But while I know this, I think of the women who have fastened the tendrils of their heart's affection round unworthy men, and have married them, hoping, trusting and believing that their love and influence would be powerful enough to win the men to sobriety and virtue.

Alas! how mistaken they have been! What they have endured! Of such was this woman! There she stood, the embodiment of woe.

A tall, refined woman, her clothing poor and sparse, her head enveloped in surgical bandages.
In the darkness of the Christmas night she had leaped from the wall of a canal bridge into the murky gloom, her head had struck the bank, and she rolled into the thick, black water.
It was near the basin of the Surrey Canal, and a watchman on duty had pulled her out; she had been taken to a hospital and attended to.

Late in the afternoon the policeman brought her to the court, where a charge of attempted suicide was brought against her.

But little evidence was taken, and the magistrate ordered a week's remand.