son
Reports that soon after the opening of this school there were imprisoned
3,449 female vagrants of all ages, and that last year (1870), when the
little girls who then attended such schools would have matured, there
were only 671; or when we observe that the Prison in that neighborhood
inclosed 3,172 female vagrants in 1861 and only 339 in 1871, we may be
assured that the sacrifices made in that Ward have not been without
their natural fruit.

Extracts from our Journal:

A VISIT IN THE FOURTH WARD.

"We Started out a wintry afternoon to see some of our scholars in the
Industrial School of the Fourth Ward. A number of ragged little girls,
disdaining to enter, were clustered about the door of the School. As
they caught a glimpse of some one coming out, the cry of 'Lie low! lie
low!' passed among them, and they were off, capering about in the
snow-storm like so many little witches.

"We passed up Oak Street and Cherry. Here is the entrance, a narrow
doorway on the side. Wind through this dark passage and you are at the
door of a little back room; it is the home of a German rag-picker who
has a child in the school. A filthy, close room, with a dark bedroom;
there is one window, and a small stove, and two or three chairs. The
girl is neat and healthy-looking. 'I pick rags, sir,' says the mother,
'and I can't send her to Public School. I am away all day, and she would
have to be in the streets, and it's very hard to live this winter. It's
been a great help to send her to that school.' I told her we wanted none
who could go to Public School, but if it was so with her she might
continue to send. A miserable hole for a home, and yet the child looked
neatly.

"Here, beyond, is an old house. We climb the shaking stairs, up to the
attic--a bare front room with one roof-window. The only furniture a bed
and stove and a broken chair. Very chill and bare, but the floor is well
swept. A little humpbacked child is reading away very busily by the
light of the scuttle window, and another is cleaning up the floor. The
mother is an Irish woman. 'Shure! an' its nivir none of the schools I
could sind 'em to. I had no clo'es or shoes for 'em and, it's the truth,
I am jist living, an' no more. Could ye help us? We told her we meant to
help her by helping her children, and asked about the little deformed
one. 'Och! she is sich a swate won! She always larned very quick since
her accidint, and I used to think, maybe sh