=She should be true to her child.=--New problems arise if her child lives. Most young illegitimate mothers give their children over to some “Home Finders Institution.” Circumstances may sometimes justify, or seem to justify, this disposition of the child. The child is bone of her bone, blood of her blood, life of her life. She is largely responsible for bringing the innocent, helpless child into the world; she should not add to her personal sin and to her sin against the child by deserting and leaving it to the cold mercies of a selfish, unsympathetic world. If her parents sympathize with and forgive her, they will most likely have her return to their home with the child. The women of the community will circulate the scandal on her return until they wear all the reports thread-bare. But the girl must make up her mind to face this, live an ideal life and endure the sneers until she lives it down. This will be a severe trial, but she will have a chance to show the world what a beautiful life a wronged woman can live when given a half chance. =If driven from home.=--If her parents drive her from home, her experience becomes the bitterest known to a human being. But she should not despair. He who said to the woman, “caught in the act,” “go and sin no more” is ever ready to help bear her burdens and speak to her the same words of forgiveness and cheer. In all large cities there are “Homes for the Friendless,” where friendless girls may go without charge until after they recover from confinement. =A real living incident.=--I will tell you a real, living incident which is only one among many of the human tragedies, with shifting variations, occurring annually in nearly every community, enacted upon the dramatic stage of modern society’s double standard of morals. A young lady of twenty-four years, a teacher in a city high school, during a revival became deeply concerned about her spiritual interests. After seeking Christ for some four days, she said to her spiritual adviser: “I am in great trouble. I can’t get to God in the condition I am in. Since the death of my father and only brother, you are the only person to whom I have felt that I could confide matters of such a personal and delicate nature as I feel compelled to relate to you. Since I came to your city four years ago, I have assumed the title of ‘Mrs,’ allowing widowhood to be inferred. I have never been married. I am wearing the name of the man, who by every possible moral right should have married me and been a true husband to me. I am a mother and my little girl of six summers is wearing the name of her father, which civil law says she has no right to wear. My mother, sisters, relatives and former friends all are under the impression that I am divorced.