On or about August 18, 1904, I was in San Francisco. Thence I went to San Quentin, State's prison, where I was graciously given an opportunity of addressing over one thousand prisoners and also of having many individual heart-to-heart talks, the latter a favor which has been granted me for many years. At this time there was no admission into the women's quarters; under the new and present administration I have been allowed this valuable privilege. To see the faces light up and to hear the hearty expressions from warden, officers, and prisoners was always well worth a special trip at any time; consequently, I looked forward with pleasure, though sad at heart, to visiting our penitentiaries whenever opportunity afforded. Sometimes my efforts seemed barren of results, but only in eternity may we learn of the good accomplished through faithful seed-sowing.

On this particular occasion I had requested of Captain Ellis (captain of the guard) an interview with a young girl, sentenced for two years (I think) for robbery. Before leaving me, she told me of an old woman, a life prisoner, who had not seen the outside of the women's quarters in over twenty years, and asked me if I would not please give her the next call. Captain Ellis having consented, I was soon shaking hands with a very neat, white-haired life prisoner. In a few moments she asked me if I would have any objection to her gazing out of the window at the beautiful bay and scenery, it having been so very many years since she had enjoyed that pleasure.

You can never know the impression made on me by this humble request; my only regret may be readily surmised. How I do praise God that he put it into the heart and mind of the present matron, Mrs. Genevieve Gardner-Smith, to appeal to kind-hearted Warden Hoyle and the board of prison directors for a special concession in behalf of all the well-behaved women prisoners. She asked for a monthly holiday, to consist of a two-and-a-half hours' walk within the grounds on God's beautiful green hills, so that these poor women might briefly feast to their heart's content on the lovely landscape and view of San Francisco's unsurpassable bay. A motion being made and passed, one of the many new and excellent concessions is this one of a Sunday walk on the hills once a month in charge of the matron, after the male prisoners are locked in for the day. The first time this occurred, some of these poor women knelt on mother earth and bathed it with their tears. Ah! reader, are you not, with me, daily demonstrating the fact, that only godly wisdom, coupled with love, can win?

[Illustration: BIRD'S EYE VIEW OF SAN QUENTIN]

My visit was all too short. I had to hasten to San Jose, where the board of Beth-Adriel managers were awaiting my arrival to inspect some properties. Please, if you can, imagine the welcome home from my dear Lucy, Anna, and the rest of the family. A warm attachment soon developed between the new matron, Mother Weatherwax, and me. She held the matronal office until health no longer permitted. (Our readers will probably have observed the tendency toward illness on the part of the workers. In this branch of home missionary work there is a great need of strong physique and nerves; otherwise there will be frequent prostration from the constant strain on the system.)

The first joyous greetings over, next in order was inspection of property. After many trips for this purpose I at last saw a place which delighted my heart; but—would the owner part with it? It was the one spoken of previously—the one consisting of ten acres, a commodious house, etc. Some of the members of the board knew the owner, Mr. R. D. Norton. We were all in the spirit of prayer whilst they laid the matter before him. He asked for time to consider, the ultimate result of which was his decision to sell it for such a purpose. Oh, how we thanked and praised our kind heavenly Father! The purchase price was $10,000—$2,000 to be paid by October 9, the remainder on time at six per cent interest. Above all expenses, there was now in our treasury $1,300. We gladly agreed to accept the proposed terms and to wait on the Lord for enough means to make up the deficit.

On October 8 while I, with the other members of the board, was in Judge Rhode's court negotiating for the mortgage, word was sent over the telephone that Mrs. Mary Hayes-Chynoweth, now deceased, would like to have me come to her residence, Edenvale, a most beautiful spot adjacent to San Jose. There was barely time to make the train, but the Lord was on my side. It being a few minutes late, I caught it, and was shortly in earnest conversation with this charitably disposed elderly lady. She asked me many questions and introduced me to her daughters-in-law, Mrs. J. O. and Mrs. E. A. Hayes, who listened with marked attention to my recitals. Presently Mrs. Chynoweth said, "Mrs. Roberts, I am going to request you to excuse me briefly. I wish to pray with regard to this matter; my daughters will be pleased to entertain you during my absence."

In about a half hour she called both of them for private conference, leaving me with some of the grandchildren. Soon I was invited into the next room. With a smile, this dear lady said, "I feel that God wishes me to give you $500." Before I had a chance to speak, the Mmes. Hayes said, "We will add $100 apiece." Reader, I was too happy to reply immediately; and when I did, I could but poorly express my gratitude, first to God, then to them.

In answer to prayer we had our $2,000—first payment—according to agreement. Hallelujah! A $10,000 home for my dear prison friends, in one year, three months, and six days from the day Lucy and I arrived in Redwood City, strangers, with two telescope baskets containing all our earthly possessions, sixty cents, and a little God-given faith. Hallelujah! Did I regret the past toil, privations, and disappointments? Never, never; but soon went on my way rejoicing, to secure future support and payments.

During my absence of little less than one month (for I was to return for the dedicatory exercises of the new Beth-Adriel, to take place Tuesday, November 22, 1904) sad news reached me. My poor Lucy was taken so alarmingly ill as to necessitate her immediate removal to her own home. Although I have often heard from her, I have never since had the privilege of meeting her face to face. Her fond dreams of seeing the beautiful new home she had so greatly aided in procuring, were never, so far as I know, realized. If she is still living, I hope she may have the pleasure and satisfaction of reading this book and of knowing how dearly I loved her and how much I appreciated her every effort. This I know, that she sufficiently recovered to resume work for the Master; but on account of the removal of her people, I temporarily lost track of this trophy for the Master's crown. God forever bless her wherever she is.

The night previous to our removal from the little old home on St. John Street, I was lying on my couch in the parlor, sleepless for very joy, and reading God's blessed Word. I happened to look up. On the wall hung a motto bearing these words:

God has his best for those
Who dare to stand his tests;
His second choice for those
Who will not have his best.

"Lord!" I said, "I want your best."

"My child," came my soul-answer, "It is for you; but there are hard roads still to travel, hard battles to fight and win, privations, disappointments, losses, much more. 'Can thine heart endure, or can thine hands be strong, in the days that I shall deal with thee?' Ezek. 22:14."

"Lord, thou knowest," I answered.

Then came a desire to write. I took up tablet and pencil, always ready to my hand on the little stand by my couch, and spent the rest of the night writing the verses that you will find in our next chapter.