There is just one way this evil can be stopped--I might say two ways. The first, and a method that would be effectual in stopping the influx of criminals from all countries, is to let Congress put a tax of $30 or $50 on the steamship companies for every passenger not an American citizen whom they bring to America. Not one discharged criminal in a thousand could meet the tax in addition to the fare. The only other way possible would be for our Government to request the English Government to furnish them with photographs, marks and measurements of all discharged criminals. Then have them copied and sent to the Immigration Commissioners of our ports. But that would involve a radical change in these boards and their methods. Efficiency there under our corrupt system is, I fear, hopeless. I visited Ellis Island a few days ago and saw how they passed a shipload of immigrants in a few minutes, and as I looked I felt it was hopeless to expect any efficient measures to throw back the foul tide that is polluting our shores. Seldom as men of the criminal class once safe in America ever return to England, yet they do now and then return. In the two or three cases that came under my observation it was very much to their loss and grief, for they only came back to undergo another term. One day, in 1890, a man working in my party slipped a note into my hand that had been given him for me in chapel that morning. As in similar cases, I secreted the note, and when safe in my little room I read it. The writer said he had lately come down from London, and was most anxious to get into my party in order to have a chance to talk with me. He said he had been living in Chicago and could give me all the news. He ended the note by stating he was being murdered by hard work, and implored me to try and get him into my party, where it was not so hard. This I was most anxious to do, as in my party you could talk almost with impunity. To have a man near me fresh and only a year before in Chicago would be like a letter from home and also a newspaper. Therefore, I determined to get Foster in my party if possible. At this time I had been seventeen years a resident, and was, in fact, the oldest inhabitant, and had some little influence in a quiet way. About eleven years before I had been put in the party, and had a chance to learn bricklaying, and having become an expert in the art was given charge of the bricklaying. I was on the best of terms with our officer, so when, a day or two later, one of our men was so fortunate (in the Chatham view of it) as to meet with an accident and be admitted to that heaven, the infirmary, I told my officer to ask for Foster to replace him. He did so, and he, very much to his gratification, found himself by my side, with a trowel instead of a shovel in his hand. We worked side by side, Winter and Summer, storm and shine, for two years, and in spite of myself I began soon to like the man. His chief and only virtues were