hem pass into freedom without
the slightest ability or chance of getting a living otherwise than by
begging or stealing.

What strikes us most about the inmates of the prison hospital is the
certainty that many of the prisoners have not sufficient health and
strength to enable them to be useful citizens.

So we pass through the hospital into the chapel, and find eight hundred
prisoners before us. The organ plays, the morning service is read by the
chaplain; the prisoners sing, and as they sing there is such a volume of
sound that we cannot fail to be touched with it.

We enter the pulpit, and as we stand and look down upon that sea of
upturned faces, we see a sight that is not likely to be forgotten.
There, in front of us, right underneath the pulpit, are rows of young
men under twenty-two years of age; we look at them; they are all clad in
khaki, and we take a mental sketch of them.

One or two among them are finely developed young men, but the great
bulk we see are small in stature and weak in body. Some of them have
a hopeless expression of countenance that tells us of moral and mental
weakness.

We note that most of them can have had but little chance in life, and
that their physical or mental infirmities come from no fault of their
own. They have all been to school; they have started in life, if it can
be called starting, as errand boys, paper sellers in the streets, or
as street merchants of some description. They have grown into early
manhood, but they have not increased in wisdom or stature. They have
learned no occupation, trade or handicraft; they have passed from school
age to early manhood without discipline, decent homes or technical
training.

When at liberty their homes are lodging-houses or even less desirable
places. So they pass from the streets to the police, from police-courts
to prison, with positive regularity.

They behave themselves in prison, they obey orders, they do the bit
of work that is required of them, they eat the food, and they sleep
interminable hours away.

At the back of the young men we see row after row of older men, and
their khaki clothing and broad arrows produce a strange impression upon
us; but what impresses us most is the facial and physical appearance of
the prisoners.

Cripples are there, twisted bodies are there, one-armed men are there,
and blind men are there. Here and there we see a healthy man, with
vigour and strength written on his face; but the great ma