"True--where else could I go? I could go nowhere but there. I came out of prison with only the clothes they gave me there, with my hair cropped--branded, to tell all the world to beware of me--that I was a 'prison bird.' If I desired, and I really did, to return to a virtuous life, the door was for ever closed against me. I went back to Mrs. Brown's, the woman who had first tempted me, with fine clothes and jewelry, to sin--to that house where I lost all that a poor girl has on earth--her virtue--where I had sinned and profited, as the term is, by sinning; where I had left piles of rich clothing, and pretended friends. I knocked at the door, once so ready to open for my first admission, and that too was closed in my face with an oath, a horrid, wicked woman's oath, bidding me to go away or she would send a policeman--I knew the policeman would do her bidding--to take me away as a common street vagrant, coming there to disgrace a 'respectable house.' I went away, dispirited, broken-hearted, and sunk down into that wretched abode in Anthony street, where I was found by Mr. Pease, and actually compelled, much against my will, to go to the Five Points House of Industry, where I was washed, and clothed, and fed, and sobered, furnished with work, and, above all else, taught to love God and pray, and, for the first time in more than two years, to feel one moment of happiness. "When I was with those wretches in that miserable hole where Mr. Pease found me, I really thought that my heart had got so bad, that it could not, would not, ever be good again. "How I did use to curse and hate everybody that was good. That good man who saved me at last, I hated worse than all others. All who are like what I was then, hate him and fear him more then they do all the prisons and police in the city. If somebody would publish the truth, or only half the truth, of what I alone know of the crime and misery about the Five Points of New York, and how much good all the good men have done who have devoted themselves to the reformation of those wretched human beings, I do think that everybody with a good heart would buy the book, and thus contribute a mite to aid the good work--a work that saves from a life worse than death, scores of children and young girls, lost to every virtuous thought or action; lost to all hope in life or eternity. "Oh, sir," and she seized me by the hands in her energy, "you can write--Stella has told me how you can write--that you have written some powerful stories; pray write more, more, more; the world will read, and it will do a world of good." "Well, Julia, if I write, I must have characters and names, to fill up the incidents of my Life Scenes, shall I use yours?" "Yes, yes, if it will do good, and save others."