The organ plays, the morning service is read by the chaplain; the prisoners sing, and as they sing there is such a volume of sound that we cannot fail to be touched with it.
We enter the pulpit, and as we stand and look down upon that sea of upturned faces, we see a sight that is not likely to be forgotten.
There, in front of us, right underneath the pulpit, are rows of young men under twenty-two years of age; we look at them; they are all clad in khaki, and we take a mental sketch of them.
One or two among them are finely developed young men, but the great bulk we see are small in stature and weak in body.

Some of them have a hopeless expression of countenance that tells us of moral and mental weakness.
We note that most of them can have had but little chance in life, and that their physical or mental infirmities come from no fault of their own.

They have all been to school; they have started in life, if it can be called starting, as errand boys, paper sellers in the streets, or as street merchants of some description.

They have grown into early manhood, but they have not increased in wisdom or stature.

They have learned no occupation, trade or handicraft; they have passed from school age to early manhood without discipline, decent homes or technical training.
When at liberty their homes are lodging-houses or even less desirable places.