The San Francisco call., 1898-01-09


 %, To look on those who fall.
 An old, unpretentious house, at the corner of Montgomery and Washing ton streets; a narrow door, half hidden aTncng the small, unattractive shops on Washington; above the door large white placard announcing that the Sal vation Army has within a Shelter for Women. That is all the passer-by sees 1s he hurries along in the bustling day. And at night?
 Not much more. Only a light burn ing behind the white cloth and throw ing up the hospitable words; only beacon speaking of safe harborage to the lonely, hungry, homeless woman loitering hopelessly in the pitiless streets; only that-and something else
 The knowledge that the door is never locked.
 Do you realize what that means, ye who hasten to your own comfortable homes, where kindly human faces, or at worst sheltering, familiar walls well come you to your nightly rest? Have ye ever paused to think of it? To be a woman and alone, in the streets of a great city, penniless, without food, footweary, with never a soul to hold out helping hand
 :::.:Whether your misfortune or your .fQliy brought you to this pass makes little difference. Wise virgin or fool ish, your body requires warmth, food and rest, your heart craves human sympathy, your soul sickens for hu- Elan COmpanionship. And you can find them if you please; the dives give you cheering welcome after their manner, or. the policeman will provide you with a. cell There is also the harbor, per haps the most satisfactory refuge of all
 :: Then suddenly, your glance rests on the Salvation Army beacon. No mat ter what the hour, it still shines with its steady, hopeful light. You have only t0. go to that door, ring the bell, and pass to the inner side. Without ques- tion or reproach, you will find shelter rest and food, kindly women faces vel loTning you, kindly women-hands ereettched out to succor you. .;:.::I remember being called down once $ 'bX'.two children" said the matron. Quietly going over her "reminiscences. ::tfThe eldest looked scarcely 14. Can .: you take this little girl in for the nlght?' she asked. I brought them up stairs. Now what is the trouble 9 I said.
 " She can't go home,' the eldest ex- plained. Her fathers too drunk I don't know her. I only met her going .:fot. an errand, and she asked me if there was anybody who would take . her in for the night. I only knew of your place, so brought her here. Will you keep hero
 ..:.. "Of course, I kept her A nice girl. she had been keeping house for her father ever since the mothers death. four years before. He was a good workman, earning comfortable wages. and good father when sober. Rut that night he had come home very drunk, smashed everything. banged the child about, and the poor little thing was so frightened that she ran out into the streets, and had been wandering there ever since , o'clock. s It was then Il. Next evening we took :: her home. She said her father would nave sobered up by that time and : 'Wol1ld be as good as gold again; it was only the drink that upset him.
 Yes. But where would that child of H. pacing the streets at midnight. have been save for the matrons shell ferlng arms? At the best under police Protection, with the vagrant's brand Spon her. At the worst-welI. society would have had one more little human wreck to answer for
 To the credit of the police be it said that they are keenly alive to the ad vantages of the Women's Shelter. A