That night when the door of a cell clanged behind him and he looked around on the narrow, confining walls, a deep realization of his failure swept over him. "Prison, prison, is it always and forever to be prison?" he groaned and throwing himself on his knees, for the first time in his life he prayed. It was the desperate prayer of a man who had come to the end of his own resources. He simply swore to God that if He would help him out of this difficulty, he would give Him his life and start right afterwards. How many have made like vows in the dark, to forget them straightway when the sunshine is given unto them again! The next day in court when he feared at least some months of imprisonment because of his past record, some one unknown to him said a good word in his behalf, and he was discharged. He left the court room with but one thought and that was to make straight for Hope Hall. He had no money and knew no one who could help him, but he felt that he had but the one hope left. The man who has lived by his wits is not of the beggar class; the thief and the criminal can show stern resolution and suffer much privation in the new life, but they will not beg. This man walked from Boston to New York, and when I had heard the story very simply told in his own rough way, he turned and said with a pleading pathos which no words could convey, "Now Little Mother, will you give me a chance? Is there any hope for me?" There was no insincerity or treachery in those dark eyes as he asked the question, but a beseeching anxiety as if on the answer hung life or death. Very gladly did we bid him welcome and he became a very happy and intensely appreciative member of the Hope Hall family.