he　dwellers　in　decent　homes　who　occupy　cushioned　pews　in　fashionable　churches　there　is　something　strange　and　quaint　in　the　language　they　hear　read　from　the　Bible；　language　which　habitually　refers　to　the　Devil　as　an　actual　personality；　and　to　the　struggle　against　sin　and　uncleanness　as　if　it　were　a　hand　to　hand　death　wrestle　with　the　legions　of　Hell。　　To　our　little　sisters　who　dwell　in　an　atmosphere　heavy　with　curses；　among　people　sodden　with　drink；　in　quarters　where　sin　and　uncleanness　are　universal；　all　these　Biblical　sayings　are　as　real　as　the　quotations　of　yesterday's　price　of　Consols　are　to　a　City　man。　　They　dwell　in　the　midst　of　Hell；　and　in　their　daily　warfare　with　a　hundred　devils　it　seems　incredible　to　them　that　anyone　can　doubt　the　existence　of　either　one　or　the　other。
  The　Slum　Sister　is　what　her　name　implies；　the　Sister　of　the　Slum。　They　go　forth　in　Apostolic　fashion；　two…and…two　living　in　a　couple　of　the　same　kind　of　dens　or　rooms　as　are　occupied　by　the　people　themselves；　differing　only　in　the　cleanliness　and　order；　and　the　few　articles　of　furniture　which　they　contain。　　Here　they　live　all　the　year　round；　visiting　the　sick；　looking　after　the　children；　showing　the　women　how　to　keep　themselves　and　their　homes　decent；　often　discharging　the　sick　mother's　duties　themselves；　cultivating　peace；　advocating　temperance；　counselling　in　temporalities；　and　ceaselessly　preaching　the　religion　of　Jesus　Christ　to　the　Outcasts　of　Society。
  I　do　not　like　to　speak　of　their　work。　　Words　fail　me；　and　what　I　say　is　so　unworthy　the　theme。　　　I　prefer　to　quote　two　descriptions　by　Journalists　who　have　seen　these　girls　at　work　in　the　field。　The　first　is　taken　from　a　long　article　which　Julia　Hayes　Percy　contributed　to　the　New　York　World；　describing　a　visit　paid　by　her　to　the　slum　quarters　of　the　Salvation　Army　in　Cherry　Hill　Alleys；　in　the　Whitechapel　of　New　York。
  Twenty…four　hours　in　the　slumsjust　a　night　and　a　day　yet　into　them　were　crowded　such　revelations　of　misery；　depravity；　and　degradation　as　having　once　been　gazed　upon　life　can　never　be　the　same　afterwards。　　Around　and　above　his　blighted　neighbourhood　flows　the　tide　of　active；　prosperous　life。　　Men　and　women　travel　past　in　street　cars　by　the　Elevated　Railroad　and　across　the　bridge；　and　take　no　thought　of　its　wretchedness；　of　the　criminals　bred　there；　and　of　the　disease　engendered　by　its　foulness。　　It　is　a　fearful　menace　to　the　public　health；　both　moral　and　physical；　yet　the　multitude　is　as　heedless　of　danger　as　the　peasant　who　makes　his　house　and　plants　green　vineyards　and　olives　above　Vesuvian　fires。　　We　are　almost　as　careless　and　quite　as　unknowing　as　we　pass　the　bridge　in　the　late　afternoon。　Our　immediate　destination　is　the　Salvation　Army　Barracks　in　Washington　Street；　and　we　are　going　finally　to　the　Salvation　Officerstwo　young　womenwho　have　been　dwelling　and　doing　a　noble　mission　work　for　months　in　one　of　the　worst　corners　of　New　York's　most　wretched　quarter。　These　Officers　are　not　living　under　the　aegis　of　the　Army；　however。　The　blue　bordered　flag　is　furled　out　of　sight；　the　uniforms　and　poke　bonnets　are　laid　away；　and　there　are　no　drums　or　tambourines。　〃The　banner　over　them　is　love〃　of　their　fellow…creatures　among　whom　they　dwell　upon　an　equal　plane　of　poverty；　wearing　no　better　clothes　than　the　rest；　eating　coarse　and　scanty　food；　and　sleeping　upon　hard　cots　or　upon　the　floor。　　Their　lives　are　consecrated　to　God's　service　among　the　poor　of　the　earth。　　One　is　a　woman　in　the　early　prime　of　vigorous　life；　the　other　a　girl　of　eighteen。　　The　elder　of　these　devoted　women　is　awaiting　us　at　the　barracks　to　be　our　guide　to　Slumdom。　　She　is　tall；　slender；　and　clad　in　a　coarse　brown　gown；　mended　with　patches。　　A　big　gingham　apron；　artistically　rent　in　several　places；　is　tied　about　her　waist。　　She　wears　on　old　plaid　woollen　shawl　and　an　ancient　brown　straw　hat。　　Her　dress　indicates　extreme　poverty；　her　face　denotes　perfect　peace。　　〃This　is　Em；〃　says　Mrs。　Ballington　Booth；　and　after　this　introduction　we　sally　forth。
  More　and　more　wretched　grows　the　district　as　we　penetrate　further　Em　pauses　before　a　dirty；　broken；　smoke…dimmed　window；　through　which　in　a　dingy　room　are　seen　a　party　of　roughs；　dark…looking　men；　drinking　and　squabbling　at　a　table。　　〃They　are　our　neighbours　in　the　front。〃　We　enter　the　hall…way　and　proceed　to　the　rear　room。　　It　is　tiny；　but　clean　and　warm。　　A　fire　burns　on　the　little　cracked　stove；　which　stands　up　bravely　on　three　legs；　with　a　brick　eking　out　its　support　at　the　fourth　corner。　　A　tin　lamp　stands　on　the　table；　half…a…dozen　chairs；　one　of　which　has　arms；　but　must　have　renounced　its　rockers　long　ago；　and　a　packing　box；　upon　which　we　deposit　our　shawls；　constitute　the　furniture。　　Opening　from　this　is　a　small　dark　bedroom；　with　one　cot　made　up　and　another　folded　against　the　wall。　　Against　a　door；　which　must　communicate　with　the　front　room；　in　which　we　saw　the　disagreeable…looking　men　sitting；　is　a　wooden　table　for　the　hand…basin。　A　small　trunk　and　a　barrel　of　clothing　complete　the　inventory。
  Em's　sister　in　the　slum　work　gives　us　a　sweet　shy　welcome。　　She　is　a　Swedish　girl；　with　the　fair　complexion　and　crisp；　bright　hair　peculiar　to　the　Scandinavian　blonde…type。　　Her　head　reminds　me　of　a　Grenze　that　hangs　in　the　Louvre；　with　its　low　knot　of　rippling　hair；　which　fluffs　out　from　her　brow　and　frames　a　dear　little　face　with　soft　childish　outlines；　a　nez　retrousse；　a　tiny　mouth；　like　a　crushed　pink　rose；　and　wistful　blue　eyes。　　This　girl　has　been　a　Salvationist　for　two　years。　　During　that　time　she　has　learned　to　speak；　read；　and　write　English；　while　she　has　constantly　laboured　among　the　poor　and　wretched。　The　house　where　we　find　ourselves　was　formerly　notorious　as　one　of　the　worst　in　the　Cherry　Hill　district。　　It　has　been　the　scene　of　some　memorable　crimes；　and　among　them　that　of　the　Chinaman　who　slew　his　Irish　wife；　after　the　manner　of　〃Jack　the　Ripper；〃　on　the　staircase　leading　to　the　second　floor。　　A　notable　change　has　taken　place　in　the　tenement　since　Mattie　and　Em　have　lived　there；　and　their　gentle　influence　is　making　itself　felt　in　the　neighbouring　houses　as　well。　It　is　nearly　eight　o'clock　when　we　sally　forth。　　Each　of　us　carries　a　handful　of　printed　slips　bearing　a　text　of　Scripture　and　a　few　words　of　warning　to　lead　the　better　life。
  〃These　furnish　an　excuse　for　entering　places　where　otherwise　we　could　not　go；〃　explains　Em。
  After　arranging　a　rendezvous；　we　separate。　　Mattie　and　Liz　go　off　in　one　direction；　and　Em　and　I　in　another。　　From　this　our　progress　seems　like　a　descent　into　Tartarus。　　Em　pauses　before　a　miserable…looking　saloon；　pushes　open　the　low；　swinging　door；　and　we　go　in。　It　is　a　low…ceiled　room；　dingy　with　dirt；　dim　with　the　smoke；　nauseating　with　the　fumes　of　sour　beer　and　vile　liquor。　　A　sloppy　bar　extends　along　one　side；　and　opposite　is　a　long　table；　with　indescribable　viands　littered　over　it；　interspersed　with　empty　glasses；　battered　hats；　and　cigar　stumps。　　A　motley　crowd　of　men　and　women　jostle　in　the　narrow　space。　　Em　speaks　to　the　soberest　looking　of　the　lot。　　He　listens　to　her　words；　others　crowd　about。　　Many　accept　the　slips　we　offer；　and　gradually　as　the　throng　separates　to　make　way；　we　gain　the　further　end　of　the　apartment。　　Em's　serious；　sweet；　saint…like　face　I　follow　like　a　star。　　All　sense　of　fear　slips　from　me；　and　a　great　pity　fills　my　soul　as　I　look　upon　the　various　types　of　wretchedness。
  As　the　night　wears　on；　the　whole　apartment　seems　to　wake　up。　Every　house　is　alight；　the　narrow　sidewalks　and　filthy　streets　are　full　of　people。　　Miserable　little　children；　with　sin…stamped　faces；　dart　about　like　rats；　little　ones　who　ought　to　be　in　their　cribs　shift　for　themselves；　and　sleep　on　cellar　doors　and　areas；　and　under　carts；　a　few　vendors　are　abroad　with　their　wares；　but　the　most　of　the　traffic　going　on　is　of　a　different　description。　　Along　Water　Street　are　women　conspicuously　dressed　in　gaudy　colours。　　Their　heavily…painted　faces　are　bloated　or　pinched；　they　shiver　in　the　raw　night　air。　　Liz　speaks　to　one；　who　replies　that　she　would　like　to　talk；　but　dare　not；　and　as　she　says　this　an　old　hag　comes　to　the　door　and　cries：　〃Get　along；　don't　hinder　her　work！　　During　the　evening　a　man　to　whom　Em　has　been　talking　has　told　her：　〃You　ought　to　join　the　Salvation　Army；　they　are　the　only　good　women　who；　bother　us　down　here。　　I　don't　want　to　lead　that　sort　of　life；　but　I　must　go　where　it　is　light　and　warm　and　clean　after　working　all　day；　and　there　isn't　any　place　but　this　to　come　to〃　exclaimed　the　man。　　〃You　will　appreciate　the　plea　to…morrow　when　you　see　how　the　people　live；〃　Em　says；　as　we　turn　our　steps　toward　the　tenement　room；　which　seems　like　an　oasis　of　peace　and　purity　after　the　howling　desert　we　have　been　wandering　in。　　Em　and　Mattie　brew　some　oatmeal　gruel；　and　being　chilled　and　faint　we　enjoyed　a　cup　of　it。　Liz　and　I　share　a　cot　in　the　outer　room。　　We　are　just　going　to　sleep　when　agonised　cries　ring　out　through　the　night；　then　the　tones　of　a　woman's　voice　pleading　pitifully　reach　our　ears。　　We　are　unable　to　distinguish　her　words；　but　the　sound　is　heart…rending。　　It　comes　from　one　of　those　dreadful　Water　Street　houses；　and　we　all　feel　that　a　tragedy　is　taking　place。　　There　is　a　sound　of　crashing　blows　and　then　silence。
  It　is　custo