Whilst I was in one of the Coast towns, the mail one day brought me the following notification, which, rest assured, was at the time as the "balm of Gilead," leading me to believe that God, who never makes any mistakes, was going to take me into more definite work for the unfortunate children.

Office of County Clerk, Santa Clara County, California. San Jose, Dec. 13, 1905.

Mrs. Florence Roberts, San Jose, Cal.

Dear Madam: You will please take notice that pursuant to an order made this 13th day of December, 1905, by the Honorable M. H. Hyland, Judge of the Superior Court, in and for the county of Santa Clara, State of California, in Dep't 2 thereof and duly entered into the minutes of said Court, that you have been appointed a member of the Probation Committee of the Juvenile Court, and you are hereby directed to appear in said Court on Monday, December 18, at 10 o'clock, A M. Very respectfully, Henry A. Pfister, Clerk. By J. C. Kennedy, Deputy.

This changed the nature of my plans, though at first not interfering to any great extent with the work already in hand.

As never before I began to get insight concerning the disadvantages under which many a wronged child was, and is laboring, and oh! how I thank and bless God that there is now protection and help for many through the officers and the instrumentality of the Juvenile Courts. This subject, however, will furnish material for another book; therefore it will be but lightly touched upon at this time, for I want to have you again visit with me San Quentin and on this occasion become acquainted with Henry. I first heard of him through Captain Randolph, captain of the yard, and next through Captain Sullivan; then I obtained permission from Captain Ellis to interview this young man.

He was sentenced from ——- County to serve twenty-five years for homicide. Over seven years had now expired, and seven, I assure you, seems like twenty-seven, even more, to every one of these poor prisoners. He was a very bright young man, aged about twenty-five years, and he had the record of never having yet lost a single credit since his incarceration. I listened with intense interest whilst he told me this:

"I don't suppose I differed much from other boys in my school days, was just as full of fun and mischief as any of them, but there was no real harm in me that I knew of. My father is a miner, a prospector, always on the lookout for, and locating, claims. Mother was always a hardworking little woman, and raised a large family. We had a neighbor who didn't like us, neither did he like my dog, which, just as any dog will, intruded on his premises once too often; so he shot and killed him, remarking with an oath as he did so, that there'd be more than one dead dog if we didn't make ourselves scarce—anyhow, words to that effect. The killing of my pet made me very mad. I am, unfortunately, very quick tempered, though I soon cooled down. I felt as thought I could have killed him then and there for his dirty meanness, but pretty soon father and mother succeeded in quieting me.

"We had no more trouble or communication with these neighbors for some time; then one day, when I was playing ball with some of the neighbor boys with some potatoes, he happened to pass and one of the potatoes struck him. It didn't hurt him a bit, but he ripped out an awful oath at me, and called me and my mother by a name that no man with a spark of spunk in him would stand for a minute. He threatened me at the same time. I hurried home, changed my clothes, and told my father I was going over to the county seat (near by) to have him bound over to keep the peace, as I was afraid he would carry out his threat. Before I left the house I took down father's gun. 'Henry, what are you doing? You put that gun right back where you got it,' he said. 'I'll not do it,' I replied. 'He's threatened to kill me. I'll need it for protection,' and on I walked, too quickly for him to overtake me.

"As I was passing ——'s warehouse on the county road, this neighbor walked into it out of his yard, and just as I came opposite the door he stuck his head out and put his hand into his hip pocket. Before he got a chance to shoot, I had shot him through the fleshy part of his right hip. He lived several days. I feel sure he needn't have died, if given proper care.

"I laid a long time in jail before the trial. My people were too poor to get me all the defense I needed. Unfortunately, my lawyer, though a brilliant man, was a drunkard. Father impoverished the whole family to raise money to clear me, all to no effect. I am here for twenty-five years, when I ought to be out trying to help make them comfortable in their old age. I hear they are very, very poor. Oh, how I wish I could help them!…"

He told me where they lived, and I resolved, God willing, to take a trip, in the interests of Beth-Adriel, in that direction, and told him I would try to see them, though making no promises toward aiding him in gaining his freedom, for as yet I had only his word as to the truth of this story.

It was a whole day's journey, and, being very tired on reaching my destination, I did not look them up until morning. I can yet see that very clean, poverty-stricken room. I sat on the only chair it contained, the little mother sat on the bed, the father on an old trunk. The father hadn't "struck it rich" yet. Prospectors are always hopeful, sometimes realizing their hopes, but not often. The mother, whenever able, worked in the fruit. In some way they managed to eke out a bare but honest living. They could not have been much poorer.

We discussed Henry's case pro and con. Evidently he had not overdrawn the truth. Before the day was over we were in consultation with a friendly disposed attorney, who drew up petition papers. Before these were out of the printer's hands, I had held conferences with several people and clergymen, and had also made engagements in the interest of Beth-Adriel. The Lord was touching hearts and money was being added to its treasury. Soon I was doing double duty, aided by Henry's father. He went on his bicycle from place to place in the county where this homicide had been committed, whilst I took the stage or the train as the case might require, speaking in his behalf as well as securing funds for the home. Finally we reached the county seat. There I learned from many—even officials—that Henry's sentence was unjust; but, owing to their political positions, I could obtain very few of their signatures. The judge who had sentenced Henry told me that he could not sign, he being then the attorney for the widow of the dead man.

A very severe cold, threatening me with pneumonia caused me to leave hurriedly for home, where for several days I was well-nigh prostrate. There were many earnest prayers for my speedy recovery. These the dear Lord heard and answered, so that before long the work so suddenly laid down was, through his loving kindness and grace, resumed.

Henry's father sent by express the package of signatures he had procured, and I felt the witness of the Spirit that we now had sufficient. The next move, as I thought, was to present them at Sacramento to the Governor. He received me most kindly, talked at length on rescue work, Henry's case and other cases, etc., but informed me that he would have no jurisdiction to act until the matter had been duly presented after receiving the written approval of the board of prison directors. At their next monthly meeting I was present; but, owing to stress of other matters, Henry's case could not at this time command their attention, nor for three successive meetings. Then occurred an adjournment until July. Henry wrote that he could not conscientiously ask me to come again, but the still, small voice bade me try once more. Oh, praise the dear Lord for answering many prayers in his behalf! Henry was granted his parole. The news was telephoned to me early in the morning. I hurried down to Captain Ellis' office to offer Henry my congratulations, but, above all, to direct his mind toward the Author of his freedom. What a blessed opportunity to honor the Master! and he promised to try to serve him thereafter.

Then he whispered something to the Captain, who replied, "Certainly, you have my permission." Excusing himself, he hurried into the inner yard. Presently he returned with an oblong box. Handing it to me, he said: "Mother Roberts, I have long observed that your little autoharp was wearing out. This one, my companion in my lonely hours, must now take its place. I know the use you will make of it. I wish, how I wish, you might be able to appreciate with what pleasure I make this slight token of my eternal gratitude!"

I had not dreamed of my prayer for a new instrument being answered in this manner, I having never learned that Henry was musical or possessed any such thing. It was a much finer one than mine. Had I been presented with a gold mine, I could not have felt better pleased. From that day to this autoharp, No. 2, and I have been inseparable.

But I must proceed. Before taking up other matters, I will add this: Henry made good for two years, received pardon from Governor Gillett, married his faithful little sweetheart, and named his first little daughter after me. A few days ago I received a letter telling of the birth of another little daughter. He took up a claim, and he is now farming his own homestead.

Many were, and no doubt still are, his trials and temptations. Not always was there victory, but I am sure as he reads this that the tears will come. He will probably retire to some quiet spot, fall on his knees in gratitude to God, who pardons our sins even though they be "red like crimson," and then ask him to guide him in the way he should go and to help him to bring up his dear little family in the fear and admonition of the Lord. May God forever bless Henry, his faithful companion, and his dear children, is my earnest prayer.