Where will they be in another year--those ninety-three thousand and more
who came to us in nineteen hundred twelve? What an array of factories
and kitchens, what rows of dingy tenements, the moving picture film
could reveal to us if it followed these handicapped girls! It does not
follow them--they come in over the blue waters of the bay, look with
shining eyes at Liberty with her promise of fulfilment of all the
heart's desires, they sit in the long rows of benches at Ellis Island,
pass through the gate and are gone, the majority to be lost in the mass
that struggles for a mere livelihood--just the chance to keep on living.

What if some summer morning, or in the dim twilight of a bitter winter
day, a miracle should be wrought and the handicapped should be lifted so
that girlhood might be free to work out the realization of its dreams!
Many have prayed for such a miracle, some have hoped for it--but it
will not come. There will be no miracle suddenly wrought for men to gaze
upon in wonder and after a time forget. The release of the handicapped
can come only through man's God-inspired effort on behalf of his brother
man. In removing his brother's handicap he will remove his own and both
shall be free to live. But it cannot be done in a moment. Effort is
slow. It cannot be done by any organization, or church, or creed or
individual. It must be done by the public conscience. Educating the
public conscience is a long process and America is in the midst of that
process now. There are two qualifications without which the educator of
the public conscience cannot succeed--one is patience, the other
persistence. All educators of the public sense of right, like Jane
Addams, have had these two characteristics in marked degree, and all
churches, creeds and organizations which have had local success in
removing local handicaps have shown the ability to wait and the power to
persevere despite every opposition.