his word.

Next we visited the rescue home, where we were received with open arms
by dear Sister Kauffman. After having a precious time with her family
and partaking of her hospitality, we went down-town again. There we
spent a glorious evening at a street-meeting. Callie testified.
Afterward we went to the Emmanuel Gospel Mission, where she gave a
message from that most precious parable, "The Prodigal Son." When the
invitation was given, the altar filled with seekers, most of whom went
from there with victory in their souls.

We were the guests of the mission superintendent and family over night.
Callie was my room-mate. Then it was that I saw what the hypodermic
needle had done for her. _There was no place_ (_save down her spine_)
_that was not marked_, and no wonder, she had been a morphine slave for
twenty-seven years--its abject slave.

The next morning, as soon as we could politely leave our kind host and
family, we returned to that 'dope' den, Callie to prepare the two
young men, I to take charge of the girl, and all of us to return on an
early train to San Jose. Alas! my girl weakened, and nothing would
induce her to part with her drug; but the men went with Callie to an
adjacent barber-shop for baths, hair-cutting, and shaving. During these
operations Callie and I quickly went to the Salvation Army's secondhand
shop, where Callie procured the men complete outfits of respectable
clothing. What a transformation when we beheld them again! Then we took
them to breakfast; but they ate sparingly, and were not satisfied until
they had taken some of their favorite drug.

Two and a half hours later Callie and I were it home once more, and our