"A barkeeper asked me, lady, what are you doing in a place like this?' "'I am here to do some good if I can. I am a mother.' "'Well,' he replied, 'this is no place for decent people.' "Just then a rough-looking customer spoke up, 'Don't you leave because he wants you to. Do all the good you can' "I am afraid some of the girls thought I was there out of mere vulgar curiosity. No, indeed. I have seen the worst places in the State, I have visited the girls, talked with them, eaten with them, and praise God, have helped some of them to do better." CHRISTIANITY Mrs. Roberts has no use for so-called Christianity that forgets the virtue named charity. She tells a story of a young girl who was won from the tenderloin by a Salvation Army lassie.... [Here follows the story of Dollie, found between these pages.] WORST RESORTS "As I said before," continued Mrs. Roberts, "we visited all the houses, but were not admitted to all. They are very superstitious, and to admit visitors on Monday would 'hoodoo' the business for the rest of the week. None of the houses were attractive. We learned the name of only one, which, the girls tell me, is the worst in the whole district. "There is one place, though, that I must mention. It is most attractive with lights, mirrors, and music. But I assure you it is the first step of its kind downward. [A first-class saloon.] "This place has a most appropriate electric sign, a winding, twisting snake. 'There is one thing more I must tell you,' I said to a young, attractive-looking boy, 'What attracts you here?' "'For the life of me I can't tell you, except that there's no other place where we fellows can enjoy ourselves.' "What an opportunity for an immense, well-equipped reading-room, where the boys can have games, books, and all sorts of harmless amusements." Mrs. Roberts will be here for some little time, and she expects to speak several times before she leaves. She spoke at the Central Christian church yesterday to a large audience. Among other things at this meeting I mentioned this incident: In one of the Northern towns, the chief of police, knowing I was in the town, sent for me to confer with him on a case of "strictest privacy." Wondering what was the matter, I hastened, and soon was hearing this: "In one of the houses on ---- Street, I have just learned from one of my men, who was told by a near-by saloon-keeper, of a young girl inmate who has been constantly in tears for the past two weeks, a new-comer aged about sixteen. I want some one to get her away from there. My political situation is such at the present time that it will never do for me to figure in this matter; at the same time I am aware if you are conspicuous in it, those doors will be closed upon you, and that will be unwise, seeing these landladies are more or less kindly disposed toward you.