We were off early Saturday morning, July 2, and arrived there at 2:30 o'clock. We had dinner, then went to the prison. The guard first took us to see the women. They were all seated at machines, sewing very rapidly, and I was told I was not allowed to speak to them. My heart ached and I could not keep back the tears as I looked on the precious girls I had labored with in the jail at St. Louis, some seven or eight of them. At 6 o'clock we had a short meeting with a hundred and fifty shop girls. Many of them were moved to tears, and we believe good was accomplished. Sunday morning we had a good meeting in the jail, then at 2:30 went back to the prison and gave the gospel to twenty-two hundred convicts. It was a blessed time. I never saw such attention, and while Mother Wheaton spoke and we sang "He Pardoned a Rebel Like Me," I saw some of them wiping the tears from their eyes. These men are not all hard-hearted. As I looked at them and heard almost all of them join in with us and sing "We'll Never Say Good-Bye in Heaven," somehow I lost sight of the stripes and prison walls and bars, and thought how precious they are in God's sight, and I believe many will be gathered to praise Him, who was pierced for us all. After the meeting a young man asked permission to speak to us; his face shone with the glory of God as he told how he had been there five years, and had been saved two years and a half and called to preach the gospel. He proved his earnestness when Mother Wheaton asked if he would let her try to get him pardoned, and he answered: "No, I am guilty, and I not only feel it my duty to serve my time, but will make restitution as soon as I am out. Then I shall give myself to the Lord's work."