We do not know anything about him, but we would like you to put him in your factory tomorrow.” Again Warden Garvin speaks for Connecticut. He has a very different population to deal with in your small state prison from the great population crowded in many of our all too unsanitary prisons of New York, New Jersey, etc. I have had scores of men come to me from state prison whose long prison terms had absolutely incapacitated them for work. Shattered nervously and physically, they have crept out into the world afraid to face the unfriendly crowd. I have taken men from prison who were blind with blindness that had come to them within those dread shadows. I have taken men discharged from the prison hospital so weak that months of nursing has been necessary to put them into condition for work. I have taken men who have been twenty, thirty, and even forty-eight years within the walls. After all, facts speak louder than theories, and we have the facts to show. It will be a great joy to me if some of your readers feel interested enough in this work to help me by offering positions for my boys. Hope Hall is not a permanent residence but merely a stepping stone to the place in life where men can lose their identity and take up their places as humble units in the great busy working world. Hoping that I have not imposed upon your space and patience, believe me, Very truly yours for our country’s prisoners, MAUD B. BOOTH. * * * * * _“Millionaire Tramp” Discards His Overalls._—His old slouch hat, coarse brogans, bandanna handkerchief, and blue-jean overalls have been laid aside, and the “millionaire tramp,” or “man without a dime,” as he has become known to the newspapers of the country, has finished a two years’ traveling study of the life of the homeless and penniless men in fifty cities in the United States. The “millionaire tramp” is Edwin A. Brown, and is a cousin of W. C. Brown, president of the New York Central lines, with whom he was once in the ranch business in Colorado. Mr. Brown will put into book form the result of his country-wide investigation, in the hope that municipalities will awaken to the “crying needs of shelter homes for the friendless and penniless.” The things he has seen during the last two years have convinced him that all of the cities which he visited, and scores of others, should have municipal lodging houses, like the one in New York City. He would have such institutions furnish clean beds, adequate ventilation, satisfying meals, shower baths, and medical inspection, so that the sick could be separated from the well. The municipal lodging house in New York City furnishes these things and is capable of sheltering a thousand men and fifty women.