SECTION 7.—ENQUIRY OFFICE FOR LOST PEOPLE

SECTION 7.—ENQUIRY OFFICE FOR LOST PEOPLE.

Perhaps nothing more vividly suggests the varied forms of broken-hearted misery in the great City than the statement that 18,000 people are lost in it every year, of whom 9,000 are never heard of any more, anyway in this world. What is true about London is, we suppose, true in about the same proportion of the rest of the country. Husbands, sons, daughters, and mothers are continually disappearing, and leaving no trace behind.

In such cases, where the relations are of some importance in the world, they may interest the police authorities sufficiently to make some enquiries in this country, which, however, are not often successful; or where they can afford to spend large sums of money, they can fall back upon the private detective, who will continue these enquiries, not only at home but abroad.

But where the relations of the missing individual are in humble circumstances, they are absolutely powerless, in nine cases out of ten, to effectually prosecute any search at all that is likely to be successful.

Take, for instance, a cottager in a village, whose daughter leaves for service in a big town or city. Shortly afterwards a letter arrives informing her parents of the satisfactory character of her place. The mistress is kind, the work easy, and she likes her fellow servants. She is going to chapel or church, and the family are pleased. Letters continue to arrive of the same purport, but, at length, they suddenly cease. Full of concern, the mother writes to know the reason, but no answer comes back, and after a time the letters are returned with "gone, no address," written on the envelope. The mother writes to the mistress, or the father journeys to the city, but no further information can be obtained beyond the fact that "the girl has conducted herself somewhat mysteriously of late; had ceased to be as careful at her work; had been noticed to be keeping company with some young man; had given notice and disappeared altogether."

Now, what can these poor people do? They apply to the police, but they can do nothing. Perhaps they ask the clergyman of the parish, who is equally helpless, and there is nothing for them but for the father to hang his head and the mother to cry her self to sleep—to long, and wait, and pray for information that perhaps never comes, and to fear the worst.

Now, our Enquiry Department supplies a remedy for this state of things. In such a case application would simply have to be made to the nearest Salvation Army Officer—probably in her own village, any way, in the nearest town—who would instruct the parents to write to the Chief Office in London, sending portraits and all particulars. Enquiries would at once be set on foot, which would very possibly end in the restoration of the girl.

The achievements of this Department, which has only been in operation for a short time, and that on a limited scale, as a branch of Rescue Work, have been marvellous. No more romantic stories can be found in the pages of our most imaginative writers than those it records. We give three or four illustrative cases of recent date.

Mrs. S., of New Town, Leeds, wrote to say that ROBERT R. left England in July 1889, for Canada to improve his position. He left a wife and four little children behind, and on leaving said that if he were successful out there he should send for them, but if not he should return.

As he was unsuccessful, he left Montreal in the Dominion Liner "Oregon," on October 30th, but except receiving a card from him ere he started, the wife and friends had heard no more of him from that day till the date they wrote us.

They had written to the "Dominion" Company, who replied that "he landed at Liverpool all right," so, thinking he had disappeared upon his arrival, they put the matter in the hands of the Liverpool Police, who, after having the case in hand for several weeks made the usual report —"Cannot be traced."

We at once commenced looking for some passenger who had come over by the same steamer, and after the lapse of a little time we succeeded in getting hold of one.

In our first interview with him we learned that Robert R. did not land at Liverpool, but when suffering from depression threw himself overboard three days after leaving America, and was drowned. We further elicited that upon his death the sailors rifled his clothes and boxes, and partitioned them.

We wrote the Company reporting this, and they promised to make enquiries and amends, but as too often happens, upon making report of the same to the family they took the matter into their own hands, dealt with the Company direct, and in all probability thereby lost a good sum in compensation which we should probably have obtained for them.