accord to Loretta and holds out his hand with the tax: she takes a dollar per word from the director and the senior employee, and half a dollar from the small workman; and at the day's end Loretta opens the box and sends what is in it to the society, thanking them all for their gifts. She is a brilliant star there, but she thinks of the wretched women and suffers for them; so she thinks and invents and hits two birds with one stone: no cursing in the studio — and whoever does it pays it as a tax spent in the cause of goodness and charity.

Mathilda Wrede was the first girl to think of visiting the impris-oned and refining their morals — a young, beautiful girl, daughter of the governor of Finland. They feared for her the coarseness of the prisoners, but she insists, and will accept nothing less than to be an angel who guides and directs, reads and instructs, for 44 years. She was the idol of the prisoners. One of them gave her a pen, which she used for 25 years, and with it he wrote to her: 'I made you this pen from an old broom that had gone on cleaning the prison rooms for eighteen years; write to us with it — to us criminals — the many letters that clean our brains and purify our hearts of the filth of crime.'

And now — I have asked myself a thousand times: how does there come to be in these people such a noble element? They see those around them amusing themselves and living for themselves, and yet they suffer and live for others? I wondered, and then the answer came to me from a young friend in America, who says: do not thank me for anything I do; I merely deny my body some of its needs so as to secure for my soul its greatest pleasure, which is helping my brothers among the wretched. For there are bodies, and there are souls: some people live by their bodies and for them, thinking of nothing but what these bodies shall eat, what they shall wear, and what pleasure they crave... and some people live by their souls, thinking: what shall I do for those around me, and how shall I lighten misery, and what ideas shall I devise to help toward that — and so on...

These people who live by their

souls — or whose souls have grown so transparent that through people's closed houses they saw the misery and the tears — how did these souls grow transparent?.. Is it heredity? It may be so, for the grandchildren of Rockefeller, greatest of philanthropists, walk in their grandfathers' footsteps. And it may not be, for from the onion sprouts the narcissus, as the poet said. Is it, then, upbringing — that every child who grows in the lap of a gentle mother, who turns his eyes toward the regions of misery and directs his thinking toward high ideals, is bound to become a true human being? Or is it from the reckoning of one's own soul, and a person's endeavor to be something useful in life? I believe this.

People today do not live — they run, and this running leaves them not a minute to think of those

around them, or to let their souls live and think. I was taken with the saying of a great scholar who was talking with a colleague of his. The colleague said: I work eight hours a day, then I study German an hour, and English an hour, and philosophy an hour. And the scholar colleague said: and when do you find yourself?

When do we find ourselves? I believe we need to find our own souls, so as to become like these people I have mentioned. In the depths of every creature among us there is a measure of radium that is bound to shine, if only we clear away the coal and the dust from it and from around it; and in the depths of each of us there is a sensitive chord — if we tried to seek it out and play upon it, the world would play with us the melodies of mercy and humanity.

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