly inserted by editors of the\ndaily papers. _The whole community was astir._\n\nIn the meanwhile the dive-proprietors were searching for the girls. No\none suspected Mrs. Wilson or me. In fact, those dive-keepers had not\nregarded me as any more than an ordinary visitor that night of my\nintroduction to their dance-halls, and had not noticed the girl\nspeaking to me.\n\nBefore they left B----, the following article came out as an editorial\nin one of the leading daily papers. It appeared on the morning of March\n23, 1906.\n\nHOW GIRLS ARE LURED TO DANCE-HALLS.\n\nThe general interest in the efforts to better the conditions of the\nfallen women, make timely a rough outline of the methods by which girls\nare lured into the haunts of vice, and kept there until they have lost\nall power or desire to escape and win their way back to decency and\nrespectability. It is not pretended that this line is accurate, or that\nit fits any particular case, but the information on which it is based\nis gained from what are believed to be reliable sources, and it is not\nlikely to be misleading: if applied in a general way.\n\nHOW GIRLS ARE LURED.\n\nIn the first place, of course, no girl that has not made some misstep\nor committed some indiscretion, could be enticed to a dance-hall or\nkept there for a moment if it were possible to get her inside its\ndoors. But in every city or village in the country there are persons in\nthe guise of men [yes, and women also] who are actively interested in\nhelping girls to make the first misstep. These scouts and envoys of\ninfamy are at the public dances; they waylay waitresses and working\ngirls who are struggling to keep themselves on wages that are\ninsufficient for their actual needs of food and clothing.\n\nThey get into the confidence of these girls, and sometimes when they\nare \"down on their luck\" or when they have committed some act that\nmakes them ashamed to look their family or their employers in the face,\nthese men come in the name of friendship and promise to find the\noverworked and underpaid girl, or the indiscreet girl, a place where\nshe can earn money fast and earn it easily.\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE DANCE-HALL LIFE.\n\nAs a usual thing the girls are taken to some place in another town\nwhere they are not acquainted. This suits the girl, because she does\nnot want to meet her acquaintances, and it suits the man, because it\ngives him greater security in his evil transaction. The girl is nearly\nalways penniless at this stage, and the man advances the money for the\nrailroad ticket and the necessary food. The first act that lures the\ngirl to the dance-hall is disguised as an act of friendship, and the\nfirst bond that is placed on her to keep her there is the bond of\ngratitude and obligation. In addition to that, where would she go if\nshe did not like her first glimpse of the dance-hall, an ignorant,\nfriendless girl in a strange town?\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE \"RULES\" OF THE HOUSE.\n\nOne of the first things in which the recruit to the dance-hall is\ninstructed is the rules of the house. She must be on the floor, ready\nto dance at seven o'clock, and they must remain on duty until 3 A.M.,\nor so long as the patrons of the house continue to come and buy drinks.\nBetween these hours they have thirty minutes for supper. If they are a\nminute late or stay a minute over the time allowed for supper, if they\nstep out on the sidewalk during their hours of duty, if they get drunk,\nor if they commit other stated offenses, they are subject to a fine by\nthe manager of the house, and the fines range from two dollars and a\nhalf up.\n\nIn the beginning of her career the new recruit usually gets fines\ncharged against her faster than her credits mount up on the manager's\nbook. But there are other rules, one of the chief of which is to make\nthe men who come into the dance-hall buy as many drinks as possible,\nand if a man comes in who has money, to see that he spends it all\nbefore he departs. The girl is coached in the art of getting the money\nfrom the men, and in some of the worst dives they are told that if they\nget hold of a man who has money, and who does not seem inclined to give\nit all up, to give the bar-tender a wink when the refractory customer\ncalls for his drinks, and the bar-tender will \"slip him something\" that\nwill make him more amenable.\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\nTHE PERCENTAGE SYSTEM.\n\nThe way girls make money for themselves is through percentages on the\nliquor which the men they dance with buy. After every dance the dancers\nline up at the bar and drink. The drinks for a man and his partner are\ntwenty-five cents, and the girl's percentage is ten cents. If a man is\nliberal and will buy wine at one dollar a bottle the girl's percentage\nis forty cents. If he is still more liberal and will buy wine at five\ndollars per bottle, the girl gets two dollars and a half. The\npercentages are punched on a little card which the girl carries, and\nthey are added up in the morning.\n\nThe money which the percentages represent, however, is not all paid\nover to the girl in the morning. She is given what cash the manager\nthinks is necessary to keep her through the day, and the remaining is\ncredited against the railroad fare that has been advanced, and against\nthe fines that may have accumulated. If a girl does not like the place\nand wants to leave, she is shown her account and informed that there is\na balance due the house, and that it will be necessary to hold her\nclothes and other effects.\n\n\n      *       *       *       *       *\n\nBECOMES SCHOOLED IN VICE.\n\nIn the meantime the girl is being schooled in vice and crime. She\nlearns that it is more expeditious sometimes to take a man's money out\nof his pockets than to wait for him to spend it twenty-five cents at a\ntime, buying drinks. No matter whether the house profits by these\nthefts or not, they form another bond to tie the girl to a life of\nshame; for some one must always know of them, and if the girl is\nuntractable she is threatened with criminal prosecution. If she commits\nno crime, she can still be charged with vagrancy, and it too often\nhappens that police officers, knowingly or unknowingly, are made the\ninstruments of persecution and the means for whipping these unfortunate\nwomen into submission to any wrong.\n\nDancing all night every night, drinking after every dance, living in\nthe fumes of liquor and tobacco, and in constant jangle of profanity\nand obscenity, how long is required to snuff out every spark of\nwomanliness that a girl may bring with her to such a haunt?\n\nDOG-LIKE DEVOTION TO MALE ASSOCIATES.\n\nAnd yet there is one trait of her sex that is not snuffed out. It is\nthe distinguishing trait of womankind and one of the finest traits that\nthe human race can boast of--the trait of constancy and devotion.\n\nThe lower the fallen woman sinks, the more wrongs and iniquities that\nare placed upon her, the stronger it sometimes seems this devotion and\nconstancy becomes. Nine-tenths of all the women of the tenderloin, it\nis stated, have some man, or some animal called a man, about whom this\naffection, this dog-like devotion centers. No matter how much he may\nabuse her, no matter if he takes every cent of the earnings of her\nmisery and shame, no matter if he beats and kicks her because she can\nnot give him more, the girl in nearly every case, is faithful to \"the\nkid\" and the worst fate than can befall her is that \"the kid\" should\n\"throw her down.\" [In other words, forsake her.]\n\nAnd \"the kid\" always throws her down some time; for \"the kid\" is not\nencumbered with any such inconvenient traits as constancy and devotion.\n\nThen there is carbolic acid, or a long debauch, and a sinking down of\nthe system, and the horrible disease against which even the county\nhospitals, which are open to the criminals and outcasts of society, who\nnever did a stroke of useful work in all their lives, close their\ndoors. And then there is the dishonored grave, over which the friends\nand the relatives, maybe, are ashamed to weep.\n\nDANCE-HALLS TABOOED.\n\nIn the enlightened communities, where there is a healthy public\nsentiment, dance-halls are no longer tolerated. Their day is over in\nCalifornia, and in only a few places are they permitted to exist. In\nthe places where they do exist the communities are still hanging on the\nragged edge of frontier life, where there is little regard for the\ncommon decencies of life. Sacramento recently made a clean-up of its\ndives, and disreputable dance-halls were closed up.\n\nIt is recognized by those who are observant, that dance-halls are more\ndegrading than any other form of dissipation. They are public\ninstitutions with their doors open to all who enter, and those with\nmoney to spend are made welcome. When the money is gone, their welcome\nis worn out, and if the person is saturated with liquor, he is kicked\nout ignominiously, only to return when he has more money to spend.\n\nTHE RECRUITING STATIONS.\n\nIn the large cities agents ply their trade of securing recruits for the\ndives in the interior. Girls on whose cheeks the blush of innocence\nstill remains, are employed for various respectable positions, and sent\nto the interior. They are escorted to the trains, and even in some\ninstances the proprietors of the dives see that they are on their way\nsafely to their dens of infamy. A telegram is forwarded informing the\nresident manager, that more material for the dive is en route. The\nlocal manager meets the girls at the train with a hack and when they\narrive at the place, almost invariably at night, they find their trunks\nhave preceded them. They learn little of their surroundings in the late\nhours of the night, and when they do realize their positions, they feel\naltogether lost, without money or friends.\n\nRECENT CASES SUBMITTED.\n\nThe foregoing is not always the case. Some know the place of their\ndestination, but some of them do not. Not long ago a Los Angeles girl\nanswered an advertisement for work and was told a respectable position\nawaited her in R----. Just as she prepared to board the train for the\nmining town, she was taken in custody. On investigation it was learned\nthat she was destined for a notorious dance-hall in R----, that even\nthe respectable people of the town had not been able to close up.\n\nAbout two weeks ago a woman was arrested in R---- and is awaiting trial\nin the United States court in Los Angeles for using the mails for\nimmoral purposes. It is alleged that she was an agent for a dance-hall\nin R---- and had sought to obtain recruits for the dive.\n\nThose in a position to know, state that the dance-halls are far more\ninfamous than the real palaces of degradation. They are the\nstepping-stones to the other places, and lead on to destruction,\npreceded by misery and shame....\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV.\n\nTHE WOMEN OF B----- UP IN ARMS--THE SISTERS TAKEN HOME--MORE ABOUT\nB-----.\n\n\nMRS. FLORENCE ROBERTS STIRS HER AUDIENCE.\n\nAddressed Church Full of Women--Her Pathetic Stories listened to\nAttentively--Much Interest Manifested in the Cause--Raised Nearly Fifty\nDollars to Take Two Girls Rescued from Dance-hall to Their Homes.\n\nThe above was the heading of an article which appeared in the local\npapers on the morning following the largest gathering of women ever\ncongregated at one time in one of B-----s largest churches.\n\nThe morning before, escorted by the chief of police and two officers in\nplain clothes, I went to that dance-hall to demand the trunks of the\nsisters. The persons in charge claimed that they did not know where the\ngirls' baggage was; that the proprietor was away; that they could not\ngive the trunks up without his authority; and, furthermore, that there\nwere debts of $22.50 booked against one sister and $21 against the\nother. Acting under legal advice, I gave them two hours, no more, to\nproduce those trunks and their contents, also two itemized bills. I\nreturned at the close of that time and found the keepers ready to\naccept the fares advanced (no bills produced) and to have the trunks\nimmediately removed. When the sisters received their baggage, they\ndeclared that both locks had been broken and that each trunk had been\nrobbed of many things; but the girls were so frightened and so anxious\nto get home, that they willingly stood the loss rather than be delayed\nthrough the arrest and the prosecution of the proprietors.\n\nThat night the two sisters and I went to the depot under an armed\nescort and started for their home, a day and a half's journey distant.\nI paid the porter to be on the lookout for any suspicious-acting\ntravelers in our coach. Engagements for the following Sunday\nnecessitated my immediate return to B----. On our arrival at their\nrailroad destination I had barely time to catch my next train;\ntherefore I had to leave explanation of the situation to the sisters,\nnow with an aunt, the parents being on their ranch in the mountains,\nforty miles distant and accessible only by wagon. They bade me a most\ntouching farewell, promising not to fail to correspond.\n\nTruly, all through these strenuous experiences I was daily, hourly\ndemonstrating to my soul's satisfaction God's wonderful leading, his\nstrength, his wisdom, his great, great care, for no evil befell me,\nneither did any plague come nigh my dwelling (Psa. 91:10-12).\n\nOn my return to B--- on Saturday sufficient engagements to keep me in\nthat vicinity at least three weeks and over were immediately made.\nAfter filling these I hoped, God willing, to take a rest in the\nbeautiful homes of some of my Santa Cruz friends. There was an immense\naudience in the First Methodist church on Sunday evening, April 8, and\na large collection was taken for the Beth-Adriel fund....\n\nBefore I left B---, God gave a most blessed realization of his\nwonderful watch-care over those who are earnestly trying to serve him.\nOn Monday, April 9, word reached me that I should be on my guard. The\nproprietor of the ---- dance-hall had declared vengeance. I had\naccepted an invitation to dine with the chief of police and family that\nevening, but on account of this word of warning I deemed it wise to\ntelephone to the sheriff's office and ask protection. An enemy must\nhave received the message and responded. When I came out of the house\nto keep my dinner engagement, I had walked but a few yards when I\nreceived a sudden impression to look behind me. On a fenceless lawn,\nnot three feet away, stood --- --- with his hand in his right hip\npocket. Quick as a flash I pointed the forefinger of my right hand in\nhis face, saying, \"You dare not shoot.\" \"Only your sex protects you,\nyou --- ----- ----,\" he sneered. Never mind the vocabulary of awful\nadjectives and names he hurled at me, dear reader. I've never heard\ntheir equal before or since. There was no one in sight until his sister\npresently crossed the road. But God was protecting me, and I knew it.\nThen the man sneered about my calling up the sheriff's office for\nprotection. I now knew he had a coworker there.\n\nWhen at last there was a chance for me to speak, I quietly told him\nthat he was soon going to an awful hell unless he quickly amended his\nways, and that God was going to hold him and his kind everlastingly\nresponsible for the ruination of many, many souls, and implored him to\nturn to this outraged God and plead for mercy and pardon before it was\neternally too late. As they turned to recross the street, I added, \"God\nwants to bless you.\" With an oath he hurled back at me,\"---- ---- ----\n----! I don't want God to bless me.\" Then I heard a fiendish laugh from\nbehind a hedge; somebody clapped their hands in great glee, and a\nwoman's voice shouted, \"Good for you ----! Give it to her, the ----\n---- ---- ---- ----! Why didn't you finish her while you were about\nit?\" ...\n\nThe chief of police and his wife saw to it that I was protected the\nrest of my brief sojourn, but no one can ever know how much nearer that\nexperience drew me to my loving Lord. More than one woman told me the\nnext day that they were watching that encounter through their lace\ncurtains, and that if he had laid even a finger on me they would have\nthrown up the windows and screamed for help, even have attempted\npersonal aid. But there was no need of that; for hath our heavenly\nFather not said in Isa. 51:17, \"No weapon that is formed against thee\nshall prosper; and every tongue that shall rise against thee in\njudgment, thou shalt condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of\nthe Lord, and their righteousness is of me, saith the Lord\"? And in\nPsa. 34:7 is this blessed assurance: \"The angel of the Lord encampeth\nround about them that fear him, and delivereth them.\" Hallelujah! \"In\nthee, O Lord, do I put my trust: let me never be put to confusion.\"\nPsa. 71:1.\n\nBefore I left B-----, that town had a well-organized law and order\nleague. The members chose me as their first honorary member. I doubt\nwhether any of God's stewards had more friends and more enemies at that\none time, in that one locality than did the writer of this. But I loved\nall and prayed God to bless their precious souls for Jesus' sake.\n\nAs usual, I was not leaving unaccompanied, so that instead of passing\nthrough San Jose, as I had expected, I chaperoned a young girl to the\nhome, remaining there over night and reaching Santa Cruz the next\nevening.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV.\n\nSANTA CRUZ--REBA'S LETTER--THE EARTHQUAKE.\n\n\n\"The Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord will give grace and glory:\nno good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly.\" Psa. 84:\n11. I was now enjoying a few days' sweet rest and fellowship in the\nhome of my sanctified friends, Sister Bessie Green and her mother. Oh,\nhow I enjoyed every moment! What a wonderful exchange of experiences\nand demonstrations of God's mighty love, power, and wisdom was ours!\nand what good times we had going about amongst certain ones in whom she\nwas interested, visiting the mission, enjoying the lovely ocean-breeze,\netc.! On Sunday, April 16, we went with a large band of consecrated\nyoung people to assist in a meeting of song and gospel cheer for the\ninmates of the almshouse and county hospital.\n\nMy visit was destined to be of short duration, for the next day there\ncame among forwarded mail a letter reading somewhat as follows:\n\nDear Mother Roberts:\n\nI am just as blue if not bluer than the paper I am writing on, and I'll\ntell you why, for you know all the circumstances of our recent trouble\n\nWhen girls through no real fault of their own get into such an awful\nscrape as Millie and I were so unfortunate as to get into, but thank\nGod, were rescued from, ... what kind of Christians can they, must they\nbe, who will do their utmost to help still further crush us by talking\nall over the town about what happened, and everybody putting their own\nconstruction on what they hear, then giving us the cold shoulder.\n\nMillie is at home. She's sick from the awful effects of it yet, and I'm\ntrying to earn an honest living, but it's no use. My so-called friends\nwon't give me a chance. I've about made up my mind I might as well have\nthe game as the name, so by the time you receive this, I shall probably\nbe with Miss---- at her house in C----, for I'm sure she will be kinder\nthan the folks here. I don't suppose they've meant to harm us, but just\nbecause they love to talk they've settled it for us forever. I forgive\nthem, but it's no use to try to be good any longer.\n\nDon't think I forget you or your kindness, and I will always love you\nno matter what becomes of me. Gratefully yours,\n\nReba ----.\n\n\"Bessie! Bessie! what shall I do? what must I do?\" I cried, wringing my\nhands and handing her the letter to read. Hurriedly reading it, she\nquickly said, \"Let us pray.\" Immediately suiting the action to the\nword, she as briefly as possible asked the Lord for speedy help. It\ncame--an instantaneous impression to telephone to the hotel at S----\nwhere Reba had been employed. \"Keep on, Bessie, keep on praying,\" I\nrequested as I arose from my knees and hastened into the next room,\ntook down the receiver, called for the long-distance operator, asked\nfor my party, and emphatically declared it to be a matter of life and\ndeath requiring immediate service. Shortly I was talking to the\nlandlady of the N----- J----- Hotel, who told me that Reba was still\nunder her roof, but was expecting to leave for San Francisco on the\nnext train.\n\n\"Please call her to the 'phone,\" I said, and very soon I heard Reba's\nvoice.\n\n\"Hello; who wants me?\" she said.\n\n\"Mother Roberts, Reba dear,\" I replied. \"Stay where you are. I am\ncoming on the next train\"\n\n\"But I'm going on the next one to San Francisco I can't; my trunk is at\nthe depot.\"\n\n\"Reba, you _must_ wait till I come, dear. I've some good news for you.\"\n\n\"Very well; I'll wait. Fortunately, I haven't bought my ticket yet.\"\n\n\"Good-by,\" I gladly said. \"Meet me.\"\n\nThere was barely time to make the next train; but, as usual, the Lord\n(bless his dear name forever!) favored me. I reached S----- at 7:30\nP.M. On our way to the Hotel Reba whispered, \"Mother Roberts, will you\noccupy my room with me tonight? I want to have a long, long talk and\nit's the quietest part of the house, up on the third floor.\"\n\nAfter supper we repaired to her neat little room, and following prayer,\nsoon retired, but not to sleep. Dear Reba, with many tears,\nparticularized the trying situation, as she lay with my arms about her.\nShortly after midnight she sweetly slept. Not so with me. I heard every\nhour and half-hour strike, up to half-past four, on some clock near by.\nIt seemed very close and warm, attributable, so I thought, to the\nsmallness of this inside room.\n\nI must have just fallen asleep when suddenly I was awakened by a\nterrible, terrible sensation, accompanied by fearful screams and\ncrashing of glass and furniture. Reba was thrown out of bed, then back\nagain, where I locked her fast in my arms, gasping the words, \"God\ncares! God cares, Reba! 'We shall see him face to face and tell the\nstory saved by grace,'\" for at first I could only believe that the end\nof the world had come. This dreadful noise was followed by an awful\nstillness in our immediate vicinity, though we could hear, apparently\nfrom outdoors, mingled cries, screams, and groans of fright, distress,\nand pain.\n\nReba leaped out of bed, instantly grasped her clothing and mine, and\nwas rushing from the room when I called out: \"Come back! Come back and\ndress. We've had an earthquake and an awful one, but somehow I feel the\nworst of it is over.\" Never did we more quickly get into our clothing\nand step outside. The hallway and rooms were piled with debris.\nPlaster, laths, broken pictures, and furniture lay in shapeless\nconfusion on every hand. We came to the staircase. Part was gone; every\nstep was likewise covered with the ruins of broken ceiling and wall.\nDevastation was everywhere, everywhere. Trusting the Lord, I landed\nsafely on that tottering staircase, Reba quickly following; and soon we\nwere with the frightened population out on the streets, gazing,\nwell-nigh speechless, at the awful ruins which lay on every side. Every\none was wondering, with aching, troubled hearts, concerning their\nabsent loved ones. How was it faring with them? How far had this\nearthquake extended? Could it possibly have been any worse in other\nplaces than in this one? Soon we discovered, as we hurried to the\ntelegraph and telephone offices, that all communication with the\noutside world was absolutely cut off. All sorts of dreadful rumors were\nafloat; later many were verified; whilst some proved to have been more\nor less exaggerated.\n\nIn the afternoon word reached us that San Francisco was burning. My\ndear son, now in the employ of the Gorham Rubber Company was living\nthere. I wondered if it had reached Haight Street: all I could do was\nto pray and wait, wait and pray. Many, I suppose, gave hunger no\nthought that day, for anxiety was well-nigh consuming us. The depot was\ncrowded with people anxious to get aboard the first train that might\narrive, but there was no promise or prospect of one that day. Reba and\nI put in our time between the telegraph-office and the depot; so did\nhundreds of others.\n\nThat night we had a shake-down at the home of her aunt, whose house had\nnot been very badly damaged. I had so satisfactory a talk with her that\nReba agreed to remain with her until she could get back to her mountain\nhome.\n\nEarly the next morning I was again at the depot. About nine o'clock the\nagent privately notified me of the prospect of a train from the south\nin perhaps an hour, at the same time advising me to \"hang around.\" I\nmade a quick trip to where Reba was staying, bade her farewell, managed\nto purchase a few soda crackers and a piece of cheese (the stores which\nhad not suffered severely were speedily cleaned out of all provisions),\nand returned to the depot to watch and wait.\n\nAt last! at last! praise God, at last! a train, a crowded train\narrived. In a very few minutes, standing room was at a premium. After a\nlong wait we began to move slowly, but we stopped after going a very\nfew miles, for the road was practically being rebuilt. This was our\nexperience the livelong day. In some places we sat by the roadside for\nhours, or watched the men rebuilding the track. When we came to one\nhigh trestle, only a few were permitted to cross at a time, it being\nnot only severed from the main land at either end, but also very shaky.\nHere we parted from train No. 1.\n\nAt the other end of this trestle, we waited hours for the coming of a\ntrain from the direction of San Jose. This delay seemed interminable,\nfor all of us were now out of provisions and in an intense state of\nsuppressed anxiety and excitement. But finally a train slowly moved\ninto view, and we all lustily cheered, once, twice, thrice, and again,\nas we gladly boarded it. Then we learned somewhat concerning the\nterrible destruction in other places all along the line, and also of\nthe fearful holocaust in San Francisco.\n\nWhat, oh! what was the fate of our dear ones there? Ah! dear reader,\npeople who had never given much thought to God and their Savior were\nnow imploring mercy and pardon, and making, oh! such promises of future\nloyalty and service, if he would but spare their loved ones. Alas! but\nfew of these promises were kept. These people soon drifted back into\nthe world and the former error of their ways.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI.\n\nRELIEF DUTY--SAN FRANCISCO--MISS B___.\n\n\nAs this is not a history of the awful calamities of that trying time,\nthey will be but lightly touched upon. Suffice it to say that when late\nthat night our train slowly crept along the streets of San Jose and\nfinally reached the station, the people thronged the streets. They\nheartily cheered and welcomed us. Upon learning that an \"inquiry\nbureau\" had been established right there, we soon packed it almost to\nsuffocation, and oh! bless the Lord! I was one of the few to receive\nnews. I got three unstamped, torn-out-of-note-book letters from my dear\nson, stating that the fire had not reached beyond Van Ness Avenue. He\nlived a little beyond. He was anxious for my safety. I at once sent\nsimilar short messages of assurance to the \"inquiry bureau\" of his\nresidence district. Then I was passed through the line and taken to\nBeth-Adriel (martial law was in force), there to discover all of the\nfamily lodging under the beautiful walnut-trees. The house had suffered\nconsiderable damage, but, praise God! the inmates had escaped personal\ninjury.\n\nRelief duty at the depot was my next call. For two days and nights a\nlarge delegation of us remained on perpetual watch; for the refugee\ntrains, crowded with sick, hungry, homeless, or penniless men, women,\nand children, were now arriving, at intervals of from fifteen to thirty\nminutes. Statistics show that San Jose, the first large city southwest\nof San Francisco, fed, clothed, and sheltered, temporarily, some\npermanently, in the neighborhood of thirty-seven thousand refugees.\nMoreover, its probation committee of the juvenile court handled the\ncases of over fifteen hundred destitute children. Busy times! I should\nsay so! Only the wonderful power of God sustained us, for it was\nbreak-down work. At the close of the second day I was compelled to\nrest. After a good night's sleep I procured a furlough of forty-eight\nhours; for two more notes from San Francisco had reached me, and they\ndescribed the great suffering, especially because of long waiting\n(sometimes all night) in the bread line.\n\nSan Jose generously supplied me with an immense telescope basket filled\nto its utmost capacity with canned goods, cooked meats, etc., so that\nit required the assistance of two to put it on the train, it was so\nheavy. On reaching the outskirts of San Francisco, I was informed that\nI could be taken no further than Twenty-fourth and Valencia Streets.\nThere people seized every available rig, even to garbage wagons, paying\nexorbitant prices for conveyance to their points of destination. What\nwas I now going to do? The eight hundredth block on Haight Street\nseemed miles away (I think it was about three and a half), and I had\nnobody to help me. Everybody was strictly for self. Bless God! he had\nnot forsaken me, as I soon found out, when he gave me the strength to\nshoulder that stupendous burden. Oh, bless God! Every few steps I\nrested. I would rest and pray, go a little farther, and then rest and\npray again. I kept this up until completely exhausted; then I sat on a\nbroken-down step, minus the house, imploring the kind heavenly Father\nto send me help. Did ever he fail his own in the hour of need? Never,\nno never.\n\nComing over the hill several blocks distant, carefully guiding his\nhorse through the debris, was a man in a wagon or buggy. Like a\ndrowning person grasping at a straw, I frantically called and waved my\nhands. It took me some time to attract attention, but finally he turned\nin my direction. Hallelujah! As he neared me, I noticed the words,\n\"Spring Valley Water Works,\" on the sideboard of his wagon. \"Madam, can\nI assist you?\" he inquired. Most certainly he could. And I humbly,\ntearfully, and wearily described the situation. To lift that heavy\nbasket into the vehicle required our united effort. Never did I more\nappreciate help. The sun was at its zenith when I started; it was now\nsetting. God bless that dear young man, whose name I have forgotten! I\nhope that he is living and that this book may fall into his hands, so\nthat he may better than ever realize that our blessed Lord never\nforsakes those who truly love and trust him.\n\nReader, I leave you to imagine the joyous reunion of mother and son.\n\nPerfect peace and good will was then temporarily reigning in that\nstricken city. Would to God it had continued! but alas! it was but for\na few days. Once more the adversary of the souls of men reigns in its\nmidst; the liquor devil reigns supreme; whilst the few faithful ones\nare still daily crying to the throne of grace, \"How long, O Lord, how\nlong?\"\n\nBefore all this occurred and whilst I was in San Francisco one day\nseeking aid for Beth-Adriel, I called at the house of a Christian\nfriend of mine. Presently, in the course of conversation, she informed\nme that her niece, who was an employee in one of the large department\nstores of San Francisco was at home sick with severe headache, and\nasked if I would care to see her. I gladly acquiesced. Then my friend\ntook me into the next room, where lay the young lady with her head\nswathed in a wet towel and evidently suffering keenly. I expressed\nsympathy and at once offered to pray for her, to which she replied:\n\n\"I'll be so glad, though I fear I haven't much faith in its efficacy.\nYes, pray for me, for I must get down to the store to report for duty\nat one o'clock. I _must_. Sick or not sick, I _must_.\"\n\nAfter prayer I inquired, \"Laura, dear, why must you be compelled to be\non duty? Under existing circumstances they will surely make every\nallowance.\"\n\nInstead of making immediate answer, she asked for her business dress\nand presently drew from its pocket a latch-key.\n\n\"Do you see this?\" she inquired.\n\n\"Yes,\" I replied.\n\n\"Yes, but you do not know what it means. Let me tell you. This key is\nto be used to unlock the door of the down-town private apartments of\none of our floor-walkers. I've had my place only a few weeks. Auntie is\nhaving a struggle to keep her lodging-house filled so as to meet her\npayments on the furniture, rent, etc. I am only getting small wages,\nnot sufficient to support me, as yet; but if I can manage to qualify in\na large reputable store like --- ---, I shall have no trouble in\ncommanding a better salary before long--having become so well\nacquainted with my position as to then be a necessity.\"\n\n\"But what has all that to do with your possession of this key?\" I\ninterrogated.\n\n\"Wait, I am coming to that,\" she replied \"About a week ago he (the\nfloor-walker) said, among other things: 'I observe that you are quite\nambitious. I intend, if you will allow me, to still further your\ninterests. In order that I may do this, I must have your promise to\nrespect the confidence I am about to repose in you.' Innocently I\npromised. 'First of all,' he went on to say, 'you have doubtless heard\nI am a married man and a father.' I had. He has a very delicate wife\nand two dear little girls. He then produced the key, _stating why he\nwanted my friendship_.\"\n\n\"Why did you not immediately expose him to the firm?\" I indignantly\ninquired.\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts,\" said Laura, \"you don't know what you are talking about.\nMy word would not be taken against his. I do not yet know what door\nthis key unlocks. I am not to know until I consent to use it whenever\nhe may request a private interview. Every chance he gets, he wants to\nknow when I mean to yield. I am, for the sake of business experience,\nresorting to all sorts of strategy; then, when I qualify, I can afford\nto snap my fingers in the face of this profligate. _You've no idea how\nmuch the honor of business young ladies is menaced, Mrs. Roberts. I'm\nnot by any means the only one. The trouble is, very few have the\nbackbone to resist these propositions, which invariably come in one\nform or another to the working girls attractive of face or form, or of\nboth._ They are, with scarcely an exception, poor; from infancy they\nhave been well dressed, too well in fact; very few are qualified in\ndomestic art, and those who are would almost rather do anything than be\nsubjected to such humiliations as some people in social standing\ninflict upon their maids--maids who ofttimes both by birth and breeding\nare their equals if not superiors.\n\n\"I want to help Auntie. She is so good to me in giving me a home. If I\ncan only keep up, I shall soon be able to repay her.\"\n\n\"I'm glad to tell you my head is much better, so that I shall be able\nto report for duty. I'll be all right so long as I trust in God and\nhave people like you and Auntie pray for me.\"\n\nI wanted to report this case to the proprietors of that store; but\nLaura was so distressed for fear of notoriety, ultimate results, also\nthe deprivation of a living for that libertine's delicate wife and\nchildren, that I reluctantly desisted. This I know: In answer to many\nprayers, both her friends' and her own, she won out; but she never gave\nup that key, and to this day she does not know what door it unlocked or\nwhether some other poor, silly girl received and made use of its\nduplicate.\n\nIn visiting among the outcasts, I have learned from the lips of many\nthat the primary cause of their downfall was the inadequacy of their\nwages as saleswomen, stenographers, etc., for their direct necessities;\ntemptations became too great; the ultimate results were, alas!\ninevitable.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII.\n\nTHE HOME REPAIRED--MRS. S---'S EXPERIENCE.\n\n\nThinking to appeal for the required means to repair our home, I, after\nprayerful consideration, journeyed to Portland, Oregon, for our State\nwas now taxed to its utmost for finances. My sojourn was brief; for,\nbesides being seized with sudden illness, I learned that a large sum of\nmoney (thirty-five thousand dollars, I think) intended for the erection\nof a Florence Crittenton home in their midst had now been generously\ndonated and sent to the general fund in San Francisco, to be applied to\njust such charitable needs as I represented. In consequence, I decided\nthat, as soon as I was able to travel, I should go back to San\nFrancisco. Through the interposition of the Y.W.C.A., I was furnished\nwith free transportation. Upon my return I learned that all available\nfunds for that purpose had already been bespoken; but God, ever mindful\nof his own, had laid it upon the hearts of some people of means, in the\ninterior, to pay all expenses for repairs, so that before many months\nBeth-Adriel was once more in good order. In its interest, many, many\nmiles were traveled and thousands of people addressed, personally, also\ncollectively.\n\nRarely did any service close but that one person or more had an unusual\ncase of some unfortunate one, demanding immediate and special interest;\nfor instance: Mrs. B-----, who personally knew me, approached me one\nday in a greatly agitated state of mind and confidentially imparted\nsome dreadful knowledge concerning her son, aged fourteen, and a girl\nschoolmate of his, but a few months younger. Producing some notes, she\npermitted their perusal. They were from the girl to the boy, and were\ncouched in the most licentious, unguarded language imaginable. I was\nunutterably shocked. \"Mother Roberts,\" said Mrs. B-----, \"I will deal\nwith my son, but what about the girl who has written these and, as you\nread, has met H----- clandestinely? I can not go to her; will you?\" The\ngirl's mother was a lady of means and fashion, a member of one of the\nexclusive card-clubs of that town, and an inveterate player. Pearl was\nan only child. I admit I felt timid about approaching the mother,\nbut--It had to be done and done quickly.\n\nIn glancing over the local paper, I had observed that her progressive\nwhist-club was to be entertained at Mrs. -----'s lovely residence that\nafternoon. It was now 11 A.M. I must telephone, for I knew that I\nshould not be received except by previous appointment. Soon I heard her\nvoice:\n\n\"What is it, please; what do you wish?\"\n\n\"A private interview immediately, of the utmost importance.\"\n\n\"Impossible. Every moment is engaged until I go out this afternoon.\"\n\n\"Can not help it. You _must_ grant it. It concerns a member of your\nimmediate family. It is of _vital import_.\"\n\n\"Very well; you may come right away, but be brief. I will grant you\nonly a few minutes.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" and both receivers were hung up.\n\nIn response to my ring the maid ushered me into a lovely\nreception-room, where Mrs. S----- soon appeared in a high state of\nnervous excitement.\n\n\"You have greatly upset me, Mrs. Roberts,\" she said. \"Kindly be brief.\nTo your point at once. I have much to do, also must dress before\nluncheon, for our card-party at Mrs. -----'s this afternoon.\"\n\n\"Mrs. S-----, you no doubt will be able to identify Pearl's\nhandwriting.\" I replied.\n\n\"Most assuredly,\" she rejoined. \"What of it?\"\n\n\"Simply this: In my possession are three notes. They were written by\nyour daughter to a boy companion in school. The boy's mother lent them\nto me. It is my painful duty to show them to you. First of all, permit\nme to assure you that this matter is perfectly safe with me,\" I said.\n\n\"Come into the next room where we can be undisturbed and unobserved,\"\nshe requested. Then she rang the bell and said to the maid:\n\n\"I shall not be at home to any one who either 'phones or calls.\"\n\n(Here let me say that having once been associated with Mrs. S----\nsocially, I was not a stranger.)\n\n\"Mrs. S----, doesn't Pearl sometimes ask permission to go home with a\nfavorite girl companion, also at times remain with her over night, or\nelse she with your daughter?\" I asked after we had retired to the other\nroom.\n\n\"Certainly,\" she answered, \"and I may add, I am quite satisfied to have\nher do so, _for they can both be implicitly trusted_.\"\n\n\"Mrs. S----, please read these letters. I beg of you, prepare yourself\nfor an awful shock....\"\n\nPresently the great beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead and\ndripped unheeded into her lap. After reading those notes she made\nmincemeat of them, and then lay back in her chair white and speechless.\nThe silence was painful beyond description. Finally I broke the silence\nby saying:\n\n\"Mrs. S----, permit me to assist you to your room, then 'phone Mrs.\n---- of your sudden illness, and also send for your daughter to come\nhome immediately.\"\n\nShe gladly acquiesced. Before my departure she faintly acknowledged her\nrealization of neglect of duty and confidence toward the precious soul\nentrusted to her keeping, and promised to deal gently with the erring\nchild. Furthermore, she said that _she had played her last game of\ncards_.\n\nPearl and her mother became inseparable companions. To this day the\ndaughter has no idea who informed on her, but this occurrence taught a\nnever-to-be-forgotten lesson to more than one I hope and pray that the\nmothers who read this may profit by the story.\n\nOne with whom I am well acquainted has an only son. She also was a\ngreat lover of cards. When the boy was quite small, this mother in\norder to prevent his disturbing her and her friends in their social\ngame, provided him with a tiny deck of cards. She often smiled approval\nat his and his little companion's attempts to imitate their elders.\nTime went on. He grew to manhood. Many an anxious evening she now spent\nalone; for seldom did he spend one with her, and he always had a\nplausible excuse in the morning.\n\nHe was employed by one of the leading firms of the city and stood an\nexcellent chance of future promotion. One day, however, he came home,\ninformed her of his discharge, refused to give the reason, but begged\nher to go to his employers and plead for his reinstatement. The\ngrief-stricken mother was soon ushered into the manager's private\noffice and there very kindly treated; but her pleadings were all in\nvain. Her son, she learned, had been discharged for card-playing and\nfrequenting the pool room. He had been warned twice, but he had failed\nto take heed. The firm would make no exceptions.\n\nOn her return he eagerly interrogated her as to the results of the\ninterview.\n\n\"When?\" she asked, \"when did you ever learn to play cards and pool?\"\n\n\"Why, Mother, don't you remember?\" he answered. \"_You taught me\nyourself when I was a little shaver._\"\n\n\"No, dear, not a real game,\" she sobbed.\n\n\"No matter if you didn't,\" he rejoined. \"It didn't take me long to\nbecome fascinated and learn how from older boys and girls. Then, when\nit comes to playing, I hate to remind you, Mother, but I can not\nremember the time when you didn't play. I've seen you, time and again,\nwork harder to earn a dinky vase or prize than at anything else under\nthe sun. You can buy them anywhere for fifty cents or thereabouts, and\nwithout such hard work as I've seen you put in for a whole evening.\n_You can blame yourself, and you ought to, more than you blame me._\"\n\nThen he flung himself out of the room and went up-stairs to bed.\n\nThe next evening he returned from an unsuccessful day's tramp. His\nchances for further employment in that city were anything but\nencouraging. That evening as they sat by the fireside, Will's mother\nsaid:\n\n\"I've been thinking very, very seriously during your absence today, my\ndear. I've made a resolution, but with this proviso: if I never touch\nanother card, will you promise me never to play again?\"\n\n\"Mother, I should like to, but I'm afraid to make such a promise,\" he\nreplied. \"You don't know what a hold it has on me. But I will try, I\nsurely will.\"\n\nWill's mother worked hard to substitute other pastimes and to make his\nhome life as interesting as she knew how. She gathered musical friends\nabout her, encouraged him to cultivate his voice, and worked herself\nalmost to a shadow in order to wean him from the hurtful habit for\nwhich she knew she was directly responsible. She succeeded, bless God!\nshe succeeded. Later he married a very sweet young lady, and God\nblessed their union with three children. It is safe to say that,\nbecause of his experience, card-playing will never be tolerated in that\nhappy little family, and my earnest prayer as I relate this is that my\nreader, if a card-player, may consider this: \"If meat [card-playing]\nmake my brother to offend, I will eat no flesh [no more play cards]\nwhile the world standeth, lest I make my brother to offend.\" I Cor.\n8:13.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVIII.\n\nTHE ANNUAL BOARD MEETING-RESULTS.\n\n\nI have mentioned the fact that the nature of the work of Beth-Adriel\nhad so changed that many applicants were, for certain reasons, debarred\nfrom the home. One day whilst I was calling upon one of the board\nmembers my soul was greatly grieved; for a girl who came and appealed\nfor admission was refused--kindly but firmly refused, on the grounds\nthat her physical condition would be detrimental to the welfare of the\nmany mothers and babes with whom Beth-Adriel was now well filled; _and\nyet it had never been incorporated for a maternity home_.\n\nWhat was I to do? God knew how hard I had Worked. The property was now\nmore than half paid for. What was I to do?\n\nAs the holidays, which always caused a temporary cessation in\nfund-raising, were approaching, I busied myself in making little gifts\nfor each member of the family. Whilst so doing I prayed unceasingly to\nknow the mind of God's Spirit and to be definitely led of him.\n\nCan I ever forget that first prayer-meeting of the new year, 1907? It\nbeing a wet night, there was nobody present besides the members of the\nfamily, the matron, and her husband, except Brother Norton, his son,\nand I. We had had the usual songs, prayers, and Scripture-reading, and\nwe were now testifying. I had testified, as also had most of the\nfamily, when one of the young mothers suddenly said:\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts, I've something to ask you. When you persuaded me to come\nto this place, didn't you tell me I need give only my first name?\"\n\n\"I did, Amelia,\" I answered.\n\n\"Didn't you say that no questions that might embarrass me would be\nasked?\"\n\n\"I certainly did.\"\n\n\"Didn't you say no girl had to sign any papers here, and that if she\nhad no money, the home was free to her?\"\n\n\"Most assuredly.\"\n\n\"Then--you--lied.\"\n\nReader, that poor girl dealt me a blow that I can not say I have yet\nfully recovered from. Then I knew that modern Tobiah and Sanballat and\nGeshem (Neh. 2:9) had interfered and intercepted the building of God's\nwork. I felt brokenhearted and could not be comforted. That night I\nspent in tears, nor could I pray as I desired to pray. The next evening\nas I was kneeling by my bedside, worn out with sorrow, I chanced to\nlook up, and I found my gaze riveted on a little wall-motto containing\nthese precious words: \"_Rest in the Lord._\"\n\n(It hangs here on my wall as I now write. It is a priceless\npossession.) Instantly I said, \"I thank thee, O my Lord, I thank thee,\nfor reassurance.\" Somewhat comforted, I then wrote the following\nverses:\n\n  I was kneeling in prayer by my bedside,\n    Beseeching a comforting word,\n  When I opened my eyes on this motto,\n    Simply telling me, \"Rest in the Lord.\"\n\n  It hangs where I ofttimes can see it,\n    This message direct from our God.\n  As I ponder, my load seems to lighten,\n    I'm resolving to rest in my Lord.\n\n  For, oh! I was troubled and weary,\n    And dark seemed the road that I trod;\n  Of this I was telling my Savior,\n    When he showed me, \"Rest thou in the Lord\"\n\n  I wonder why I should forget this\n    And weight myself down with a load;\n  Why don't I depend more on Jesus,\n    Who loves me, and rest in my Lord?\n\n  I'm persuaded this message from heaven,\n    Direct from his throne, will afford\n  Perfect peace under trying conditions\n    To all who will \"rest in the Lord.\"\n\n  For, oh! if his yoke is upon us,\n    Our strength is renewed and restored;\n  And the burdens, so heavy, are lightened\n    If we only will \"rest in the Lord.\"\n\n  I thank thee, dear heavenly Father,\n    When I prayed for thy comforting word,\n  For directing my eyes to that motto\n    'Tis enough. I will rest in my Lord\n\nBeth-Adriel cottage, 9:30 P.M., January 4, 1907.\n\nIt was enough. I was comforted, and I was determined, like Paul of old,\nthat 'none of these things should move me.'\n\nThe annual meeting of the board for the election of officers for the\nensuing year was about to take place. Before the board convened, I\nasked God for a test, promising him to abide by it even though he\nrequired me to give up this hard-earned home if necessary; then I\nquietly \"rested in my Lord.\"\n\nThe day arrived. The rain poured in torrents all morning. I besought\nthe Lord for a clear afternoon and also for the presence of every\nmember. He answered my prayer. When it came to the reelection of\nofficers, my election was _not unanimous_. As the test I had besought\nwas that if the Master intended I should continue with them, he should\ncause my reelection to be unanimous, I read my resignation. Thus ended\nthe annual board meeting of 1907. (My resignation was never legally\naccepted.)\n\nWith scarcely an exception, \"they all forsook me and fled\" (Mark\n14:50). I walked out of Beth-Adriel unattended--one of the loneliest\nbeings on earth, yet in the \"secret of His presence.\" This created\nconsiderable newspaper notoriety; but though my resignation had cost me\nall, my conscience was \"void of offense toward God\" (Acts 24:16).\n\nSoon I busied myself looking for other quarters. Even they were\nprovidential; for a friend met me in the post-office and proffered me\nher beautiful studio, then in disuse, for a merely nominal rent. There\nI rested and wrote for three months, intending that the proceeds of the\nbook entitled \"The Autobiography of an Autoharp\" should start another\nhome. But God willed otherwise, as you will presently learn.\n\nWas the rescue work that I so dearly loved, at a standstill? Oh, no\nindeed. Not for one day was I idle; neither was Beth-Adriel. The name\n\"Beth-Adriel\" was soon dropped, and the place became one of the chain\nof Florence Crittenton homes. I have often sent there poor unfortunates\nthat needed a refuge of that nature.\n\nIt was marvelous, the strength and the courage that the blessed Lord\ngave me during those trying days, even to the turning of my other cheek\n(Matt. 5:39).\n\nSoon I received unanimous reendorsement and much encouragement from the\npastors' union and other sources; but I was advised to try for a\ntraining-school and home for orphans at the limit age (fourteen) and\nalso for juvenile court dependents and delinquents. As is my custom, I\ninquired of the Lord. I received so strong an impression regarding \"an\nounce of prevention,\" etc, that I said, \"Yea, Lord, it is worth one\nhundred thousand pounds of cure.\" In a short time beautiful and\npractical plans were drawn up and presented to me by one of San Jose's\nbest architects, Wesley W. Hastings. Before this took place, however,\nseveral very striking incidents occurred, in a few of which, I feel\nsure, you will be interested. One was a case of casting bread upon the\nwaters and finding of it after many days (Eccl. 11:1).\n\nSince my coming to San Jose it had been my habit to attend frequently\nthe mission then situated on Fountain Alley. One night a poor, forlorn\ndrunken man came to the altar and \"got salvation.\" After rising from\nhis knees, he said, \"Lady, will you trust me with a quarter? I want to\nget a bath and bed and breakfast with it.\"\n\n\"You can not get all three for a quarter,\" I replied.\n\n\"Oh yes, I can,\" he said. \"Down at the Salvation Army lodging-house for\nmen.\"\n\nOne of the workers whispered, \"Don't do it He'll only spend it for\nliquor.\"\n\nHe evidently surmised what the worker told me, for he quickly said:\n\n\"Don't be afraid to trust me. I promise you you shall never regret it.\"\n\nI gave him what he had requested, and, in consequence, received rebukes\nfrom several of the other workers.\n\nThe next night he came in looking fairly neat, but surely clean. At the\nclose of the meeting he returned the money, remarking that he had\nearned fifty cents that day mowing lawns and chopping wood. He\ncontinued to frequent the mission, a changed man. After moving to the\nstudio I lost sight of him almost entirely, but often wondered what had\nbecome of him.\n\nThere came a time toward the close of my sojourn in San Jose when I was\nfinancially down to bedrock. Money and provisions were all gone. My\nrent, to be sure, was paid up to the first of the month (three weeks\nhence), but my cupboard was bare. A friend partook with me of my last\nmeal. Little did she realize it, or she would never have stayed at my\ninvitation. _I told only my heavenly Father._ After supper I went home\nwith her, about three blocks distant. It was a beautiful moonlight\nnight, and as I came up the garden walk on my return, I noticed a\ngood-sized box resting on my steps, but simply thought the children\nmust have been playing there and had failed to take it away after they\nhad finished. I attempted to thrust it to one side, but discovered that\nit was too heavy. Looking more closely, I could read my name on a card.\nWith considerable effort I lifted it into the room, pried off a portion\nof the cover, and was soon reading a note which said:\n\nDear Friend:\n\nPlease accept a slight token of appreciation from one who is\n\nYour true friend.\n\nFrom whom did this come? The crude handwriting was not at all familiar.\nI wondered, but in vain. Then I lifted up the paper cover. The box was\nfilled with groceries. Not even butter and bread had been forgotten;\nalso there were some fruit and vegetables. I fell on my knees, the\ntears falling fast as I humbly thanked God and prayed him to bless the\ndonor. I had told no one. Who could have sent it? Inquiry the next day\nof several groceries failed to throw any light on the matter. I had to\ngive it up, but oh, how I appreciated and enjoyed the contents of that\nbox, which lasted me until my time at the studio expired.\n\nI stored my few effects with a friendly furniture man. Whilst walking\ndown Santa Clara Street near Market, I came face to face with Brother\nLouis, the converted drunkard. He certainly was looking his best. As he\ngreeted me, he said:\n\n\"Mother Roberts, I was on my way to call on you.\"\n\n\"I've moved this very day, Brother,\" I replied, \"but I'm so glad I met\nyou. Where have you been?\"\n\nHe had been working out of town. To honor God and also to help\nstrengthen his faith, I related His care for me through all the trying\ntimes. I spoke about my being out of provisions and then finding them\non my doorsteps, adding:\n\n\"To this day I haven't found out who sent them.\"\n\nThe expression that came over his countenance instantly betrayed him.\n\n\"Brother Louis,\" I said, \"you sent that box.\"\n\n\"No, Mother Roberts, I didn't,\" he replied; \"I brought it, and I'll\ntell you why. I read in the paper that when you quit Beth-Adriel you\nonly had sixty dollars of your own. I calculated that couldn't last\nvery long. I knew you wouldn't take money, and I wanted to express my\ngratitude in some way; so I decided groceries would not come amiss to\none who was doing light housekeeping. I didn't knock on your door,\nbecause I thought you were in and what a surprise it would be when you\nopened it in the morning. I hope you aren't offended at what I did\"\n\n\"Brother Louis, don't you realize that God used you to answer my\nprayer?\" I rejoined. \"He knew my needs, and laid it on your heart to\nsupply them.\"\n\nI do not know where he now is, but I earnestly pray that God may bless\nand prosper this kind-hearted man and finally receive him into glory.\n\nStill farther down the street, near Second, I suddenly thought I heard\nsome one calling my name. Again it was called, and I turned to find a\nMr. Parkhurst, an old gentleman, endeavoring to overtake me. He wished\nto let me know that his wife, one of my valued friends, was very ill,\nand to inquire if I knew of any one who could come to their home and\ncare for her a few days, at least until she was somewhat recovered.\nInstantly I felt that God was providing a temporary shelter for me;\ntherefore I unhesitatingly replied:\n\n\"I myself will go, Mr. Parkhurst.\"\n\n\"What you! But are you not too busy?\" he asked.\n\n\"Not just at present,\" I answered. \"Besides, I gave up my studio this\nvery day and therefore am quite free to go.\"\n\nTheir appreciation was such that a few days later I was invited to make\nthis lovely home mine, or at least headquarters, which very kind offer\nwas, in the name of our wonderful Provider, gratefully accepted.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIX.\n\nA TRIP EAST--I ESCAPE FROM A CONFIDENCE WOMAN.\n\n\nAfter I had enjoyed the freedom of the Parkhurst home for a few months\nI learned through friends that a young lady whom I had befriended at\nthe time of the earthquake and who had become temporarily deranged was\nabout to be sent to the East. The supervisors inquired whether it would\nsuit my convenience to take the trip, and said if so they would defray\nexpenses from and to California in order to have her safely chaperoned.\nI gladly consented; for, praise God! this would give me opportunity to\npay a brief visit to my son and his bride, now making their home in\nAllegheny, Pa.\n\nFollowing her safe arrival, I was on the way to Cincinnati in less than\ntwenty-four hours. Thence I was to take train early the next morning.\nHaving several hours to dispose of after securing a room in a hotel\nclose to the station, I decided to see as many points of interest as\npossible in this fine city. Accordingly I was thus delightfully\noccupied until about four o'clock, when I heard some one speak of the\nZoo. Upon inquiry I learned of the wonderful gardens so called. Soon,\nfollowing directions, I boarded a car at Fountain Square, which\nconveyed me up a very steep incline. Returning in the neighborhood of\nsix o'clock, I followed the example of several persons, who on the\nincline stepped out of the car on to the platform in order to enjoy the\nmagnificent view.\n\nA white-haired, elderly lady who had sat opposite to me on the return\ntrip, now pleasantly remarked:\n\n\"Cincinnati is well worth a visit, is it not?\"\n\nUpon my replying in the affirmative, she rejoined:\n\n\"Doubtless you are a stranger. May I inquire from whence you come?\"\n\n\"From California,\" I answered.\n\nShe clasped her hands together and exclaimed ecstatically:\n\n\"Dear, dear California! How happy I am to meet some one from there!\nSome of my most delightful, very happiest days were spent there.\"\n\nWe were now once more in the car and at the foot of the incline.\n\nPresently she continued, \"Are you going to remain for some time here?\nIf so, I shall be delighted to contribute to your pleasure.\"\n\nI then informed her of my prospective visit to my son and his wife.\n\nHer next question was, \"Pardon me, but have you any dinner engagement?\nIf not, dine with me at ----'s restaurant, unless you have choice in\nthe matter, in which case I gladly defer in your favor.\"\n\nShe had handed me her card, and of course common courtesy required that\nI reciprocate.\n\nAt the table I quietly (though not by request) returned thanks, and\nthen followed this up with the message that the Master had, in answer\nto silent prayer, laid on my heart.\n\nHer patronizing smile was rather disconcerting as she responded:\n\n'My dear, I am much older and have had much more real experience than\nyou. I've come in touch with every phase of humanity, and have at last\nreached the place where I have decided to get all I can out of\nlife--all the fun, all the pleasure possible. _I once thought and felt\nas you do_. You'll get over it when you have had a few hard knocks to\ncontend with. Take my advice. Enjoy yourself every day and hour, and as\nmuch as you can.\"\n\n\"I do,\" was my reply. \"I would not exchange the experience of the past\ndecade for all the former years of worldly dissipation and pleasure put\ntogether. They have all been unsatisfactory. This is quite the\nopposite, and, better still, it is the enjoyment of indescribable peace\nand delight. You are not going to be much longer in this world. Mrs.\nR----, I beg of you to seek the Lord whilst he may still be found. It\nis not too late, but soon, yes, very soon it may be. Then where will\nyou spend eternity?\"\n\nHer lips curled with a sinister, contemptuous sneer. Nevertheless she\nmanaged to smile as she resorted to repartee.\n\n\"You must come with me this evening,\" she said. \"I intend to take\npossession of you for an hour or two, and give you a good time.\"\n\n\"You will please excuse me from anything of the kind,\" was my quick\nreply. \"I have long ceased to enjoy worldly amusements.\"\n\nJust then the waitress came with the cheque.\n\n\"One or two?\" she inquired.\n\n\"Two,\" promptly replied Mrs. R----\n\nI politely wished her good evening as we stood at the desk, and was\nquickly walking away when she called after me.\n\n\"Wait a minute,\" she said, and took a firm hold of my arm and sleeve,\nso that it was impossible to free myself without attracting attention.\nWe were now on the street. As she walked beside me, she said:\n\n\"You may not think so, but I intend to do you a favor. People in your\nline of work are never blest with overmuch of this world's goods,\nespecially money. I'm going to take you with me across the bridge [into\nKentucky] to the house of one of my friends and win a stake for you.\nYou needn't touch a card unless you want to. Now don't be afraid to\ntrust me, because----\"\n\nBefore she had hardly finished speaking, I suddenly tore away from her\ngrasp, ran down the block to the corner, and boarded a passing car, not\ncaring where it took me, so anxious was I to get away from this female\ngambler, this confidence woman.\n\nWhy did I not have her arrested? First, because I had already purchased\nmy ticket for my journey to Pittsburg, and secondly, because her\nprivate conversation with me would not have warranted me in so doing.\nMoreover, I knew that the all-seeing eye of God was taking cognizance\nof her actions as well as of mine. He protected me, and you may rest\nassured that she and her kind will not go unpunished.\n\nWhy have I told you this? In order to show that it is not only the\nyoung girls and youth who are in danger, but also the more mature, even\nthe rescue missionary. It therefore behooves us to be constantly in an\nattitude of watchfulness and prayer, for Satan goes about in all manner\nof garbs seeking whom he may devour. Nothing could better please him\nthan to overpower or side-track one of the children of God, more\nparticularly a missionary.\n\nI took a long round-trip ride on that car, my heart overflowing with\ngratitude to the heavenly Father for having made the way of escape (1\nCor. 10:13). It was after nine o'clock before I reached my hotel. I\nwondered, as I retired, who would be the next to be victimized by that\nrunner for a private gambling-house. I fell asleep with earnest prayer\nfor the deliverance of whosoever it might chance to be, and for God to\ndeal speedily with all such agents of the evil one.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XL.\n\nMY HOMEWARD JOURNEY--LAND FOR THE TRAINING SCHOOL AND HOME.\n\n\nAfter a delightful five days' visit with my son and his bride I was\nsoon back in California, both ready and eager to transact business for\nthe Master's kingdom.\n\nAnybody who has traveled on a tourist car can readily understand that,\neven though one may not be prying or curious, one is apt to learn more\nor less of its other occupants, particularly those in the adjoining\nsections; and be the porter ever so watchful, he can not cope with\nevery suspicious situation.\n\nBeing a rescue missionary, I particularly yet secretly kept a watchful\neye over a girl just graduated with honors from a school in the old\ncountry and now about to join some relatives at a point near San\nFrancisco; for she was fast succumbing to the influence of a woman with\nwhom some of the opposite sex seemed very familiar, considering the\nfact that the latter was as much a stranger to them (when first we\nstarted out) as she was to me. Besides, the pretty young graduate\nevidently was a very guileless, convent-raised girl. Matters assumed\nsuch a condition at the close of the third day of our journey that I\nfelt it incumbent upon me to invite the latter into my section for the\nsake of some friendly advice. She appeared to take it all in good part\nand promised to act upon it. Had she done so, I should not now be\nrelating that before the end of the next twenty-four hours I was\nsubjected to most unkind, uncalled-for criticism from nearly all the\noccupants of that car, mostly young people. The schoolgirl was foolish\nenough to betray every word of our conversation to the older woman,\nwhose actions that same night were such that the porter had to\ninterfere. Notwithstanding the unkind treatment accorded me, I still\ncontinued privately to chaperon the girl until she reached her\ndestination where she was, thank God, welcomed at the depot by her\nrelatives.\n\nThat porter told me that he had constantly to be on the lookout for\nquestionable characters of both sexes, who made it their business to\ntravel back and forth continuously in search of victims to rob or aid\nthem in plying their nefarious trades, but that some acted so\nsanctimoniously, as in this case, that they were rather hard to detect.\nI have no doubt that this adventuress obtained the young girl's\naddress, so that the acquaintance could, a little later on, be renewed\nin order that some of this woman's accomplices, if not herself, could\nsecure this another victim for the white slave traffic.\n\nMoral: Parents and guardians, secure reliable chaperons for your young\npeople to travel with, or else keep them at home pending such times as\nthey can be accompanied by you or trusted friends.\n\nA letter from a wealthy pioneer with whom I had had several interviews\nrespecting land for a training school and home now sent me word that he\nhad decided to donate six acres for that purpose, provided I should\nsecure pledges to the amount of thirty thousand dollars for building\npurposes. The undertaking looked stupendous; nevertheless, what was to\nhinder if this were the plan of God?\n\nAt his invitation, I shortly went to inspect the land, then in grain.\nThe tract was hardly as much as was requisite for horticultural\npurposes and a large home, but the situation was charming; so, without\nconsulting any one as to the nature of the soil, I promised to do my\nutmost to earn a quit title to the land. I worked indefatigably for\nseveral months before being able to secure a promissory deed, but\nfinally, after much effort and persuasion, I succeeded in obtaining the\nlatter. Then I worked harder than ever. Two years were spent in this\nwise. Everything pointed to ultimate success. A board of representative\nbusiness men was secured in order to meet legal requirements. By faith\nI now saw the beautiful, practical home for delinquent and dependent\nchildren looming up in the very near future.\n\nOne day whilst on my way southward I was telling an acquaintance of my\nhopes and also showing her the plans. Presently a gentleman sitting\nimmediately back of us thus addressed me:\n\n\"Pardon me, madam, but I can not refrain from hearing part of your\nconversation, also seeing your plans.\" (With that he handed me his\ncard.) \"For over twenty-two years I was a resident of the place where\nyou propose to build that home,\" he continued, \"and I know every foot\nof its soil. Would it be asking too much of you to inquire just where\nthose six acres are located?\"\n\nUpon his receiving the desired information, he said:\n\n\"I am very sorry to hear it. I regret to have to inform you that it is\nabsolutely useless for horticultural purposes. It is worked out, having\nbeen in grain for at least forty years; besides, it is gravelly soil\nwith clay bottom. I do not ask you to take my word for this. Inquire of\n---- ----- or any of the reputable business men. It is too bad that you\nshould have had so much work for nothing.\"\n\nReader, endeavor if you can, to put yourself in my place at this\nmoment. Through undescribable toil I had procured nearly ten thousand\ndollars in pledges, though, thank God, I had collected no money. So\nthis distressing information almost stunned me. Thanking the gentleman,\nI promised, at his earnest solicitation, to satisfy myself beyond a\ndoubt.\n\nWhat he said was all too true. For a few days the effects of the\nconfirmation of this stranger's statements almost prostrated me. I\nhumbly thank God, however, that this experience was the means of His\ngetting me into a place where He could have a chance to talk to me. He\ntold me that zeal for His house had well-nigh eaten me up and that what\nwas lacking was a need of more watchfulness and prayer on my part.\nAlso, he assured me that notwithstanding another crushing\ndisappointment, the home would be built, but not in the manner\nanticipated; that the silver and gold, \"the cattle on a thousand\nhills,\" everything, everywhere was His. The wound eventually began to\nheal.\n\nDuring this trying time, whilst I was one day conferring with\nLieutenant-Governor Porter, a lady came into his office, to whom he\nimmediately introduced me. Acknowledging the introduction with a very\nwarm handshake and a sweet smile, Mrs. Tallman Chittenden, of\nChittenden, Santa Cruz County, said: \"Mrs. Roberts, for a long time I\nhave heard or read of you. I so much desire to know you. Can you not\nreturn to my home with me today? My husband will be as pleased as I to\nhave you for our guest.\" (They owned one of the most beautiful,\npicturesque estates in Santa Cruz County. The Southern Pacific passes\nthrough their magnificently cultivated grounds) Expressing my regrets,\nowing to having an urgent call from the probation officer of the\njuvenile court of Santa Cruz City, I promised to visit them on the\nreturn trip--a promise that I carried out on the following evening.\nSoon I was made to realize that God was adding two more to the list of\ntrue and tried friends; for after learning the nature of my recent\ndisappointment and that I did not now have any settled abiding-place,\nMr. and Mrs. Parkhurst having removed to Washington, they cordially\ninvited me to consider their lovely home mine also indefinitely.\n\nThis kindness overwhelmed me with gratitude. Rest at last, real rest\nfor the body as well as for the soul; but it was not for long. The\ncalls accumulated thick and fast, and again I had to be up and doing.\nBut even to this day (unless the place, which is for sale, has passed\ninto other hands) I am at liberty any hour of the day or night to avail\nmyself of the freedom and the home comforts of lovely Chittenden, where\na most cordial greeting has ever been mine from the generous hostess\nand her friendly husband. Thus God is ever providing his chosen ones\nwith what he has promised; for has not he said in Psa. 84:11, \"The Lord\nis a sun and shield; the Lord will give grace and glory: no good thing\nwill be withhold from them that walk uprightly\"? He always knows best.\nHe never closes one door but that he opens a better one. It pays to\nstand still, to be true to him.\n\n[Illustration: THE CHUTIMIN HOTEL.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLI.\n\nCALL ON THE GOVERNOR AND THEN GO SOUTH.\n\n\nActing upon the suggestion of several sympathetic, interested friends,\nwho realized, with me, the great necessity for \"the ounce of prevention\nhome and school\" for many of the rising generation, I took a special\ntrip to Sacramento in order to submit specifications and plans to\nGovernor Gillett, then in office.\n\nThis was not our first meeting; therefore I was by no means a stranger\nto the Governor, who very kindly and cordially received me. Almost his\nfirst words were, \"Time being at a premium with me, tell me what I can\ndo for you.\" In as few words as possible the story of effort and\napparent though not total failure was being poured into his attentive\nears. Presently, to my great joy, he replied:\n\n\"Mrs. Roberts, this has been a pet project of mine for many, many\nyears. All I have lacked was the time, means, and assistants to carry\nit into execution. Let me tell you something for your encouragement:\nright now I am considering certain offers of land for just such a\npurpose. No paltry six acres for it either, but three hundred or more.\nI hope soon to see this vitally important and absolutely necessary plan\nreceive the approbation of our next legislative session, and an\nappropriation made for the purchase of a large tract of land, together\nwith necessary and suitable buildings. I know you have been working\nvery hard. Do not nurse disappointment any longer; instead join me\nfeeling assured of the future welfare and maintenance of the delinquent\nand dependent children of our State.\"\n\nMuch more did he encourage me, but the above was the sum and substance.\nLighter hearted than I had felt for many days, I now took more interest\nthan ever in the rescue work. In response to a call I hurried to\nsouthern California, where, with others, I engaged in the Master's\nservice in seeking and warning the lost, working from San Diego on up\nthe coast.\n\nPerhaps it would be advisable at this time to quote from the report\nmade in the San Diego Sun of July 14, 1908.\n\nLOW DANCE-HALLS, CURSE OF THE CITY.\n\nMrs. Florence Roberts, known throughout the State as \"Mother Roberts,\"\nwho has been in this city for two weeks in the interests of fallen\nhumanity has visited the red light district of this city. One\nconclusion that she draws is this: \"The dance-hall is an abomination\nthat must go. It is more degrading than any other form of dissipation.\nThe future of the State is being ruined. The young--men are being\ndegraded past redemption; the young women, especially working girls,\nare in danger.\"\n\n[Illustration: HYMN \"SOME MOTHER'S WANDERING GIRL\"]\n\nDiscussing her observations with a \"Sun\" reporter, Mrs. Roberts said:\n\"I visited at least a dozen of the saloon dance-halls. The private\nhouses would not admit me, not knowing who I was; but the saloons are\nof course public.\n\n\"As far as I can see, the traffic is not organized as it is in most\nplaces. Each saloon seems an individual institution.\n\n\"We went into place after place, dirty and squalid, most of them, and\nall very unattractive. The 'glittering place of vice' was not to be\nfound; merely the girls, the low dance-music, and the catering to every\nbestial passion.\n\nMEN ASHAMED.\n\n\"Many of the men were young. Almost all were well dressed and\nrespectable looking, and, thank God, many of them were ashamed when we\ncame in, and pulled their hats down over their eyes. We saw, not only\nthe common sailors, but the officers, the men who command the great\nships, who plan and direct the battles of the world, parading their\ngold braid in these dens of vice, in the company of the lowest.\n\n\"The indecent postures, the short-skirted, low-necked dresses, the\nsensual dancing, and the frequent trips to the places behind the\nsaloons, were nauseating and repulsive. But the heart-sorrow, the\nsometimes unconscious longing for something higher and better, showing\nthrough the paint and powder, the hard, sinister lines, the brazen,\ndefiant eyes, touched my heart with the awful sorrow of it all, and I\nwould give all I possess to be able to touch them and to help them.\n\n\"I said to one poor girl, 'Do you enjoy this life?'\n\n\"'Not on your life, lady,' she replied. 'We drift into it, and we can't\nsee the way out.'\n\n\"Many are totally resigned to the life. One girl said to me\nindifferently, 'I don't expect ever to live any other life. I'm used to\nit, and it's good enough now.'\n\nFORCED TO LEAVE.\n\n\"In one place the barkeeper allowed me to sing to the girls, but just\nin the middle of my song, the proprietor came in and said something in\na gruff voice to the barkeeper. The latter came over to me and\napologetically said, 'Say, lady, the boss is giving me h---- for\nallowing this. I guess you'll have to quit.'\n\n\"Two of the girls were deeply touched by what I said to them. I spoke\nof the wrong influence of some kind of home life.\n\n\"'You're right, lady. That's so. It was that way with me. I was started\nwrong, and everybody helped to grease the hill I was sliding down, and\nI soon reached the bottom.'\n\n\"The girls are decoyed by some man friend, who has so compromised the\ngirl that she feels she is being shunned, to the house of a 'kind woman\nwho will protect her.' She is ruined. She begins smoking and drinking\nand soon unless she takes great care of herself, she is sent from a\nfirst-class house to a second class, then a third class, then lower and\nlower, until she ends in some vile dance-hall, compared to which the\northodox hell is a paradise. Five years altogether Is the average life\nin this business.\n\nNO-SCREEN LAW.\n\n\"One thing I found here that I have found nowhere else, and that is the\nrigid enforcement of the no-screen law. Everything was open. I shall\nspeak of it in other places. And then the law forbidding the sale of\nspirituous liquors means so much to the girls, the poor, poor girls,\nwho are so bitter against the whole world, and who are suspicious of\nevery woman.\n\n\"A barkeeper asked me, lady, what are you doing in a place like this?'\n\n\"'I am here to do some good if I can. I am a mother.'\n\n\"'Well,' he replied, 'this is no place for decent people.'\n\n\"Just then a rough-looking customer spoke up, 'Don't you leave because\nhe wants you to. Do all the good you can'\n\n\"I am afraid some of the girls thought I was there out of mere vulgar\ncuriosity. No, indeed. I have seen the worst places in the State, I have\nvisited the girls, talked with them, eaten with them, and praise God,\nhave helped some of them to do better.\"\n\nCHRISTIANITY\n\nMrs. Roberts has no use for so-called Christianity that forgets the\nvirtue named charity. She tells a story of a young girl who was won\nfrom the tenderloin by a Salvation Army lassie.... [Here follows the\nstory of Dollie, found between these pages.]\n\nWORST RESORTS\n\n\"As I said before,\" continued Mrs. Roberts, \"we visited all the houses,\nbut were not admitted to all. They are very superstitious, and to admit\nvisitors on Monday would 'hoodoo' the business for the rest of the\nweek. None of the houses were attractive. We learned the name of only\none, which, the girls tell me, is the worst in the whole district.\n\n\"There is one place, though, that I must mention. It is most attractive\nwith lights, mirrors, and music. But I assure you it is the first step\nof its kind downward. [A first-class saloon.]\n\n\"This place has a most appropriate electric sign, a winding, twisting\nsnake. 'There is one thing more I must tell you,' I said to a young,\nattractive-looking boy, 'What attracts you here?'\n\n\"'For the life of me I can't tell you, except that there's no other\nplace where we fellows can enjoy ourselves.'\n\n\"What an opportunity for an immense, well-equipped reading-room, where\nthe boys can have games, books, and all sorts of harmless amusements.\"\n\nMrs. Roberts will be here for some little time, and she expects to\nspeak several times before she leaves. She spoke at the Central\nChristian church yesterday to a large audience.\n\nAmong other things at this meeting I mentioned this incident:\n\nIn one of the Northern towns, the chief of police, knowing I was in the\ntown, sent for me to confer with him on a case of \"strictest privacy.\"\nWondering what was the matter, I hastened, and soon was hearing this:\n\n\"In one of the houses on ---- Street, I have just learned from one of\nmy men, who was told by a near-by saloon-keeper, of a young girl inmate\nwho has been constantly in tears for the past two weeks, a new-comer\naged about sixteen. I want some one to get her away from there. My\npolitical situation is such at the present time that it will never do\nfor me to figure in this matter; at the same time I am aware if you are\nconspicuous in it, those doors will be closed upon you, and that will\nbe unwise, seeing these landladies are more or less kindly disposed\ntoward you.\n\n\"I understand this girl is from San Francisco, where she has a mother,\nwho ought to be notified and the daughter at once sent home to her; but\nI'm in a quandary how to proceed so as not to incur ill-feeling with\nthe politicians of that neighborhood. [He was a candidate for\nreelection.] What would you suggest?\"\n\nQuickly I replied: \"If that landlady does not know your voice, 'phone,\nasking if she has any new girls at present? Then ask her to send the\nnew one to the 'phone. If she does so, have a talk with the girl of a\nnature calculated to lead the landlady to infer you are friendly, and\nas soon as it is safe to do so, tell her, the new girl, that she is to\ncome out presently as though to go to a restaurant for breakfast, that\nfriends are going to rescue her from her awful predicament, but that\nshe must be very cautious for fear of creating suspicion. Tell her to\nlook on the corner of Fourth and L---- Streets for a lady wearing a\nsmall black bonnet trimmed with white and to follow her into the\nbuilding where she sees her disappear. Tell her to act as though she\nwere making arrangements for an evening engagement.\"\n\nIn less than half an hour that poor child was closeted with the chief\nand me in his private office. Soon, after reassuring her, he left us\nalone in order that I could freely interrogate, and this, after many\ntears, was the sum and substance of what she told:\n\n\"I've a very comfortable home, a dear mama and two little brothers.\nPerhaps I have a stepfather now, for mama was intending to marry again.\nHe's a chef in ---- Hotel.\"\n\n\"Is your papa long dead, dear?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Papa isn't dead. Mama got a divorce from him a little while ago. He\nwouldn't support us ---- and ----.\"\n\n\"Has your mama known this chef very long?\" I asked.\n\n\"Oh, yes, quite a while. I never saw much of him though, 'cause Mama\nwould rather I wasn't around when he called; so she often used to let\nme go to the nickelodeon or the dance with some of the girls I know,\nwhen she expected him to spend the evening.\"\n\n\"How did it happen you came here, my child?\" was the next question.\n\n\"It was this way. I got acquainted with a fine-looking young lady, a\nswell dresser, too, at ----Hall. We took a 'shine' to each other on\nsight, and I asked her to call on me, 'cause I wanted Mama to meet her.\nMama liked her, too. She told us she lived with her aunt, Miss Clark,\non Post Street, who was quite nicely fixed. Said she must take me to\nsee her soon.\n\n\"Well, we met often after that, _and Mama was pleased because I now had\na companion old enough to take good care of me._ One day when I went\nhome with Tessie, to take tea, her aunt said to her, 'I've just\nreceived a letter from Louise, and she wants to know when you are\ncoming to make her a visit.' Tessie said, 'Oh, I'd like to go next\nweek. Mamie, I wonder if you couldn't come, too? Louise is my cousin;\nshe's well off, and will give us a good time. You ask your mama and\nI'll write Louise.' Mama was willing. Tessie's aunt soon got another\nletter saying Cousin Louise would be pleased to have me come, so we\nmade arrangements. I was to meet Tessie at the boat Monday morning at\nten o'clock. Mama wasn't very well, so I went down alone on the car\nwith my suitcase. We'd bought our tickets Saturday, and for fear of\naccidents Tessie gave me mine for safekeeping.\n\n[Illustration: SOME MOTHER'S WANDERING GIRL.]\n\n\"I went on board the boat and waited and waited, but up to the last\nminute Tessie didn't come, but a messenger boy did--with a note saying\nher aunt was sick, but for me to go and she'd come on the next boat.\nLouise would be dressed--and described how I would know her, for she\nwas to meet us. Tessie never came, neither did her cousin. This woman\nI'm with is named Louise, but she says she doesn't know Tessie. I don't\nknow what to make of it, do you?\"\n\nThen she told me exactly what kind of life she had been forced to lead\nfor over two weeks, and that when she first came the landlady dictated\na letter which she (Mamie) wrote to her mother.\n\n\"As big a lie as ever was told,\" said Mamie; \"but I had to do as Miss\nLouise said, and she mailed it. I haven't written Mama since, 'cause I\ndidn't want to spoil her pleasure. Guess she's safely married now,\n'cause she expected to be.\"\n\n\"My dear child,\" I said, \"will you give me your San Francisco address,\nyour mother's name and initials? You are going home on the next\nsteamer. I am going to have her meet you at the wharf. I know the\nstewardess, who is a good woman. She will not let you out of her sight\nuntil she hands you over to your mother.\"\n\nPoor, frail, pretty, little, sixteen-year-old Mamie wept with joy. The\nnext morning, long before it was time to sail, she was safely hidden\naway on board the steamer. The mother, in response to the telegram, was\non hand when the ship reached the San Francisco wharf, and unless she\nis different from other women of that caliber, she can not, I think,\never forget that registered letter, in which some good wholesome advice\nwas given and such motherhood as she represented was so scathingly\ndenounced as to upset her honeymoon. Furthermore, I did not hesitate to\ninform her that her little daughter was both physically and morally\nruined and that God would hold her (the mother) and her alone\nresponsible. Was that all? No. The right persons were put on the track\nof Tessie and her aunt. Unfortunately, however, they were never, on\naccount of some technicality, made to suffer, aside from having to take\ntheir immediate departure. However, the just God is taking cognizance\nof all these things. Nothing escapes him. \"Vengeance is mine; I will\nrepay, saith the Lord.\"\n\nDear reader, I generally leave my audience with a heavy load on my\nheart. Why? Because, as other public workers and speakers, I find few,\nvery few, comparatively speaking, who heed the warnings which\nobservation and practical experience have prompted me to give out. Once\nas I was walking out of a church, two ladies directly behind me were\nconversing on the address just finished. One said to the other,\n\"Weren't you immensely interested in those dreadful word-pictures from\nreal life?\" \"Yes,\" replied the other, \"but that work is very unpopular,\nand requires peculiarly adapted people, entirely different from you and\nme.\" I silently thanked God for so richly endowing a few of us with\nsufficiently peculiar qualities to seek for wonderful, priceless jewels\namong the fallen who, through lack of proper home training and\ncompanionship, have taken the downward course. Many of these outcasts,\nif sought and cared for, will some day occupy an exalted place in the\nMaster's kingdom.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLII.\n\nLOS ANGELES DANCE-HALLS AND OTHER PLACES.\n\n\nWell, you may call them first-class if you like; I call them\nfirst-class stepping-stones to an everlasting hell. Furthermore, I will\nprove my statement.\n\nOn July 24 of that year (1908) I was again in Los Angeles. As usual, I\nwas interviewed, this time by a _Times_ editor. Among other things I\nmade mention of the fact that many mothers did not know what their\nchildren were doing after school-hours, and stated that such women had\nbetter play less whist and give their children more attention. And oh!\nthe terrifying iniquities of society. Do you know, the worst enemy a\ngirl who has fallen into error has is her own sex. Women simply will\nnot have anything to do with her, and that is what keeps the world\nback. The cause? Selfishness, of course.\n\n\"Yes, I believe there are too many marriages of convenience. And oh!\nthe dreadful race suicide that I know is going on around me on every\nhand. It sounds the doom of the American race. We are indeed on the\ndownward path.\"\n\n\"Why do not our mothers bring up their girls in a full knowledge of\nthis world and its snares for young and faltering feet, instead of\nletting them run the streets and meet unknown men?\"\n\n\"It is because the mothers themselves are too often unfit for the\ndivine duties of motherhood. They are lacking in a knowledge of what\nmakes for the best life. I have seen so much of it that I am going to\ntry to arouse the mothers of Los Angeles at a special meeting.\"\n\nThe different dailies kept tab of \"Mother Roberts\" for some time. To be\na target, a cynosure, is an indescribable cross to the Christian; but\nsome one must be willing, else how is the world to comprehend the\nsituation?\n\nAmong other things said in the mothers' meeting were these:\n\n\"Too many mothers will not, because of their false modesty, give proper\ninstruction to their children. Yes, parents fearfully misrepresent\nconditions to their boys and girls, even resorting to absolute\nfalsehood. Of course the children soon learn the facts, and instead of\nthe parents and children making confidants of each other, both practise\ndeception. When girls find out these things, they often slip away to\ntheir downfall.\n\n\"When I was sixteen years of age, I saw in a paper an advertisement\nstating that an elderly lady wanted a young lady as companion and\namanuensis. The advertisement read very smoothly and I answered it. The\nwoman, who was seemingly a prepossessing, lonely old woman, inspected\nmy recommendations and at once engaged me on trial. I shortly returned\nto her, taking with me some of my choicest worldly possessions; but\nbefore I had been with her twenty-four hours, some of her strange\nactions so alarmed me that on the following morning I made the excuse\nat the breakfast table of wanting to go to my boarding-place for\nexpected mail, promising to return within half an hour. After I had\ntold the family of my experiences and suspicions, the mother would not\nallow me to return even for my effects, which I have not seen from that\nday to this. _It turned out that I was only one of about forty girls\nwho had been engaged by that diabolical woman to fill 'positions as\ncompanions.'_ I am very thankful that 'the way of escape' had been made\nfor me, and though feeling badly about losing my belongings, I agreed\nwith my friends that it were better to avoid notoriety than to create a\ndisturbance.\n\n\"At the time of this occurrence (it was in San Francisco) I had but\nrecently arrived from England, the land of my birth and breeding, under\nthe protection of elderly people, who consigned me to the care of\nrelatives in California. As with thousands of other girls, my education\non certain lines had been badly neglected. I was, alas! too\nunsophisticated.\n\n\"In after-years, when I became a Christian in spirit as well as in\nname, I thanked God for this early experience, which has enabled me to\nsympathize with those who, much of the time, are more sinned against\nthan guilty of sinning, and who so often are enticed away by the\nvarious methods devised by unprincipled beings called men and women.\n\nSATAN LURKS IN THE WALTZ.\n\n\"Yes; I have watched them dance in many places, even in Los Angeles. Is\nit degrading, demoralizing? You know as well as I that there is nothing\nuplifting, nothing of a good moral tendency, about the dance,\nespecially the waltz; and I saw nothing else offered than the waltz, or\nround dances closely resembling it, in either of the places I attended\nlast evening.\n\n\"My heart sorely ached as I observed mothers with their little girls,\nfive to twelve years old, allowing, aye, even encouraging them to get\nup and waltz on the same floor with questionable characters. Evidently\nthere is little or no need of introductions. Both sexes anxiously\nobserve who are the best dancers, and soon these, though perhaps total\nstrangers, are spinning, sliding, or gliding about together, in many\ninstances in a close embrace, breast to breast, and cheek to cheek. But\nthey 'must dance.' they 'love it so.' And the music! The most sensual,\nthe most alluring, as subtle as a wily serpent, and just as harmful.\n\n\"There were church-members there; mothers chaperoning their young\ndaughters; mothers who profess to be following in the footsteps of the\nRedeemer; mothers who have promised to bring up their little ones in\nthe way Jesus would have them.\n\n\"In a few instances I even saw fathers waltzing with their own little\ngirls on the great crowded dance-hall floor as late as nearly midnight.\n'What!' you say, 'surely no father would think of such a thing.'\nPerhaps not; perhaps I am presuming. Perhaps it was the mother's escort\nto the ball in each instance. I don't know. This I do know: Those\nlittle children last night were _eager, hungry, craving, tireless\ndancers_. O merciful God! The pity of it, the pity of it!\n\n\"I observed some of the young men. The contour of some of their heads\npeculiarly interested me. To be sure, you could not tell what the\ngirls' heads were like because of so many etceteras bulging out all\nover; but as I looked at many of the young men's heads, I was not long\nin deciding that _those who danced the most gracefully evidently had\nthe bulk of their brains in their heels_.\n\n\"At the first place I visited, one young fellow walked up to a pretty\npompadoured, short-skirted miss who stood close to me and who had\nwaltzed with several strangers, and asked her to dance. She refused\nhim. Why? He smelt too strong of whiskey and was unsteady in his gait,\nbut she did not give him that as her reason, and because of his\npersistence she soon said to her companions (some other young girls),\n'Come on, let's go down to----; there isn't enough fun here.' It was no\nsooner said than done. I also left for this other place, where I found\nhundreds of couples dancing, and many refined, pretty-looking young\ngirls sitting or standing around, waiting for any strange young man to\ninvite them on to the floor and hug them (oh yes, better call things by\ntheir proper names)--hug them to alluring waltz-time.\n\nEVEN ON THE LORD'S DAY.\n\n\"There is hour after hour of this, day after day, night after night;\nyes, even on the one day set apart for the worship of our Redeemer and\nCreator, and this in the so-called respectable dance-hall. At the\nentrance is a prominent sign--'Dancing every night including Sunday.'\n'No bowery dancing allowed.' Tell me why that sign if the dance is\nstrictly respectable?\n\n\"A young gentleman made this comment to me: 'You won't find one girl in\na hundred today, who is not fond of the dance.'\n\n\"'Why?' I inquired.\n\n\"'Considering their training, it isn't to be wondered at,' he\nanswered.\n\n\"'What training?' I questioned.\n\n\"'Because their mothers loved it before them, and the girls do not\nhesitate to say so.'\n\n\"Another young man said: 'I can take advantage of the situation, if so\ninclined, every time. Invariably any girl who dances will drink, and\nany one that drinks will go still farther.'\n\n\"One girl said: 'It isn't what occurs at the actual dance, but any girl\nthat dances often has to fight for her virtue, almost her life, after\nthe dance--on her way home. Often her escort takes her only part of\nthe way. Yet, \"like moths that court the candle,\" even though we know\nthat death and ruin are in the wake, still we will dance.'\n\n\"Whoever heard of any man worth the having, seeking for a wife and the\nfuture mother of his children in a ballroom?\n\nWARNING TO GIRLS.\n\n\"Let me quote another young man: 'If the pure-minded girls with whom we\nsometimes are dancing knew our thoughts, they would never put a foot on\nthe ballroom floor again, as they value their lives; but lots of young\ngirls don't know this, and their mothers who sometimes chaperon them,\ndon't suspect us. I consider the dance-hall even worse than the saloon.\nI'm a dancer myself, but I won't pay serious address to any girl who\ndances.'\n\n\"Have matters assumed such shape that we can not furnish the majority\nof the present generation, pleasures so pure, refining, and alluring\nthat the dance and other vices may not be relegated to oblivion? This\nquestion should stir the innermost recesses of the souls of all who are\ninterested in the welfare of the young people of today, be they young\nor old, rich or poor. The next generation is cursed already,\nfrightfully cursed, unless unusual sacrifice will now be made. There is\nno time to lose, especially on the part of those who love the title,\n'Soldier of the Cross.'\n\n\"'Put on the whole armor of God.' Go where he wants you to go. Do what\nhe wants you to do. Be what he wants you to be, in thought, in word, in\ndeed, even though it may mean to part with your very life. God is\nyearning for a few more Calebs and Joshuas and Daniels. What use to\npray 'Thy Kingdom Come,' if you patronize or countenance places where,\nunder no consideration, could you invite the One you profess to love\nand serve.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIII.\n\nWOMAN EMPLOYED AT DANCE-HALL TELLS OF MANY PITFALLS.\n\n\nWhilst contending against the dance-hall evil, I received a note asking\nfor an immediate interview. The writer, who signed her own name, stated\nthat she had been an employee in ----'s Dance-hall (rated as one of the\nexclusive and first-class places) and that she believed that, under the\nexisting circumstances, my granting her an audience, would still\nfurther aid the cause, as she could throw much light on the subject.\n\nSoon she was at my rooms, also a reporter, and the following is, in\npart, what she had to say:\n\n\"I am utterly disgusted with dance-halls, and am determined to do all I\ncan against them. Mr. C---- [her husband] and I came here from New York\nin reduced financial circumstances, and I applied for and obtained a\nposition at ----'s Dance-hall.\n\n\"For reasons best known to ourselves, we posed as brother and sister,\npretending my husband was in the East. I worked there only fourteen\ndays, or until my husband secured a permanent position, but I left the\nplace with a complete knowledge of the disreputable work done there\nunder the guise of a respectable dance-hall. I do not wish to be mean\nin my assertions, but the facts will bear me up in what I actually saw\nand heard during the two weeks I was engaged at ----'s Dance-hall.\n\n\"I was on the reception committee to introduce the lonesome boys to the\ncharming girls for the dances. It would take me two hours to state the\ndisgusting features I saw there.\n\n\"The manager at one time asked me to drink whiskey with him. I told him\nthat I was not in the habit of indulging and that if I should get drunk\nhe would have to take care of me, to which he said, 'I can do that all\nright.'\n\n\"One night a young man became dead drunk in the dance-hall, in full\nview of the dancers, making a disgusting show of himself, all of which\napparently passed unnoticed by the manager. The friends of the young\nman took him out of the hall.\n\n\"One time I saw a young girl dancing with a young man who was trying to\nhide a whiskey bottle, with which she and her partner appeared to be\nmixed. All this was supposed to be in plain sight of the manager.\n\n\"A young girl on duty selling tickets asked me to bring her an empty\nglass from the soda fountain. A young man took it and filled it nearly\nfull with brandy and passed it to the girl. She slyly wrapped her\nhandkerchief around it to hide the brandy, and drank it as if drinking\na glass of water. This was seen by several by-standers.\n\n\"It makes me shudder to think of what I saw and heard in that hall. One\nyoung girl unused to the ways of the world was taken out of the hall in\na ruined condition, and after an unlawful surgical operation had been\nperformed, she was sent to a well-known hospital. She was the victim of\na prominent lawyer of Los Angeles.\n\n\"One night last week the manager spoke through a megaphone, during the\nintermission of the dance, asking everybody to sign a petition he had\nprepared _stating that the place was properly run, and to sign it in\norder that he could continue the dance-hall business._ I know of one\nman who signed a fictitious name to the petition, with the remark that\nothers were doing the same,\" etc.\n\nShe told much more, some of which was not fit to print, but surely that\nis sufficient from her.\n\nI was able one night to show a reporter that no erroneous statements\nhad been made. On the contrary, he was shocked as he noted the wily\ndepravity. His attention was attracted to a good-looking young man who\nhad slipped one of the reception committee young women a piece of\nmoney. Together we watched the outcome. She made for a pretty, graceful\nyoung girl just leaving the dance-ring and whispered audibly, \"There's\na swell young fellow wants to have the honor of dancing with you.\"\nBefore the girl had time to think or answer, he was right on hand,\nsaying, \"May I have the pleasure of the next waltz? My name is Jones.\"\nThen the introducer manufactured a name for the pretty young girl, the\nmusic started up, and the next moment she was gliding over the perfect\ndancing-floor in the embrace of this strange fellow. Is that all? Not\nby any means. He invited her to an innocent dish of ice-cream. (If a\ngirl does not accept such an invitation, but she usually does, the\nwould-be seducer knows she is a gold mine if he can ever secure her,\nand he works to that end.) She accepted. We watched our opportunity,\nand, between dances, when no one was taking notice, we whispered the\nword of warning. For a moment she looked alarmed, but did she heed?\nEvidently not. Possibly she resented the well-meant advice, and, in\nconsequence, soon paid the fearful price for so doing.\n\nUpon getting out once more into the fresh air, we could not fail to\nobserve the many automobiles in waiting. Wherefore? Listen! Shortly\nbefore this visit when I was accompanied by the _Times_ reporter, I was\na temporary guest in one of Los Angeles' representative families, the\nmother of whom was one of my tried and true friends. She had two noble,\nhandsome sons. One of them came home one day in a high state of\nindignation. After he had related to his mother an incident that had\njust occurred, she besought him to repeat it for my benefit.\n\nWhile he was resting in the park bounded by Fifth, Sixth, Olive, and\nHill Streets, a middle-aged man of good dress and appearance seated\nhimself on the same bench and, disregarding conventionalities, began to\nmake himself agreeable, first commenting on the weather and then\ngradually leading up to the subject in which he was most interested.\nPresently he inquired if my young friend was occupied in business, and\nreceived the reply, \"No; not at present, but I am on the lookout for\nsomething that will be worth while.\" As one word always leads to\nanother, the stranger soon inquired if the young man could dance.\nReceiving an affirmative answer, he remarked:\n\n\"Good! I notice you are a swell dresser also, and a pleasant\nconversationalist; in fact, have all the requirements if I'm not\nmistaken.\"\n\n\"What requirements?\" asked my young friend.\n\n\"Say, young man,\" the stranger answered, \"I can put you wise to\nsomething that will bring you the quickest returns for the least labor\nyou ever struck, but _'mums the word.'_\"\n\n\"Fire ahead,\" replied my young friend; \"'mums the word.'\"\n\n\"First, I note that you are agreeable, educated, well dressed, and a\ndancer, all of which takes with the majority of girls, at least the\ngirls we have to reach. Next, I need you in the ballrooms. Perhaps you\nmay occasionally require an automobile. To be sure, that is expensive,\nbut...\"\n\n\"What is he driving at?\" silently wondered my young friend. \"Guess I\nwill hear him through. Here's something out of the ordinary.\"\n\n\"Girls will be girls,\" the man continued. \"It's dead easy to win some,\nharder with others; but there's big money in it for each new supply you\ncan furnish.\"\n\n\"Furnish for what?\" inquired my young friend.\n\n_\"The necessary evil, my boy, the necessary evil, of course,\"_ was the\nstartling answer.\n\nTrembling with indignation, my young friend quickly arose and\nunhesitatingly shouted:\n\n\"Police! Police!\"\n\nThe procurer disappeared so suddenly that no one of the small crowd\nwhich quickly gathered knew what was the matter until too late to\narrest the scoundrel.\n\nIs that stranger the only procurer? Common sense answers, \"No!\" My\nreader, there are thousands. Therefore if nothing else, no other reason\n--and they are many--should cause young ladies to refrain from a\npractise which means compromise or ruin, often eternal damnation,\nsurely this illustration should be sufficient.\n\nPermit me to mention another reason, one I am also able to verify, for\nit came from one shipwrecked at the age of twenty-two, and now passed\ninto eternity, but then lying in one of the wards of the county\nhospital. To be brief, he was a dancer. Honor, however, forbade his\nmaking any improper advances to his girl partners, but the effects of\ntheir close proximity were fatal. All the evil of his nature was\nstirred, and it would not be suppressed. He yielded; visited places\nwhose thresholds he would never otherwise have crossed; then followed\ndepravity, disease, and an untimely death. Who was responsible for\nthis? _The unharmed girls with whom he danced._ Surely a word to the\nwise is sufficient. If dancing causes my brother to err, I will dance\nno longer.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIV.\n\nSARAH.\n\n\nWhilst doing a house-to-house work in one of our large coast towns,\nalso filling various pulpits whenever opportunity permitted, I was on\none occasion cordially invited to enter the lodging of a girl, who,\nwhen I was seated, quickly turned the key in the lock, remarking as she\ndid so: \"You're just the kind of a person I have been hoping this long\ntime to meet. Excuse me for locking you in, but I don't want to be\ndisturbed while you are here, where I'm truly ashamed to have you find\nme. I want to tell you my situation and see if you can not immediately\nget me out of this awful predicament.\"\n\nCalling attention to the fact that there was no odor of liquor, no\nsigns of cigarettes about, and stating that in consequence she was\nunpopular with the habitues of the other lodgings in the immediate\nvicinity, she inquired:\n\n\"Do I look like a hardened sinner?\"\n\n\"You certainly do not,\" was my reply.\n\n\"Oh! I'm so relieved,\" she rejoined, \"so relieved to hear you say so,\nbecause I want to get away from this life, and I am sure you can help\nme.\"\n\n\"All that is in my power, dear girl,\" I assured her. \"Now tell me your\nstory.\"\n\n\"I've a little brother and sister,\" she began. \"My father, when I was\nseventeen years of age, ran off with another woman and deserted poor\nMother, who took it so hard that she lived only two years. This left me\nto provide for the children. I had to get some help from the county for\nthe funeral expenses, and it wasn't easy to make a good appearance and\nprovide properly for the little ones on what I was earning.\"\n\n\"What were you doing for a living, dear?\" I asked.\n\n\"I was working in a laundry, from early morning till, many times, late\nat night. I got a dollar a day and for over-time was paid extra.\" (If I\nremember correctly, she said ten cents an hour.)\n\n\"Was that sufficient to provide food, clothing, and shelter for all\nthree of you?\" I inquired.\n\n\"No, mam, though I managed somehow. I boarded them with an old friend\nof mother's, who was very kind, and I felt she was never paid enough\nfor her trouble, so you may be sure I was constantly on the lookout for\na better-paying job. At last I thought I had struck one, but for a\nwhile it would take me away from them, for it was away off in Nevada.\n\n\"I answered an ad in the morning paper for a situation in a hotel. The\nman and woman wanted me right away, as they were leaving on the evening\ntrain, and would take me with them, also two others. So I quickly made\nall my arrangements. Two days later we were there, and it took me no\ntime to see that our principal work would be to wait on tables in the\nsaloon and gambling-hall. _I had no money, and was in debt. What could\nI do but make the best of it? and it is surprising how soon one can_.\"\n\n\"Yes, my child. I've frequently heard others make the same sad\nremark--but proceed with your story.\"\n\n\"I was making quite a bit, besides sending money home to keep the\nchildren, when something happened which made me so despondent [she did\nnot say what it was] that one day I quit my job, and one of the girls\nsaid, 'Go down to ----, Sarah. You'll be able to get plenty of honest\nwork there, at good wages.' So I left; and, believe me, I hadn't struck\n---- before some one on the train recognized me as one of the girls who\nhad worked in the ---- Hotel. It was all up with me now. In my despair\nI took this den, for which I pay one dollar and fifty cents a day. I\nloathe, I hate the business. I am ready and willing to go into\nanybody's kitchen and work, and work hard and well, for I know how. Do\nyou think you could get any one to hire me?\"\n\nAs she had been brought up by a God-fearing mother, we knelt together\nin that vile den, where we both prayed. With the tears streaming down\nher cheeks, she prayed her mother's God and her God to forgive her for\nhaving been so weak as to yield to the devil, all because she wanted\nmore money so as to be able to provide better for the little brother\nand sister, and implored Him to give her employment where she could\nhave them near her until they were old enough to do for themselves.\n\nNow listen to how God answered that prayer. On the next evening\n(Sunday), whilst I was addressing a large audience in the\nCongregational church, I related this girl's experience and then\nrequested honest work for her, emphasizing thus: \"She claims to be\ncapable; she looks it; therefore she can earn good wages. Whoever is in\nneed of such a girl, please privately inform me at the close of this\nservice.\" In less than an hour, that girl could have had her choice of\nfive situations in responsible families. I chose one for her, and for\naught I know to the contrary, she may be there still. (Reader, it is\nimpossible to keep track of different ones, there are so many.) She\ngave such excellent satisfaction that erelong her little brother and\nsister were provided a good home in her immediate neighborhood, and\nscarcely any one is the wiser for her unfortunate error.\n\nThus the rescue worker occasionally sees happy results of the travail\nof soul for the lost ones; but would to God there were many more\nChristian employers like the one Sarah found, who treat her so kindly,\nas well as give her what she is capable of earning, that she makes\nextra effort to prove her appreciation and gratitude. \"But,\" you say,\n\"there are not many like Sarah.\" True; also there are not many\nChristians like Sarah's employers. In fact, they are very, very rare.\nMany a time have I wearied myself in vain in an endeavor to procure\nhonest employment for some young girl who has been convicted and\nimprisoned a short time for her first offense and who has told me of\nher capabilities and begged me to procure employment pending her\nrelease, so that she would not have to return to her undesirable home\nand surroundings, with their accompanying temptations.\n\n\"We dare say she means well enough now, but we could not think of\nhiring her until some one has first tested and proved her trustworthy.\nBesides, there are other members of our family; they must be taken into\nconsideration,\" is the frequent excuse. Thus the responsibility is\nshifted, and, sick and sad at heart, we go away to inform the poor girl\nwho wants honest work that our efforts have proved futile. We then\nimplore her to make her home in one of the refuges until she can once\nmore become established, only to hear her say: \"That would hoodoo me\nfor sure. You know as well as I do that scarcely any wages are offered\nto a girl who is hired out of a rescue home, even if she is quite\ncapable.\" Reader, it is shamefully true. Oh! why will professed\nChristians take so mean an advantage of the situation and expect girls\nwho have made some mistake, but _have the courage to live it down_, to\ngo to work at menial employment for little or nothing? Under such\ncircumstances, what inducement have they who, if encouraged, would do\nbetter?\n\nMay the dear Lord as never before give us an introspective vision of\nourselves as he sees us. This will surely clothe us with the mantle of\nChrist-like charity, in the event of our determination to live up to\nour profession and numberless privileges.\n\n\n[Illustration: SAN QUENTIN, PRISON YARD.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLV.\n\nTHE WOMEN PRISONERS OF SAN QUENTIN.\n\n\nThe present kind wardens (Hoyle and Reilly) of the two penitentiaries\nof California have granted me many more opportunities to enjoy\nheart-to-heart talks with the prisoners than I am able to relate. In\nbut one of these places (San Quentin) are the women incarcerated. In\nthis department let me endeavor to awaken your interest.\n\nIt is situated in a remote corner, inside the prison walls, and is\naccessible only through the passage-way underneath the central building\nseen in the illustration on next page. It is built two stories high\naround a hollow cemented square, with windows looking into the same. It\naffords no view, excepting barely the tops of the hills, the sky, and\nthe matron's house. Truly these poor women are shut in. Not so with the\nmen, as will be seen in the same picture. It shows a portion of the\nbeautiful garden into which many a cell door opens. One corner of these\nquarters may be seen on the right, the women's being inside of the\nbuilding near the tree on the left. Frequently have I, attended by the\nmatron, Mrs. G. G. Smith, a very warm friend of mine, come through that\niron gateway in the wall, always to be greeted with smiles and warm\nwords, of welcome by my less fortunate sisters. These meetings were,\nwithout doubt, profitable to all concerned. I enjoyed their orchestra\n(some are very musical), and they enjoyed the songs to my autoharp\naccompaniment.\n\nAs I have previously mentioned, the present matron, after much\nintercession and with the warden's aid, succeeded, a few months\nfollowing her accession to the matronal office, in prevailing upon the\nboard of prison directors to grant the women prisoners a monthly walk\non God's beautiful green hills. In order to prove their appreciation of\nher kindness, the women banded together to give her an entertainment on\nthe first anniversary of her matronship. To this day they believe the\naffair to have been a complete surprise, though she was aware of their\npreparations from the beginning.\n\nThe day broke warm and beautiful. Immediately after dinner Matron Smith\nwas escorted to a seat of honor in the yard and the program was opened\nby an excellent address of welcome (of which _I_ have an exact copy) by\nE----, whose offense was--well, we won't say what nor how long her\nterm of imprisonment. She is a bright young woman, as the following\nwell-worded and _touching_ speech amply verifies:\n\nTrusting in your graciousness, and with your approval, we, the inmates\nof the female department of this institution, have taken the liberty of\narranging a program for an entertainment to be given in the honor of,\nand to celebrate this, your official natal day.\n\nJust a year ago today you came to us. To you it means just the passing\nof time in a sphere of action hitherto unknown to you; but to us a year\nfilled with memories of all things good--easier times, warmer clothing,\nand privileges until then unknown.\n\nWe have enjoyed, through your kind intercession, and the courtesy of\nour noble Warden, the delight of walking forth into the outer world,\neven if only for a short time; of seeing once more green fields and\nhills clothed in nature's gown of green and flowers; of viewing the\nwaters of the bay and inhaling the salt sea air; and of being\nentertained in your own sweet way, in your own sweet home. At last, but\nnot least, to have the intense satisfaction of gazing at the outside of\nour prison wall, anticipating the time when we will always be outside\nof that old wall. And in our daily life together, you, in the discharge\nof your duties, have been a kind and gentle matron, listening always\nwith patience to our tales of woe. And through all the past year you\nhave been to us our guide, friend, and comrade. We one and all pray\nthat life will give you health, happiness, and prosperity, and all of\nheaven's good gifts.\n\nThen followed an enjoyable program.\n\nWho could not be touched by such tender sentiment from those whom the\nworld at large regard as well-nigh, if not quite, hopeless cases.\nBecause of this and also because of the receipt of a recent letter\n(Sept. 14, 1911), I humbly and heartily thank God that I am able to\nprove that kindness, coupled with good judgment, is very effectual.\n\nEnclosed in this lengthy, newsy letter from the matron are some\nexcellent up-to-date photos of the San Quentin prison, two of which you\nwill find between these covers, and also a clipping from one of San\nFrancisco's daily papers, as follows:\n\n2,000 LEAVE PRISON WALLS.\n\nWARDEN HOYLE GIVES SAN QUENTIN CHARGES AN UNUSUAL PRIVILEGE.\n\nNearly two thousand convicts at San Quentin prison walked outside the\nwalls on Admission Day and spent more than three hours in God's\nout-of-doors, while they rooted for rival hall teams playing on a\ndiamond beneath the blue Marin County skies.\n\nNo extra guards or precautions marked the first time in the history of\na California State prison that convicts have been permitted to leave\nthe walls.\n\nJOKE AND LAUGH.\n\nIn orderly procession the men filed out from the prison yard between\nthe great stone gate-posts, laughing and joking like schoolboys in\ntheir joy at seeing once more an unobstructed sweep of smiling, open\ncountry.\n\nFrom three o'clock until six fifteen every man in the institution\nexcept the sick and incorrigibles, stood or sat on the ground or\nperched on adjoining sheds while the \"Whites\" and \"Blacks\" played ball\nthat would do credit to a fast bush league.\n\nOver at one side sat a row of condemned prisoners, watching their last\nball game and forgetting for a few blessed moments that the shadow of\nthe scaffold hung over them.\n\nWOMAN FANS, TOO.\n\nFrom other seats, the women prisoners saw the game.\n\nFor four innings neither side scored. Then the \"Blacks\" pitcher lost\nhis control, and the two thousand frenzied rooters cheered as man after\nman slid home. The score at the close stood 7 to 2 in favor of the\n\"Whites.\"\n\n\"It's only part of the new policy of trusting the prisoners and\ntreating them like human beings,\" said Warden Hoyle today. Hoyle is the\nman who is responsible for the innovation. \"We have no fear for a break\nfor liberty, and the men showed that they appreciate decent treatment.\nI can't say that we will take the men outside every holiday, but the\nexperiment was a success and will be tried again.\"\n\nWhat the glimpse of a world outside the prison walls meant for the\nprisoners can be appreciated by readers of \"The Bulletin\" who have read\nDonald Lowrie's narrative of life within the prison walls.\n\nThe Admission Day game marked a new epoch in the history of California\nprisons.\n\nWhat an innovation compared with former policies! Surely practical\ndemonstration of these experiments in other parts of the country will\nhave a tendency to reduce criminality. If not, pray tell me what will?\nTime and again have I heard prisoners and others comment upon the\nimpractical Christianity portrayed, with seldom any exception. They\nweary of being only preached to. The actions of such men as Warden\nHoyle and of such women as Matron Smith will probably have more to do\nwith helping these convicted ones to lead upright lives in the future\nthan will all the preaching of celebrated divines from now to doomsday,\nand I, a Christian, do not hesitate for one moment to say so frankly.\nIn the name of the dear Lord, let us endeavor to practise what we\npreach, and thus win numberless blessings from the throne of grace for\nourselves and others.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVI.\n\nVALLEJO, MARE ISLAND, AND ALCATRAZ.\n\n\n\"I am sure you will enjoy a trip with me to Vallejo and Uncle Sam's\ngreat navy yard, adjacent to it. It is only about an hour's ride from\nSan Francisco and is accessible both by train and boat,\" I said to my\nfriend, Mrs. Walter C. Show, of Santa Barbara, whose guest I then was,\nin her lovely villa in that beautiful city by the sea. She had been\ngiving me most interesting accounts of her entertainment of the marines\nand the cadets at the time when the fleet lay at anchor in the bay. As\nI was soon due in San Francisco, she accompanied me. Before starting we\nnotified friends; consequently, warm welcome and royal entertainment\nwas ours from the time of arrival.\n\nAs this was by no means my first visit, I prepared her for the shock of\nseeing many, many saloons and other disreputable places for the purpose\nof robbing hundreds, nay, thousands of boys, far from home and mother,\nof their hard and scanty earnings. Nevertheless, there is an excellent\nMarine Y.M.C.A. in Vallejo, with a large membership; but they are in\nthe minority. We saw scores pouring out of the saloons or hanging\naround their immediate vicinity; scores more that evening coming in or\ngoing out of the dance-halls and dens of iniquity and vice. Many were\nin dreadful stages of intoxication. Alas! the pity, the great pity of\nit, that Uncle Sam does not wake up to protect those ready to lay down\ntheir lives for home and country, not to speak of the hundreds of\nthousands, nay, millions of our floating population. Where will it all\neventually end? where, oh! where?\n\nI contend that the civic clubs of any community hold the key to the\nsituation. If they would strive for the prevention of crime rather than\nfor the reformation of the criminal, the resultant good would soon be\ntenfold that of the present regime.\n\nThe day following our arrival we were taken to inspect Mare Island. As\nheretofore, the prison-ship was filled with young men serving short\nterms or awaiting trial for some serious offense. _In almost every\ninstance liquor was responsible for their being in trouble._ It was\nheartrending. We realized that, aside from speaking a kind word or\ngiving some motherly advice, we could do little if anything. We were\ninadequate to cope with the situation. We could pray with them, poor\nlads; we could sympathize with them; but we were practically powerless\nin that or in any community that tolerates, licenses, and votes for the\nmeans of the downfall of men, women, and children. All we can do is\npray and wait, wait and pray. God speed the day when the enemy of souls\nshall no longer reign over them and laugh at their calamity. God speed\nthe day.\n\nI again made it my business to visit many lost girls in that city,\nearnestly pleading with them to quit the downward path and stop\ndragging other souls down to hell along with their own. _Most of them\nappeared to be gospel hardened._ One girl, however, seriously impressed\nme. She was one of the few who would listen.\n\n\"I'll tell you how I'm situated,\" she said, \"and then if you don't\nthink I am to be pitied more than blamed, you're different from what I\nthink you are. I've the dearest mother on earth. She lies, a hopeless\ncripple, in a little cottage in West Oakland. I also have a little\nbrother not old enough to go to school yet. I hire a woman who has\nknown us for many years to take care of them. She is elderly, and, for\nthe sake of a good home, works for small wages. She knows how I live,\nbut would rather die than betray me. Mother thinks I am working in a\nhotel where I get plenty of 'tips' besides my wages. I go home every\nMonday to see her. _Mother Roberts, I would give the world if I could\nbe able to have my pure mother kiss lips that were clean instead of\nstained and stained with sin._\n\n\"I won't send her to the hospital. I love her better than my life.\nShe'd die there, for the need of nice little things they never provide,\nand other necessaries. My little brother would have to be reared in\nsome charity institution. I couldn't stand it. I'm the most unhappy\ngirl on earth because of the situation, and don't you forget it; but I\ncan't, I can't earn sufficient honest money to support them and myself\nproperly.\"\n\nLater, the mother died, and _the poor daughter, who had ruined her life\nto support her, went insane and then took her life._\n\nSome of the girls told me that one man owned nearly all the dance-halls\nthere as well as the girls, and that very few of them had any liberty\nor money. They were living in hope, but alas! many were dying in\ndespair. Apparently little if any impression could be made on those we\ndid have a chance to talk with. We could only sow the seed and trust\nour merciful God for results.\n\nAll the pastors invited us into the pulpits, where we endeavored\nfaithfully to give such messages as God saw fit to lay on our hearts.\n\nThe next day we left for a visit to Alcatraz Island, the isolated\nmilitary prison situated midway between San Francisco and Sausalito.\nOh, what a gloomy, desolate place! Notwithstanding its beautiful\nsituation, excellent discipline, etc., its atmosphere is most\ndepressing. Even before one lands one feels weighted down, despondent\nfor its prisoners, many of whom sit or stand with hats drawn low over\ntheir faces, breaking, ever breaking stones by the roadside. Nearly all\nare being punished for desertion. The sympathetic visitor longs to\naddress them, but is not permitted to do so. He is allowed only a brief\nvisit with whomsoever he has, after much trouble, received a permit for\nan interview, and then always in the presence and within hearing of the\nofficer in charge. Surely the way of the transgressor is hard, and\nespecially so with the violator of Uncle Sam's rigid army and navy\nrules and regulations. For this reason Uncle Sam ought to remove the\nstumbling-blocks that he countenances and legalizes and that cause so\nmany of his otherwise obedient servants to fall into disrepute and, in\nnumerous cases, into untimely graves.\n\nThe young man whom we had come to visit, though a refined, intelligent\nsoldier, was a deserter. He had the usual sad story to relate--wine,\nwomen, then desertion. There was so little, with the exception of\nChristian sympathy, with which we could encourage him. The future\nlooked gloomy. I made an effort, through one of my friends in Congress,\nto obtain this young man's parole, but as this was his second offense,\nthe attempt was futile. It is hard, very hard on the missionary to have\nto be the bearer of discouraging, often heart-breaking, news; but as\nthis is part of our office, we bear the cross as we alone can, always\npointing the disappointed and heavy-hearted to the Savior, the\nBurden-bearer; sometimes, but not always, leaving them with the load\nsomewhat lightened.\n\nFrom this sad place we, with heavy hearts, proceeded to San Quentin.\nAfter spending two hours (for our time was limited) we then departed\nfor San Francisco, where we visited various points of interest to the\nconsecrated ones. Then, after an absence of ten days, we returned to\nbeautiful Santa Barbara, where church and other engagements were\nawaiting me.\n\nThence I traveled up the Coast, ever with the one object in view--\"the\nMaster's service.\" I visited jails and the avenues that lead to that\nplace, and held many meetings, always being well received by pastors of\nvarious denominations, civic societies, etc. In the name of the Lord,\nyet with the spirit of love, I endeavored to place the blame for the\ndownfall of the masses where it belonged and belongs--at the door of\nthe licensed saloon.\n\nWhen I reached San Luis Obispo, I learned, to my great joy, that the\nColumbia Park Band Boys of San Francisco, forty of whom were on a\nwalking tour from that city to Los Angeles, were due the following day.\nAt Chittenden (my home), just before I left, my friends had\ndelightfully entertained them with a picnic on their beautiful grounds.\nThere we learned what an effectual (prevention) work was being carried\non for the reputable lads of the public schools of San Francisco under\nthe leadership of the Piexotto brothers, who arrange for\nentertainments, outings, and treats throughout the year, thus appealing\nto all the better instincts and qualities of many of the rising\ngeneration. It is truly a most practical, worthy enterprise, one which\nshould be adopted in all large cities for the encouragement and the\npromotion of better citizenship.\n\nA sad case was awaiting trial in this city--a fifteen-year-old girl\nprisoner accused of the murder of her babe. I visited her frequently.\nShe was finally sent to Whittier Reform School. Much comment on this is\nout of the question; suffice it to say, the girl, because of her pre\nand post-natal environments, was far more to be pitied than blamed.\n\nI was next due at Santa Maria. During my brief sojourn there I was the\nguest of the president of the Women's Improvement Club, who, with many\nothers, was making a strenuous effort to abolish the saloon from their\nmidst. I there became acquainted with a very enthusiastic, fearless\nchild of God, a converted Jew, whose name I can not recall at the time\nof this writing, but whose help I greatly appreciated. He was leaving\nno stone unturned for the elimination of the local liquor traffic.\n\nReturning to San Luis Obispo for a brief stay, I was much gratified in\nrenewing the acquaintance of Dr. Bulgin, a successful evangelist, with\nwhom, in various places, I have had the pleasure of being more or less\nassociated in the work.\n\nS----, the city where I was on the morning of the earthquake, was once\nmore, for a short time, my stopping-place. As something that had just\noccurred, so dreadful yet so interesting, occupied all my time and\nattention during my stay there, and as it furnishes ample material for\nanother story, I will relate it in the following chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVII.\n\nIRENE'S AWFUL FATE--\"THE WAGES OF SIN.\"\n\n\nAfter very warmly greeting me, the landlady of the hotel in which I was\nstaying at the time of the earthquake introduced me to several, with\nthe remark, \"This is the lady of whom I was speaking a while ago--the\none who occupied the room in my house in which the plaster was not even\nbroken on that morning of the earthquake. I've always claimed God had a\nhand in that, for every other room and everything else here was\npractically destroyed, as many can testify.\" This being corroborated by\na number sitting or standing around, she next said:\n\n\"Did you come to investigate last night's murder?\"\n\n\"What murder?\" I inquired. \"I have not as yet heard of it.\"\n\n\"The awful, cold-blooded murder of a young woman they call Irene, down\non ---- Street, by a drunken lad twenty years of age. It's the worst\never!\" she exclaimed.\n\n\"Do you know the parties, either of them?\" I asked.\n\n\"Not the girl, only by sight. She was about twenty, and as pretty as a\npicture. She and her sister were leading awful lives. One lies\nmurdered, and, now that you are here, I guess it won't be hard to\ninduce the other to quit. They have been well reared, in as nice a\nfamily as you could wish to know. It's too bad, too bad!\" mourned my\nlandlady.\n\n\"What about the lad who has committed this awful deed? Do you know\nhim?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Yes, almost ever since he was born. He is an only child. His mother is\na widow, and one of the nicest women you ever met. But he always was\nbad, even when a small boy. Let me tell you what he once started to do.\nHe took a kitten and was in the very act of skinning it alive, just as\nyou would a rabbit, when he was caught, and the poor little animal\nquickly put out of its misery. He seemed to delight in being cruel to\nanything that came his way. He'd take a fly and pick a wing or a leg\noff at a time, and then turn it loose to enjoy watching it trying to\nmove about. When he got older, his mother couldn't make him go to\nschool much, although she did everything to coax or bribe him. He got\nbeyond her control, and would leave home for days and weeks at a time,\nthen suddenly put in his appearance and demand money from her, which\nshe always gave him; otherwise she would have no peace. Then off he'd\ngo again, to turn up again just as he did yesterday morning, when he\ncame in on the train and began to make his brags that he meant to paint\nthe town red before he left it, and he certainly has--with human\nblood.\"\n\n[Illustration: VIEW OF WARDEN'S HOUSE, ETC., REPRESA]\n\n\"Is not his home here?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Not now. It used to be, but they moved away to ---- ---- some time\nago, all owing to his bad actions,\" she replied, and then added. \"My\nbut I'm awful sorry for his poor mother! One of the nicest Christian\nwomen you ever met, Mother Roberts. I can't understand how God could\npunish her with such a child. I can't, indeed!\"\n\nInquiring my way, I soon found myself at the jail, where this\ntwenty-year-old murderer was being held. The sheriff was very kind; but\nhe considerately informed me that the lad was in such a shocking state\nof inebriety as to be loathsome even to them, and also that they\npreferred to let his mother, who had not yet arrived, have the first\ninterview.\n\nThence I wended my way to the district in which this awful crime, at\nnearly midnight the previous night, had been perpetrated. I first\ncalled at a respectable house in the immediate neighborhood, in order\nto get my bearings and necessary preliminary information; then soon I\nrang the bell of the door where the poor murdered girl had been\nlodging, but received no response. Some one next door, however, heard\nand answered, then invited me in.\n\nFive girls, all huddled together, their faces still blanched with\nhorror, confronted me when I entered that room. Never was a missionary\nmore warmly welcomed. Never was a better opportunity to comfort and\nwarn, then point to the \"Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the\nworld.\" Never were more humble prayers or promises of reformation.\nEvery one of them had homes to go to, and every one promised to go as\nsoon as the funeral was over. Then I inquired where I could find the\nsister of the murdered girl. They told me. They also gave me\nparticulars concerning the murder.\n\nThe lad, it appeared, loitered around that neighborhood before dark,\napparently semi-intoxicated, and then went into one of the houses,\nwhere he still more freely indulged. Upon leaving, he pointed his\npistol and carelessly fired, \"just for fun,\" into a window up-stairs.\nThe bullet missed a girl's head, singeing her pompadour. Returning at\ndark, he renewed his wild revelries. About midnight, because his victim\nwould not continue to drink with him, he shot her without one word of\nwarning. Screaming at the top of her voice, she ran through every room\nof the house, he after her, still shooting. He emptied every barrel of\nhis weapon into her poor sinful body. Every girl and youth under that\nroof fled at the first shot. The murderer, after doing his worst,\ncoolly walked out, went up-town, and entered a saloon. There, as he\ncalled for a drink, he laid his weapon on the bar, bragging as he did\nso of his terrible deed. He was immediately arrested.\n\nWhen the officers arrived at the scene of the crime, they found the\nbloody trace of the victim in every room, and when they finally\ndiscovered her, she was quite dead. She was kneeling by her bedside,\nher head buried in the clothes, her hands tightly clasped as though she\nhad been trying to pray as her poor soul passed out into eternity.\n\nI found her sister and had a heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul talk with\nher--one that I shall never forget. She was so silent, so\nuncommunicative, yet I talked on until I felt the Spirit say, \"Enough.\"\nI have seen her since. She was still leading the kind of life which had\nbeen instrumental in sending her sister's soul and others' souls by the\nthousands to eternal perdition. She received me kindly, but she would\nnot heed, notwithstanding she admitted that she was haunted the\nlivelong time. She would give no reason for continuing on the road to\nhell.\n\n\"Who were these sisters?\" you ask. Daughters of parents who were in\ncomfortable circumstances and stood well in their community. _I was\ntold that both girls were inveterate novel-readers, patrons of every\nshow that came to town, good dancers and dressers, and_--reader, it is\nthe same old sad, sad story. They confided in any one rather than their\nparents; and hence were easily persuaded to take the first step\ndownward.\n\nAnd what about that boy, whose mother wept and mourned and questioned\nwhy this awful trouble should have been put upon her, _she who had\nnever wronged anybody in all her lifetime._\n\nListen! poor afflicted mother. You have forgotten that when you were\nyoung and newly married you did not want to be burdened with motherhood\nfor a long time to come. You wanted to continue to enjoy social\nfunctions in the very pretty dresses your fond parents had provided\ntoward your wedding trousseau; you had no intention for many a long day\nto settle down to the usual routine incident to motherhood; in fact,\nyou purposed to have a good time for the next two or three years,\nbefore your pretty clothes went out of fashion; besides, you did not\nparticularly take to children anyhow, and if you had had your own way,\nyou would never have had any. You said it, and you know it, that a\nwoman is so tied down who has babies to take care of.\n\nThe time came when the greatest boon conferred on woman was to be\nconferred on you. What did you do? How angry you were as you, for\nmonths nursed your grievance, because God was going to have his way in\nspite of all opposition. One day the little babe was laid in your arms.\nAs he was a goodly child to look upon, you were resigned; but, oh!\npoor, poor, untutored mother! _you had unawares robbed your darling of\nhis birthright, and, furthermore, you had brought into the world a\nbeing with murderous tendencies_. Yes, you were converted at that\nrevival meeting, and knew that all your past sins were blotted out by\nthe efficacy of the precious blood of Jesus. Yes, we know you are\nliving a Christian life so far as you know how, but \"_your sins have\nbeen visited upon\" your poor child. The germ was in his being, and now\nhe must pay the penalty for your crime of a little over twenty years\nago_. For crime it was, and you can not call it by any other name.\n\"Others have been alike guilty,\" you say. Alas, yes! by the thousands;\nbut that never for a moment excuses you.\n\nYou didn't know? No; not altogether, for you were not taking a look, a\nlong look into the future. You had no instruction from your own fond,\nindulgent, falsely modest mother regarding these God-given functions,\ncapable of producing a soul, a wonderful soul; and so you ignorantly,\nselfishly erred.\n\nNever was mortal sorrier for another than I am for you. Never was\nmortal more anxious to help bear another's burden than I am to help\nbear yours; but it is well-nigh impossible for me to do so. Only Jesus\ncan ease your broken heart. Only Jesus can comfort you. Only Jesus can\nheal your terrible, terrible wound, poor, weeping, afflicted mother.\nAll I am able to do is to sympathize with and pray for you.\n\nAfter this heart-rending experience I was glad to rest a few days at\nChittenden and enjoy the fellowship of its cherished owners. Ah! how\nkind, how very, very kind they were! but the mail was constantly\nbringing calls that were more or less, urgent; sometimes to quickly\nlocate a wandering girl; sometimes to come to a juvenile court session,\nor perhaps to a hospital or jail; and one was to assist in the work at\nPortland, Ore. Whilst considering the latter call and praying for\nleadings, I took time to hold some meetings in an interior town.\nFollowing a mothers' meeting there a young lady urged me to visit her\nand have a confidential talk with her upon a matter which was of vital\nimportance. I did so, and this is what she said:\n\n\"What I am about to betray would lose me my situation if it were known;\ntherefore I shall rely on you to respect strictly the confidence I am\nabout to place in you, as to the source from whence you received it. I\nhave a position in the telephone-office, consequently, I hear many\nconversations, _some of which are utterly demoralising._\n\n\"There is a certain woman in this city whose business it is, at least\nso I judge, to corrupt, morally and physically, young school and\nmessenger boys, as you will surmise by a conversation which took place\nthis very morning, and it is not her first offense. She called for her\nparty, and as I could not get them at once, I asked for her number, so\nas to be able to call her as soon as I could. Presently I succeeded,\nand soon she was asking:\n\n\"'Is this Harry?'\n\n\"Some one at the other end of the line replied:\n\n\"'Yes. Is that you, Cora?'\n\n\"'Of course, you little dunce. When are you coming down again? Didn't\nyou...?'\n\n\"'Dandy. But say, Cora, it's awful risky. I'm not fourteen yet. What if\nI should get nabbed?'\n\n\"'No, you won't if you'll mind me. Now listen. Come in at the lower\nside entrance. I'll give a tip to the bar-tender. If the coast is\nclear, you can come up the back stairs; if not, he'll hide you until I\nsay so.'\n\n\"'What time?'\n\n\"'Tomorrow after you're out. You know. After three. So long.'\"\n\nThe case was sickening, revolting; but it demanded immediate action.\nAfter prayerfully meditating for a few minutes, I called up the chief\nof police, asked for audience without delay, and soon thereafter was in\nhis private office. After listening attentively to my recital, he at\nfirst thought to wait until the morrow and then arrest all parties\nconcerned; but upon reflection he decided that that course would never\ndo, as the boy's parents were of high social standing. The arrest would\nruin them. Moreover, it would never do to wait until the morrow. One of\nhis private detectives was immediately deputized to call on Miss Cora\nand give her twelve hours to leave town, bag and baggage. He was to\ntell her the real reason and to inform her that if she refused to go\nshe would be arrested and severely punished for enticing and harboring\nminors. Short as the time was, she managed to dispose of her things.\nHer house was permanently closed, and the saloon soon afterward.\n\nAs to the boy, I waylaid him on his way home from school and told him\nwhat I had found out, so that he was perfectly willing to go with me to\nthe chief of police, who, I am satisfied, gave him much fatherly advice\nas well as a thorough scare, calculated to last as long as he lived and\nalso to aid him in warning his schoolmates and friends having similar\nevil tendencies.\n\nBut I must return to Chittenden. Several letters from Oregon had been\nforwarded. I felt that I must answer this call, God willing. I decided\nto help there, at least temporarily. Accordingly, one morning, bright\nand early, I started.\n\nAs I boarded the train, Mr. and Mrs. Chittenden handed me a letter, the\nreading of which brought tears of love and appreciation. Here it is,\nword for word:\n\nChittenden, Cal., Nov. 15, 1909. Dear Mrs. Roberts:\n\nWe do not wish you to cross the State line into Oregon without carrying\na few words from home with you--that is our excuse for the writing of\nthis letter.\n\nYou have been one of us at Chittenden since you were invited to make\nour home yours last spring. Our wish was, and is, that Chittenden\nshould be your home in all that the name implies--a place to which you\ncould always turn for rest and recuperation from your unselfish labors;\nand from which you could go forth again to your chosen task to battle\nagainst evil, cheered by kind words, and knowing that warm hearts and a\nwarm welcome were waiting for you when you again needed rest.\n\nYou have been with us now for over half a year, and your presence here\nhas been most agreeable to us. Our respect for you has ripened into\nregard, and our regard into affection, and now that you are leaving us,\nwe realize how much the home spirit has worked to bind us all together,\nand we know that we shall miss you and shall often wish to have you\nwith us again.\n\nWell, Oregon can not claim you all the time. Some time you will feel\nweary and overworked--some time you will need rest--and when you do,\njust remember that there is a little green and flowery spot along the\nrailway down in California--a place where the door stands always open,\nand where sincere friends are always waiting to welcome you--and--come\nhome.\n\nSincerely your friends.\n\nIda H. Chittenden.\n\nT. Chittenden.\n\nI stopped off at several places: at San Jose and San Francisco, to\nvisit the rescue homes and dear friends, particularly dear Sister\nKauffman, whose house had been dynamited and destroyed at the time of\nthe fire following the earthquake, but who still sheltered many a girl\nin temporary cottages on the land where the home had once stood; next\nBerkeley, where lives my hospitable friend, Mrs. J. T. Anderson, whose\nbeautiful home I enjoy the freedom of whenever in her neighborhood;\nthen Sacramento, to spend one night with dear Mrs. Trefren, already\nreferred to as one of my warmest friends; then Redding, my old home,\nwhere I rescued little Rosa, and which was the scene of many battles\nand victories in the name of the Lord. At this latter place there\nawaited me a royal reception from my many former friends and\nassociates. It had been more than a decade since I had held up on the\nrear platform of the train that Bible with its blessed parting message\nfrom Gal. 6:9. All through the interval the Master had graciously\npermitted me to sow and to reap. Though there had been much more sowing\nthan reaping, yet there had not been a great deal of fainting, for the\ngrace of God had been all sufficient. Hallelujah!\n\nBefore I had been many days in Portland, I received a telegram telling\nof the death of Mr. Roberts. (Reader, I have refrained from stating in\nthis book under what circumstances and at what time Mr. Roberts came\nback into my life, simply because that matter has no direct reference\nto the title of the book and also because it recalls too much pain and\ndistress of a private nature. This I will say: With the other duties an\nadded heavy cross was mine, owing to his mental and physical\ncondition--a cross which, I regret to say, I did not always bear as\npatiently or as cheerfully as I might have borne it. It lasted from\nFebruary, 1905, to November, 1009.) A caved-in tunnel near the State\nline prohibited my return, but Pastor Harper, of San Jose, and other\nkind friends relieved me of all final responsibilities regarding my\nlate husband.\n\nUntil my return to California three months later, in the direct\ninterests of the prison commission work, I worked even more laboriously\nthan ever before. As ever, the Lord raised up many friends for me in\nPortland and vicinity; yet, at the same time, I was bitterly opposed\nand well-nigh overwhelmed by the enemy, who resorted to all sorts of\nmeans and devices to crush both soul and body. Did he succeed? No,\nindeed; for God was \"my refuge and strength, a very present help in\ntrouble.\" His not the Lord promised that \"when the enemy shall come in\nlike a flood, the Spirit of the Lord shall lift up a standard against\nhim\" (Isa. 59:19)? What blessed assurance for those who truly love and\ntry to serve him! Hallelujah!\n\nMy last meeting before leaving Oregon was under the auspices of the\nWoman's Christian Temperance Union in a suburb called St. John's. An\naccount of the service was made in the local paper, The Review, Feb. 4,\n1910, as follows:\n\nThe Woman's Christian Temperance Union of St Johns planned a treat for\nthe women of this place which proved a grand success. Mrs. Florence\nRoberts, better known as \"Mother Roberts,\" spoke for an hour to over\none hundred and fifty women in Bickner's Hall Tuesday afternoon. The\nmost strict attention as paid, for it was a most solemn message she\ngave to us. After the meeting refreshments were served, and the ladies\nlingered a while to get acquainted. Five new members were added to the\nUnion.\n\nI left there that same night for California, and the next meeting that\nI shall mention was that held the following Sunday evening in the fine\nhall of the ex-prisoners' home, 110 Silver Street, San Francisco. On\nthis occasion I had the prayers of many former prisoners that God would\nbless me as I went forth to interest the people in their behalf and to\nopen hearts and purses to aid in lifting the mortgage on this\nhome--\"Golden Rule Hall.\" In this interest I remained in San Francisco\nfor some time, being occupied exclusively in interviewing responsible\nbusiness people and portraying the need of their cooperation,\nfinancially and otherwise. During this time I was the guest of Brother\nCharles Montgomery, president of the board of prison commissioners, at\nhis hotel--The Brooklyn. Afterward I visited San Mateo and Burlingame,\nwith the same object in view. At the former place the young pastor of\nthe Methodist Episcopal church, Rev. C. B. Sylvester, was just\ncommencing a series of revival meetings. Upon learning my errand to San\nMateo, he and his wife urged my cooperation in the evening services,\nand to this end invited me to remain under their roof. As I acceded to\ntheir wishes, double duty for the kingdom now confronted me, but the\nrealization that our Lord never imposed too heavy a burden was now\ndemonstrated. Those precious meetings closed in two weeks, with most\nblessed results. This records my first active, actual revival work.\n\nTo the glory of God, let me make mention that hundreds of dollars was\nthe result of the daytime labor for the payment of the ex-prisoners'\nhome.\n\nDuring July and August, 1910, I was in an interior town and was\nlaboring under an indescribable burden for certain souls. I believe I\nknow what untold soul-agony is. Whilst almost sinking beneath my load,\nI received a letter from one whom, with his bride, I had been brought\ninto Christian fellowship with in the early days of rescue experience.\nThe missive had followed me from one place to another until only the\nlast address could be plainly deciphered, owing to numerous erasures.\nOther letters had often miscarried and failed to reach me. This one\nwas, by the hand of God, safely guided through. The father, with four\nlittle helpless children on his hands, wrote of the mental derangement\nof their mother, of his inability to find help, and of his pleading to\nGod to send some one consecrated enough to assist them in their time of\ntrouble. He was a poor man, but had a home and was working\nindustriously at his trade to support his little flock, the youngest of\nwhom was not four years old, the eldest ten.\n\nPositively I knew of no one to go to the rescue. Whilst I was praying\nearnestly for the Lord to find some good woman to mother those little\nones pending their mother's recovering, I received the impression, \"Go\nyourself.\" Surely there is work everywhere--just as much in that\ndistant town as where I was. I admit I shrank from so trying an ordeal,\nbut, do my best, I could not silence the impression, \"Go yourself.\" I\nprayed that if no other door opened within the next three days, God\nwould let me regard this as a sign that his voice was bidding me take\nup this cross. Such was his will. I wrote, saying, \"Expect me [date] on\nevening train.\" For nine weeks my immediate duty was with those little\nones. Still further to try me, there was added to my domestic labors,\nmeasles. No sooner had one child recovered than the next was taken with\nthem, until all had been similarly afflicted.\n\nSome of the neighbors, having learned that \"Mother Roberts\" was quietly\nsojourning at this brother's house, called; and soon I was assisted\nwith very necessary sewing, etc. After the three oldest children were\nonce more able to go to school. I received a unanimous invitation to\nhold revival meetings in that town. About this time God sent the\nbrother a splendid housekeeper, an elderly Christian woman, who\nrelieved me of domestic duties, so that I was able to accept the call\nmentioned.\n\nOn February 1 of this year (1911) I received from Wheeling, W. Va., a\ntelegram which filled me with indescribable joy, for it informed me of\nthe birth of a little grandson. (My first grandchild and little\nnamesake I have never seen. God took her when she was nine months old.)\nI longed to hold this dear little one in my arms and prayed God to\ngrant my heart's desire, if according to his will. And he did. Bless\nhis holy name! Following the revival services already mentioned, came a\ncall from another town not far distant. At the close of this meeting a\nfree-will offering enabled me to take the desired trip. On March 7,\n1911, in company with a lady who was going within a short distance of\nmy destination, I boarded the train and before long was with my\nprecious little family. My cup of happiness was now filled to the brim,\nmy heart overflowing with gratitude to God, as I embraced my dear ones\nand their precious little son.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVIII.\n\nMY RETURN TO THE MISSIONARY FIELD.\n\n\nIn a few weeks a longing to return to missionary work was again taking\npossession of me. In vain I sought for the undenominational rescue hall\nusually to be found in large cities. Apparently Wheeling had nothing of\nthis kind, though surely very much needed. Moreover, the requisite\nencouragement for the starting of one was not forthcoming.\n\nSundays would find me with my treasured auto-harp in the jail, work\nhouse, or infirmary at the afternoon services, which for years have\nbeen conducted by consecrated Christians, longing as much, nay, even\nperhaps more than I, for the necessary places of refuge for discharged\nprisoners and others. God speed the day when these needed institutions\nshall be amply supplied.\n\nA lengthy conversation with one of the local judges, who is specially\ninterested in juvenile offenders, elicited the fact of there being no\nplace of detention for erring children except with the professed or\nhabitual criminals. Comment upon this is superfluous; it is sufficient\nto say that _in nine cases out of ten disastrous results are\ninevitable_. Owing to a lack of interest, of means, or of cooperation,\nperhaps of sufficient good citizenship, maybe of all four, the judge\nand his coworkers seem to be unable at present to cope with or improve\nthe situation. In a few years hence, this and other cities similarly\nsituated will be facing a problem well-nigh impossible to solve, unless\nunusual efforts are made to provide for detention homes and schools for\nthe delinquent children, now so numerous everywhere, excepting in towns\nand States where the awful liquor octopus, so largely responsible for\ncrime and criminal tendencies, is absolutely abolished. Let us not for\na moment forget that these youthful offenders are, in the main, the\noffspring of lovers of drink and its accessories. Thus the sins of the\nparents are visited upon the children, and upon the children's\nchildren, unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate God;\nbut he says that he will show mercy unto thousands of them that love\nhim and keep his commandments (Deut. 5:9, 10).\n\nA pastor, describing the situation, informed me with the tears in his\neyes that, notwithstanding all the efforts put forth for children's\nspiritual instruction, the results were very meager, owing to the\nindifference of parents--fathers and mothers who send their little ones\nto Sunday-school in the morning and then undo all the good in the\nafternoon by supplying them with nickels and sending them unchaperoned\nto the moving-picture shows, in order that they (the parents) may be\nfree to indulge in worldly pleasures and amusements. Fortunately, a\nSunday-closing movement in this direction has recently been crowned\nwith success.\n\nSome time in April as I was taking a streetcar ride between Wheeling,\nW. Va., and an adjacent town just across the river in the State of\nOhio, my soul was uplifted when my eyes alighted upon this sign: \"City\nGospel Mission.\" Upon getting off the car at the next corner, I soon\nlearned from the one who was superintending this work of the need of\nmore consecrated assistants. I therefore at once volunteered my\nservices. God saw fit to keep me in this field for three months, or\nuntil the time came for him to trust me still further along in his\nglorious light and liberty, thus giving me greater realization than\never before of what \"the steps to His throne\" mean literally as well as\nspiritually. To explain: My attention was attracted to a little band of\nworkers quietly, unostentatiously living remarkable lives of humility\nfaith, and prayer, depending absolutely upon our heavenly Father for\nall necessities, health of body as well as of soul, and, in fact,\nliterally following God's Word, in spirit and in truth. Investigation\nconvinced me beyond a doubt that my Lord had very much more of his\nriches for my enjoyment here on earth than of what I had already\npartaken, if I would be willing still further to humble myself.\n\nFor days the adversary contended with my soul. Everything calculated to\ndiscourage me was brought to bear, but praise God forever for victory!\nOn the day it was gained, I informed my loved ones that I was soon to\nleave them in order to answer the call of God in an entirely new field\nof labor, where opportunity would shortly be granted me to give the\nworld the benefit of a _few_ of the numerous experiences of the past\nfifteen years. Through the consecrated humble little band already\nreferred to, I learned of the Gospel Trumpet Home and Publishing\nCompany, situated at Anderson, Indiana. I wrote to them, and shortly\nafterwards received a cordial invitation to visit them for an\nindefinite period. About the middle of August I was lovingly greeted by\na family of about two hundred and fifty children of God, mostly young\npeople of both sexes, all consecrated faith workers; all cheerfully and\ngladly giving the Lord their time and talents in this beautiful spot\nand being abundantly provided for materially as well as spiritually.\n\nHere, whilst writing these experiences, I am enjoying blessed rest of\nboth soul and body, such as I had never dreamed of; for, like many,\nmany others, I had no idea of there being such a foretaste of heaven\noil earth as this which is being daily and hourly demonstrated by the\nmany members of the church of God (Col. 1:18) sojourning under this\nroof of prevailing prayer and practical faith. Best of all, every one\nis given cordial invitation to investigate personally; to satisfy\nhimself beyond a doubt that the God who so wonderfully fed the\nIsraelites in the wilderness in Moses' time, and that the Christ who\nmultiplied the loaves and fishes, who went about healing all manner of\ndivers diseases as well as speaking the word of life to the sin-sick\nsoul, is positively, absolutely, \"_just the same today._\" These people,\nso I learn, are to be found scattered broadcast. Look them up. They are\nknown as the church of God. They are those who have come out from\nconfusion and sectarianism into the only church God will ever\nrecognize--the body of his only begotten Son, Jesus Christ. I praise\nhim with all my soul that through his wondrous grace I am now in this\nglorious light and liberty.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIX.\n\n\nSOME PRECIOUS LETTERS FROM PRECIOUS CHILDREN.\n\nMany poets have likened life to a dream. Reader, doubtless you are\naware, as I am, that life is but too realistic for the masses, the\ngreat masses of suffering, sorrow-stricken humanity, with so few,\ncomparatively speaking, so few to uplift, comfort, cheer, and sustain;\nso few to speak the blessed words of a bright hereafter. Especially is\nthis so with regard to those of the underworld. We find but few of the\nhome missionaries undertaking this line of work; still fewer who have\nthe God-given grace and courage, coupled with soul-love, to go to the\nfallen sister and help her out of sin; very few who do not shrink from\nputting a foot across the threshold of a jail or prison; but many, very\nmany quite willing to fill the easy places; quite ready to perform\ntasks, provided these will not cost much inconvenience, comfort,\npersonal pride, sacrifice, or money. But some (are you among them?)\nwere delegated to go out into the highways and hedges, the streets, and\nthe lanes, and compel (by the power of divine love) those found there,\nto come to the King's banquet, in order that his supper might be\nfurnished with guests. Most plainly does our Master emphasize the fact\nthat the publicans and the outcasts will largely be represented on that\ngreat day, that day which will positively come, and which in these\nperilous times is seemingly right at our very thresholds.\n\nI shall never forget going into the San Jose jail on one occasion and\ntrying to impress a girl who, as she lay on her cot, seemed utterly\nindifferent to all advances; even turning her face to the wall and\nstopping her ears with her fingers. Imagine my great surprise months\nafterwards on receiving the following letter from her:\n\nSan Francisco, Cal.,\n\nMarch 16, 1906.\n\nMy dear Mrs. Roberts:\n\nI am feeling so lonesome and blue here tonight all alone in my room....\nSomehow my thoughts turned to you, and I could not keep the tears from\nmy eyes as I realized that I had one friend, because you were, oh! so\nkind to me during my imprisonment in San Jose.\n\nDear Mrs. Roberts, can you bring before your mind's eye this picture?\nPicture, if you can, the desolate darkness of the night extending on\nand on. For months not a ray of light, not one kind word, not one\nfriendly face, until at last, when almost in despair, a gleam of\nsunshine shot across your pathway, a kind, loving voice said. \"I will\nbe your friend; I will help you.\" Such was my condition, and you, Mrs.\nRoberts, was that gleam of sunshine. Your voice was the one that\ncheered me until I took fresh courage. Mrs. Roberts, God has taken me\nback.... May God bless you in your work.... I wish I could see you and\ntalk with you. You are indeed my spiritual mother. I hope you will\nallow me to call you so. I wanted to tell you how much you had helped\nme. I know you are very busy, but if you have time, please drop me one\nline. I am so hungry for a message from you to cheer me up. May God\nbless you and yours.\n\nA---- M----.\n\nSan Francisco, Cal.,\n\nMarch 20, 1900.\n\nDear Mrs. Roberts--My Spiritual Mother:\n\nI cried from pure joy when I received your letter and photo. Yes, God\nis most wonderfully showing me his way, and at last my spirit is\nbroken, and I am content to obey the voice of my Savior.\n\nPraise God for his wonderful salvation that saves and keeps one\nenjoying his great blessings! Praise his name! I have nothing now to\nfear. Mrs. Roberts, I am glad I did that time in jail, because it\ntaught me the lesson of patience and submission, and now it is much\neasier for me to live a Christian life. I now have a better experience\nthan I could have had otherwise. Pray for me, Mother Roberts, and I\nwill pray for you. May God give you success in your work.\n\nMay God bless you and yours is the prayer of your spiritual child,\n\nA---- M----.\n\nFROM A PRISON BOY.\n\nSan Quentin, Cal.,\n\nSept. 13, ----.\n\nMy dear Friend Mother Roberts:\n\nI received your letter of the 4th inst. and was very glad to get it,\nand will try and drop you a line in answer now, although there is not\nmuch in the way of news. I am much better now and am working outside\naround the warden's house, where I can get plenty of fresh air; so I\nthink the time will pass much more pleasanter than if I was on the\ninside of the prison walls. I had quite a siege of sickness\n(pleuro-pneumonia the doctor pronounced it), but I am getting better\nall the time and think soon to be entirely strong again.\n\nI think often of the kindness you showed me while I was in ---- [a\ncounty jail], and I will never forget it or the advice you gave me. You\nstarted me on the right path to heaven, and I do pray to God that he\nwill lead the rest of the way so that when I stand before him on the\njudgment-day he will claim me as one of his own children. There is one\nthing that worries me: my mother is quite sick, and writes me that she\ndoes not expect to live to see me set at liberty, but I pray to God to\nspare her until I am free and able to prove to her and every one else\nthat I am a true child of God and worthy to take my place amongst\nhonest Christian men. Don't think I can ever forget you, and my\nthoughts are with you when my words are not.\n\nI will close now, hoping that God will take care of you, which is the\nprayer of your friend,\n\nA---- G----.\n\nFROM A RECLAIMED WIFE.\n\nSan Francisco, Cal.,\n\nDec. 3,----.\n\nDear Mother Roberts:\n\nYou don't know how glad I was to receive your kind and loving letter.\nYes, I can praise God this very day for his loving-kindness and tender\nmercy. Yesterday I gave a testimony to some poor souls at San Quentin,\nand you don't know how much good it did them. Three gave their hearts\nto God. All that I am praying for now is that Jesus may make me a\nshining light for souls that know him not. There was one prisoner that\nknew me in my life of sin, and he told the others that I looked ten\nyears younger....\n\nOh, may God forbid that it may ever be so again; for when I think how\nhe has snatched me out from the pit of hell, oh, how I love my Jesus\nmore and more, dear Mama Roberts!...\n\nWhat God has done for me, surely he can do for others. _I only wish I\ncould turn this wicked world upside down and make it new again_. In one\nof the Psalms I read, \"My soul hath kept thy testimonies, and I love\nthem exceedingly.\" May it always be so.\n\nMama Roberts, I will soon get a letter from Lucy. You don't know how I\nlove to get her letters. I assure you that when I get blue I take and\nread one or two lines that her gentle hand has written, and it does me\ngood.\n\nNow, tomorrow night, you know, is prayer-meeting night, and I know you\nwon't forget me. Pray that I may, by the grace of God, do some poor\nsoul good by telling them of _the life that I led for twenty and one\nyears_ [drink, etc.]...\n\nI will close with love from one that dearly loves you and who will\nalways pray for you. I remain as ever,\n\nYours in Christ, E---- K----.\n\nP.S. My husband wishes to be remembered to you. I hope that you will\ncome to see me soon. Write soon.\n\nFROM A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD SINNED-AGAINST CHILD.\n\nDear Mama Roberts:\n\nI am learning about Jesus day by day. I hope you are well and strong.\n\nThe Lord will help you....\n\nMy little chick is growing, and its mother is showing her little chick\nto eat....\n\nPray for me. I am praying for you, too.\n\nFrom your dear, F---- E----.\n\n\n\nFROM ONE IN A HOUSE OF SIN.\n\nM----, Cal.\n\nMrs. Florence Roberts:\n\nYour very kind letter received yesterday and am glad that your meeting\nat the church was successful. I also hope ere this that you have\narrived safely in ---- and that your trip was pleasant.\n\nMrs. Roberts, briefly concerning myself; words can not express my\nappreciation of the interest you are taking in me, and I hope I may be\nspared to prove to you that your efforts have not been in vain. I hope\nthe day may not be far distant when I may make myself worthy of your\nfriendship and interest--and hoping that you may think of whatever\ngoodness I may possess, and not of what my life has been, I beg to\nremain,\n\nSincerely yours,\n\nJ---- W----.\n\nThe foregoing letter was written in a beautiful hand.\n\nFROM A VERY YOUNG MOTHER.\n\nN----. Cal.\n\nMy dear Mama Roberts:\n\nI will now sit down to answer your most dear and welcome letter of so\nlong ago, which has not been answered; but do not think I have\nforgotten you. You have been so kind and good to me that I will ever\nlove you and not forget you.... The baby was pretty sick before the 4th\nof July, but he is well and fat now. I feed him on Mellin's food.... My\nstepfather says that the day I speak to the baby's father I will lose\nthe home I have. He (the baby's father) does not give me five cents.\nAll that the baby has I work good and hard to get. What he and I need,\nI earn honestly. I work whenever I have the opportunity, as my\nstepfather is the only one we can depend upon [she was only sixteen\nyears old], and we are four boys and three girls, grandma, mama, the\nbaby, and himself; so it is hard for him, and I haven't the heart to\nask them for anything, no matter how bad I need it. I take in washing\nfrom the boarders at the two hotels, also sewing and ironing, or go out\nto do housework whenever I can.\n\nI must close, as I must help mama to get the supper. With love and\nregards to Mama Roberts from all.... I don't forget my Bible and verse.\nYour loving,\n\nL---- K----.\n\nFROM A GRATEFUL MOTHER.\n\nS----, July 28.\n\nMrs. Florence Roberts.\n\nMy dear Madam:\n\nMy darling daughter E---- has been home for a short time and has told\nme the kind interest you have taken in her welfare.\n\nI wish to say for your pleasure (and certainly mine) that E---- is very\nmuch in earnest over your advice. I sincerely believe it will take only\na little more persuasion on your part to fully convince her to give up\nher worldly ways and do as you wish her. Oh, how happy I shall be! My\nheart is breaking for my dear, sweet girl. She is bright and\naccomplished. She could help you so much in your noble work, which we\nboth know would greatly help her. God is surely working in her heart.\nShe says, \"Mama, I can't get Mrs. Roberts out of my mind. All the time\nI was away [This girl used to leave home on periodical carousals], I\ncould but think of her, and if it hadn't been Mrs. R---- talked so good\nto me, I would have had a big old time.\" Now, my dear friend, do you\nnot think that encouraging? I shall pray every moment for your success.\nGod surely will help us to save my darling child.\n\nMy dear Mrs. Roberts, please call and see me when you return to S----.\nSo much I would like to say.\n\nWith my earnest prayer for your success, I am yours most sincerely,\n\nC---- B----.\n\nFROM A GRATEFUL FATHER.\n\nK----. Cal.\n\nMrs. Florence Roberts:\n\nMay God forever bless you and reward you, dear madam, for being good to\nmy poor boy. The board of prison directors have granted his parole, and\nif he behaves himself for two years, then he can apply to the governor\nfor his pardon. I hope it will soon come my way to show you how much I\nappreciate how hard you worked to get his parole. God knows I do....\nPlease forgive my poor effort to thank you. I can find no words, but\nGod forever bless you, and I'm sure he will.\n\nYours most gratefully, G---- F----.\n\nThe following is a reply to an anonymous letter introducing one who was\nundergoing a laborious effort to make good. I hope that this may teach\nits own lesson to all who would push the struggling ones still further\ndown.\n\nTo ---- ----. Dear Sir:\n\nKindly permit me space to answer an anonymous letter which came to me\nlast Sunday concerning a young man in whom I am deeply interested,\nhaving been instrumental in procuring his parole recently, and who is\nin every way traduced to me by the writer, who styles himself or\nherself a Christian and signs the letter, \"A friend to all.\"\n\nKnowing this young man as I do, through officials, the sheriff of the\ncounty, and others in a position to make truthful statements concerning\nhim; knowing of the terrible struggle he is enduring to live down an\nact of the past for which he was more to be pitied than blamed; knowing\nfrom the lips of those with whom he spent his youthful days that prior\nto his incarceration in San Quentin he had a character unsullied, I\nask, How can any one claiming to be a Christian, thus hinder the cause\nof Christ by making unsubstantiated charges? 'Woe to you who offend one\nof these little, ones!' saith our Lord, who came, not to save the\nrighteous, but to call sinners to repentance.\n\nMy varied experience proves that many are hindered from coming into the\nfold by just such reflections on the Master, as indicated in this\nletter.\n\nNow I am perfectly willing to meet the writer of the aforesaid letter\nin the presence of two or more witnesses, in order that he (or she) may\nbe given a chance to substantiate his statements; and until this is\ndone, I shall continue to consider said letter the work of a coward\ninstead of a \"friend to all.\"\n\nMost respectfully yours,\n\n(Mrs.) Florence Roberts. From Warden W. H. Reilly,\n\nState Prison at Folsom, Cal.,\n\nSept. 18, 1911.\n\nMrs. Florence Roberts, Gospel Trumpet Publishing Co.,\n\nAnderson, Indiana. Dear Madam:\n\nUpon my return from a little needed rest. I found your letter of the\n7th inst., which surely afforded me pleasure.\n\nWe are very glad indeed that you are so pleasantly circumstanced, and\nwish you sincerely all manner of success in your good work.\n\n_Joe --- is here yet_, and he was much pleased when I handed him your\ncard. There are many fine points about the boy, and he surely\nappreciates your kindness.\n\nMrs. Reilly and the children are well and join me in kind remembrance.\n\nVery respectfully,\n\nW. H. Reilly.\n\nJoe is the young man who was sentenced for ninety-nine years on\ncircumstantial evidence, and whose story is in this book.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER L.\n\nCONCLUSION.\n\n\nOne morning a little lad was observed by his mother to be making great\nefforts to stretch his chubby limbs to such an extent as to place his\nfeet in every one of his father's tracks.\n\n\"What are you trying to do, Sonny? Come into the house quick, or you'll\ncatch cold,\" called the anxious mother.\n\n\"No, no, Mama; I don't want to; I want to follow papa. I'm trying to\nwalk in his footsteps,\" replied the innocent child.\n\nDoes this cause the smoking, drinking, swearing, card-playing, Godless\nparents to halt and reflect? God knows; we hope so. Does this fill the\nmother of cherished, idolized little ones with remorse of conscience?\nDoes it occasion her to take a retrospective view of the time when,\nduring courtship days, she was warned and advised of the indiscreet\nmarriage she was about to make, because of her sweetheart's well-known\ndissolute propensities? Yet all those warnings and pleadings were in\nvain.\n\nThe little innocent ones are trying to walk in their parents'\nfootsteps. Myriads of mothers are weeping and wishing they had been\nfirmer; that they had not so readily yielded to the ardent persuasions\nto marry, but had waited until such times as true reformation,\nrepentance, and turning to the God they were then serving had taken\nplace in their sweethearts' lives.\n\n  Of all sad words of tongue or pen,\n  The saddest are these--It might have been.\n\nPoor, poor remorseful, unhappy wife and mother, my heart aches for you\nas you realize the sowing and weep over the prospective reaping. Long\nsince you have grown cold in your Christian experience. You realize it\ntoday as never before. You wonder what you are going to do about it?\nThe older children have outgrown your jurisdiction. Mary is running\nwith company you do not approve of, to balls, theaters, and other\ndemoralizing places; wanting finery you are not able to afford,\nalthough you do your best. You can't get any help from her; for, when\nnot otherwise engaged, she is absorbed in novel-reading. It does no\ngood to complain to her father; in fact, that seems only to make a bad\nmatter worse. You haven't an atom of her confidence. When she was\nyounger, you never really encouraged her to give it, and now, though\nbut fifteen, she laughs at you because she thinks that she knows so\nmuch and that you know so little. All her confidence is given to those\nyou do not approve of, and you are dreading the outcome, the\ninevitable.\n\nThen there's thirteen-year-old Tom. While you sat up mending his torn\ncoat the other night after he had gone to bed, you found some tobacco\nand cigarette paper in his pocket. When you quietly asked him next\nmorning what it meant, he only laughed and replied, \"That's nothing.\nAll us kids smoke nowadays. _It won't hurt us any more than it will\nfather. He smokes._\" You are wondering how you can find out whether he\nhas contracted any more of his father's bad habits, and while searching\nhis room, you come across a dirty pack of playing-cards hidden in the\nback part of one of the bureau drawers.\n\nAwful vision of the future of these two older children is yours as you\nponder what you can do to subvert the growing evil in your home. You\nindulge much in vain regrets--vain, indeed, so far as you are\nconcerned. But listen, mother--you who would lay down your life to\nspare Mary from disgrace and eventually an ignominious death; you who\nlove Tom so dearly you would give all the world were it yours to make\nhim understand that the habits he is contracting lead only to impaired\nhealth and disgrace, ofttimes to imprisonment, sometimes to the\nscaffold. It is not too late yet, distressed mother, particularly with\nthe two younger children, who are just beginning to ask leading\nquestions. These you must, _you must answer_, so that your little son\nand daughter will find no need of inquiring of other children\nconcerning the beautiful plan of life, which should never be imparted\nto them by any other than you yourself. \"What must I do? What can I\ndo?\" you ask. Listen. I'm going to tell you.\n\nLose no time. Do as I did. Go to God, in your secret closet. Lay all\nyour troubles and problems at his feet. Throw yourself on his loving\nmercy. Confess your backsliding, your sins, your errors, your\nweaknesses, everything--everything that is causing you, your husband,\nand your children to be held by the enemy of souls, and that will soon\nbring more misery into your life and their lives, unless God undertakes\nfor you and them. Then, cost what it will, take the humble place before\nGod and them. Tell them of your love for them; of the mistakes you have\nmade, through false modesty, in not gaining their companionship, their\nconfidence. Ask them to help you in the future by trusting you more\nthan they do any other friend or acquaintance. Tell them how much you\nonce loved God, and that now, after wandering far away, you have\nreturned to him. Go with them to Sunday-school and to other religious\nservices; set up, even in the face of all opposition, the family altar;\nask a blessing at table; have an open Bible always.\n\nThe outcome. Probably at first, and maybe for some time to come,\nrebellion, even desertion, even more sin to battle with; more\nheartaches, more tears, more struggles than ever heretofore. But \"_be\nthou faithful_.\" Thy loyalty, thine efforts, shall be rewarded. Watch,\nwait, pray always.\n\nThere is only one reason to be given why the children go\nwrong--_Godless homes_. \"Train up a child in the way he should go; and\nwhen he is old, he will _not_ depart from it.\" Prov. 22:6.\n\nOne day a clergyman handed me two very startling verses, the characters\nof which were all too true. I remarked that some day, God willing, I\nwould add to the verses and set them to music. I have done so, and in\nHis name, I herewith give them, under the awful title:\n\n\n WANTED, RECRUITS FOR HELL.\n\nJohnson the drunkard is dying today,\n  With traces of sin on his face;\nHe will be missed at the bar, at the play.\n  Wanted, a boy for his place.\n\nRuby, poor Ruby is passing away,\n  A victim of vice and disgrace.\nWanted, recruits for the houses of shame,\n  Some mother's girl for her place.\n\nSimons, a gambler, was killed in a fight;\n  He died without pardon or grace.\nWanted, to train for his burden and blight,\n  Somebody's boy for his place.\n\nWanted for dance-halls, for brothels, for bars,\n  Girls attractive of form and of face,\nGirls to decoy and boys to destroy;\n  Have you a child for the place?\n\n\"Wanted,\" pleads Satan, \"for service of mine,\n  Some one to live without grace,\nSome one to die without pardon divine;\n  Please train me your child for the place.\"\n\nThat eminent writer, Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox, says:\n\n\"Every person on earth is making some sort of a cell in his or her\nbrain every waking moment of the day or night.\n\n\"Thoughts are things. Thought is energy. Thought is a creative power.\nThat is why it is so important to direct the minds of human beings to\ngood, kind, helpful thoughts. [Let me add, to direct them, from the\nvery commencement, to the great, loving God and his Son, our Savior.]\n\n\"Parentage is the oldest profession of men and women in the world, but\nthere are the smallest number of prize-winners in that profession of\nany in the world. [Why? because of a neglected, insulted God.]\n\n\"Real, good motherhood must include the universal motherhood. It must\nmake a woman love her child _so unselfishly_ that she is willing it\nshould suffer while learning its lessons of kindness, thoughtfulness,\nand protection, rather than to enjoy itself while taking away the joys,\nthe privileges, or the rights of other creatures, human or animal.\"\n\nThe warden of a certain State prison, who is a student of human nature,\nsaid to some visitors one day, \"If a child is properly educated to the\nage of ten, no matter what its inheritance, it never becomes a\ncriminal.\" His sentence includes all the needed preventatives of crime.\n\nOliver Wendell Holmes when asked, \"When should a child's education\nbegin?\" promptly replied, \"Two hundred years before it is born.\"\n\nThere would be little or no need of the rescue missionaries had parents\nand guardians but heeded these words in Deut. 6:5-7: \"Hear, O Israel:\nThe Lord our God is one Lord: and thou shalt love the Lord thy God with\nall thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these\nwords, which I command thee this day, shall be in thy heart: and thou\nshalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them\nwhen thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and\nwhen thou liest down, and when thou risest up. And thou shalt bind them\nfor a sign upon thine hand, and they shall be as frontlets between\nthine eyes, and thou shalt write them upon the posts of thine houses,\nand on thy gates.\" \"O that there were such an heart in them, that they\nwould fear me, and keep all my commandments always, that it might be\nwell with them, and with their children forever!\" Deut. 5:29.\n\nIt is very, very blessed to undertake the part of a good Samaritan. It\nis far more blessed so to know and serve the Lord, that our present and\nfuture progeny, instead of sharing a destiny similar to many of these\ndepicted between these pages, may, under any and all circumstances,\nenjoy the everlasting smile of His countenance, that peace and joy in\ntheir souls which this world can never give, neither take away.\n\nLord, we pray thee, \"so teach us to number our days, that we may apply\nour hearts unto wisdom.\" Psa. 90:12.","title":"Fifteen Years with the Outcast","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":93381}