had signed, and who longed for a means of escape. This was good soil to work in, and it would be unjust to say that it was quite neglected. The prison was visited by sisters of mercy and other charitable women, and there were even at that date homes and refuges for the penitent, whose agents sought in the prison and at the prison door to rescue the young offenders, and those whose feet were still half-willing to lead them back to virtue. But for inexperience which lacked strength of character, and for indecision which had no moral or religious sign-post, the influence of the prison was omnipotent. Without separation of the classes there was no hope for the weak, and the classes were not separated. At the moment of her release, at the door of the prison itself, the woman who had made no plan for her future found three to pick from. Philanthropy was ready to receive her into one of the houses of refuge. But she was hungry and ill-clad, and a toothless procuress came forward with an offer of clothes, a dinner, and a soft bed. If she still wavered, there was a skulking limb of the law on the watch—probably the creature by whom she had been arrested—whose "protection" was hers if she would accept it; and in this case, at least, refusal was indeed dangerous. For the police spy knew the "history of the case" and would dog the steps of his victim. It resulted that, up to close upon the middle of the century, the prison of Saint-Lazare, its intelligent aims notwithstanding, was largely a recruiting ground for the _maisons de tolérance_ of Paris and the departments, and a place in which uncertain virtue had every opportunity to decline into finished vice. The _maisons de tolérance_ have been mentioned once or twice in this connection, and a word in explanation will dispose of them. The _femme publique_ had her own house or lodging, or she lived with others of her calling, under a common roof, a _maison de tolérance_. Licences for these houses were obtained from the _Bureau des Mœurs_ by a process similar to, though less tedious than, that which has been described. The applicant was almost always a retired _femme publique_, and her request to the prefect was usually composed for her by an _écrivain public_, who kept an office for the purpose, under the discreet sign, "_Au tombeau des secrets_." He had two styles of composition, the plain and the ornate. Adopting the first, he would write: "Monsieur le Préfet: M——, a native of Paris, and inscribed on your registers during the past eighteen years, has the honour to request your permission to open a licenced house. Her excellent conduct during the lengthened period of her connection with a class which is not remarkable for sober living, will, I trust, be a sufficient guarantee for you that she will not abuse her new position, etc." For a sample of his finer style, the following petition will serve: