In the cells and 'round about her, Prisoners stood, deep stained in sin; Listening to the prayers she'd offer, Looking for her Christ within. Some who'd never known a mother, Ne'er had learned to kneel and pray, Raised their hands, their face to cover, Till her words had died away. In the silent midnight hours, Came a voice in heavenly strain, Floating o'er in peaceful showers, Bringing sunshine after rain. Each one rose from out his slumber, Listening to her songs of cheer, Then the stillness rent asunder, With their praises loud and clear. Praise from those whose crimes had led them, O'er a dark and stormy sea, Where its waves had lashed and tossed them Into "hell's" captivity. Wine it was, the drink that led them, From the tender Shepherd's fold, Now they hear His voice call them, With His precious words of gold. Like the sheep that went astray, Twice we've heard the story told, They heard His voice, they saw the way, That leads to His pastured fold. The first time I was put in jail, after everything was quiet, I heard some prisoner down below, swearing, and I called out: "What do you mean boys by asking God to damn this place? I think he has done so and we don't want any more damns here. Get down on your knees and ask God to bless you." And all the rest of time I never heard an oath. In a week or so I heard them singing hymns; and I called to them: "How are you boys?" "We have all been converted since the first of January," was their reply. One of those young men got out while I was there, and came to my cell and told me that it was true about their conversion. Oh! the sad hearts behind the bars! Oh! the injustice! I am glad I have been a prisoner for one thing, I never see a face behind the bars that my heart does not pity. I have heard so many tales of ruined lives; have seen men with muscles and brain, bowed into tears. Oh, if we would only love each other more; if we would feel as Paul: "To owe love to all we meet, and pay the debt. 'Tis the most pleasant debt to pay and the indebtedness blesses both parties, especially the one who pays." I used to think that birth and other circumstances made one person better than another. I do not see it that way now. The man with many opportunities is not entitled to as much consideration as one with fewer. I am the defender of the one who needs help most. The great need of the world is Love. CHAPTER IX. OUT OF JAIL.--EGGS AND STONE.--SMASHING STILLING'S JOINT AT ENTERPRISE.-- WHIPPED BY HIRED PROSTITUTES.--PLOT AT HOLT BY HOTEL KEEPER AND JOINTIST TO POISON AND SLUG ME.--AT CONEY ISLAND.--HAND BROKEN AND HANDCUFFS. I got out of Wichita jail about the last week in January, 1901, under a writ of habeas corpus. I got bail,--I forget who went my bail, but God bless them; and left on the evening train about seven o'clock.