roving still possessed him, and erelong he shipped as an employee on
one of the large passenger steamers bound for Australia. Then, at the
repeated requests of many, I returned to Woodland, from which place I
eventually accepted a call to the rescue work in San Francisco. There I
made my home with Sister Kauffman, whose name and calling has already
been briefly mentioned. For a long time we worked together for the
inmates of The Home of Peace, and each Sunday morning at 9:30 o'clock
I, with other Christians, could be found at the county jail, No. 3,
adjacent to the Ingleside district and about three and one-half miles
distant from the city center. Of this branch of the work we will speak
hereafter.

The duties and the expenses of the San Francisco home were great; for
there was always a large family, most of whom, on coming, were
destitute of decent apparel, and, with scarcely an exception, all
needed physical treatment, some permanently, so that we toiled
incessantly either in the sewing-room, the sick-room, or the nursery,
where were several dear little babies. Who does not love a baby? You
can not imagine how attached we were to them, soon forgetting their
unfortunate advent, and doing what we could to instruct and aid their
untutored young mothers. The feeding of the family was alone often a
problem (I mean as to the source), so that we had to be very much in
the spirit of prayer.

Sometimes our Father would see fit to test us to the limit, for
instance: Shortly after my coming, the one in charge of food supplies
said, "Sister Kauffman, we are out of everything. There is only enough
for today, and perhaps tomorrow morning's breakfast." The worker whose
business it was to visit The Mission merchants for any donations of
food, etc. came home late that afternoon with but meager results for