’We arrived on Saturday evening, in such resplendent moonlight, that we might have mistaken the prison for a palace, had we not known but too well what those massive walls contained.

’Sunday morning we attended service in the chapel of the male convicts.  They listened with earnest attention, and many were moved to tears.  I never felt such sympathy with an audience as when, at the words “Men and brethren,” that sea of faces, marked with the scars of every ill, were upturned, and the shell of brutality burst apart at the touch of love.  I knew that at least heavenly truth would not be kept out by self-complacence and dependence on good appearances.

’After twelve at noon, all are confined in their cells, that the keepers may have rest from their weekly fatigue.  But I was allowed to have some of the women out to talk with, and the interview was very pleasant.  They showed the natural aptitude of the sex for refinement.  These women were among the so-called worst, and all from the lowest haunts of vice.  Yet nothing could have been more decorous than their conduct, while it was also frank; and they showed a sensibility and sense of propriety, which would not have disgraced any society.  All passed, indeed, much as in one of my Boston classes.  I told them I was writing about Woman; and, as my path had been a favored one, I wanted to gain information from those who had been tempted and afflicted.  They seemed to reply in the same spirit in which I asked.  Several, however, expressed a wish to see me alone, as they could then say all, which they could not bear to before one another.  I shall go there again, and take time for this.  It is very gratifying to see the influence these few months of gentle and intelligent treatment have had upon these women; indeed, it is wonderful.’

So much were her sympathies awakened by this visit, that she rejoiced in the opportunity, soon after offered, of passing Christmas with these outcasts, and gladly consented to address the women in their chapel.  “There was,” says one present, “a most touching tenderness, blended with dignity, in her air and tone, as, seated in the desk, she looked round upon her fallen sisters, and begun:  ’To me the pleasant office has been given, of ‘wishing you a happy Christmas.’  A simultaneous movement of obeisance rippled over the audience, with a murmured ‘Thank you;’ and a smile was spread upon those sad countenances, like sunrise sparkling on a pool.”  A few words from this discourse,—­which was extemporaneous, but of which she afterward made an imperfect record,—­will show the temper in which she spoke:—­