he growing humanity
shown by both of the contending parties in the mutual arrangements for
taking care of the wounded. I presented my credentials, and asked leave
to speak. With some embarrassment, I was told that I might speak to the
officers of the society, when the public meeting should be adjourned. I
accordingly met a dozen or more of these gentlemen in a side room, where
I simply spoke of my endeavors to enlist the sympathies and efforts of
women in behalf of the world's peace.

Returning to London, I had the privilege of attending as a delegate one
of the great Prison Reform meetings of our day.

As well as I can remember, each day of the congress had its own
president, and not the least interesting of these days was that on which
Cardinal Manning presided. I remember well his domed forehead and pale,
transparent complexion, telling unmistakably of his ascetic life. He was
obviously much interested in Prison Reform, and well cognizant of its
progress. An esteemed friend and fellow country-woman of mine, Mrs.
Elizabeth B. Chace of Rhode Island, was also accredited as a delegate to
this congress. At one of its meetings she read a short paper, giving
some account of her own work in the prisons of her State. At this
meeting, the question of flogging prisoners came up, and a rather brutal
jailer of the old school told an anecdote of a refractory prisoner who
had been easily reduced to obedience by this summary method. His rough
words stirred my heart within me. I felt that I must speak; and Mrs.
Chace kindly arose, and said to the presiding officer, "I beg that Mrs.
Julia Ward Howe of Boston may be heard before this debate is closed."
Leave being given, I stood up and said my say, arguing earnestly that no
man could be made better by being degraded. I can only well recall a
part of my little speech, which was, I need scarcely say, quite
unpremeditated:--

"It is related of the famous Beau Brummel that a gentleman who called
upon him one morning met a valet carrying away a tray of neckcloths,
more or less disordered. 'What are these?' asked the visitor; and the
servant replied, 'These are our failures.' Even thus may society point
to the criminals whom she dismisses from her presence. Of these men and
women, whom she has failed to train in the ways of virtue and of
industry, she may well say: 'These are our failures.'"

My words were much applauded, and I think the vote taken was against the
punishment in question.