hairman of the I.P.H.,* and
he will embody his message in his introductory remarks.

* There is no clew to the name of the organization for which
these initials stand.

"May I bring you to hear him? Of course, he is foredoomed to futility.
It will break your heart--it will break his; but for you it will be an
excellent object lesson. You know, dear heart, how proud I am because
you love me. And because of that I want you to know my fullest value, I
want to redeem, in your eyes, some small measure of my unworthiness.
And so it is that my pride desires that you shall know my thinking is
correct and right. My views are harsh; the futility of so noble a soul
as the Bishop will show you the compulsion for such harshness. So come
to-night. Sad though this night's happening will be, I feel that it will
but draw you more closely to me."

The I.P.H. held its convention that night in San Francisco.* This
convention had been called to consider public immorality and the remedy
for it. Bishop Morehouse presided. He was very nervous as he sat on the
platform, and I could see the high tension he was under. By his side
were Bishop Dickinson; H. H. Jones, the head of the ethical department
in the University of California; Mrs. W. W. Hurd, the great charity
organizer; Philip Ward, the equally great philanthropist; and several
lesser luminaries in the field of morality and charity. Bishop Morehouse
arose and abruptly began:

* It took but a few minutes to cross by ferry from Berkeley
to San Francisco. These, and the other bay cities,
practically composed one community.

"I was in my brougham, driving through the streets. It was night-time.
Now and then I looked through the carriage windows, and suddenly my eyes
seemed to be opened, and I saw things as they really are. At first I
covered my eyes with my hands to shut out the awful sight, and then, in
the darkness, the question came to me: What is to be done? What is to be
done? A little later the question came to me in another way: What would
the Master do? And with the question a great light seemed to fill
the place, and I saw my duty sun-clear, as Saul saw his on the way to
Damascus.

"I stopped the carriage, got out, and, after a few minutes'
conversation, persuaded two of the public women to get into the brougham
with me. If Jesus was right, then these two unfortunates were my
sisters, and the only hope of their purification was in my affection and
ten