I do not think I shall ever forget the case of the newsboy, who was arrested at the Brooklyn Bridge entrance for selling papers. Complaints had been made to the police of some ruffian boys who took pleasure in insulting people who would not buy papers. The officers had received orders to arrest the first offender and make him an example. Frank Smith was then at the desk in the old prison. He had just taken a boy to the ten day house, and asked me to go and see him. I did so. I found the poor boy inside the big iron gate crying his life out. No one could comfort him. I tried to find out his offence, but he would not stop his crying long enough to tell me. I went over to the police court, but as there was a large calendar that day, I could get no information. I returned to the Tombs. As I came near the boy I found that his two little sisters had come to see him. They had heard of his misfortune and had sought him out as soon as possible. It was one of the most pathetic sights that I ever witnessed. The boy lived with his mother and sisters on East Broadway. They were Jews and very poor. The mother was ill at home, suffering from an incurable disease, and was then on her death bed. Reuben, the diminutive newsboy, was trying to support the family by selling papers. The sentence of the court was thirty days in the city prison or a hundred dollars bond. But this was out of question for the family. When I returned from court I found the two sisters crying bitterly at the gate and begging Rubie to come home. Their cry was, “O Rubie, come home, won’t you? Mamma is sick and ready to die. Won’t you come home with us, Rubie?” All this time they were weeping bitterly and everybody was affected, even the tiermen. I could not stand it any longer. I saw the magistrate at once and told him the situation. He would not discharge him under any circumstances. When I saw that I could make no further impression I offered myself as Rubie’s bondsman, and the Judge accepted me and the boy was at once discharged and went home with his sisters. I saw one of the Bridge policemen and asked that Rubie be not arrested on account of his poverty and the fact that he had a dying mother at home, and he kindly spoke to the others at the Bridge and Rubie was never molested after that day. The scene which had the most powerful effect on me and which has stayed by me the longest, moving me to tears even to this day, was the beholding two little girls, sisters, conversing with their brother who was accused of burglary. The oldest sister was about thirteen years of age, the youngest about three. All were crying bitterly, with the little one sobbing out, “Oh brother Willie, come home, please come home, we have had nothing to eat all day, and we had no supper last night. Why don’t the naughty man (the keeper) let you come home?”