ho comes to me all my life
long!"

In her story of her life, which the young person wrote many years
later, she says, in telling of that agonized plea: "My error in trying
to barter with my Maker must have been forgiven, for my prayer was
answered within a week.... I have tried faithfully to keep my part of
the bargain, for no woman who has ever sought my aid has ever been
answered with a 'No!'"

Somewhat relieved at having made known her longing to Some One whom
she believed would understand and surely help, the young person went
through the dreary routine of boarding-house days more cheerfully, to
her mother's joy. And at night, when she lay tossing and trying to
sleep despite the scorching heat, she seemed to be reviewing the
thirteen years of her existence as if she were getting ready to
pigeon-hole the past, to make ready for a fuller future.

With clear distinctness she remembered having been told by her mother,
in the manner of old-fashioned tellers, that, "Once upon a time, in
the Canadian city of Toronto, in the year 1849, on the 17th of
March--the day of celebrating the birth of good old St. Patrick, in a
quiet house not far from the sound of the marching paraders, the
rioting of revelers and the blare of brass bands, a young person was
born." Memory carried on the story, as she lay there in the dark,
still hours of the night, and she repeated to herself the oft-told
tale of those few months she and her mother spent in the Canadian city
before they journeyed back to the United States, where in Cleveland
the mother tried many different kinds of occupations by which to
support the child and herself. It was a strange life the young person
remembered in those early days. She and her mother had to flit so
often--suddenly, noiselessly. Often she remembered being roused from a
sound sleep, sometimes being simply wrapped up without being dressed,
and carried through the dark to some other place of refuge. Then, too,
when other children walked in the streets or played, bare-headed or
only with hat on, she wore a tormenting and heavy veil over her face.
At an early age she began to notice that if a strange lady spoke to
her the mother seemed pleased, but if a man noticed her she looked
frightened, and hurried her away as fast as possible. At first this
was all a mystery to the child, but later she understood that the
great fear in her mother's eyes, and the hasty flights, were all to be
traced to a father who had no