Whilst doing a house-to-house work in one of our large coast towns, also filling various pulpits whenever opportunity permitted, I was on one occasion cordially invited to enter the lodging of a girl, who, when I was seated, quickly turned the key in the lock, remarking as she did so: "You're just the kind of a person I have been hoping this long time to meet. Excuse me for locking you in, but I don't want to be disturbed while you are here, where I'm truly ashamed to have you find me. I want to tell you my situation and see if you can not immediately get me out of this awful predicament."

Calling attention to the fact that there was no odor of liquor, no signs of cigarettes about, and stating that in consequence she was unpopular with the habitues of the other lodgings in the immediate vicinity, she inquired:

"Do I look like a hardened sinner?"

"You certainly do not," was my reply.

"Oh! I'm so relieved," she rejoined, "so relieved to hear you say so, because I want to get away from this life, and I am sure you can help me."

"All that is in my power, dear girl," I assured her. "Now tell me your story."

"I've a little brother and sister," she began. "My father, when I was seventeen years of age, ran off with another woman and deserted poor Mother, who took it so hard that she lived only two years. This left me to provide for the children. I had to get some help from the county for the funeral expenses, and it wasn't easy to make a good appearance and provide properly for the little ones on what I was earning."

"What were you doing for a living, dear?" I asked.

"I was working in a laundry, from early morning till, many times, late at night. I got a dollar a day and for over-time was paid extra." (If I remember correctly, she said ten cents an hour.)

"Was that sufficient to provide food, clothing, and shelter for all three of you?" I inquired.

"No, mam, though I managed somehow. I boarded them with an old friend of mother's, who was very kind, and I felt she was never paid enough for her trouble, so you may be sure I was constantly on the lookout for a better-paying job. At last I thought I had struck one, but for a while it would take me away from them, for it was away off in Nevada.

"I answered an ad in the morning paper for a situation in a hotel. The man and woman wanted me right away, as they were leaving on the evening train, and would take me with them, also two others. So I quickly made all my arrangements. Two days later we were there, and it took me no time to see that our principal work would be to wait on tables in the saloon and gambling-hall. I had no money, and was in debt. What could I do but make the best of it? and it is surprising how soon one can."

"Yes, my child. I've frequently heard others make the same sad remark—but proceed with your story."

"I was making quite a bit, besides sending money home to keep the children, when something happened which made me so despondent [she did not say what it was] that one day I quit my job, and one of the girls said, 'Go down to ——, Sarah. You'll be able to get plenty of honest work there, at good wages.' So I left; and, believe me, I hadn't struck —— before some one on the train recognized me as one of the girls who had worked in the —— Hotel. It was all up with me now. In my despair I took this den, for which I pay one dollar and fifty cents a day. I loathe, I hate the business. I am ready and willing to go into anybody's kitchen and work, and work hard and well, for I know how. Do you think you could get any one to hire me?"

As she had been brought up by a God-fearing mother, we knelt together in that vile den, where we both prayed. With the tears streaming down her cheeks, she prayed her mother's God and her God to forgive her for having been so weak as to yield to the devil, all because she wanted more money so as to be able to provide better for the little brother and sister, and implored Him to give her employment where she could have them near her until they were old enough to do for themselves.

Now listen to how God answered that prayer. On the next evening (Sunday), whilst I was addressing a large audience in the Congregational church, I related this girl's experience and then requested honest work for her, emphasizing thus: "She claims to be capable; she looks it; therefore she can earn good wages. Whoever is in need of such a girl, please privately inform me at the close of this service." In less than an hour, that girl could have had her choice of five situations in responsible families. I chose one for her, and for aught I know to the contrary, she may be there still. (Reader, it is impossible to keep track of different ones, there are so many.) She gave such excellent satisfaction that erelong her little brother and sister were provided a good home in her immediate neighborhood, and scarcely any one is the wiser for her unfortunate error.

Thus the rescue worker occasionally sees happy results of the travail of soul for the lost ones; but would to God there were many more Christian employers like the one Sarah found, who treat her so kindly, as well as give her what she is capable of earning, that she makes extra effort to prove her appreciation and gratitude. "But," you say, "there are not many like Sarah." True; also there are not many Christians like Sarah's employers. In fact, they are very, very rare. Many a time have I wearied myself in vain in an endeavor to procure honest employment for some young girl who has been convicted and imprisoned a short time for her first offense and who has told me of her capabilities and begged me to procure employment pending her release, so that she would not have to return to her undesirable home and surroundings, with their accompanying temptations.

"We dare say she means well enough now, but we could not think of hiring her until some one has first tested and proved her trustworthy. Besides, there are other members of our family; they must be taken into consideration," is the frequent excuse. Thus the responsibility is shifted, and, sick and sad at heart, we go away to inform the poor girl who wants honest work that our efforts have proved futile. We then implore her to make her home in one of the refuges until she can once more become established, only to hear her say: "That would hoodoo me for sure. You know as well as I do that scarcely any wages are offered to a girl who is hired out of a rescue home, even if she is quite capable." Reader, it is shamefully true. Oh! why will professed Christians take so mean an advantage of the situation and expect girls who have made some mistake, but have the courage to live it down, to go to work at menial employment for little or nothing? Under such circumstances, what inducement have they who, if encouraged, would do better?

May the dear Lord as never before give us an introspective vision of ourselves as he sees us. This will surely clothe us with the mantle of Christ-like charity, in the event of our determination to live up to our profession and numberless privileges.

[Illustration: SAN QUENTIN, PRISON YARD.]