Very nearly all of them, white or colored, moved as if they liked the idea of being young soldiers, but they had not been recruited like other soldiers. Some of them were there because they had no other home to go to nor any other school to be taught in. Many, however, were there for other reasons. For instance, that tall young fellow in command of the foremost company. The captain, in bright, blue uniform who handled his men so well. He is here for highway robbery and it will be a long time before they let him out, although he is one of the best behaved boys in the House of Refuge. He is not here altogether as a punishment, however, nor are any of his companions, no matter what their fault was. This is not a place of judgment, but of help and hope, and, not long ago, a well-known literary man, after inspecting the whole institution, said to the Superintendent: “Sir, this is one of the footprints of Christ on earth. It is an effort, in His name, to seek and to save that which was lost.” “Thank God!” replied the officer. “About eighty-five out of every hundred do well and become good citizens. We keep track of them, long after they leave us.” Nevertheless, the House of Refuge has to be a kind of prison. It is on Randall’s Island, separated from the city of New York, on Manhattan Island, by a swiftly running branch of the East River, which is not a river at all, but an arm of the sea, and its rapid current is made by the changing tides. If, in one view, this is a prison, in another it is a great boarding school, with very remarkable appliances for the education and discipline of its pupils. The entire enclosure, of which the parade-ground is a part, contains several acres. The stone wall, twenty feet high, in front of which the battalion halted, guards all of one of the sides of the enclosure and parts of two other sides. The remaining lengths of those two are protected just as well by high buildings but on the southern side a tall chimney sticks up from a range of buildings that are not so high. They contain a steam engine, machinery and several kinds of workshops. The drill was long and must have been tiresome, particularly to the boy who carried and pounded the big, bass drum and to the other boy who carried the flag. It all but blew him over, more than once, for there were sharp gusts of March wind, now and then. He looked relieved, very much so, when the battalion at last halted on the side nearest the green lawn and the buildings, and was ordered to “break ranks.”