I entered my office one morning to find a very worn and travel-stained wanderer awaiting me. He was a tall, raw-boned man, with a face that perhaps the criminologists would have liked to classify. The stern line of jaw denoted fighting propensities; his eyes had the furtive, hunted look of one accustomed to being suspected and across brow and cheek was an ugly scar. A more dejected, hard looking fellow could not well have been imagined and the worn-out shoes and dust covered clothing were fully explained when he told me his story. He had been a crook ever since he had been old enough to gain his living and having had no home influence, but that which was evil, and no teaching to lead him to the right path, the wrong one was very faithfully followed to his own ruin. He had had several imprisonments and when the League was started in Charlestown, he was in the last year of his term. He did not make any religious profession, nor did he connect himself with our organization, but he did gather a vague inspiration for a better future. He determined that he would go out to try and find honest work. This he sought to do before appealing to us, having the mistaken idea that he had no claim upon us, because he had not joined our League. He had never done honest work in his life, and little did he realize how hard it would be to find it. But those first days of unsuccessful effort opened his eyes to the difficult road he must tread. With no trade, no character, no references, no friends, and with the criminal past stamped on face and manner, how was he ever to get the much needed first chance, and yet he did want to try and be honest. His appearance was certainly against him, and when his money was gone, the outlook was most discouraging. Just at this point the policeman acted the part of fate and "ran him in," not because he had committed any crime, but to prevent him from doing so. He looked suspicious as he walked about seeking for work, and so naturally was thought to be on mischief bent.