Last evening two American ladies, Miss Hopkins, of Chicago, and Mrs. Murphy, of Minneapolis, called upon me with reference to the poor young girl, Ella Gingles, whom, like a chivalrous-hearted Irishman, you have done and are doing so much to protect and defend. I know her well, her father is a member of the Congregation of which I am minister, as were his ancestors before him. He is a large farmer, well off, as Irish farmers go here in the North of Ireland, and his wife, Ella's mother, is an exceedingly nice, gentle-hearted woman. They have had a large family--thirteen, if my memory serves me--and as their minister I christened them all and have seen them grow up from infancy. Ella was frequently under my roof, as she was on friendly terms with two young ladies--my adopted daughters--who reside with me. I always found her a bright, cheerful, well-principled girl, clever in many ways with her needle, etc., and especially in the art of crocheting and manufacturing lace. In the latter branches I know that she won prizes at our local annual industrial exhibitions in the town of Larne. But the family being large and their not being particularly prosperous here in Ireland, she and other young members of the family, like many other young people of energy and enterprise, have sought a land of better promise across the Atlantic with sad results to her unfortunately. As I have said, she is the child of respectable and well-off parents. She, herself so far as I know, has always been respectable and well conducted in every way, with a large infusion of enterprise and determination in her character; so that you may proceed in your generous and energetic endeavors in her behalf with the most entire confidence in her integrity in every respect. Accept for yourself and convey to those truly Christian people who are associated with you in the defense of an innocent, but much-injured young girl, the assurance of the most sincere gratitude and admiration, not only of the writer, but of the sorely-stricken parents and friends of poor Ella, and believe me, Sincerely yours, J. Kennedy, Minister of the Old Presbyterian Congregation of Larne & Kilwaughter. (Postmarked): "Larne, Ireland, June 30, 1909." BY ELLA GINGLES. It is a long and hard way when one must set forth to expose one's own butchery, shame and misfortune, but I feel that in telling this story the very fact that I have been a victim will carry with it weight. It is a far cry from the green hills of Larne, from the wet meadows, glistening with the rains, from the song of the nightingale in the gathering dusk, the sweetness, the beauty of that green island which I call my home and which will henceforth be my only home, to the mire and filth of a criminal court in the city of Chicago, to the unspeakable horrors through which I have been dragged, and to the desperation to which I was driven.