The words of the Prophet ground themselves into his very soul, with regard to the miserable wanderers of our streets: "This is a people robbed and spoiled; they are all of them snared in holes and hid in prison-houses; they are for a prey, and none delivereth; for a spoil, and none saith, Restore." The very first time he came down to me at Brighton, to see if I could give him any help, speaking of all he had seen and heard, his voice suddenly broke, and he bowed his face upon my hands and wept like a child.

That one man could suffer as he did over the degradation of this womanhood of ours has always been to me the most hopeful thing I know--a divine earnest of ultimate overcoming.

The only thing that seemed in a measure to assuage his anguish was my promise to devote myself to the one work of fighting it and endeavoring to awake the conscience of the nation to some sense of guilt with regard to it.

In order to fit me for this work he considered that I ought to know all that he as a medical man knew.

He emphatically did not spare me, and often the knowledge that he imparted to me was drowned in a storm of tears.