But she
BELIEVED, and she FELT what she said. Soon the tears ran over
from her upturned eyes, and she could speak no more.
Then a man began--thickset, earnest, with a strong Scotch accent.
He talked to the men about him in a rough way that appealed to
them. ----
As the crowd stood listening many passed. A few were
contemptuous; the majority were indifferent.
If you see these workers you ask perhaps:
"What good do they do?"
That is the question that may be asked of every man that ever
lived, and only One can answer it.
The thin, white-faced girl, playing, singing and PREACHING in the
dirty street, does this:
She touches the heart of a half-drunken man. Turning from the
saloon door he goes home, and takes to his wife and children as
much of his wages as is left, a feeling of repentance, good
resolutions.
Her tears are answered by the tears of miserable girls and women
who sink back into the shadow as they watch her pure face.
Through them she helps to undo the horrible, soul-destroying work
of brutal civilization. ----
Mysteriously, diversely, the work of the world is done.
The storm, endless in its power, washes down the mountain-tops to
fertilize the valley.
The tiny earthworm works in darkness, crumbling up its little
patch of earth to make it fit food for plants.
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