It is a rare thing for a man who began life in poverty to find himself in middle life in a position of such power and usefulness as the head of one great branch of the British Government occupies. It is still more remarkable, however, that a man who began life as an agitator, the representative of the unemployed, the most helpless and unfortunate class in the community, should find himself, a comparatively few years later, charged with the task of carrying into effect the reforms which he had preached from the prisoner's dock in a police court. It is all the more fortunate for England that the Government has found a man with these qualifications, who has at the same time the training and qualities of a statesman, to carry the reforms into effect. As Mr. Burns himself once said: "Depend upon it, there are no such places for making a public man as Pentonville Prison and the London County Council." To me, however, the most surprising thing about it all is that a man with his history and qualifications should have found his way, by the ordinary methods of politics, into a position he is so well fitted to fill. It suggests to me that, in spite of all the misery that one still may see in London, in England, at least, there is hope for the man farthest down. It is not my purpose in this chapter to write a biography of John Burns, but rather to describe what I saw, under his direction, of what has already been done in London in the work of "reconstruction," to which I have already referred. It seemed to me, however, that it was not out of place to say something, by way of introduction, in regard to the man who is, perhaps, as much if not more than any one else responsible for the work now going on, and whose life is connected in a peculiar way with that part of the city I had opportunity to visit and with the improvements that have been made there. John Burns was born and still lives in Battersea, a quarter of the city inhabited, for the most part, by artisans, mechanics, and labourers of various kinds, with a sprinkling of gypsy pedlers and the very poor. Battersea is directly across the river from, and in plain sight of, the Parliament Buildings, and there is a story to the effect that, as he was coming home one winter night, helping his mother carry home the washing by which she supported herself and family, they two stopped within the shadow of those buildings to rest. Turning to his mother the boy said: "Mother, if ever I have health and strength no mother shall have to work as you do."