lite society. They bring children here no longer. The
same shaking, wild-eyed, blood-shot-eyed and blear-eyed drunks and
disorderlies, though some of the women have nerves yet; and the same
decently dressed, but trembling and conscience-stricken little wretch
up for petty larceny or something, whose motor car bosses of a big
firm have sent a solicitor, "manager," or some understrapper here to
prosecute and give evidence.

But, over there, on a form to one side of the bench-opposite the witness
box--and as the one bright spot in this dark, and shameful, and useless
scene--and in a patch of sunlight from the skylight as it happens--sit
representatives of the Prisoners' Aid Society, Prison Gate and Rescue
Brigades, etc. (one or two of the ladies in nurses' uniforms), who are
come to help us and to fight for us against the Law of their Land and of
ours, God help us!

Mrs Johnson, of Red Rock Lane, is here, and her rival in revolution,
One-Eyed Kate, and Cock-Eyed Sal, and one or two of the other
aristocrats of the alley. And the weeping bedraggled remains of what was
once, and not so long ago, a pretty, slight, fair-haired and blue-eyed
Australian girl. She is up for inciting One-Eyed Kate to resist
the police. Also, Three-Pea Ginger, Stousher, and Wingy, for some
participation in the row amongst the aforementioned ladies. (Wingy,
by the way, is a ratty little one-armed man, whose case is usually
described in the head-line, as "A 'Armless Case," by one of our great
dailies.) And their pals are waiting outside in the vestibule--Frowsy
Kate (The Red Streak), Boko Bill, Pincher and his "piece," etc., getting
together the stuff for the possible fines, and the ten-bob fee for the
lawyer, in one case, and ready to swear to anything, if called upon. And
I myself--though I have not yet entered Red Rock Lane Society--on bail,
on a charge of "plain drunk." It was "drunk and disorderly" by the way,
but a kindly sergeant changed it to plain drunk (though I always thought
my drunk was ornamental).

Yet I am not ashamed--only comfortably dulled and a little tired--dully
interested and observant, and hopeful for the sunlight presently. We low
persons get too great a contempt for things to feel much ashamed at any
time; and this very contempt keeps many of us from "reforming." We hear
too many lies sworn that we know to be lies, and see too many unjust and
brutal things done that we know to be brutal and unjust.

But let us go back a b