"I am sure you will enjoy a trip with me to Vallejo and Uncle Sam's great navy yard, adjacent to it. It is only about an hour's ride from San Francisco and is accessible both by train and boat," I said to my friend, Mrs. Walter C. Show, of Santa Barbara, whose guest I then was, in her lovely villa in that beautiful city by the sea. She had been giving me most interesting accounts of her entertainment of the marines and the cadets at the time when the fleet lay at anchor in the bay. As I was soon due in San Francisco, she accompanied me. Before starting we notified friends; consequently, warm welcome and royal entertainment was ours from the time of arrival.

As this was by no means my first visit, I prepared her for the shock of seeing many, many saloons and other disreputable places for the purpose of robbing hundreds, nay, thousands of boys, far from home and mother, of their hard and scanty earnings. Nevertheless, there is an excellent Marine Y.M.C.A. in Vallejo, with a large membership; but they are in the minority. We saw scores pouring out of the saloons or hanging around their immediate vicinity; scores more that evening coming in or going out of the dance-halls and dens of iniquity and vice. Many were in dreadful stages of intoxication. Alas! the pity, the great pity of it, that Uncle Sam does not wake up to protect those ready to lay down their lives for home and country, not to speak of the hundreds of thousands, nay, millions of our floating population. Where will it all eventually end? where, oh! where?

I contend that the civic clubs of any community hold the key to the situation. If they would strive for the prevention of crime rather than for the reformation of the criminal, the resultant good would soon be tenfold that of the present regime.

The day following our arrival we were taken to inspect Mare Island. As heretofore, the prison-ship was filled with young men serving short terms or awaiting trial for some serious offense. In almost every instance liquor was responsible for their being in trouble. It was heartrending. We realized that, aside from speaking a kind word or giving some motherly advice, we could do little if anything. We were inadequate to cope with the situation. We could pray with them, poor lads; we could sympathize with them; but we were practically powerless in that or in any community that tolerates, licenses, and votes for the means of the downfall of men, women, and children. All we can do is pray and wait, wait and pray. God speed the day when the enemy of souls shall no longer reign over them and laugh at their calamity. God speed the day.

I again made it my business to visit many lost girls in that city, earnestly pleading with them to quit the downward path and stop dragging other souls down to hell along with their own. Most of them appeared to be gospel hardened. One girl, however, seriously impressed me. She was one of the few who would listen.

"I'll tell you how I'm situated," she said, "and then if you don't think I am to be pitied more than blamed, you're different from what I think you are. I've the dearest mother on earth. She lies, a hopeless cripple, in a little cottage in West Oakland. I also have a little brother not old enough to go to school yet. I hire a woman who has known us for many years to take care of them. She is elderly, and, for the sake of a good home, works for small wages. She knows how I live, but would rather die than betray me. Mother thinks I am working in a hotel where I get plenty of 'tips' besides my wages. I go home every Monday to see her. Mother Roberts, I would give the world if I could be able to have my pure mother kiss lips that were clean instead of stained and stained with sin.

"I won't send her to the hospital. I love her better than my life. She'd die there, for the need of nice little things they never provide, and other necessaries. My little brother would have to be reared in some charity institution. I couldn't stand it. I'm the most unhappy girl on earth because of the situation, and don't you forget it; but I can't, I can't earn sufficient honest money to support them and myself properly."

Later, the mother died, and the poor daughter, who had ruined her life to support her, went insane and then took her life.

Some of the girls told me that one man owned nearly all the dance-halls there as well as the girls, and that very few of them had any liberty or money. They were living in hope, but alas! many were dying in despair. Apparently little if any impression could be made on those we did have a chance to talk with. We could only sow the seed and trust our merciful God for results.

All the pastors invited us into the pulpits, where we endeavored faithfully to give such messages as God saw fit to lay on our hearts.

The next day we left for a visit to Alcatraz Island, the isolated military prison situated midway between San Francisco and Sausalito. Oh, what a gloomy, desolate place! Notwithstanding its beautiful situation, excellent discipline, etc., its atmosphere is most depressing. Even before one lands one feels weighted down, despondent for its prisoners, many of whom sit or stand with hats drawn low over their faces, breaking, ever breaking stones by the roadside. Nearly all are being punished for desertion. The sympathetic visitor longs to address them, but is not permitted to do so. He is allowed only a brief visit with whomsoever he has, after much trouble, received a permit for an interview, and then always in the presence and within hearing of the officer in charge. Surely the way of the transgressor is hard, and especially so with the violator of Uncle Sam's rigid army and navy rules and regulations. For this reason Uncle Sam ought to remove the stumbling-blocks that he countenances and legalizes and that cause so many of his otherwise obedient servants to fall into disrepute and, in numerous cases, into untimely graves.

The young man whom we had come to visit, though a refined, intelligent soldier, was a deserter. He had the usual sad story to relate—wine, women, then desertion. There was so little, with the exception of Christian sympathy, with which we could encourage him. The future looked gloomy. I made an effort, through one of my friends in Congress, to obtain this young man's parole, but as this was his second offense, the attempt was futile. It is hard, very hard on the missionary to have to be the bearer of discouraging, often heart-breaking, news; but as this is part of our office, we bear the cross as we alone can, always pointing the disappointed and heavy-hearted to the Savior, the Burden-bearer; sometimes, but not always, leaving them with the load somewhat lightened.

From this sad place we, with heavy hearts, proceeded to San Quentin. After spending two hours (for our time was limited) we then departed for San Francisco, where we visited various points of interest to the consecrated ones. Then, after an absence of ten days, we returned to beautiful Santa Barbara, where church and other engagements were awaiting me.

Thence I traveled up the Coast, ever with the one object in view—"the Master's service." I visited jails and the avenues that lead to that place, and held many meetings, always being well received by pastors of various denominations, civic societies, etc. In the name of the Lord, yet with the spirit of love, I endeavored to place the blame for the downfall of the masses where it belonged and belongs—at the door of the licensed saloon.

When I reached San Luis Obispo, I learned, to my great joy, that the Columbia Park Band Boys of San Francisco, forty of whom were on a walking tour from that city to Los Angeles, were due the following day. At Chittenden (my home), just before I left, my friends had delightfully entertained them with a picnic on their beautiful grounds. There we learned what an effectual (prevention) work was being carried on for the reputable lads of the public schools of San Francisco under the leadership of the Piexotto brothers, who arrange for entertainments, outings, and treats throughout the year, thus appealing to all the better instincts and qualities of many of the rising generation. It is truly a most practical, worthy enterprise, one which should be adopted in all large cities for the encouragement and the promotion of better citizenship.

A sad case was awaiting trial in this city—a fifteen-year-old girl prisoner accused of the murder of her babe. I visited her frequently. She was finally sent to Whittier Reform School. Much comment on this is out of the question; suffice it to say, the girl, because of her pre and post-natal environments, was far more to be pitied than blamed.

I was next due at Santa Maria. During my brief sojourn there I was the guest of the president of the Women's Improvement Club, who, with many others, was making a strenuous effort to abolish the saloon from their midst. I there became acquainted with a very enthusiastic, fearless child of God, a converted Jew, whose name I can not recall at the time of this writing, but whose help I greatly appreciated. He was leaving no stone unturned for the elimination of the local liquor traffic.

Returning to San Luis Obispo for a brief stay, I was much gratified in renewing the acquaintance of Dr. Bulgin, a successful evangelist, with whom, in various places, I have had the pleasure of being more or less associated in the work.

S——, the city where I was on the morning of the earthquake, was once more, for a short time, my stopping-place. As something that had just occurred, so dreadful yet so interesting, occupied all my time and attention during my stay there, and as it furnishes ample material for another story, I will relate it in the following chapter.