But the women of London were not behindhand, for a number of them formed themselves into a ‘Farthing League’ (they could not give large sums) for the support of the Home. ‘The members of the league pledge themselves to subscribe to its funds the odd farthing on every article and every yard of material bought at a draper’s shop.’ Each member has a box into which the odd farthings or pence, as the case may be, are dropped. The members appoint their own secretary and treasurer: Even from our own Royal Family came a voice wishing success to the Home of Rest, and some help for the undertaking. But while these combined to make my task the easier, what made it imperative was the sight of a weary-faced, bloodless woman that sat on a chair in North London Police Court before the magistrate. ‘Give her a seat,’ said the kindly magistrate; ‘she is too ill to stand in the dock.’ She had tottered into one of our police stations and given herself up for stealing a dozen skirts which had been given her to make at 1s. 3d. per dozen, she finding machine and thread and paying carriage of the articles to and from the factory. It was cold winter time; she had four young children and a husband out of work. ‘You are drunk,’ they said to her. ‘No, no; it’s the laudanum,’ she said. Her skirts had been finished, she had no fire, and the children wanted food. So she pawned them, kindled a fire, and fed her children. Then fear took possession of her. ‘I am a thief; they will send me to prison,’ she said. But she had a few coppers left. Laudanum was bought, but not sufficient to quench the faint spark of life in her weak body. ‘I remand her for a week; take her to Holloway in a cab, and let the doctor’s attention be called to her,’ said the worthy magistrate. In a week’s time she was again before him, and was promptly discharged. ‘Do what you can to help her,’ he said to me. Help her! Why, she had scarcely flesh enough to cover her bones, nor clothing enough to provide a semblance of warmth. She needed food, clothing, rest, fresh air, and human sympathy. I knew that in her own wretched home she could not get them, so I started my Seaside Home of Rest for Weary Women. Here is a letter from her: ‘DEAR SIR,