At the age of 21, when most young men were beginning their reading, he completed a book that put his name and fame in every man's mouth.

"For a thousand who can speak, there is but one who can think; for a thousand who can think, there is but one who can see," and to this youth was given the open vision.

In the hour of fame the rich and great vied to do him honor, and every door opened at his touch.

But he turned aside to become the knight-errant of the poor.

Walking along Whitechapel road he saw multitudes of shopmen and shopwomen whose stint was eighty hours a week, who toiled mid poisoned air until the brain reeled, the limbs trembled, and worn out physically and mentally they succumbed to spinal disease or premature age, leaving behind only enfeebled progeny, until the city's streets became graves of the human physique.