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[Illustration: _MOTHER WHEATON_]




  PRISONS AND PRAYER

  OR

  A LABOR OF LOVE

  BY

  ELIZABETH R. WHEATON

  Prison Evangelist

  [Illustration: decoration]

  An account of nearly Twenty-two Years of Gospel Work, seeking
  the lost, in Prisons, Reformatories, Stockades, Rescue
  Homes, Saloons and Dives, and on the
  Streets, Railway Trains, etc.

  [Illustration: decoration]

  "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall
  doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with
  him." Psa. 126:6.

  [Illustration: decoration]

  "For I was an hungered and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty, and ye gave
  me drink; I was a stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye
  clothed me; I was sick, and ye visited me; I
  was IN PRISON, and ye came unto
  me."--Matthew 25: 35, 36.

  [Illustration: decoration]

  CHAS. M. KELLEY
  Tabor, Iowa.




  COPYRIGHT, 1906,

  BY
  CHAS. M. KELLEY.




DEDICATION.


  To the
  RAILROAD OFFICIALS who have so generously and cheerfully provided
  me transportation; their EMPLOYEES, whose kindness has so many
  times lightened the weariness of my journeys; the STATE and
  PRISON OFFICIALS, who have heartily welcomed me and set before
  me open doors; the THOUSANDS OF PRISONERS AND
  OTHERS who have shown by word and deed their appreciation
  of my efforts to help them to a better life; to the
  many who have in any way ministered to my necessities
  or offered an encouraging word by the way,
  and to my SPIRITUAL CHILDREN, these pages are
  cheerfully inscribed by
  THE AUTHOR.


THE HARVEST TIME.

    The seed I have scattered in springtime with weeping,
      And watered with tears and with dews from on high,
    Another may shout while the harvester's reaping,
      Shall gather my grain in the sweet by and by.

    CHORUS--

      Over and over, yes, deeper and deeper,
        My heart is pierced through with life's sorrowing cry,
      But the tears of the sower and the songs of the reaper
        Shall mingle together in joy by and by;
      By and by, by and by, by and by, by and by,
        Yes the tears of the sower and the songs of the reaper
      Shall mingle together in joy by and by.

    Another may reap what in springtime I've planted,
      Another rejoice in the fruit of my pain,
    Not knowing my tears when in summer I fainted,
      While toiling, sad-hearted, in sunshine and rain.

    The thorns will have choked and the summer sun blasted
      The most of the seed which in springtime I've sown,
    But the Lord who has watched while my weary toil lasted
      Will give me a harvest for what I have done.

                                                  --W. A. SPENCER

Words and music copyright, John J. Hood, Philadelphia.




PREFACE.


DEAR READER: Over twenty years have passed since God called and
commissioned me to go to those that were bound. Within five years from
the time I entered upon the work, I had been enabled to preach the
gospel in every state and territory and had held meetings in nearly
every state-prison in the United States and in the prisons in Canada
and Mexico. My first trip to Europe was made in 1890. I have not only
held meetings in prison, but have endeavored to "preach the gospel to
every creature"--to those in authority, governors, prison and railroad
officials, and trainmen, as well as to those in churches, missions,
prisons, hospitals, alms-houses, dives, brothels, saloons and the
slums. In all places God has fulfilled His promise to be with me and
has given me evidence that my labor was not in vain in Him.

When I was made to feel that the Lord required me to write of the
victories He had wrought and of the work yet waiting to be done I was
amazed and am still, though it is more than ten years since God first
told me to write for Him. Early left an orphan, my childhood was spent
in the country where I had to walk two miles across the fields and
through deep snows in order to get to school, and my life-work has
been crippled by my lack of education. How then can I write? Yet the
command of the Lord has been upon me and the cry of the needy has rung
in my ears. Words cannot describe the cruel wrongs, the awful
injustice, the scenes of desolation and degradation that have come to
my knowledge. Much has been done, much is being done; and yet, O how
much still needs to be done, in behalf of those in prison! Wrongs
that are indescribable still cry to God for vengeance in this our own
land. Cruelties that are beyond the power of language to describe
_still exist_, and the cry of the oppressed comes up to the ear of Him
who has declared "Vengeance is mine, I will repay."

One reason I have for writing, is to show the great need of Holy Ghost
workers--those whose hearts God has touched--to carry the gospel to
those whose lives are darkened, blighted and blasted, and tell them of
a mighty deliverance from the bondage of sin, and of freedom in
Christ.

Reader, if you could see the many inside prison walls going insane,
you would not wonder that, by the grace of God, I am determined to
prosecute my work as I have never done before, to save these poor
prisoners from despair, and to do with my might what my hands find to
do.

I have kept no diary or journal and nearly all of ten years'
correspondence was destroyed at one time by fire. Hence I have written
largely from memory, and without any attempt to give an orderly and
connected account of my work. I have endeavored to put before you,
dear reader, such glimpses of the work and the field as would fairly
illustrate that which has been done and that which needs to be done.

I ask for my imperfect work your kind consideration, and trust that
you will overlook my many mistakes and pray God's blessing to rest
upon the effort; and if I can only awaken in your hearts a deeper
compassion for lost girls and fallen men and the heart-broken friends
who mourn the loss of loved ones, I shall not have written in vain.

In the selection, arrangement and preparation of manuscript, I have
been assisted by several friends who have been much interested in the
work, whose labor and patience can only be rewarded by Him whom we
serve. Among these are Brother and Sister Shaw, of Chicago, who have
so kindly given the introduction to the work, having full knowledge of
its contents and ability to judge of its merits. I will also mention
Brother and Sister Kelley, of Tabor, Iowa, who have rendered valuable
assistance.

With many prayers and tears I send this work forth, hoping it may find
a place on your book-shelf and a corner in your heart, and that you
and I, dear reader, may meet where there are no prison walls, iron
bars, nor breaking hearts. And may there be gathered there with us at
Jesus' feet many of those whom we are striving to comfort and save,
while together we crown our Savior Lord of all, and through an endless
eternity worship Him who gave His life a ransom for the lost--"because
He loved them so."

                                                "MOTHER WHEATON."




INTRODUCTION.


This world is, to a large extent, a great prison house. Nearly all of
its inhabitants are prisoners surrounded by walls of sin and darkness.
Many are bound down by the curse of rum, others by the besetting sins
of lust, unholy temper, envy, revenge, malice, hatred, jealousy,
prejudice, pride, covetousness, or selfishness resulting from a carnal
mind. Out of the vast multitudes that are led captive by the devil at
his will, a few that have violated human law have been sentenced to
various prisons and reformatories. This book has much to say about the
men and women behind prison walls. It records the sad story of many
prisoners in a way that very few can read without being moved to tears
and that will awaken sympathy in the hardest hearts. It also tells of
the work of God among prisoners both in this and other countries. It
records some of the brightest of Christian experiences on record,
showing how many prisoners that have been slaves to worse than human
law and have lived in greater darkness than in the prison dungeon,
have been made free by being translated into the light that outshines
the noonday sun, and how they have been enabled to live noble,
Christian lives behind the bars.

We are well acquainted with the author, having known her for several
years and having had the privilege of entertaining her in our home
more or less during that time. This acquaintance has enabled us to
know something of the burden that rests upon her soul for prisoners.
She has doubtless spent more time in the work, visited more prisons
and traveled farther than any other living prison worker. She has
visited practically all of the prisons of the United States and
Canada and most of them many times, and twice she has crossed the sea.
Her mission has been a mission of loving service, with but little
financial reward. But the Master who laid this work upon her heart has
given her rich reward for all her toil and privation and suffering,
for many have been converted through her instrumentality. Some have
gone to their reward. Many others, both in and out of prison, are
living honest, useful lives.

Had this work been written only for the hasty reader who has but a few
hours at the most to give, much that it contains might better have
been omitted; but such as these can easily select from its pages that
which is most to their liking, while those who are deeply interested
in the work of soul-saving, as well as the prisoner whose spare hours
drag heavily and slowly, will here find food for study and
encouragement that will repay for many days of careful reading.

In many respects, such a work as is here represented has never been
done by any other person. For these hundreds of pages give but a few
glimpses, as it were, of the work "Mother Wheaton" has done. We have
assisted her in gleaning from the many hundreds of letters still in
her possession (though much of her correspondence was destroyed by
fire) and in arranging and preparing matter for publication. We have
listened as with eyes filled with tears she has told us of the needs
of the work, and with every day thus spent we have become more deeply
interested in the work to which her life has been given. In a memorial
service it was said of the late Bishop William Taylor: "He was not an
organizer nor an administrator; not a statesman, in the ordinary use
of those terms. He was rather a great religious pioneer. He blazed
pathways through unknown moral wilds, and left the work of
organization mainly to those who might follow after." Such, in her
field of labor, has largely been the work of Mother Wheaton.

No place has been far enough away, no stockade hard enough to reach,
no day warm enough or cold enough or stormy enough, no prison official
or stockade captain sufficiently abusive, to discourage her when she
felt that the Master bade her go forward.

With a burning love for all the sinful and all the needy, she has gone
from north to south and from east to west, seeking the lost as one
seeks for hidden treasure. Through nights of weariness and days of
toil she has sought them and loved them and wept over them, man or
woman or child, as a mother weeps over and loves her own. She has
borne their burdens and shared their sorrows--ever bringing to them
the cheering word, the testimony or inspiring song, the faithful
warning, the earnest prayer, the plain gospel message, the hearty
hand-clasp, the loving "God bless you."

We believe and pray that these pages may be greatly used of God to
reach thousands of hearts and stir up many to carry forward the work
so dear to her, when "Mother Wheaton" has crossed over to meet those
that are waiting to welcome her on the other side.

                 Yours, in Jesus' love,
                                                    ETTA E. SHAW.
                                                    S. B. SHAW.

  Chicago, Ill., 1906.




CONTENTS.


  CHAPTER I.

  BIOGRAPHY AND CALL TO THE WORK.

  Birth--Left an Orphan--Conversion--Marriage--Sorrow--
  Sanctification--Call to Prison Work--Family Reunion--Sketch
  of My Life by My Brother                                          23


  CHAPTER II.

  LETTER TO MY PRISON CHILDREN.

  My Limited Education--Disappointments--A Friend in Jesus          38


  CHAPTER III.

  A PLEA FOR THE PRISONER.

  In the Shadow of the Wall (poem)--Letters to Prison Officers--
  Worth While (poem)--Prejudice--A Look into the Cell--Insane
  Prisoners--All Prisoners Not Criminal--Prepared to Die            43


  CHAPTER IV.

  A BRIEF PEN PICTURE OF PRISON LIFE.

  The Buildings--Entrance--Chapel and Dining-room--Chapel
  Service--The Cell-house--Workshops--Hospital                      59


  CHAPTER V.

  LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION AND KIND WORDS FROM GOVERNORS, PRISON
  OFFICIALS, ETC.

  From Governors--Prison Wardens--Chaplains                         67


  CHAPTER VI.

  SOME OF MY PRISON BOYS.

  A Prisoner's Conversion as Shown by His Letters--A Talented
  Young Man--Under Death Sentence--Commuted--Finally Pardoned--
  Letters--Sentenced for Life--His Letters--Faithful Inside and
  Outside of Prison Walls                                           87


  CHAPTER VII.

  LETTERS FROM CO-WORKERS AND MY PRISON GIRLS.

  Letters from Sister Co-workers--From My Prison-bound Girls       117


  CHAPTER VIII.

  INCIDENTS IN MY PRISON WORK.

  Letter from the Prisoners at Chester, Ill.--Extract of Chaplain's
  Report--Suicide of a Prisoner--"I Have no Friends"--Letters
  from Chaplain Starr--A Way Opened in Answer to Prayer--A Letter
  from a Governor--A Woman Converted and Healed--A Change
  Wrought--A Chaplain in My Audience--Impressed to Tarry--
  Encouragement by the Way--Cruel Neglect--Another Suicide--Just
  Out of Prison--Dying in Prison--Does It Pay?--Saved and Preaching
  the Gospel--In Solitary Confinement--Crape on the Door--In a
  Police Station--Burned in His Cell--The Innocent in Bonds--
  Confessed Her Guilt--Under Sentence of Death--"The Religion
  Mother Had"                                                      135


  CHAPTER IX.

  CONVERSION OF DESPERATE PRISONERS PREVENTS A TERRIBLE MUTINY.

  Welcomed in Prison--An After-Service--Plan of the Mutiny--Havoc
  of Sin--Letters                                                  161


  CHAPTER X.

  REMARKABLE CONVERSION AND EXPERIENCE OF GEO. H. COLGROVE.

  His Own Story--Infidel Literature--Burglary and Murder--Life
  Sentence--Conversion--Study of the Scriptures--Bible Class
  Teacher--An Enemy Kindly Treated--A Pardon Refused--Second
  Effort to Secure a Pardon--Letters--Final Illness and Triumphant
  Death                                                            169


  CHAPTER XI.

  WORK IN STOCKADES AND PRISON CAMPS IN SOUTHERN STATES.

  Race Question--Letters of Introduction and Recommendation--A
  Stockade--Letter to a Governor--Reply of Prison Manager--Plea
  for Women Convicts--Bloodhounds--Coal Mines--A Touching
  Incident--First Meeting in a Prison Camp--Ride on Engine of
  a Coal Train--First Railroad Pass--Ride on a Mule                187


  CHAPTER XII.

  STOCKADES AND PRISON CAMPS CONTINUED.

  Novel Conveyances--Assisting a Colored Minister--Through
  Danger Alone--Prostrate Among Prisoners--A Meeting at Day
  Dawn--Helping to Bury a Prisoner--Wreck of a Coal Train--Sugar
  Camps--Ride in a Cart--In a Gambling Saloon--Condition of
  Convicts--Unjustly Condemned--Need of Reform                     212


  CHAPTER XIII.

  WORK IN FT. MADISON, IOWA, AND SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO.

  My First Effort for Service in a Prison--Kindness of Officers
  and Men--Letters from Officials--Work in Santa Fe, N. Mex.--
  Three Christian Men Pardoned--A Forty Years' Sentence--Kind
  Words from Governor and Superintendent                           241


  CHAPTER XIV.

  GONE HOME FROM THE SCAFFOLD.

  Special Mission to Doomed Men--Indifferent but Finally
  Converted--Letters--Mother's Prayers--Claimed to Be Innocent--
  Hardened in Crime--Ten Men under Death Sentence--Conversion
  of a Jewish Boy--Mysteriously Guided--In Long Expectation--
  Sentence Commuted--A Man Deceived--Interceded for a Boy--Went to
  the Scaffold Singing--A Prominent Official--Recent Cases         254


  CHAPTER XV.

  WORK IN CHURCHES AND MISSIONS.

  Provided with Food in Answer to Prayer--A Great Revival--A
  Man Saved from Suicide--Letters from Pastors and Others--Church
  of the Redeemer in Baltimore--Successful Meetings--Young
  Man Called to the Ministry--A Colored Woman Saved and
  Preaching-- Incidents--Saved by a Hymn                           294


  CHAPTER XVI.

  PREACHING THE GOSPEL ON RAILWAY TRAINS.

  Accidental Death of My Nephew--My First Trip by Rail--Experience
  of a Railroad Man--Transportation--A Kind Conductor--Interesting
  Services--Train Saved from Wreck--A Train in Danger--Impressed
  to Leave the Train--Helped to Care for a Wounded
  Man--Conductor's "God Bless You"--A Woman's Faith Encouraged--
  Riding in a Parlor Car--Favor to the Railroad Company            313


  CHAPTER XVII.

  STREET AND OPEN AIR.

  Poem--Permits to Hold Street Meetings--From a Missionary--My
  First Street Meeting--A Wonderful Conversion--Became a
  Preacher--The Blind Encouraged--Forbidden to Preach on the
  Street--Thought They Saw a Ghost--Hurt by a Saloonkeeper--Warned
  to Leave the City--In Jail                                       328


  RESCUE WORK.

  "A Mother's Plea" (poem)--A Plea for our Sisters--Drunken
  Women and Men--Assaulted in a Dive--Attempts Suicide--A Girl
  Saved--A Girl Rejected at a Rescue Home--Neglected by the
  Churches--Visits to Hospitals--Kind Tributes--The Prodigal
  Daughter (poem)                                                  349


  CHAPTER XIX.

  WORK IN CANADA AND MEXICO.

  Street Meetings in Hamilton--In London, Ontario--A Girl
  Rescued--In Kingston--Stoned in Quebec--Victory in Toronto--
  In Victoria, B. C.--Work in Mexico--A Bull Fight--Wept with
  Condemned Men--Attacked by a Fierce Dog--Ministered to a
  Sufferer                                                         365


  CHAPTER XX.

  ACROSS THE SEA.

  On the Ocean--In a Foreign Land--Preaching in Glasgow--My
  Life in Danger--A Song Stops a Row--Arrested for Singing--
  Tumult in a Dive--Mob of Drunken Women--Letter from
  America--In Paisley--Return to America--Second Visit to
  Europe--Experiences in London--Safe Return to America--
  Letter from Scotland                                             372


  CHAPTER XXI.

  TRAVEL AND TOIL.

  Two Nights' Service--One Weeks' Work--A Profitable Trip--Six
  Weeks' Service--Recent Work--Another Trip                        395


  CHAPTER XXII.

  LETTERS FROM PRISONERS.                                          431


  CHAPTER XXIII.

  KIND WORDS FROM FRIENDS.

  From H. L. Hastings--Mrs. H. L. Hastings--E. E. Byrum,
  Author and Editor--Mother of a Prisoner--Prisoner's
  Daughter--An Editor--Ex-Prisoner--Miscellaneous                  477


  CHAPTER XXIV.

  SKETCHES FROM PRESS REPORTS.                                     491


  CHAPTER XXV.

  FURNISHED UNTO EVERY GOOD WORK.

  "Who Will Man the Life Boat?" (poem)--Adaptation Needed--The
  Masses Not Reached--My Boy in India--Preaching the Gospel
  in the Pesthouse--How the Lord Provides--Miscellaneous
  Incidents                                                        530


  CHAPTER XXVI.

  SELECTIONS FROM MY SCRAPBOOK.

  Author of Flower Mission Day--Flower Day at the Prison--Lines
  by a Prisoner--Take This Message to My Mother--Not Lonely
  Now--Jesus Is Looking On--How God Calls Missionaries Out of
  Prison Cells--Outside the Prison Walls--If We Knew--Little
  Graves--The Mother's Warning--Harry's Remorse--
  Twenty-Thirty-Four--His Mother's Song--Perfect Peace--Sweet
  Revenge--No Telephone in Heaven--A True Hero--Perfect Through
  Faith--The Kid--Charged with Murder--Mother's Face--Only
  Sixteen--The Dress Question                                      547

  SONGS.

  1. "Life's Railway to Heaven."
  2. "Meet Me There."
  3. "God Bless My Boy."
  4. "The Great Judgment Morning."
  5. "My Name in Mother's Prayer."
  6. "Over There."
  7. "This Way."
  8. "She's More to Be Pitied."
  9. "Some Mother's Child."
  10. "Tell My Dear Old Mother."
  11. "When the Death-bell Shall Toll."
  12. "The End of the Way."


  APPENDIX.                                                        596

  The Personnel of Prison Management. By Warden C. E. Haddox.
  Meditations of a Prisoner.
  Discourse on "The Agony in the Garden." By a Prisoner.
  Directory of Prisons and Reformatories.


  ILLUSTRATIONS.

  Frontispiece
  Ohio State Prison                                                 27
  Family Group                                                      34
  John Ryder                                                        34
  Giving the Boys Counsel                                           42
  With Insane Prisoners                                             52
  Prisoners Marching                                                58
  Prison Chapel and Dining Room                                     60
  Corridor in Cell House                                            62
  New Federal Prison at Ft. Leavenworth, Kan.                       66
  The Old Tombs, New Tombs, New York                                80
  Personal Work                                                     86
  Administration Building, Mitchelville, Iowa                      115
  Campus and Play-ground, Girls' Industrial School, Mitchelville,
        Ia.                                                        116
  A Chaplain's Residence                                           118
  Women's Prison, Allegheny, Pa.                                   121
  Group of Girls in an Industrial School                           132
  Southern Illinois State Prison at Chester                        134
  Interior of Chapel, Dining Apartment, and Row of Cells,
        Chester, Ill.                                              160
  Geo. H. Colgrove                                                 169
  Smelter and Work Shops, Chester, Ill.                            186
  Woman Convict at Work in the Field                               195
  Convicts Getting Out Coal                                        198
  Prison at Santa Fe, N. Mex.                                      240
  Church of the Redeemer, Baltimore, Md.                           303
  A Railroad Engine                                                312
  Miss Josephine Cowgill                                           329
  Mother Prindle                                                   361
  State Prison, Joliet, Ill.                                       394
  Prison at Deer Lodge, Mont.                                      397
  Criminal Insane Hospital, Chester, Ill.                          408
  Prison at Huntsville, Tex.                                       410
  Group of Delegates at Prison Congress, 1904                      414
  Industrial Reform School, Hutchinson, Kan.                       416
  Industrial School, Whittier, Cal.                                418
  Prisons at Jackson, Mich., Deer Lodge, Mont., and Folsom, Cal.   430
  A Ward in Prison Hospital                                        445
  Kitchen and Dining Room                                          455
  Drug Department in Prison Hospital                               475
  Mother Wheaton                                                   490
  Ruthena, India Famine Boy                                        535
  State Prison, Anamosa, Iowa                                      546




      "Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer
    Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice
    Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
    For what are men better than sheep or goats
    That nourish a blind life within the brain,
    If, knowing God, they lift not the hands of prayer
    Both for themselves and those who call them friend?
    For so the whole round earth is every way
    Bound by gold chains about the feet of God."

                                                    --_Tennyson._




PRISONS AND PRAYER

OR

A LABOR OF LOVE.




                               CHAPTER I.

                     Biography and Call to the Work.


I was born May 10, 1844, in Wayne County, Ohio. My parents, John and
Mary Van Nest Ryder, were honest, hard working people, and were
earnest Christians. One year after my birth, my father died, leaving
my mother with five little children--three boys and two girls. Mother
married again and had two children. The little girl was buried the day
before mother died. My half-brother, J. P. Thompson, still lives in
Ohio. Five years after my father's death my mother followed him to the
better land, and I, with the rest, was left an orphan. Well do I
remember the night my mother died. She was so troubled about leaving
her children alone in the world, but continued long in earnest prayer
until she had the assurance that God would care for them, and then she
sang the old-time hymn,

    "There is a fountain filled with blood,
      Drawn from Immanuel's veins,"

and went shouting home to glory. What a lasting impression is made on
a child's heart by the life or death of a godly father or mother!

By mother's death I was almost crazed with grief and could not be
comforted. At her grave I was separated from my brothers and sister,
and went to live with a family to whom mother had given me before her
death. Some time after this, the family moving away, I went to live
with my grandparents, under whose careful religious training I
remained until married. I received little education, as my
opportunities were very limited.

From my earliest recollection I was deeply convicted of sin. This
conviction followed me until at the age of twelve years I gave my
heart to God and received the witness that I was His child. I united
with the people called Methodists and tried to walk in the light I
had, until God called me into His vineyard.


                             MARRIAGE.

At the age of eighteen I was married to Mr. J. A. Wheaton. We lived
happily together, but in two years I was called to give up not only my
dear husband, but also our little baby boy. They were buried in one
grave, and I was again left alone in the world. O my breaking heart! I
was in despair! I did not know then God's wonderful comforting power
as I now do. I was scarcely more than a nominal Christian, a
fashionable proud woman, moving in high society, left to face the
battle of life alone. To try to drown my sorrow I rushed deeper into
society and fashion--only to be plunged into deeper despair. What I
suffered during those years is beyond the power of tongue or pen to
describe. My anguish of heart and mind were so great that at times
reason almost tottered on its throne. And had it not been for the
goodness and mercy of God in sending me timely aid through true
Christian friends, I should never have been able to have triumphed
over it all.

Soon after I was converted, I felt the call of God to His service. I
longed to be a missionary. My heart especially went out to the
colored people and the Indians, and to the poor unfortunate ones of my
own sex. Their sufferings touched my heart, and it was this class with
which I did some of my first prison and missionary work in after
years. But in those days there was very little encouragement to a
woman to do such work. O how those who are called of God now should
appreciate their privileges!

Though hindered and discouraged, this call did not leave me. I lived
in the church for years, always doing my part in church work. I was
proud and vain, but knew no better; yet I longed to be all the Lord's.


                         SANCTIFICATION.

Several years after my conversion I heard of holiness or entire
consecration to God, and the baptism of the Holy Spirit for service.
After this, for about ten years, I was under conviction for a clean
heart, seeking for a while and then growing careless, receiving little
help from the formal professors around me. As I counted the cost, at
times it seemed too great. I knew it meant to give up fashionable
society, home, friends, reputation and all: and to take the way of the
lowly Nazarene. I heard at this time of a holiness meeting about forty
miles from home, which I attended. Here I heard the pure gospel
preached, and light shone upon my soul. I saw that none but the pure
in heart could see God in peace. After wrestling in prayer until about
three o'clock in the morning, I seemed held by an invisible power,
pure and holy, and was so filled with awe that I feared to speak or
move. Soon I heard a wonderful sound, soft, sweet and soothing, like
the rustle of angels' wings. Its holy influence pervaded my whole
being; a sound not of earth, but distinctly audible to both myself and
the sister who was in the same room! I listened enraptured. I feared
it was death, and my breath grew shorter and shorter. I did not move
nor open my eyes. Presently Jesus stood before me, and O the wonderful
look of love--so far above the love of mortals, so humble, meek and
pleading! In the tender voice of the Holy Spirit came these words:
"Can you give up all and follow me? Lay your weary, aching head upon
my breast. I will never leave you nor forsake you. Lo, I am with you
alway even unto the end of the world." I was enabled by the Holy
Spirit to say, "Yes, Lord Jesus." I knew it was Jesus. When I said
"Yes, Lord," the power of God fell upon me, soul and body, and I was
bathed in a sea of glory. When I had recovered from my rapture, Jesus
had vanished as silently as He came; but the blessing and power
remained. The sister whispered and asked, "Did you hear that sound?"
And then she told me that this was for my benefit. This occurred
November 11, 1883. That day the people looked at me and wondered,
seeing the great change God had wrought in me by His power. The night
following we had an all-night meeting. Again God spoke to me by His
Holy Spirit, saying, "Go and honor my Son's name, and I will go with
you." I prayed, "O Lord, if this is Thy voice, speak once more." The
same words came again. I obeyed and God did most wonderfully reveal
Himself to me. I knew I was called to His service and to work for lost
souls.

[Illustration: STATE PRISON, COLUMBUS, OHIO.]


                       MY CALL TO PRISON WORK.

The question is often asked me, "How did you become interested in this
work, and learn to understand the needs of the prisoner?" It was
through this call from God. None of my relatives or friends were ever
convicted of crime. When I was a young woman I attended the state fair
at Columbus, Ohio, and with a delegation visited the state-prison at
that place. While waiting for a guide to show us through the prison a
young man was brought in by an officer. I saw him searched, and later
as the heavy iron doors closed behind him with a clang, my sympathies
were aroused. While being shown through the prison I saw this young
man with his hair close cut, dressed in prisoners' garb, placed by the
side of hardened criminals. There my first interest was awakened to
try to make the burdens lighter for the prison-bound. As we were
leaving the prison I noticed some small articles which had been made
by the inmates in their spare moments. Among these I saw and was
especially impressed with a miniature statue of a prisoner dressed in
stripes, holding in one hand a ball and chain, the other hand shading
the eyes. Upon the pedestal of the statue were these words, "What
shall the harvest be?" I shall never forget the impression then made
upon my mind. It is still fresh in my memory.

Years after this, shortly after my commission to preach the gospel, as
I was traveling one night to reach an appointment, stopping at a
station in Iowa to change cars, three prisoners in handcuffs, who were
being taken to the state-prison, were brought in. My heart was moved
with deep compassion for them. Many were curiously inspecting them, as
if they thought they had no tender feelings. Approaching these men, I
gave them my hand, saying, "I am sorry for you, but God can help you
in this hour of trial," and I tried to cheer them, and told them I
would sometime visit them in the prison if I could. I did not then
know I was so soon to enter upon my mission. But the burden of those
in prison kept coming heavier upon me. I told my friends I must go and


                 PREACH THE GOSPEL TO PRISONERS

but they for a time thought me almost crazy. But as one of old, I
felt that "Woe is me if I preach not the Gospel." So I gladly obeyed
the divine call and went forward.

But I was not led into this work by any morbid sentimentalism or
enthusiasm. These would have worn off when the novelty was gone. No,
this work was given me of God, who Himself laid the burden of the
convict world upon my heart. Day and night there came up before me the
cry of despair from inside prison walls--the wail of woe from those in
dungeons whose hearts were breaking and whose minds were shattered and
whose souls were lost in despair, and the call came direct from the
mouth of the Lord, "Go and stand in the breach! Tell them of a
Savior's love--of a way of escape through the blood of Jesus Christ,
who is mighty to save and strong to deliver them from the snares of
the enemy that has sought to destroy them soul and body. Tell them
there is deliverance for the captive. Tell them there is consolation
in the gospel of Christ for those who are heart-broken and forsaken
and forgotten by all but an omnipotent God. Tell them that God lives
and rules and reigns in heaven and is able to save to the uttermost
and to comfort in their dying hours with the hope of eternal life
beyond this vale of tears."

But how could I go? The Lord Himself showed me how to go and where to
go and that I was to leave results to Him and He would give the
increase--that He would multiply the bread and fish for the hungry
multitudes--He would feed the famished souls to whom He sent me, just
as when He walked this sin-cursed earth--that He was the same
yesterday, today and forever. I saw that my life must be entirely and
forever surrendered to the Lord for His service, and that my future
was to be left entirely in the hands of the Master whose I am and
whom I serve.

Thus the call came day after day and night after night until I believe
I should have gone insane had I not then and there yielded my time and
talent, all I had or ever would have, to the service of Christ to go
just when and where He would have me go, do as He would have me do,
and trust Him for my support. I was shown that I would never come to
want. I was made to understand that these poor unfortunates in prison
were just as dear to God's heart as I was and that souls would be
required at my hands were I to fail to comply with the commission to
go and lift up the fallen and comfort the dying and relieve those
distressed in body and mind. I was made to know that there was power
in prayer and that God could save the very lowest criminal or the
worst woman on earth and by the transforming influence of the Holy
Spirit and the cleansing blood of Jesus, save, purify and sanctify and
lift them up even within the pearly gates of heaven; and that instead
of devils in human form, they could be made saints that could take up
the glad refrain unto Him that had redeemed them and washed them in
his own blood and made them kings and priests unto God.

Yes, God called me. And His name shall be exalted through all eternity
for what He has done for me and through me during all these years. His
has been the hand that fed, clothed and supported me. Never has God
failed me in this pilgrim journey and He has supplied all my needs. My
heart goes out in gratitude and thanksgiving while I write, for all He
has done for me. O, the heights and depths, lengths and breadths of
His boundless love for lost humanity! How wonderfully has He led me!
How His guiding hand, His protecting care have been over me! Amid
discouragements, disappointments and misunderstandings God has given
me victory through the blood of our precious, loving Savior; and I
know that He is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all we can ask
or think.

When I saw the criminal at the bar of justice, I was reminded that we
must all soon appear at the judgment bar of God. Then I saw that the
Lord wanted me to tell of a Mighty Deliverer from the sins of
intemperance, unbelief, skepticism, infidelity, covetousness,
licentiousness and hypocrisy. My eyes were opened to see that
thousands of poor helpless souls were drifting to their eternal doom
without God and without hope, and that ofttimes in their hours of most
desperate need there was no one to help, no one to point them to the
blessed Savior and to really snatch them as "brands from the burning."

Then I took courage and said, "Yes, Lord, I will go and do my best to
help save them from destruction and an eternity in hell." Since then I
have spent more than twenty years of constant toil among the masses
and have reason to declare that God has given me success beyond what I
could have thought possible.

Multitudes have been saved, representing all ranks and stations of
life. Many are today singing the songs of the redeemed with the
glorified hosts in the other world, who were counted by many to be
beyond redemption, already doomed and lost forever.

For such I have taken courage and have pleaded before the Lord His
written Word, asking for their soul's salvation; and now they are
forever with the Lord. O faithless one, is there anything too hard for
the Lord? And has He not told us "All things are possible to him that
believeth" and "Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out"
and that "if we confess our sins He is faithful and just to forgive us
our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness"? During these
years that I have stepped out on His promises I have proved that His
word never fails. It is faith in the living God which brings results
in the salvation of immortal souls. Never have I doubted God's power
to save the vilest person, and now I want to tell, for His glory, just
a little of what God has wrought as well as show something of what
needs to be done. Bless the Lord, O my soul, for a faith prompted of
the Spirit that will not waver--a confidence in God which takes no
denial but cries "It must be done." In answer to such a faith,
criminals of the deepest dye have been awakened and saved and women of
the worst possible character have been converted and reformed and
purified, and some have been set apart for the service of God and have
done a mighty work. Others, as we have said, have gone to swell the
grand, triumphant strain around the throne of God, where angels and
archangels unite to make all heaven resound with the praises of our
King--among those of whom it is said, "These are they which came up
through great tribulation and have washed their robes and made them
white in the blood of the Lamb." After I see the King in His beauty,
clothed in majesty and glory and power, I want to look in the faces of
those whom God has used me to help, who have come up from inside
prison walls and from haunts of sin--yea, from the scaffold
itself--those who have died in the triumphs of a living faith,
victorious over death, hell and the grave.

Since my call to the work of the Lord He has caused many homes to be
opened to me and has given me many very dear friends. Among those of
earlier years were dear Brother and Sister H. L. Hastings, of Boston,
who kindly gave me a home and cared for me in sickness and special
time of need. And in later years are those at the Missionary Training
Home at Tabor, Iowa, with whom I have made my headquarters since 1895.
I would specially mention Mrs. Hattie Worcester Kelley, who had a call
from God to assist me in prison work and traveled some with me until
her health failed; also Mrs. Georgia Worcester and her husband, and
her father, Elder Weavers, who is president of the Home; with their
faithful helpers in charge and assisting in the work, who have given
me a hearty welcome among them.

It was here I became more directly interested in foreign missionary
work. I have at different times taken with me in my prison and slum
mission work several of the missionaries now in foreign lands. Among
these are Mr. and Mrs. Wm. Worcester, now in Africa, whom I
accompanied on their way as far as London; Grace Yarrett, recently
sailed for India, and a number of others.

        FAMILY REUNION AFTER A SEPARATION OF FIFTY-TWO YEARS.

The following from a paper published in Elkhart, Ind., December, 1902,
under the above heading, will explain itself:

     J. M. Ryder of Indianapolis, Ind.; Emanuel Ryder of Bryan, O.;
     Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton, prison evangelist, and Lida Ryder
     Hoffman of this city met in a family reunion Dec. 8, after a
     separation of fifty-two years, this being the first time in all
     these years that the brothers and sisters, who were left orphans
     in early childhood, have been together. * * * The brothers and
     sisters sat for a group picture as a memento of the day, and left
     for their different missions and homes, not likely to all meet
     again this side of the great River.

[Illustration: J. M. RYDER, MRS. E. RYDER WHEATON, EMANUEL RYDER, MRS.
LIDA RYDER HOFFMAN.]

[Illustration: JOHN RYDER, DECEASED.]

I also give the reader a sketch written by my brother and published
in his home paper at Bryan, O., some years since.

     Like Moses and the prophets of old; like Jesus and his disciples;
     like Martin Luther and John Wesley, and a host of other great
     lights who have been chosen at different times to be teachers and
     leaders of the children of earth, so in like manner and like
     purpose was Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton chosen.

     Her chief mission has been to the inmates of jails and
     penitentiaries, reformatories and the lowly outcasts in the
     houses of perdition, among people who never find room in the
     pews.

     Unconnected with church or other organization, but aided by an
     angel band, a Christ love, great charity, force of character that
     knew not fear where duty called, she has worked for the uplifting
     of the fallen.

     For twenty years she has toiled and struggled in her great life
     work, giving her teachings, her songs and her prayers, shedding
     tears of love and sympathy for the poor souls in the bondage of
     sin.

     For twenty years she has traveled up and down her home land and
     several foreign countries.

     The world her country, to do good her religion, giving her light,
     her life, wherever the most needed; never stopping, except from
     sickness or exhaustion from overwork; often meeting friends on
     the long and rugged road who gave her sympathy, shelter and food;
     at other times the floor her couch and but little to eat--but
     whether good or bad conditions, always thankful.

     In her chosen work, in the past twenty years, no person has done
     more good or has had so much influence in causing people to lead
     better lives, to quit sinning, to get out of hell and enjoy the
     happiness that follows from leading conscientious, truer lives.

     Her good intentions, her words of warning and sympathy, her sweet
     soul songs of love, her prayers in angelic power, have moved the
     people outside of the churches in the different avocations and
     walks of life as they had never been moved before, the masses
     perceiving by subtle agency that here was a person deserving
     love, respect and honor.

     She had great influence with the employees of the different
     railway companies, the good-will of the superintendents of many
     of the great railway lines of the country, frequently getting
     passes from New York City to San Francisco and return, a
     distance of seven thousand miles, for herself and companion.

     She has spoken in more reformatories, jails and penitentiaries,
     and, I believe, done more good, unconnected with any
     organization, than any other in the twenty years.

                           HER LIFE HISTORY.

     It is too long a story to attempt to go into details--to tell of
     her trials, hardships and sickness; to tell of her individual
     successes, as well as her successes when she has swayed great
     bodies of people, moving the half of them to tears, causing them
     to have higher thoughts, better motives, and to bless the hour
     she was among them; or of how she entered the southern stockades
     alone, even when warned by the Warden that her life might be
     taken, and in ten minutes had the inmates as tractable as little
     children, where the officials would not enter, except in a body
     and thoroughly armed; how she stood her ground when menaced by
     drunken western desperadoes; or of the times she divided her
     raiment and her scant purse with the destitute, and the many
     times she escaped great danger by being forewarned, etc.

     Bereft of both parents at the age of five years, and cared for by
     cold and indifferent strangers, she misses the mother's love,
     guidance, sympathy and protection.

     When she started out on her mission she left a good home with all
     the substantials and many of the luxuries of life, with but
     little education, without money or friends, alone to travel
     unbeaten paths, to do a work that no one had ever tried before;
     untrained in the great work she was to follow, but impelled by a
     higher Spirit force she could not resist. "Do this work. I will
     be with you to the end. When great troubles come, I will be your
     shield and your helper. I will warn you of great danger. I will
     protect your life. You will gather many sheaves, and, when you
     are through with earth, have a high place in the heavenly abode."

     Whenever needed, the angel band assists her to say the right
     words for the time and occasion, according to perceptions and
     conceptions of the people addressed.

     She is gifted with a voice that is always musical, clear and
     distinct, and of such compass that it can be heard a mile, or
     down to the minor notes, but always with the pathos that touches
     the tender chords of the soul.

     Now she is old, broken in health and strength. Soon she must lay
     her weary body down, a willing sacrifice for the lowest children
     of earth.

     And now with this brief outline of the work, the life and the
     powerful soul magic of Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton, I close.

                Respectfully,
                                              EMANUEL RYDER,
                                   Brother of Mrs. E. R. Wheaton.




                            CHAPTER II.

                   A Letter to My Prison Children.


You, dear ones, are my especial care and have been for over twenty
long years; and your eternal good will continue in a sense to be first
in my thoughts while life lasts.

My own childhood was lonely and desolate. As I have already told you,
my father died when I was one year old, and mother died when I was
only six. I was taken from my mother's grave by an old man who had,
with his wife, asked mother for me before she died. My stepfather went
to law with my grandfather, who was guardian for myself and sister,
for my father's fortune, and the suit was carried from one court to
another until all was gone and we little children were penniless.

Sister and I were reared by our grandparents, and were given a very
limited education. We were taught to work as rigidly as if we were
paupers. The experience was hard but I can now see how good it was for
me in after years to know how to do all kinds of work and be able to
do with my might what my hands found to do.

All my life I have known much of SORROW AND DISAPPOINTMENT. It has
seemed that I have never been allowed to keep long anything that I
loved. When I was a child, my pets would sicken and die, and the
friends that I loved best would either move away from me or die; and
my heart was being continually crushed and broken by these trials.

I loved to learn and was passionately fond of music, but I was not
permitted to gratify my desires in either direction. Why all this was
true, I know not, unless it was that I might learn deeper lessons of
sympathy and compassion for others that are in trouble.

Perhaps, dear ones, because of these very experiences I can feel more
deeply and tenderly for you and I want to tell you that amid all the
sorrows of earth I have found _one Friend_ that has never forgotten or
forsaken me and that has promised never to leave me. _And this same
Jesus loves you._ If you but give Him your hearts He will never fail
you. Though all the world should forsake and despise you, Jesus loves
you just the same.

It is He that has put into my heart this love for you and your souls'
salvation that I cannot explain; this love that grows deeper and
stronger and that can only be made plain in the judgment. He has
taught me to feel for you when you are forsaken and forgotten, when
even friends turn away because you are doomed to the prison cell, the
stripes, and even the scaffold.

Often you are misunderstood and misjudged, and sometimes you grow
bitter towards every one, and sometimes you censure your best friends.
I plead with you to look on the bright side. Think of all God has done
for you and how wonderful it is that He loves you with all your sins,
that He loves your precious, immortal souls.

You are my children. For Jesus' sake, and yours, I am a homeless
wanderer on earth. I have given up home and friends and have gone into
the darkest places of earth, and have endured hardships and faced
danger of every kind. I have endured untold sorrow of mind and heart.
I have wept and prayed night and day, and for you I have sacrificed
all.

But dear ones, notwithstanding all this, I am happy in the love of
Jesus. His love is everything to my heart. His love and sympathy is
enough for me, and I know that He is able to provide all that I need.
He has kept me nearly sixty years, and I am sure that He will not now
forsake me.

Let this encourage you, dear prisoners, to know that God loves and
cares for you. When the way looks the darkest, when all hope fails,
when the last friend has forsaken you, then look up to Jesus and
believe His word. I know your trials are hard to bear. I think of you
as you leave the jail for the penitentiary with the handcuffs on and
the sheriff and the deputy guarding you so closely, and the world
against you. I think of you as the prison doors close behind you. I
think of you in your loneliness as the days and months and perhaps
years go by, and again I say, yes, I know your trials are hard to
bear. But look up through the dark clouds and remember that God lives
and that He loves you. In your little lonely prison cell He is with
you and is waiting to save you. Do not conceal your sins, for God's
Word says, "He that covereth his sin shall not prosper; but whoso
confesseth and forsaketh them shall find mercy."

Let the past be cleansed by the blood of Jesus. If you trust Him, He
has promised to separate your sins as far from you as the east is from
the west. Do not rest until His Spirit tells you this is done. Then,
"forgetting the things that are behind," press forward to those things
that are before.

Obey the rules. Show by your daily life that you intend to do right,
the very best you know. If those in authority over you seem to be
unkind or unjust, bear what comes as brave soldiers. Even inside of
prison walls you can win glorious victories over self and sin.

There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth. I seek to show
you the way to the kingdom of heaven, where there is no more
temptation, no sin, no sorrow, no pain; to the place where Jesus has
gone to prepare a home for those who love Him, follow Him and trust
Him.

My heart yearns over you in your sad exile from wife, children,
mother, father, husband, brother, sister, friends. Truly the way of
the transgressor is hard.

But, my prison children, I beg of you do not go from one prison to
another. Flee from sin. I do not and dare not smooth over your sins.
Prove yourselves worthy of the confidence of good people. Give God
your hearts and be true to Him and He will not forsake you.

Some of you are doomed to the scaffold! How long, O Lord, how long
must such things be in a Christian land? O, that I had the power to
abolish capital punishment! But I will do all I can to help you
prepare for death. Jesus loves you. He was taken from prison and
executed as a criminal. He was innocent, yet He suffered death for a
guilty world. He was tempted in all points like as we are, yet without
sin. "And being tempted, He is able to succor them that are tempted."
And though you pass through the valley of the shadow of death, if you
but trust Him, He will go with you and you need fear no evil.

[Illustration: GIVING THE BOYS COUNSEL.]




                             CHAPTER III.

                      A Plea for the Prisoner.


                     IN THE SHADOW OF THE WALL.

                          BY OLLA F. BEARD.

     (The writer of this poem was a personal acquaintance and friend.
     At the time the poem was written her father was warden of the
     penitentiary at Fort Madison, Iowa, and she took great interest
     in his work.--E. R. W.)

    Oh, those wond'rous gloomy walls!
    What a chill their shadow calls
    To creep and tingle through our veins!
    Moving all our soul contains
      Of pity for the woes within--
    Those who move within this pall,
      Those who bear a load of sin,
    In the shadow of that wall.

    Yes, you think their lot is hard;
    So do all you can t'retard
    Their sad downward course in time,
    And save them from a greater crime.
      But pause and come with me to view
    Various pictures in the hall
      Of the innocent and true,
    In the shadow of this wall.

    There's a mother, good and true,
    With a face of palest hue;
    Eyes are dimmed and faint to-day,
    With their brightness washed away
      By the tears she's nightly shed;
    Yet she does not fail to call
      Blessings on her dear boy's head,
    In the shadow of the wall.

    There's a father, too, bowed o'er
    With age, and his head is hoar.
    Ah! it surely broke his heart
    With his honored name to part.
      Now instead of his boy's arm,
    A cane-stalk keeps him from a fall,
      As he walks about his farm,
    In the shadow of the wall.

    There's a wife, too, in the gloom,
    Yet within her heart there's room
    For the one whose name she bears;
    She will share e'en now his cares.
      Vows were said to God above,
    And, tho' friends forget to call,
      She will keep her vow of love,
    In the shadow of the wall.

    There are children, bright and gay,
    Now at school and now at play;
    Why do playmates push them off,
    Only at their tears to scoff?
      Can innocence, then, guilty be?
    Why are they shunned, each one and all?
      Ah! these children e'en we see,
    In the shadow of the wall.

    And O, for shame! to scorn some one
    For the deed another's done;
    For their road is hard at best;
    They should never once have guessed,
      From the things you do and say,
    That you once those facts recall--
      How they're living day by day
    In the shadow of the wall.

    But a word we'd say for him
    Who inhabits those walls dim:
    Shun him not; help if you can--
    Let him try to be a man.
      When he's paid now for his sin,
    Let not scorn bring other falls,
      Just because he once has been
    In the shadow of the walls.

    He has yet a heart, tho' scarred;
    He has yet a soul, tho' marred;
    And he has to live and try
    Till his time shall come to die.
      Sweet Charity, that suffereth long,
    Let us now as guard install.
      She will lead him from the wrong--
    From the shadow of the wall.

    We would not pet the sin and crime;
    Let reproof fall in its time.
    But reproof should have an end,
    When the sinner tries to mend!
      Give him every chance you can--
    Lend a helping hand to all;
      Lead the woman or the man
    From the shadow of the wall.


                     A LETTER TO PRISON OFFICERS.

DEAR PRISON MANAGERS: You and I are trying to help the prisoners to a
better life. We want to elevate, to lift up these men and women to a
higher plane of existence. How are you to proceed? What are you to do,
is the question. How are you to command the respect of those under
you? Just where to draw the line, and how to enforce discipline? What
advantage will you give to the men who are striving to obey rules, and
do what is right? Something must be done, and done soon. The criminal
classes must be reached, reformed, saved and sent out of prison better
prepared to face the world and the temptations which will be thrust
upon them at every turn. Great responsibility rests upon you. Many of
you are doing nobly and accomplishing great good.

There is hope for every prisoner. You can reach them by kindness.
Brutality will never accomplish anything in the way of prison reform.
By such a course a man is often turned out of prison a demon, a fiend
in human form, or an idiotic criminal.

But to make him a good man, a noble creature, as God intended he
should be, he must have kindness shown him. Be _firm_ and _honorable_
in all your dealings with the convict, for he has his rights, and they
should be respected if we are ever going to make the prison world
better.

Let us ask God for help to know how to reach the manhood, the
womanhood, the better nature in the creature God has seen fit in His
wise providence to make just a little lower than the angels, in His
own likeness and image. He intended all should be free and equal, but
the people license the saloon, the gambling den and the brothel to
degrade their brothers and sisters. Some say these are necessary
evils! I say never, never! Let there be better conditions.

There is hope for the sinner if we only get the Holy Spirit to teach
us how to reach him. I never go into the presence of convicts without
earnest prayer to God to give me wisdom, and the Holy Spirit to teach
and guide me what to say and sing, and how to reach their hearts. God
has given me what success I have had in helping the criminal classes,
in giving hope to the discouraged and in relieving the minds of some
who were partially deranged. Oh, this wholesale slaughter of men's
minds! It is horrible. It is heart-rending. And yet some go right on
committing the greatest crime against these men, by robbing them of
their reason which God intended them to enjoy as their birthright.

Which is the greater crime, the whipping post and the lash with all
their attendant horrors and misery, or the iron rule that crushes out
all hope in the name of discipline? I believe in law and order, and
that men must be in subjection to rules and regulations. I always urge
upon them implicit obedience and subjection to the rules of the
prison. But these should be reasonable and humane.

What you and I need is to know our man and then we will know how to
deal with him. Study human nature as well as the law, and study the
law of the all-wise God in the Bible and see if you will not have a
clear conscience as well as a clear brain to manage and control those
under your direction.

I know prisons that are regulated entirely by kindness, and oh, the
blessed, restful, quieting influence there is there, and scarcely any
insane. All are satisfied with the treatment they receive and they are
willing to die for their officers. I know these things, for I am
behind the scenes.

After long years of service as a prison missionary, in nearly all the
state prisons in all the states and territories, I find only an ever
increasing desire to be a worker together with Christ in reaching the
masses of prisoners who are incarcerated in our state, county and city
prisons. My success has largely been due to my sincere and intense
desire to lead them to a better life here and life eternal in heaven,
and to the victory gained over myself to never let anything or anybody
prevent my doing all I could for the prisoner, as if he were my own
child or brother. Again, my determination has been to give all a fair
trial and a liberal amount of confidence. Yes, we must place ourselves
in their condition; let our boy or brother, our mother or sister be in
prison, let us think how we would exercise every means we had in
reaching or relieving them.

All prisoners are human, and yet, how few professors of religion show
interest in them. They are doubted at every turn. Daggers are driven
to hearts which are longing for a better life, a purer atmosphere, a
new creation. Poor souls! God pity them. O the hearts that cry out for
better things! the souls that are yearning for the good and true! O
the thousands of prisoners who may be diamonds in the rough, jewels
for whom Christ died. Souls, immortal souls are at stake. We must soon
meet these things at the judgment. O to be clear of the censure, the
rebuke, the reproof of God Almighty in the final day of accounts.

O brother, sister, have we had charity that suffereth long and is
kind? Have we tried by example and precept to show the criminals that
we were really their friends and sincerely cared for their souls? How
long has the good Lord borne with us, and shall we not be in earnest
to save those who are not Christians, to encourage them to a better
life, to cheer up the dying convict, to show them there is a God in
Israel who hears and answers prayer, one who said, "Like as a father
pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him"?


                 WORTH WHILE.

    It is easy enough to be pleasant
      When life flows by like a song,
    But the man worth while is the one who will smile
      When everything goes dead wrong.
    For the test of the heart is trouble,
      And it always comes with the years,
    And the smile that is worth the praise of the earth
      Is the smile that shines through tears.

    It is easy enough to be prudent
      When nothing tempts you to stray;
    When without or within no voice of sin
      Is luring your soul away.
    But it is only a negative virtue
      Until it is tried by fire,
    And the life that is worth the honor of earth
      Is the one that resisteth desire.

    By the cynic, the sad, the fallen,
      Who had no strength for the strife,
    The world's highway is cumbered to-day;
      They make up the item of life.
    But the virtue that conquers passion,
      And the sorrow that hides in a smile--
    It is these that are worth the homage of earth,
      For we find them but once in a while.

                                           --ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.


                             PREJUDICE.

I find but little difference between humanity in prison walls and the
humanity outside. Prisoners are our brothers and our sisters. We must
soon meet them all at the judgment. They are naturally supposed to be
guilty of crime of some kind. But they are not all criminals. Wicked
men, willing to shield themselves, oftentimes throw suspicion on
others, who are placed under arrest and convicted by circumstantial
evidence or false testimony. Others, of course, are of the worst types
of humanity. Some of them seem unworthy of the name of man or woman,
yet even these Christ died to save, and God is able to deliver them
and how shall His name be better glorified or His power be more
manifest, than in their transformation?

Very many are so prejudiced against all those who are counted as
criminals that they believe them to be utterly incapable of any good
and are quick to believe that they see in them evidences of the
deepest depravity.

A sad yet amusing illustration of this fact comes to my mind. Chaplain
H., of the Reformatory for Boys at Kearney, Nebraska, is an
honest-faced, true-hearted young man, full of zeal in the service of
God. At one time when I stopped at Kearney he called for me at the
train. As I looked at him he said, with a smile, "Did you think it was
one of the boys whom the superintendent had sent for you?" I replied,
"Yes; I did at first; you are so young, Mr. Chaplain;" and then he
related to me the following circumstances which I give as nearly as I
can in his own words:

     "At one time Prof. Mallalieu and myself had been to Lincoln on
     business, and were returning together. We were quietly resting,
     and I was sitting with closed eyes, meditating, when a lady
     happened along and recognized the Superintendent, and said 'Have
     you got a boy there, taking him to the Reform Schools?'

     "Considerably amused, he replied: 'Yes; this is a very bad
     fellow; I have had a lot of trouble with him, and have just
     recaptured him, and now I am watching to see that he doesn't make
     his escape.' The woman leaned over and, scanning my face and
     features, said: 'He has an awful bad look on his face; you can
     see he is a criminal and needs to be under strict discipline.'"

The dear young chaplain said, as he laughingly related this instance,
that he learned a lesson in human nature that day. That woman, who
imagined that she saw in the face of that young looking, honest,
devoted Christian young man evidences of guilt and depravity, was only
one among thousands who are led by prejudice when they imagine that
they are exercising great discernment.


                      A LOOK INTO THE CELL.

Reader, could you and I walk together down the cell-house corridor in
almost any of our large prisons, at almost any hour of the night and
pause and listen to the sighs and smothered sobs and often to the deep
groans that might be heard welling up from hearts that are broken and
crushed by sorrow and remorse; could we, dear reader, cast one
sidelong glance in passing the rounds of the cell-house with the
guard, who, with muffled tread wends his ceaseless march throughout
the night, your heart, as well as mine, would be deeply moved. On
those stone floors, guarded by double locks and iron bars, as well as
by the living sentinel, you might see many a mother's boy kneeling in
silent prayer to his mother's God, and as he prays and communes with
his own thoughts, you might hear again the groans of anguish as the
poor unfortunate thinks of home and mother, wife and children, or
other loved ones.

Then look with me into that poor man's cell, void of comfort, with
nothing that would remind you of home; a close narrow cell, a poor
hard cot, a straw pillow, if any, and kept under strict watch day and
night; left many times without one ray of hope, without a gleam of
sunshine or a kind word. I wonder there are not scores of insane men
in our state prisons for every one that we find, and there are many,
very many, who are either partially or entirely insane. I am convinced
that oftentimes men are crazy when the officers suppose they are only
obstinate and rebellious and mean. Often do I note insanity lurking in
the eyes and often as the prisoners file past me at the close of a
service and I clasp each one by the hand, as is my custom, among the
many who are so glad to have a kind word and a hand-clasp at parting I
notice those who are not sane by the peculiarity of the clasp of the
hand. Some have a clasp like a mad-man, others a limp, lifeless
hand-shake, with cold, clammy hands. Oh, what wisdom is needed to know
how to deal with these poor, helpless souls! I find many of them with
hearts as tender and sensibilities as acute as any I meet outside.


                        INSANE PRISONERS.

While I was having a service for the criminal insane at Anamosa,
Iowa, state prison, a young man was very anxious to see me and tell me
something. As I waited to talk with him he said to me in _such a
pitiful way_, "Go and tell my dear mother I will try to help her.
Won't somebody help my poor mother?" This was the burden of his heart.
Poor boy! in his partial derangement his whole concern seemed to be
for her. He is only one among many!

[Illustration: WITH INSANE PRISONERS AT ANAMOSA, IOWA.]


                       A TOUCHING INCIDENT.

At one time I was on the train going north from Indianapolis. My
brother, J. M. Ryder, was with me. I was singing a hymn, and walking
to the end of the car as I sang I saw two men bound together by
handcuffs. One of them I supposed to be an officer. He was a fine
looking man, well dressed. It was a few days before Christmas, but I
noticed some holly-berries pinned to his coat. I remarked, "You have
holly-berries before Christmas day!" With tears rolling down his face
he answered, "My little girl pinned this on me. She said, 'Papa, you
will not be here when Christmas comes, and I will pin it on now before
you go.'"

I said, "You are an officer, are you not?"

"Oh, no!" he said, "I am a prisoner," and then he told me his sad
story. Money belonging to some one else, a relative, if I remember
rightly, had been left in his care. Under pressure of need he used
some of it, being confident that he could replace it before it was
needed; but the shortage was discovered, he was arrested, found guilty
and sentenced. With a broken heart he said, "I never will live to
serve out my sentence. This will surely kill me. I am not a thief, but
I was so sure I could replace the money before it was needed."

Reader, think you this man was any more a criminal at heart than
thousands who move among men honored and respected? Who can question
that there are thousands who, perhaps, do not transgress the letter of
the law, yet more deliberately and wilfully wrong their fellow men
than this poor man? And this case is only one of many; and where shall
we draw the line? Oh, let us have fervent charity one for another.

I am not biased in my judgment. I know sentimentalism is not
salvation. That can come only through true repentance and faith in God
and must be evidenced by restitution and good works; but if you could
see, as I have seen, the meetings in the prison guard-room between
husband and wife, mother and son, or between father and his wayward
boy, if you could see the tears and sobs as they meet and part, and
above all at the last parting before execution, I believe you would
never feel like criticising or being harsh in your judgment again.
Could you have gone with me during these twenty years, could you have
had the confidence of these prisoners as I have had it, you would
realize that they are, in very many cases, as truly open to conviction
and as easily reached as those outside of prison walls, and are they
not my children? Do I not know their faults? Do they not confess to me
their guilt? But back of all I see Jesus hanging on the cross of
Calvary, between two thieves, dying, and in His death agony, while the
blood is oozing from the print of the thorns upon His brow, while the
eyes are growing glassy in death, with the cold death sweat standing
out upon His face, I hear Him say to the penitent thief, "This day
shalt thou be with me in Paradise." And again, as He remembers all
those who have so cruelly wronged Him, he cries, "Father, forgive
them, for they know not what they do." If the Son of God gave Himself
for us, if with His dying breath He prayed for His persecutors, if He
who knew no sin and understood all hearts could say, "They know not
what they do," God help us to be willing to forgive those who have
transgressed the law either of God or man.

These prisoners need a helping hand, need a friend with wisdom, tact
and judgment, one in whose heart there is the one thought above all
others of the need of their immortal souls, their eternal destiny.

You and I, reader, must do our part in reforming a lost world, in
saving lost sinners. Then let us remember how good God has been to us
by keeping us out of prison, by keeping us out of the evil
surroundings and influences that might have brought us there. Let us
give the poor prisoners a fair show and fair play. Many of them long
for better things, for one more chance to prove themselves worthy of
the confidence and sympathy of their fellow men. After twenty years of
toil among those who are bound, I do bless God that He ever called me
to carry to those in prison the glad message of His love and seek by
love and faith and prayer to lift them up to better things.


                          PREPARED TO DIE.

Once while holding services in a prison, there came to me a prisoner
saying, "Mother, I want to tell you I was saved since I saw you."
(Only a few days previous.)

Then he told me that he was under sentence of death and that he was so
troubled that he cried to God to forgive his sins and pardon his
crime, and that God had forgiven him and that he was now prepared to
die. He said that when the Lord forgave him he was so happy that the
officers put an extra guard over him, thinking that he had suddenly
lost his mind.

I exhorted him to maintain his faith in God and never doubt His saving
power; to walk softly before God; to keep humble and meek and pray
much. Truly there is pardon for every sinner who, in the depths of his
soul, repents of his sin. God's love and power are so great that He
will save to the uttermost all that come unto Him, not willing that
any should perish.

Reader, perhaps you have not the opportunity to know these souls as I
know them, and so to help you understand them I give in other chapters
many extracts in their own words, taken here and there from the
thousands of letters I have received. I believe this will help you to
understand that hundreds, shut out from the companionship of their
fellow beings, are as easily moved by kindness, as capable of
gratitude, as easily won to repentance, as willing to give up sin, as
thousands of those outside, who perhaps have never been tempted as
they were tempted and have never fallen as they have fallen. In
quoting from these letters few changes have been made, except in
spelling, capitalization and punctuation.

    Some young souls are making, for a stated time,
    This, their maiden effort, on the sea of crime.
    Oh, Christians, teach them early what to me is plain;
    Crime ever _has_ and ever _will_ result in lasting pain.
    Do not be _too_ lenient, nor _too_ soon forgive,
    Lest all _vice_ should flourish and no _virtue_ live.
    Society demands it, the _guilty_ should atone--
    But take care you punish those, and those _alone_!
    Keep them in your prison till by _virtue_ shown
    They will know what _is_ and what is _not_ their own.
    But let all be careful lest by _word_ or _act_
    Those who should _reform_ them from their _good_ subtract.
    Rule them wisely, gently--by some _humane_ plan,
    All their faults to conquer as best becomes a Man.
    When your work is finished and their habits changed,
    Give them honest labor, by the State arranged;
    Show them honest labor _can_ a living gain,
    While the _social outcast_ harvests _want_ and _shame_!
    Treat them fairly, kindly; teach them all the true
    Will be friendly with them while _the right_ they do.
    Both principle and policy declare this course is wise;
    Then why longer act the fool and wisdom's voice despise?
    Crime never _can_ nor _will_ decrease until in _Wisdom's School_
    Men learn the noted lesson, "Right _through_ Law should Rule."

                                              --_H. P. McKnight._

[Illustration: PRISONERS MARCHING.]




                            CHAPTER IV.

               A Brief Pen Picture of Prison Life.


For the instruction of children and others who have never visited one
of our large penitentiaries I insert the following sketch of such a
visit written by Mrs. F. M. Lambert, author of "Holy Maternity," which
was written for this work:

     The prisons and buildings connected with them are enclosed by a
     high stone wall. Of course there is a gate, or gates, opening
     upon driveways leading into the yard where the shops are located.
     The gate is securely locked and guarded, the guard having a
     little room built on the wall over the gate. There is a main
     entrance to the building through which criminals as well as
     visitors enter. The officer closes and locks the large door
     behind you upon entering. On Sabbath mornings many things are
     seen and heard there. The officers come in and take up the work
     of the day. The warden or deputy takes a large bunch of keys and
     opens a side door that leads into the cell room, and the guards
     follow him into the corridor. Soon is heard the rattling of the
     keys, and the opening and closing of heavy doors, followed by the
     tramp, tramp, of many feet. Passing out at a side door with the
     officer, you may watch the men passing down to their breakfast in
     the dining-room, which is on the ground floor of the chapel,
     perhaps one hundred feet from the prison building.

     Each guard marches with his company of men, from twenty to fifty
     in number. They march in single file, each man with his right
     hand resting upon the right shoulder of the man in front of him.

     The officers wear dark blue uniforms, while the convicts are
     dressed in suits made of heavy woolen goods, generally striped,
     the stripes being black and white, a little over an inch wide,
     even the caps being striped, and of the same material as the
     suits.

     You follow the officer across the yard, and notice the large
     greenhouse with its beautiful plants, flowers and shrubs. But,
     looking back, you see the great high wall of the prison, and
     remember that the little spot in the prison yard and the sky
     overhead is all the glimpse of the world that these poor men
     get, and, no doubt, is all that some of them ever will get, for
     some of them are shut in there for life.

[Illustration: PRISON CHAPEL AND DINING ROOM.]


                       THE CHAPEL SERVICE.

     You follow the officer up the steps of stone into the entrance
     hall, and watch the men pass out of the dining-room up the
     stairway into the chapel; then you follow and are led to a seat
     near the pulpit, facing the assemblage. Your eyes wander quickly
     over that strange lot of from two hundred to five hundred men,
     and, in some prisons, over a thousand constitute the audience.
     When all are seated, the guards seat themselves on high stools
     placed along the sides of the room, facing the rear door, while
     the prisoners face the pulpit at the farther end of the room.

     Then the prison choir sings and the organ peals forth its
     beautiful strains, the prisoners joining in the singing. You
     cannot keep back the tears as you look into their faces and think
     that only for sin they might be free. Verily, "the way of the
     transgressor is hard." Prayer is offered, and the chaplain, and
     those who have permission, talk from the written word of eternal
     life. Invariably your eyes sweep over that strange audience, and
     here and there you see a man, or perhaps a young boy, in tears,
     and you know the tender chord in their hearts has been touched.
     God grant it may be so! Several testify to hope in Christ.

     Services over, the prisoners are marched to their cells and
     locked in. They must all attend the morning service, but are not
     compelled to attend the Sunday school in the afternoon. Few
     prisons conduct Sunday schools. In the afternoon, in company with
     the chaplain and some of the guards, you may visit the cell
     rooms, and are allowed to distribute papers and tracts, and speak
     personally with each prisoner.

     THE CELL ROOM is a long room with a stone floor and whitewashed
     walls, the cells running through the middle of its entire length.
     The cells are narrow, little rooms, perhaps four feet wide and
     six or seven feet long. They vary somewhat in size. They have
     doors of strong bars of iron, and no windows. All the air
     received must enter through this grated door in front. The back
     of each cell joins with the back of the row of cells on the other
     side, thus forming a double row facing in opposite directions.

     Rows of cells are built in tiers, one row above another, with a
     narrow platform running along in front, with an iron railing.

     Each man's name, and the number of his cell, is placed over his
     door. A wide corridor runs all around the main room, which admits
     the circulation of air from the large grated windows. Sabbath is
     rather a hard day for the men, for they had rather be at work
     than locked in lonely cells, with only their own thoughts and
     troubled consciences for company.

     Many of the men who are there for long terms have their cells
     fixed very nicely, and one can usually tell those whose hearts
     cling to home or friends. But there are some who seem to care for
     nothing. One boy had his cell ornamented with festoons of
     newspapers folded and torn into patterns representing lace
     curtains. Another, a life convict, had his cell festooned with
     colored tissue paper. This man was a trusty, who had the care of
     the flowers and plants. In some prisons the cells are not
     provided with Bibles, and some prisons have no chaplains.

     Some of the men are very expert at making beautiful things, such
     as pin cushions, picture frames, hair-braided watch guards,
     pen-holders, workboxes, toy chairs and many other things. One man
     I saw was making designs for embossed rocking-chair backs;
     another had his tools for repairing watches.

[Illustration: CORRIDOR IN CELL HOUSE.]


                               THE WORKSHOPS.

     On Monday morning we may visit the workshops and see the men at
     work. Here we see all kinds of work; farm implements, such as
     hoes, rakes, pitchforks and many other things, probably all made
     of iron. These tools pass through many hands before they are
     complete. Each process is done by a separate set of men. For
     instance, the hoes are made by some and sharpened by others. It
     takes only a few seconds to sharpen a tool. As soon as this is
     done it is passed on to others who polish it, and the handle is
     inserted and painted.

     Some rooms are so warm from the many furnaces, and the red-hot
     irons which are being beaten into shape, that a person can
     scarcely stay long enough to see the work done, and is glad to
     move on to cooler departments. The men seem to look well, but you
     cannot help wondering how they ever work and endure the terrible
     heat. They are not allowed to talk to each other, and are
     continually under the guard's eye. Here and there one looks up
     with a nod and a smile.

     Each man in the shops is given a certain amount of work to do,
     and if he does any more than his allotted task, he is paid for
     it. The amount is kept for him. But very few except long-timers
     and experts can gain any time to do extra work.

     After going through all the shops we pass on to


                             THE HOSPITAL,

     which is in the rear of the chapel, and in the same building.
     Here are sights that touch hearts. Some are dying with
     consumption, and some with broken hearts. One poor boy's sunken
     cheeks and thin, wasted hands especially touched me. Taking him
     by the hand, I began to talk to him. He said: "No one cares for
     _me_." "Yes, God cares for you and He loves you." "Why does He
     let me stay here and die if He loves me?" "Have you a mother?"
     "Yes, I have a good Christian mother, but she doesn't know I am
     here." "May I write and tell her you are sick? I am sure she
     wants to know about you?" "Oh, no; I had rather die all alone
     than to have mother know I am here."

     So it is all through these places. For, though I have briefly
     described one prison, they are all in a great measure alike, yet
     vary in different states to some extent. All are not so clean
     and neat as this one spoken of, and though a prison might be
     lined with costly gems, it is still a prison, and without Jesus
     in the heart it is only a living tomb to those confined therein.
     Let none think that it is a pleasant place to be. One man may
     want to be a Christian, or at least a moral man and a man of
     cultured tastes, and such men find it doubly hard when they must
     work side by side with the most degraded criminals. One may leave
     the prison worse than when he went in.

     In these places children hide their ruined lives and breaking
     hearts from their dearest earthly friends. No mother to smooth
     the dying one's pillow, though small it may be! No sister or
     brother to wipe away the bitter tears that _will_ fall; no father
     to say good-bye. O mothers, let the memory of your boy's innocent
     childhood fan all your tenderness and love into a flame that
     would leap over the highest breastwork Satan could erect and take
     your boy or girl back to your heart. If you have been a true
     Christian and have done your duty faithfully, trust still in God.
     What we need is faithful teaching among the unsaved, to warn them
     against their danger, before they get into such awful places.

[Illustration: NEW FEDERAL PRISON AT FT. LEAVENWORTH, KANSAS.]




                             CHAPTER V.

   Letters of Introduction and Kind Words from Governors, Prison
                           Officials, Etc.


From the great number of letters which I have received, of the
character indicated by the title of this chapter, I give a few which
may be of interest to the reader. These will suffice to show the
general interest of those in positions of honor and trust and their
willingness to share a part in the work I have tried to perform for
humanity, by making it possible for me to prosecute and carry it on.
Many letters of like topic have been lost or destroyed, and, space
being limited, I hope those who have done a like part may not feel
slighted. The true records are kept by the recording angel, and every
one shall receive a just reward. "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one
of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

Such letters received in the Southern states will be found in the
chapters on work in Stockades and Prison Camps. Also some relating to
Street and Rescue work in the chapters on these respective topics. I
should like very much to give some personal letters from railway
officials, expressing their appreciation and interest in the work, but
I have refrained lest by such some might be caused some annoyance. To
them much gratitude and credit is due, from all who have received
encouragement or spiritual benefit through my feeble efforts made in
the name of Jesus.


                          FROM GOVERNORS.

                                         Executive Department,
                                     Indianapolis, Ind., Dec. 4, 1891.

     Hon. J. B. Patten, Warden,
             Jeffersonville, Ind.

     Dear Sir:

     This will be presented to you by Mrs. Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton, an
     evangelist whose work is especially among prisoners. I hope it
     will suit your pleasure and convenience to extend to her the
     privilege of addressing the prisoners of your institution.

                               Yours truly,
                                         I. J. CHASE, Governor...

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                         Executive Department,
                                Indianapolis, Ind., Aug. 3, 1893.

     Capt. Jas. B. Patten,
          Warden Prison South,
               Jeffersonville, Ind.

     Dear Sir:

     This will be presented to you by Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, a prison
     evangelist of long experience and considerable reputation. She
     comes with the highest recommendations of her work from prisons
     heretofore visited. She desires to conduct services in your
     chapel, and I trust you will afford her every reasonable facility
     for so doing.

                         Very respectfully,
                                                 CLAUDE MATTHEWS.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                          Governor's Office.

                                            Topeka, Aug. 5, 1893.

     Hon. S. W. Chase,
            Lansing, Kans.

     Dear Sir:

     This will introduce to you Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton, a prison
     evangelist, who comes to us very highly recommended.

     She is desirous of holding service, or taking part, at least, in
     the prison.

     Any favors shown her will be appreciated by

                                    FRED J. CLOSE, Private Sec'y.

                  *       *       *       *       *

     Dear Chase:

     I have just come in, and take pleasure in endorsing the above
     letter. I bespeak for this lady a full opportunity to address the
     prisoners, as I have no doubt but that the service will be
     productive of good.

                                 Yours,
                                       L. D. LEWELLING, Governor.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                           Executive Office.
                            State of Idaho.

                                       Boise City, Dec. 19, 1895.

     To Whom It May Concern:

     This will introduce Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton, a lady who is
     devoted to prison work. Any favors shown her will be gratefully
     appreciated.

                             Respectfully,
                                       W. J. MCCONNELL, Governor.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                         Executive Chamber.

                                Lincoln, Nebraska, Oct. 10, 1896.

     Warden Leidigh:

     My Dear L.:--

     This will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth Ryder Wheaton, who is
     interested in prison reform work and in visiting prisons for the
     purpose of holding suitable services on the Sabbath day. Kindly
     extend such courtesies as you can, and make the necessary
     announcements so that she can conduct services in the chapel, and
     much oblige,

                            Very truly yours,
                                      SILAS A. HOLCOMB, Governor.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                           Executive Chamber.

                              Carson City, Nevada, Dec. 13, 1902.

     Mrs. Henderson:

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, the bearer of this, desires to do some
     charitable work at the prison and she desires to have services
     there tomorrow, as Mr. Henderson is not there. She is coming down
     with Mr. Harris and will explain her mission to you.

                                 Yours truly,
                                             R. SADLER, Governor.


                               PRISON OFFICIALS.

                                Sheriff's Office.
                                 Suffolk County.

                                           Boston, Oct. 24, 1885.

     Mr. Bradley:

     Let the bearer visit the jail and see any person she desires to.

                                          J. B. O'BRIEN, Sheriff.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                    North Carolina State Penitentiary.

                                   Raleigh, N. C., Nov. 14, 1885.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton.

     My Dear Friend: Your postal just to hand, and in reply I am glad
     to say my daughter is much better than when you were in Raleigh,
     but she is still very far from being well. The general health of
     the prisoners is very good at this time. I shall be very glad to
     have you at our prison as you pass on your way south. We have all
     of the convicts in the prison every Sabbath, and I shall be very
     much pleased for you to have service for us. We can arrange for
     the service on any Sabbath morning or evening, as may be most
     desirable or convenient to you.

     I regret that I did not meet you when you were here last. May the
     good Lord bless you very abundantly in your Christian work.

                        Your Friend,
                               W. J. HICKS, Architect and Warden.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                          Warden's Office,
                     Nebraska State Penitentiary.

                               Nobesville, Nebr., April 11, 1886.

     R. J. McClaughry,
         Warden Penitentiary,
            Joliet, Ill.

     Dear Sir:

     This will introduce to your favorable notice Mrs. E. R. Wheaton,
     Prison Evangelist. Mrs. Wheaton is highly recommended by some of
     the most prominent persons, and any favors that you can show her
     will be in a good cause.

                              Very respectfully,
                                             C. F. NOBES, Warden.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                    San Francisco, Aug. 18, 1888.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton.

     Dear Madam: I have just received yours of the 17th inst., and in
     reply will say that you have always been welcome to visit the
     jail and enjoy every privilege granted to others of your sex.

     Mr. G.'s mother has not been allowed to enter his cell for some
     time past. The utmost freedom consistent with our rules of order
     is given to all those employed in the good work in which you are
     so earnestly engaged. Should you find it convenient to visit the
     institution again prior to leaving our State, we will be pleased
     to admit you, and should you prevail on the sheriff to allow the
     special favor you seek, we will gladly comply with the order.

                           Respectfully yours,
                                       JOHN ROGERS, Chief Jailer.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                      Dakota Penitentiary North.

                                        Bismarck, Dak., Oct. 27, 1888.

     Hon. D. S. Glidden,
            Warden Penitentiary,
                   Sioux Falls, Dak.

     Dear Sir:

     This will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton and Miss
     Mary M----, Prison Evangelists.

     They paid us a visit several days ago. While they came without
     introduction, I welcomed them and gave them opportunity to
     examine the prison; also called officers and prisoners together
     in the evening and held services. We were well repaid for our
     time and trouble. They left a lasting and good impression. I
     think that you will like their singing and prison talk. I bespeak
     for them a cordial greeting. Fraternally yours,

                                            DAN WILLIAMS, Warden.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                           Warden's Office,
                       Penitentiary at Anamosa.

                                     Anamosa, Iowa, Dec. 2, 1888.

     This is to certify that Elizabeth R. Wheaton this day held
     religious services in the prison chapel at this prison, which
     were very interesting and instructive, and were highly
     appreciated by both convicts and officials. I am convinced that
     much good will result from the meeting. Mrs. Wheaton is very
     earnest in her remarks, and her singing is charming. I can
     heartily commend her to all prison officials whom she may choose
     to visit.

                               Very truly,
                                            MARQUIS BARR, Warden.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                 Ohio Penitentiary, Warden's Office.

                                  Columbus, Ohio, Sept. 10, 1889.

     To Prison Officers:

     This will introduce Mrs. Wheaton, who has been at our prison and
     worked among the boys. There is none who will command more
     respect and no more earnest worker than Mrs. Wheaton. She will do
     good Christian work wherever she goes.

                              Respectfully,
                                               W. B. PENNINGTON,
                                Deputy Warden, Ohio Penitentiary.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Huntsville, Tex., Sept. 20, 1904.

     Mother Wheaton,
         Tabor Iowa.

     My Dear Madam: Your favor of the 4th instant came duly to hand,
     and we certainly appreciate your kind remembrance.

     I made the men a talk last Sunday in the Chapel and told them of
     your kindly words sent them by you through me, and I know they
     all appreciated it. May God bless you in your good work, and
     grant that your days may be long; that you may be able to turn
     many poor, wayward men and women from their evil ways.

     With my very kindest regards, I beg to remain, madam,

                     Yours most sincerely,

                               T. H. BROWN, Asst. Superintendent.

     Dict. T. H. B.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                        Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Aug. 31, 1891.

     To My Brethren--Wardens:

     Gentlemen: Having observed the work of Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton
     as a prison evangelist, I most cheerfully recommend her to your
     kind consideration and co-operation. Her presence is a
     benediction, and her work is in no sense subversive of good
     discipline, but, on the other hand, is most healthful and
     helpful.

                          Fraternally yours,
                                                THEO. D. KANOUSE,
                             Warden of South Dakota Penitentiary.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                            Warden's Office.
                      The Anamosa Penitentiary.

                                     Anamosa, Iowa, Oct. 8, 1894.

     To all who entertain an interest in our common humanity:

     We deem it only just and proper to express our endorsement of the
     labors and influence of Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton among the
     inmates of prisons.

     Her visits to this prison have invariably been attended with good
     results, and she leaves within these walls a fragrant and
     wholesome influence.

                      Most respectfully,
                                         P. W. MADDEN, Warden.
                                         J. M. CROCKER, Chaplain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                   Southern Illinois Penitentiary.

                      Chester, Ill., Menard P. O., Oct. 22, 1893.

     Dr. V. S. Benson, Asylum for Criminal Insane,

     My Dear Doctor:

     This will introduce Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, a prison evangelist who
     wishes to hold open air services at your place. I am deeply
     impressed with her earnestness and eloquence, and feel that she
     has done us good down here.
                              Yours truly,

                                             J. D. BAKER, Warden.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                       Superintendent's Office.
                        Virginia Penitentiary.

                                      Richmond Va., June 8, 1893.

     To Whom It May Concern:

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, evangelist, whose mission is among
     prisoners, has visited and held meetings at this institution
     which have made a decided impression upon the convicts, and I
     heartily recommend her to the favor of prison officials and
     other good people.

                                     Very truly yours,
                                                B. W. LYNN, Supt.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                     Colorado State Penitentiary.

                               Canon City, Colo., April 11, 1904.

     To Whom It May Concern:

     I wish to say that Mother Wheaton, who has from time to time
     visited the Colorado State Penitentiary, has been the means, I
     believe, of accomplishing much good with the inmates of this
     institution. Her earnest efforts and kind, motherly advice have
     instilled in the hearts of the prisoners an apparent desire to be
     better men. I certainly most earnestly commend her to the kindly
     care of those whom she may meet.

                                                 JOHN CLEGHORN,
                              Warden Colorado State Penitentiary.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                      South Dakota Penitentiary.

                              Sioux Falls, S. D., March 12, 1904.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton,
         612 E St., Elkhart, Ind.

     Dear Madam:

     I take this opportunity of thanking you for the visit made to
     this institution some time ago. Your work among the prisoners has
     had good effect in more ways than one. A number of the inmates
     have told me that your encouraging and Christian talk to them has
     helped them and that they are trying to live Christian lives and
     that by the help of God they expect this to be their last term in
     prison.

     Hoping that you may be able to visit this institution again, I
     am,

                                     Yours truly,
                                           O. S. SWENSON, Warden.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                       South Dakota Penitentiary.

                                Sioux Falls, S. D., June 5, 1905.

     To Whom It May Concern:

     This is to certify that Mother Wheaton, the bearer of this
     letter, has visited the South Dakota Penitentiary in the capacity
     of a missionary. I am glad of the opportunity to say that she is
     doing much good to those unfortunate enough to be placed in an
     institution of this kind and I heartily commend her work.

                             Very respectfully,
                                           H. T. PARMLEY, Warden.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                      Nebraska State Penitentiary.

                                   Lancaster, Neb., May 22, 1905.

     Mother Wheaton's visits to this institution always seem to cheer
     up the inmates and make most of them look forward to better
     things. They feel that she has a mother's heart for all.

                                            A. D. BEEMER, Warden.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                  Office of the Commissioners of the
                        District of Columbia.

                                       Washington, Aug. 19, 1893.

     Mr. W. H. Stoutenburgh,
         Intendant Washington Asylum.

     Dear Sir:

     The commissioners direct me to ask that you will give the bearer,
     Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, a hearing, and such favorable
     action as you properly may with respect to the object of her
     visit, which is to arrange for the holding of religious exercises
     at the asylum.

                              Very truly,
                                           W. TINDALL, Secretary.


                           PERSONAL LETTERS.

                       Kansas State Penitentiary.

                                    Lansing, Kan., Oct. 17, 1894.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton.
     Dear Sister:

     I am in receipt of your card and am glad to hear of your good
     success. I enclose you a money order for eight dollars and
     seventy-five cents, of which fifty cents comes from the deputy
     warden, and the balance from prisoners. You will remember that I
     gave you one dollar and twenty-five cents, making a total of ten
     dollars.

     Excuse me for being so particular, but money drawn from the
     prisoners goes on record, so would like your receipt to show for
     it.

     Wife and children are well.

                                 Fraternally,
                                          F. A. BRIGGS, Chaplain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                     Kentucky Branch Penitentiary.

                                   Eddyville, Ky., Nov. 13, 1897.

     Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton.
     Dear Sister:

     I suppose you remember your visit to our prison; the boys often
     speak of you. We would be glad to have you visit us again
     whenever it would be convenient. I will soon have to submit my
     annual report and I write you that I may get a statement from you
     that I may embody in the report. I herewith enclose statement; if
     you will sign and return to me I will be very thankful. I have
     forgotten the lady's name who was with you. If you could get a
     like statement from her for me I would be glad to embody it also.
     In my report I will speak of your visit in a way that will
     introduce you into other parts of the United States.

     Hoping to hear from you soon, I am,

                     Yours most respectfully,
                                            D. F. KERR, Chaplain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                      Missouri State Penitentiary.
                          Office of Warden.

                                   Jefferson City, Nov. 22, 1897.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     Your card duly received and we were all glad to hear from you, D.
     especially. Enclosed you will find a letter from her which she is
     very anxious for you to answer. Mrs. Pike and I both ordered
     books from Mr. McKnight at Columbus and are perfectly delighted
     with them. Mrs. Spahr has ordered one too. We are all about as
     usual, some three or four sick. We have fifty-two women at
     present. Hope you are well and prospering in the Lord's work.
     Will be pleased to hear from you often. With much love,

                         I am sincerely yours,
                                                     BELLE MAGEE,
                                       Matron State Penitentiary.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Pittsburg, Kan., April 18, 1898.

     My Dear Mother Wheaton:

     Your kind letter just received. God bless you for your kind,
     sympathetic heart. I have often thought of and prayed for you. I
     still feel that God will open the way for me to re-enter the
     prison work. I am trusting Him. He is my all and in all.

     I hear occasionally from the boys at Fort Madison. God has used
     you marvelously. May you be spared long to tell to those around
     what a dear Saviour you have found.

                      Your son in the gospel,
                                                   C. S. LASLETT,
                              Former Chaplain Fort Madison, Iowa.

     Eph. 3:18-21.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                        Anamosa Penitentiary.

                                     Anamosa, Iowa, Oct. 5, 1899.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     At last we have your handkerchiefs finished, and can send to you.
     The girls did not get those tiny slippers finished in time to
     have them at the turnkey's office the evening before you went
     away, so will enclose them now. They are very small, but we know
     you will appreciate the motive rather than the result.

     They are all doing nicely and I feel quite encouraged with the
     present outlook.

     I trust that you are better and that your general health may
     remain good for years of usefulness yet in life.

     With best wishes from myself and my father, the Deputy Warden,

                       I am sincerely yours,
                                  MRS. ANGIE M. WATERMAN, Matron.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                      Kansas State Penitentiary.

                                     Lansing, Kan., Oct. 5, 1899.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     Your card of yesterday reached me today, but too late to attend
     your service at the Home, which I would have been pleased to do.
     Accompanied by our daughter we went to Kansas City, Mo., Monday
     evening for a short visit and returned home yesterday noon. I
     examined eight new prisoners just before starting and upon my
     return found sixteen more. Then two more today. Twenty-six in all
     this week! So I have been very busy.

     Your handkerchief was found in Chapel and my sexton and night
     watch want you to know that you have found "two honest boys in
     the pen." I send it enclosed.

     Are you going to remain here over another Sunday, and if so, will
     you be out again or do you go to the Military Prison?

     The little book to Baby Esther, the poem and a tract, came this
     evening, for which please accept grateful thanks. May the blessed
     Lord greatly bless you in your noble work. May He comfort,
     strengthen and keep you.

                     Sincerely yours in Jesus,
                                         R. A. HOFFMAN, Chaplain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                         Iowa Soldiers' Home.
                               Marshalltown, Iowa, July 18, 1901.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton.

     Dear Sister. Your card came, after a little delay, duly to hand.

     We regret very much your being sick and especially with that
     dreaded disease, the smallpox. There has not been a case of it at
     the Home and not any in town that I know of.

     Our family is well. Matters at the Home in usual shape.
     Thirty-four of the boys have died since January 1, and so we are
     being mustered out, because of service no longer needed. It will
     be a wonderful relief to us all to be invited to that "house not
     made with hands, eternal in the heavens."

     Your visit here was well received, much enjoyed and very
     profitable. Your coming again will be hailed with delight.

                      Very truly, your brother,
                                            JESSE COLE, Chaplain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                        Michigan State Prison.

                                   Jackson, Mich., Sept. 9, 1903.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     The work still progresses nicely. Many of the men speak in the
     highest terms of the services you held here and wish to hear you
     again and those who pray often remember you in their prayers.

     We are very thankful to you for your interest in the inmates of
     Jackson Prison. God bless you in your mission of love. We send
     the sincere wish and offer the earnest prayer that God may make
     your book a strong influence in the upbuilding of Christian life
     and character.

                                   Sincerely,
                                        FRANK MCALPINE, Chaplain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                       Rusk, Tex., April 7, 1904.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton.

     Dear Sister: Your kind postal was read to "The Boys" last Sunday
     and I was requested to answer it. They enjoyed your words of love
     and sympathy very much. The "old timers" remember you well, and
     the new men know you through the old ones.

     John B. Reagan is Assistant Superintendent, J. H. Meeks, Warden
     or, as he is called here, Underkeeper; J. H. Walker, Assistant
     Financial Agent, and I am Chaplain.

     We would like so much for you to visit us. If you make
     arrangements to come let me know and I will meet you at the
     depot.

                           Yours in the work,
                                                    J. L. DAWSON.

                  *       *       *       *       *

Accompanying the following tribute from Bro. Munro, chaplain of the
Mission to the "Tombs" Prison in New York City, we give cuts of the
old "Tombs" where I have held services a number of times, and of the
"New Tombs" which has not been occupied a great while. Also a short
extract taken from the annual report of the chaplain.


[Illustration: THE OLD TOMBS]

[Illustration: THE NEW TOMBS]

                       Gospel Mission to the Tombs.
                       Rev. J. J. Munro, Chaplain.

                                    New York City, June 24, 1904.

     Dear Sister Wheaton,
     Prison Evangelist,
     Chicago, Ill.

     I am glad to hear that you are writing a book on prison labors.
     You certainly have had much experience in that line. I trust your
     book will have a wide circulation in which the marvels of God's
     free grace to men and women behind the bars will be fully seen.

     I take much pleasure in commending your prison labors for the
     Master. For when you came to the Tombs it gave me great joy to
     hear you speak to the prisoners. And your earnest words for lost
     souls will not be soon forgotten. Success to you and may God's
     richest blessing be with you.

                            In the Master's name,
                                                   JOHN J. MUNRO.

                                    EXTRACT.

     "Crime among boys and young men has increased greatly during the
     last few years. I cannot account for this except on the ground of
     a noticeable increase in the social high pressure.

     "The temptations today are greater than ever and swamp the young
     men by the hundreds before they reach their majority. I meet
     these boys in prison--white and colored--and talk to them. I find
     out their needs and try to help them.

     "Nowhere in the wide world can the power of sin be more clearly
     seen than in the Tombs Prison. It is a wreckage pool where hulks
     and derelicts that have been abandoned in the ocean of life come
     to a standstill. What an army of fallen humanity! They can go no
     further. When they realize their condition they weep, groan and
     bitterly lament over their misspent lives. Can these men be
     transformed by the power of the Gospel? These moral and physical
     wrecks, with bleared eyes, sunken and emaciated cheeks and many
     other marks of sin. What a besotted multitude! Yet the Gospel of
     Jesus can reach them. 'He can save to the uttermost all that come
     unto God through Him.'"

                  *       *       *       *       *

                    Nebraska State Penitentiary.
                       A. D. Beemer, Warden.

                                   Lancaster, Neb., May 22, 1905.

     To Whom It May Concern:

     I have lately become acquainted with Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton,
     familiarly known as "Mother Wheaton," the prison evangelist, and
     I take pleasure in recommending her and endorsing her work among
     those who are detained in prisons and jails.

     Her manifest Christian spirit, sympathy with the unfortunate and
     condemned ones, sincere humility, all entitle her to the esteem
     and confidence of all, and I believe her work productive of much
     good.

                                  Signed,      P. C. JOHNSON,
                               Chaplain of Nebraska Penitentiary,
                                                  Lancaster, Neb.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Huntsville, Tex., Aug. 8, 1904.

     To Whom It May Concern:

     This is to certify that Sister Elizabeth R. Wheaton, prison
     evangelist, has visited our prison and held a profitable service.
     She is a consecrated woman and has her heart in the work. Would
     to God that we had more such women. May the Lord raise them up
     and help these poor unfortunate men who are confined within
     prison walls. All the prisoners who know her love her and call
     her mother. May the Lord in his mercy preserve her and give her
     many souls for her labor.

                                             W. T. MCDONALD,
                                           Chaplain Penitentiary.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                               Charlestown, Mass., Oct. 30, 1885.

     Dear Mrs. Wheaton:

     I am sorry I had no opportunity to see you before you left. I
     trust we may see you on your way to the south. Mrs. Chapman
     informed me last evening of your whereabouts and the Warden
     wished me to convey his regards to you and say that he should
     like to see you here again, if convenient or consistent with your
     plans, on Sunday next (Nov. 1).

     Accompanying this please find some notes from different
     prisoners. The Warden would be glad to have you here some
     Saturday P.M. in order that you should be in the yard, at liberty
     with all the men, that you might speak with them at your freedom
     or pleasure personally. I trust that the divine light is flooding
     your spirit and I pray it may do so forever.

     I hope that Christ is ever a satisfying portion to you and that
     your comforts in Him are numberless and rich.

     May God Almighty fill you with himself.

                              Respectfully,
                                                 J. W. F. BARNES,
                                     Chaplain Mass. State Prison.

     P. S. Also find herewith a paper drawn up by one prisoner and
     signed by thirty-three others.

                                                      J. W. F. B.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Charlestown, Mass., June 4, 1887.

     Dear Sister Wheaton:

     Things here seem to be getting on to the praise of Jehovah. I had
     a good, long letter from Sister B. this morning. It is most
     blessed to feel that Jesus abides in the ship and commands the
     winds and sea as well. Praise his glorious name!

     What a blessing it is to be on the altar in God's service, ready
     to go or stay; ready to labor or to rest; to bear burdens or be
     free.

     I trust that the fullest rays of the Sun Divine may warm your
     heart and make your life fruitful.

     God be with you richly in all things.

                          With best of wishes,
                                       J. W. F. BARNES, Chaplain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                     Massachusetts State Prison.
                                      Charlestown, Feb. 13, 1896.

     Dear Mrs. Wheaton:

     Your postal to the Warden concerning ---- was put into my hands.
     This is the first moment I have had to devote to an answer. He is
     in the city working. He has made excellent friends. He stands
     well in the church he has joined; is connected with a very large
     Bible class of young men and frequently has to be its teacher. He
     is active in the church, but closely confined to his work.

     We are in fair condition, comparatively, in the prison. We have
     tonight, 761 prisoners. I send you one of our reports with this.

     A. is still keeping a Rescue Mission and doing well.

     I presume you are still after the welfare of the prisoners. I
     have been very ill since I saw you, but am able to be at my work
     again. Our little prayer meeting on Saturday P. M. still goes on
     doing good. The Lord is with us in the enlightening and building
     up of souls.

     Such work as you used to do has been left out of the prison life
     and no one is allowed now to go into the chapel on Sundays. Once
     each month I take in some people to help us sing in our praise
     service. The same people every time, however. Pray for us.

                                   Sincerely yours,
                                       J. W. F. BARNES, Chaplain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                      Massachusetts State Prison.

                                      Charlestown, June 14, 1899.

     Dear Sister Wheaton:

     Yours came on Monday last. I was glad to hear from you, and to
     get the enclosures in your letter. They are good--very good--for
     my work and my own life. I heartily reciprocate all your good
     wishes for me and pray that you may be preserved from all evil.

     We have had some blessed conversions here and one or two of our
     men have gone to their reward in great peace and joy.

     F. is doing well and much loved in his work for Christ. He is at
     same address I sent you before.

                            Truly yours in the work,
                                       J. W. F. BARNES, Chaplain.

[Illustration: PERSONAL WORK.]




                               CHAPTER VI.

                        Some of My Prison Boys.


The writer of the following letters was one of the most remarkably
conscientious persons I ever knew. As a prisoner, he was very highly
respected by the officers. His chaplain has ever remained his sincere
friend and counselor. Years have passed since he left prison life and
he still remains an earnest Christian and an honorable member of
society. No one but his pastor, employer and former friends know his
past history.

He was converted in prison during services I held in 1884 or 1885. He
presented me some years ago with a book of poems of his own writing.
Not being able to carry them with me, I have lost trace of them.
Otherwise would be glad to furnish some of them to my readers.

                  *       *       *       *       *

               To Mrs. Wheaton, My Dear Mother in the Lord:

     I call you by this name because I am young and have lost my
     mother in the flesh, and I am writing this letter because, as you
     have given up all for Jesus' sake, you only can help me as I
     wish. You can pray for me as a mother prays for a son. I am
     twenty-four years old, have an eighteen years' sentence, have
     served four years of it and expect to serve the whole of it for I
     have no influential friends to help me.

     I had not been here a year until I realized what eighteen years
     of prison life meant--the deprivation of all earthly pleasures,
     and the wasting away of youthful hopes and ambitions in vain
     regret. Grief, misery and despair overwhelmed me every night, and
     every night I wished that I were dead. A great struggle was going
     on in my soul. A struggle for either life or death, and, thank
     God, life had the victory.

     I am now a Christian. A night of revelation came to me in which
     God, as Judge, and Jesus, as Saviour, revealed to me--the one,
     the power and glory; the other, the love of God.

     But my way is not like the peaceful flow of a river, but like a
     stream of cascades. By leaps I draw nearer to God. In the
     meantime I do not keep the image of Jesus before me. Pray, dear
     mother, this special prayer for me, that my faith may be
     constant; that self shall no more come between it and Jesus; that
     surroundings shall not weaken it; that youth shall not neglect
     it. Jesus has stamped my soul with his blood. It can never be
     effaced, but my soul does not thrill as often as I wish with the
     joy of right-doing. Belief in Jesus permeates my whole being. Why
     do I sometimes stray from his love? Repentance is doubly grievous
     then, and repent I must. My conscience compels me. The prayers of
     a saintly woman will be heard. You will pray for me for Jesus'
     sake.

                            Yours in the Lord,
                                                          SIGNED.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                          Thanksgiving Day, 1885.

     Dear Mother in the Lord:

     With what mingled emotions of joy, gratitude and love, I read
     your faith inspiring letter. I did not expect it, for one Sunday
     in the chapel the Chaplain read one from you addressed to us all
     in general. He also told us something about your way--what a
     lonely, weary way. What a sorrow yours has been! Can we poor
     mortals ever forget our sorrow? Does it not rise to the surface
     at times and overwhelm us, so that nothing but the soothing
     presence of Jesus can comfort us? "I will not leave you
     comfortless; I will come to you."

     A common saying here is: "I don't believe in a man coming to
     prison to reform." Ah! little they know what reform is, for where
     on earth does one need the Spirit that reforms more than in
     prison? Our poets tell us that prisons are the types of hell. I
     bless God for bringing me to this prison. Out of its depths I
     cried and He heard me, nor do I pray to be free from its thrall.
     Indeed I do pray for His will to be done in me and beseech Him to
     keep me here until He calls me to Himself, rather than I should
     go free again and forget Him. That I never can. Though I fell to
     the lowest depths, I could never forget Him. Dear Mother, we
     will meet Him--Jesus--in Heaven. Oh! I do not want the pleasures
     of this life! I do want to be, like you, His humble follower. How
     I wish I could be near you always that your faith might ever
     increase my own. I need, very much I need, the pure and tender
     influence of a holy praying "mother." My own mother had a loving
     heart, but neither she nor my father did I ever see praying. My
     precious Saviour was never revealed to me from the lips of
     either. What would have become of me had God deferred this
     discipline? Would I not have gone on in sin until too late, even
     had I been sent here for a short term of years? My only thought
     would be for them to end, that I might pursue again the delusive
     hopes of sin.

     I fully realize my position here. I see the providence of God
     that makes it a blessing.

     I would tell you the way Jesus came to me, or rather how I came
     to Him. When first I came here I did not think of what was in
     store for me--eighteen years of prison life. I was wild and
     thoughtless. The strangeness of the place helped to divert my
     mind, but the solitude of my cell at night forced me to look into
     the future. At length my fate dawned upon me. Oh! it was
     terrible! During the day I would try to forget the thoughts of
     the night by being more wild than ever, but the night brought the
     ordeal again and it was driving me to despair. I longed to be
     dead, but one night the thought came: "Suppose you were dead,
     what then? Would you be at rest?" I say thought, but if ever the
     Holy Spirit spoke to the soul of man, it spoke to mine that
     night. In an instant I saw the enormity of my sins and the
     punishment in store for me. In terror I cried: "O, what shall I
     do? Oh, I cannot die! I cannot meet this doom!" Need I say that
     my cry was not in vain? No, the spirit of Jesus taught me of
     Himself that night, and the Chaplain showed me some words in the
     gospel of John. I never read the Bible before, but there were
     Christ's words, and those words I now read often. The Psalms and
     St. John contain for me the Way of Life.

     I do not forget you in my feeble prayers morning and night, and I
     hope you will be indeed my "Mother" for Jesus' sake. Amen.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                                   June 16, 1890.

     My Dear Friend and Spiritual Mother:

     I thank you very much for your kind letter, which I received
     today. I pray that you may die in the harness, leaving your work
     to just pass over the river into Heaven.

     Have you heard that our dear Chaplain's helpmeet has recently
     taken this journey? The Chaplain takes it just as one would
     expect he would, calmly, with faith unabated, rather increased,
     for he said to me the day after the funeral: "The peace of God in
     my heart passeth understanding." This evidence of real trust in
     God's mercy, and that He is and heaven is, has been the means of
     bringing me nearer to God.

     I am reading a book by "H. W. S." entitled "Frank: the Record of
     a Happy Life." It is very inspiring. I have been convinced for
     some time that the higher Christian life was a reality, and had
     experienced its blessings. But I lived upon the experience,
     drawing my strength from it and not God, consequently I soon got
     back to where I was before. But the Holy Spirit has of late been
     urging me to seek it again, so that I have consecrated myself
     anew to the Lord, and he has blessed me wonderfully, taking away
     the irritable feeling that certain trials were sure to bring me.
     I forget self and think only of doing good to those who before I
     felt like shunning. It makes me very humble in my happiness. Dear
     Mother, I am sure you have enjoyed this blessed experience of
     living moment by moment to God, being kept by Him from all sin
     and the power of temptation.

     I have read that many Christians do not believe that the blood of
     Christ cleanseth from all sin. This appears very strange to me. I
     don't see how they can be so blind. When this blessed thought was
     shown me I could not help believing it, it seemed so plain, and
     was really needful for us to have in order to live up to the
     commands of the gospel.

                                             Tuesday P. M., 17th.

     They are celebrating the Battle of Bunker Hill today. We have had
     our holiday and are now in our rooms for the rest of the day. It
     is a perfect summer day, mild, with a refreshing breeze floating
     through the windows. My bird hangs above me chirping, enjoying
     himself, while the murmur of voices in the guard room, with now
     and then the joyous shout of a baby, make me feel like shutting
     my eyes and imagining myself far away from these stones and bars.

     I firmly believe that an educated Christian who is wholly
     consecrated shall be used by the Lord where an uneducated one
     would not. You know it was to Paul, the highly educated, that was
     intrusted the greatest work of the Apostles, viz: To convert the
     heathen world. In Athens, the center of intellectual life, he
     preached, quoting to them from their own poets and converting
     certain philosophers of whom was Dionysius, one of the city's
     judges. Intellectual ability is a talent which the Lord requires
     us to use for His kingdom. We need never fear for education,
     "While near the school the church spire stands," as the Quaker
     poet, Whittier, puts it.

     Our prayer meeting is growing both in numbers and in interest. We
     hold an election of officers today. I resigned the leadership
     owing to my duties in the library being such that I could not
     attend regularly. I, however, accepted the place of chairman of
     the standing committee. The Warden has allowed the teachers of
     the night school to organize a society for the purpose of general
     culture. Last Friday the constitution and by-laws were submitted
     for approval. Next Friday the election of officers will be held.
     I have been embarrassed by several members asking me to accept
     the position of president. I know that I am not qualified for the
     position, but they think otherwise and are persistent. These, and
     other tokens of regard and respect for me by my fellow prisoners,
     I am very grateful for.

     It makes me feel, too, that my Christian life here has not been
     without results among them. They respect my scruples--something I
     hardly think people outside are in the habit of doing. You will
     understand that I look upon all this as the Lord's doings, and
     feel no self-praise over it. To Him be all the praise for giving
     me the courage and strength to let my light shine before the men
     in this prison. O! it is good to be on the Lord's side, to let
     Him order my way. I pray that I may never have a will of my own
     in this respect. I feel so perfectly willing to remain here and
     serve Him in my feeble way, only praying that if a larger
     opportunity comes to me I shall not be found wanting, only
     believing that with the opportunity will come added strength and
     power from on high. The Holy Spirit has so witnessed to my
     spirit that God is and that He is a rewarder of them that
     diligently seek Him, and that Jesus is my Saviour, that the bare
     thought of being unfaithful brings intense pain to my soul. No, I
     can never be happy away from my Saviour. With His faith filling
     my being, His peace shall abide with me.

     I pray daily for my spiritual "Mother," that the Lord shall bless
     her in all heavenly places in Christ Jesus, that the Holy Spirit
     shall rest upon you, giving you the word of truth to speak to the
     lost souls in all the places you go to.

     With much love, I remain

                    Your son and brother in the Lord,
                                                       ---- ----.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                                   Oct. 23, 1894.

     My Dear Mother:

     I have been waiting to hear from you so I could write and let you
     know of the good news that has come to me. I am no longer in
     prison. I have been let out on parole. This means that I am still
     a prisoner, but am given larger liberty. I shall not be allowed
     to leave this city nor engage in mission work, that is to give my
     whole time to it. I have to report to the secretary of the Board
     of Prison Commissioners every month. When I get a room I am going
     to devote the most of my spare time to study. I go to a mission
     at the North End, but have no regular church connections. I have
     been living with Mr. ---- since coming out, but will leave him
     within a week. He has been a good friend to me. He has been so
     ill all this year that he has been to the prison only a few
     times.

     I am happy in my new life. The Lord is blessing me wonderfully.
     There is no other life worth living here below but following in
     the way of the Lord.

     With much love, I remain

                           Your son in the Lord,
                                                       ---- ----.

                        A TALENTED YOUNG MAN.

Soon after entering upon prison work, I found in one of our eastern
prisons the writer of the following letters and articles. He was at
that time young, gifted, scholarly and very prepossessing in
appearance. His penmanship was beautiful, perhaps the most so I have
ever seen, but he had fallen under evil influences and the very gift
that should have been used for a better purpose proved a curse and at
the time I first saw him he was under sentence for forgery. He seemed
to be clearly converted in a meeting I held in the prison and proved
faithful during the remainder of his term. But after he went out into
the world I lost trace of him. He was only one among thousands who
need sympathy and help and encouragement. I trust that, if living, he
is still true to himself and to God. Some of his letters follow, also
the discourse on the Agony in the Garden in the form of a letter found
in the appendix is of his writing.

                                                   Oct. 29, 1885.

     To Mrs. ---- Wheaton.

     Madame: Not being able to shake hands, and having thus been
     deprived of the pleasure of verbally telling you what we had to
     say, we now have recourse to our pen. Our hearts have heard,
     understood and treasured your words of last Sunday.

     Dear Lady, yours is a special task. In your field of labor are
     gathered crowds unnumbered, inert, inanimate, forming, as it
     were, a great desert, a Dead Sea uninhabited by any living thing.
     There lies a small world to be reconquered; such are the men who
     are to be reclaimed. How act upon them? How move their hearts?
     How gain mastery over them? In these questions lies the secret of
     the future.

     Holiness in your heart and the omnipotent hand of Jesus in yours
     cannot fail to bring about the reformation of a host of
     criminals. He will save them. Oh! climb the heights, display the
     brilliancy of those universal truths in whose presence every
     being gifted with reason and accessible to reflection feels
     compelled to bend the knee. Deeds, examples, striking evidence
     and incontestable proofs of abnegation, devotedness, charity and
     sacrifices are required. These are the sermons that awaken souls
     from their torpor; these the weapons that triumph over the
     world, however criminal, careless, frivolous and hardened it may
     be.

                                                          SIGNED.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                                December 1, 1885.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton,
                      Somewhere in America.

     Let me begin this letter by saying something very true concerning

                     RUM.

       Let thy devotees extol thee,
         And thy wondrous virtues sum;
       But the worst of names I'll call thee,
         O, thou hydra monster, Rum!

       Pimple-maker, visage-bloater,
         Health-corrupter, idler's mate;
       Mischief breeder, vice promoter,
         Credit spoiler, devil's bait.

       Almshouse builder, pauper maker,
         Trust betrayer, sorrow's source;
       Pocket emptier, Sabbath breaker,
         Conscience stifler, guilt's resource.

       Nerve enfeebler, system shatterer,
         Thirst increaser, vagrant thief;
       Cough producer, treacherous flatterer,
         Mud bedauber, mock relief.

       Business hinderer, spleen instiller,
         Woe begetter, friendship's bane;
       Anger heater, Bridewell filler,
         Debt involver, toper's chain.

       Memory drowner, honor wrecker,
         Judgment warper, blue-faced quack;
       Feud beginner, rags bedecker,
         Strife enkindler, fortune's wreck.

       Summer's cooler, winter's warmer,
         Blood polluter, specious snare;
       Mob collector, man transformer,
         Bond undoer, gambler's fare.

       Speech bewrangler, headlong bringer,
         Vitals burner, deadly fire;
       Riot mover, firebrand flinger,
         Discord kindler, misery's sire.

       Sinews robber, worth depriver,
         Strength subduer, hideous foe;
       Reason thwarter, fraud contriver,
         Money waster, nations' woe.

       Vile seducer, joy dispeller,
         Peace disturber, blackguard guest;
       Sloth implanter, liver sweller,
         Brain distracter, hateful pest.

       Wit destroyer, joy impairer,
         Scandal dealer, foul-mouthed scourge;
       Senses blunter, youth ensnarer,
         Crime inventor, ruin's verge.

       Virtue blaster, base deceiver,
         Spite displayer, sot's delight;
       Noise exciter, stomach heaver,
         Falsehood spreader, scorpion's bite.

       Quarrel plotter, rage discharger,
         Giant conqueror, wasteful sway;
       Chin carbuncler, tongue enlarger,
         Malice venter, death's broadway.

       Household scatterer, high-hope dasher,
         Death's forerunner, hell's dire brink;
       Ravenous murderer, windpipe slasher,
         Drunkard's lodging, meat and drink!

     The rum vender's power is something enormous. We do not delude
     ourselves into thinking that the fight for national prohibition
     will be easily won. In many respects the liquor dealers will
     prove an enemy harder to vanquish than the slave dealers were.
     For slavery was an institution with a local habitation. It was
     restricted to certain well-defined limits. The whole world knew
     where it was and what it was doing. But rum is everywhere. Its
     upholders are woven into the warp and woof of society in every
     city and hamlet. It has a thousand heads, and it can hide them in
     times of danger with wonderful facility. Slavery was bold, brazen
     and defiant. It could be nothing else. But the liquor dealers,
     with equal bravado and strength, are enabled to resort to the
     cunning and subtlety of the serpent, when bravado is imprudent.

     Then the liquor dealer's influence over his victims does not end
     with control of the bodies. His slaves are his allies. He owns
     them, many of them, body and soul for such a cause. They will
     fight for rum and vote for rum as persistently as the saloonist
     himself. These facts may as well be appreciated. When it comes to
     defiant antagonism, when temperance men boldly array themselves
     in professed opposition to the traffic in alcohol, the struggle
     will be severe. But it is certain there will come no time in the
     future when it will be less severe. The liquor power is _a
     rapidly growing power_. God knows it is strong enough now, but it
     becomes stronger with each passing day.

     Are we willing that such a class of men not only hold such an
     enormous power, but add to it indefinitely? In the census for
     1880 the capital employed in the manufacture of liquor was over
     one hundred and eighteen million of dollars, and the number of
     persons employed in the manufactories and in saloons aggregated
     over one hundred thousand. No nation can afford to leave such
     power in the hands of such men. It is suicidal.

     Having _said my say_ about "Old Devil" and his "Clerks" I guess
     I'll write a _little_ letter to

     My Dear Sister:

     Your good, kind letter was duly received. We sincerely thank you.
     When meeting with savages who don't treat you respectfully please
     ever remember that in M---- everybody who knows you or about you
     loves you. Mrs. D. told me to write to Mrs. Wheaton because "_she
     is a lovely Christian_."

     "O taste and see that the Lord is good." Psa. 34:8.

     That is the right way to find out that He is good. We may think
     He is good, we may have some idea that He is so--but to know it,
     and to know how very good the Lord is, we must taste his
     goodness. He alone is good. He is goodness itself; and because He
     is this, He wants us to taste, to enjoy Him.

     Good men and women, and good children, will one day be like the
     angels in heaven; and they begin to be such already in this
     world. If it were not for them, if they were not here to be the
     bearers of peace and happiness, the ministers of mercy and of
     love, to wretchedness and woe, to the weary and the bowed down,
     how wretched would this world be! A thousand blessings upon you,
     beloved sisters, who, from the goodness of your great big heart,
     endeavor to do good to others. It is through such holy and
     devoted daughters of our thrice holy King and Father as Sister
     Elizabeth that we taste and see how good the Lord is.

     "You see how large a letter I have written unto you with mine own
     hand." Galatians 6:11. "I thank my God, making mention of thee
     always in my prayers." Philemon, 4.

     "Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing
     that you may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy
     Ghost." Romans 15:13.

     "Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them; and them
     which suffer adversity, as being yourselves also in the body."
     Hebrews 13:3.

     We salute thee, sister.

                       Your real brother in Jesus,
                                                            L. J.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                               Charlestown, Mass., Oct. 18, 1886.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton.

     Dear Sister--John 17:20, 21: "Everyone members one of another."
     "If one suffer all suffer." I do not know that the relation and
     consequent influence of member upon member can be better
     illustrated than by the connection of the body, mind and spirit,
     and the power that any one of the three has over the other two.

     The mind depends upon the body to carry out its desires, and the
     mind is in constant subjection to the body in health and in
     sickness. The body is controlled by the mind as the ship is
     directed in her course by the man at the helm. The spirit looks
     out through the eyes of the body and is entranced with the scene
     of beauty, or is crushed with the sorrow with which it is seized,
     according as we look upon a thing of beauty or the eye rests upon
     things withered and dead.

     The life and experience of every man attest the fact that thought
     and emotion, and the body in which the organs of thought and
     feeling are placed, are inter-related in such a way and to such
     an extent that the mind and body control, to a very great extent,
     the activity of each other. The wise man, looking at the inner
     life and the outer manifestation of it, from a little different
     point of view, expresses it thus: "As a man thinketh in his heart
     so is he. The spirit of a man will sustain his _infirmity_, but a
     wounded or broken spirit who can bear?" Says a writer in the Laws
     of Health: "If a man thinks he is an invalid he is one; if he
     thinks himself incompetent he is incompetent, and so through the
     whole list." By faith in Christ, as true and confiding as the
     trust of a child; by boldness at the throne of grace; by firmness
     in resisting temptation, and by resolution in the performance of
     every duty we are able to maintain the connection we have formed
     with Christ, the head of the body; to bear the fruit of the vine;
     to suffer with each other; to be honored with the members of the
     body, and to rejoice with those who rejoice.

     As the connection of the body, mind, moral nature and spirit is
     such as to give one part influence over the other parts and the
     power to modify their health and action, so the relation which is
     formed with the household of faith, when we come into Christ, is
     to be honored by striving for the faith of the gospel and by an
     effort to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

     If one in Christ now, this oneness can be maintained among the
     brotherhood in but one way, and that is by being one with Christ
     and God in purpose, plan and effort for the salvation of men and
     by striving together for _the faith_ of the gospel. The unity of
     God's people cannot be maintained by erecting standards of our
     own--by making our own opinions bonds of fellowship and tests of
     soundness--by prescribing this and forbidding that. The unity is
     to be maintained by striving together for _the faith_ of the
     gospel. The same thing is true with reference to the multitudes
     who are following Christ as they have learned him. The unity of
     all these distracted bodies is not to be brought about by any
     effort to form a union, but by an effort on the part of each one
     to grow up into Christ, the living Head; by all agreeing to
     disagree in their opinions; and by all striving together for _the
     faith_ of the gospel. This lesson is to be taught the world by
     the disciples of Christ, and if we do not teach the lesson
     aright, we may expect, and we ought to receive the question: What
     do ye more than others?

     When we are growing in favor with God and man; when we are
     increasing in the knowledge of divine things; when our lives are
     hid with Christ in God; when we are appropriating the spiritual
     food which God has furnished; when we are proving to the world
     that we have passed from death unto life; when we are loving each
     other with pure hearts fervently; when we are continuing
     steadfast in the apostles' doctrines and in the fellowship, in
     the breaking of bread and in prayers, we are giving to the world
     and to professed Christians everywhere a living demonstration
     that we are striving together for the faith of the gospel.

     "How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that
     bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good
     tidings of good that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion,
     Thy God reigneth!"

     Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be
     in health, even as thy soul prospereth. III John 2.

                               Yours in His love,
                                                            L. J.


                        UNDER DEATH SENTENCE.

In 1887, I found the writer of the following letters, with nine other
men, under sentence of death in the prison at Ft. Smith, Arkansas.
Before his cell door stood his wife and four little children. They all
seemed heart-broken and I was deeply impressed with the sad, touching
scene. After talking with them and praying for them, I was led to
believe that the man was innocent of the crime for which he and
another young man had been condemned. The evidence against them was
purely circumstantial. The other man was afterward given his liberty,
but this one was held, as many believed, for want of money to hire
lawyers to properly plead his case. I still believe him to be an
innocent man.

I left the state a short time before the day set for the execution,
but prayed the Lord to let his life be spared if he was innocent. Some
time after I learned that he, with several others, had been given a
life sentence in the Ohio penitentiary. I went to the President and
Attorney General in Washington, D. C., several times, trying, if
possible, to secure his pardon. They were kind and courteous and after
looking up the evidence would have granted him a pardon if the judge
who had passed the sentence would request it, but he refused to do so
and finally died. Then all hope seemed gone. The wife died of a broken
heart. The children all died and the dear old parents, broken-hearted,
lingered on, hoping against hope, until now they, too, may have passed
away. But the poor man lingered in prison, with health, hope, friends,
youth, all gone; forgotten by the world, waiting for death to end his
misery. I say hope gone; I mean, hope for freedom here. His hope of
heaven proved an anchor to his sorrowing heart. He proved himself a
consistent Christian and a good, quiet, obedient prisoner. A letter
from Chaplain Starr, Columbus, Ohio, tells me that he had been finally
pardoned and was released January 4, 1904.

I find in my possession two papers received from Washington regarding
his case of which I give the reader verbatim copies:

                  *       *       *       *       *

                       Department of Justice.
                             Washington.

     Case of M----, Western District of Arkansas.
     Offense--Murder.
     Sentence--To be hanged.
     Petition for pardon filed March 11, 1899.
     Commuted to life imprisonment on June 7, 1899.

                                         JAMES F. REED, ESQ.,
                     U. S. Dist. Atty., Western Dist. of Ark.,
                                                 Fort Smith, Ark.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                         Department of Justice.

                                Washington, D. C., March 8, 1895.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton,
           902 H. Street, N. E.

     Sir: The papers in the above case have been referred, in
     accordance with Department practice, to the United States
     Attorney for the Western District of Arkansas for his
     consideration, and he has reported adversely thereon, being of
     the opinion that the case is not one in which executive clemency
     should be exercised, trial judge concurring.

     In the absence of a counter showing, the report of the United
     States Attorney will be considered as disposing of the case.

     By direction of the Attorney General.

            Very respectfully,
                                          WILLIAM C. ENDICOTT,
                                   Attorney in Charge of Pardons.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Fort Smith, Ark., Feb. 20, 1889.

     Dear Sister in Christ:

     Yours at hand. It found a small portion of us praying to God for
     aid. We keep up our prayer meeting. There is but three of us who
     attend regular. It is myself and Mr. M. and T. We want to do all
     we can to save our souls. I am one who is to be executed on the
     19th and I am ready to go if God says for me to go. I am sure to
     meet you in Heaven where there is no unjust court. I want you to
     pray for me in good faith, for the prayers of the righteous are
     powerful and I want you to remember the day I am to die and pray
     for my soul to go to God where I can see everlasting enjoyment.

     I am sad, sister. It hurts my heart to think I have been a good,
     affectionate man on earth and now I must die for the wicked world
     or man's evil. I forgive all and will die an innocent man. "God
     receive my soul" is my prayer.

     Brother and sister B. came and prayed for us last week. Write me
     again and I will give you all the news.

                              Yours truly,
                                                           M----.

     I had to stop writing to get to prayer meeting and I tell you, we
     had a good time. It does me good to get to say a word for Jesus,
     in jail or out. I am as happy as anyone could be in prison, I am
     sure. I am blessed with a sure love of God who can save or
     destroy. We don't have preaching very often in here. There are
     ten in here who are found guilty of murder. It is no wonder
     people think they can't get justice. I am sure it is on account
     of so many bad people being in the territory and around it.

     I am thankful I am even spared to see a few more days and to let
     me have more time to try for justice. I am doing all I can and so
     are my friends and relatives. I have a good father and mother to
     pray for me day and night and am sure there is many a prayer gone
     to Jesus in my behalf.

     Hoping to hear from you soon, I say good-bye. I am,

                      Yours very truly,                    M----.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                            Fort Smith, Arkansas, March 13, 1889.

     Dear Sister in Christ:

     Yours at hand. It found me well and still pleading to God to
     prepare my soul to meet my fate on the 19th of April. It is an
     awful day for me to think of. I do hope and pray to God I won't
     be put to death in such a cruel manner. I don't deserve such a
     death, or any punishment at all for the accused crime. I don't
     fear death, but I don't want to disgrace so many good people as
     it will be a disgrace on all my relatives and me as clear of
     murder as a child, and I don't believe God will allow me to be
     put to death without a cause, but if God tells me to go on the
     scaffold I will obey Him.

     I had a dear brother come to see me this week, and when he left
     me it just looked like it was the last sight of the dear brother,
     although he said, "I will come to see you again before ----,"
     then he choked down and went away. He meant, "Before you are
     executed." It would do my dear old parents an awful sight of good
     to get a letter from you, stating what I said in regard to a
     future home. I do wish you would write them.

     We keep up our prayer meeting as regular as the time comes,
     except we are hindered by a good cause. Seldom we miss our
     meeting and prayers together. I am sorry to say there is only
     three of us and I am all the doomed one of the three. I want you
     when you are visiting prisons in Texas to inquire for a man by
     the name of John H., as I have heard he was arrested in Texas
     somewhere and was in jail. This is the same name as the man we
     are accused of killing, and it may be the same man. I wrote to
     Paris, Texas, but he was not there. If you find him let me know
     at once. You can ask him if he ever knew Henry M. and William W.
     He might deny us, so you can give me a description and I can tell
     if it is him. Ask him of what nationality he is.

     God bless you all and send me relief at the last hour. Amen. I
     am,

                   Your true and affectionate brother in Christ,
                                                           M----.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                            Fort Smith, Arkansas, April 11, 1889.

     Mrs. Wheaton,

     Dear Sister in Christ:

     Your kind and welcome letter at hand. I hope you are being
     blessed by our Almighty God. I am sure you are worthy of great
     praise in well-doing. I am very sorry to inform you I am not
     pardoned yet, but I thank God I have been respited till June 29.
     It was thankful news for me and I am sure it is the power of our
     God who wants justice done in everything here on earth. Oh, what
     a great promise Jesus has promised us all if we will humble
     ourselves and get low down at his feet! I am one that wants to
     bow as low as I am required. I am a servant for Jesus as long as
     I remain in this sinful world.

     I am so glad my dear old pa wrote you. I don't get any letters
     from him. I suppose he writes so pitiful to me the jailer won't
     let me have his letters. I do not know any other cause. I receive
     letters from my brothers and sisters regular. I thank you for the
     letter father sent you. My misfortune is an awful burden on their
     poor, old and feeble hearts, but I pray God to stay them and help
     them to bear their sorrows and I am sure He will do so.

     Mr. W., my partner, is granted a free pardon and the President
     did not have time to investigate the evidence in my behalf, so he
     respited me for further investigation. Several of the senators
     are taking an anxious part for me and it is thought I will get a
     pardon. I trust in God I will be set free and can be able to help
     catch sinners for Jesus; I am sure I am willing.

     I am sorry to inform you Brother M. was convicted of a brutal
     murder as the evidence shows. I hope he is not guilty, but we
     must not say.

     It is a sad place here. Brother George B. and Brother T. have
     gone back in the world. There is nothing done for Brother George
     yet and his time is short.

     The President refused to do anything for M., that one-armed
     colored man, so he must meet his Jesus on the 19th of this month.
     There is three more, but the President has not ruled on their
     cases yet. I don't know whether they will be hung or not. I hope
     not. God help them all.

     I want you to please write me. It does me good to read a letter
     from you. Write soon.

                                                           M----.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                   Fort Smith, Ark., May 1, 1889.

     Dear Sister in Christ:

     Yours at hand. It found us all in good health, and for myself, I
     am looking to Jesus. We still keep up our prayer meeting. It is
     a great comfort for me to get to tell Jesus how I feel and to
     hear the other brothers pray and talk for Him. Of course I know
     it is hard for me and some others to bear this punishment, yet I
     feel the kindness of our kind Saviour in my poor, sad heart. I
     only ask God to save my life and I am willing to spend the rest
     of my days in his service. I can only trust God that all will
     come out right.

     I will tell you of the dear ones who were hung on the 19th. It
     was J. M. and A. Both were colored men. M. had the Catholic
     priest pray for him and he said he was going to heaven. He was
     very moody and pale; but he seemed to know his doom. Poor fellow!
     God pity us all, for we have souls to save. A. joined the
     Methodist church and was baptized the same day he was hung. He
     was the bravest soldier I ever heard of. He smiled and said,
     "Good-bye, Henry." I had to shed tears to see and feel the nerves
     quivering when he and I both knew that it was death caused the
     quivering of his pulse. Poor boys! They are better off than I am,
     if they had made their peace with God.

     Brother M. was convicted and is sentenced to be hung July 17.
     There is five to be hung on that day. One colored man and one
     Indian woman and one Indian man and F. C. and Brother M. Myself
     and George B. got a respite. His is till June 21 and mine till
     June 29. W. got a free pardon and I am held on the same evidence.
     It is because I was poor and did not send a man to plead for me
     at Washington, but people think I will come out all right yet. I
     leave it all to God, who can do me justice without money.

     For the sake of each poor unfortunate soul you may chance to
     meet, I ask God to be near you and show and tell you a word to
     say to the poor condemned ones--a comforting word for their
     souls' sake. Joy and peace be with you. You have my prayers, as
     weak as they are. Jesus be with us all. Amen.

     Write me soon.

                                                           M----.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                   Ft. Smith, Ark., May 20, 1889.

     Dear Sister in Christ:

     Yours at hand. It found us all well but Mr. T. He has been
     complaining, but he is better now. We were blessed with Mr. and
     Mrs. B. to sing and pray for us this morning and it was a great
     comfort to us all. She was refused at first, but after she came
     in and told us we sent her to Mr. C. and he told her to "sing and
     pray for those men as much as she wanted to." It is queer for a
     living being to not want the distressed to find relief, but it
     seems as though there was but little mercy shown us here, and,
     dear sister, I am sure there are some good hearts in here and God
     surely will not allow them to be put to death. Yet it has been
     done, and it can be done again, and I am not trusting in a single
     word or act of man. I am reading my Bible and asking God to open
     my heart to all faith and charity and reveal all the required
     secrets to my heart so I can become one of his children in faith
     and be sanctified in Him. I am so glad you wrote me. It does me
     good to hear from you. Write soon, as I can only stay here till
     June 21. Good-bye.

                                                           M----.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Columbus, Ohio, March 30, 1890.

     Dear Sister in Christ:

     Yours found me in some better health than I was when you last saw
     me. I am so glad you will continue to write me. Like all other
     persecuted souls, I sometimes think I have no friends. But it
     cannot be so in my case.

     I do not faint or shudder at the idea of dying in prison. It is
     just as near heaven from this prison as it would be if I was at
     home in the tender care of dear parents and brothers and sisters.
     Yet I cannot say I am as happy here as there at home. I am not. I
     feel sure my time is short in this world. I have a hard time. I
     am in a sea of tears daily. Oh, it is so hard to be bound and
     shut out from a free world, but this is all for some purpose,
     unknown to me at present, but by the help of God, I my burden
     will bear.

       "I'll praise my Maker while I've breath,
       And when my voice is lost in death,
       Praise shall my nobler powers employ
       In that Eternal World of joy."

         "Lord, remember me for good,
           Passing through this mortal veil;
         Show me the atoning blood
           When my strength and spirit fall.
         Give my sorrowing soul to see
         Jesus crucified for me."

     "May God be your helper and bless you," is my prayer continually.

     I do not aim to impress on your mind that I am punished by the
     prison laws, for I am not. I haven't had a bit of trouble with
     any one since I came into this institution. I have to work hard
     and I do more than I ought to, but I am afraid I won't please my
     superiors in power over me. I put in many a sleepless night from
     weariness of my daily labors. But I could not stand any
     punishment, so I had better over-do myself than to be over-done.
     My sorrow is now as much as I can bear. I am in need of all good
     praying people's prayers, so I ask you and your friends to pray
     for me.

     I am honored with all the attire of a first-grade-prison man. I
     have the red stripes you told me to get and my mustache. The boys
     you know are well.

                                                           M----.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                                  Columbus, Ohio.

     Dear Sister in Christ:

     Blessed be our God! He has saved us thus far and has given us an
     ark to carry us over Jordan, safe to Eternity. We, as fallen men,
     sometimes err in thinking we are not under God's protection, but
     I say we are. Jesus came, not to bring saints, but sinners to
     repentance. It is not the righteous that are called, but sinners.
     There is only one way and that is by Jesus Christ, and that is to
     humble ourselves to all that is right. Life has yet many
     opportunities for serving God and his Church. Hitherto the Lord
     has brought me and still in his loving hands I will cheerfully,
     hopefully rest and trust till the shadows of earth shall be
     changed for the sunlight of eternity, when my heavenly home is
     reached, to be blessed forever with the Lord.

     Sister, Brother M. says "God bless you," and you have his
     prayers. Bro. F. C. says he hopes to see you soon. Bro. B. is all
     right as far as I know. They all say write to them. Bro. T. has
     forgotten his pledge. May God soften his heart again to say "Thy
     will be done."

     I close by asking you to write soon. God bless you and all
     co-workers.

     Good-bye,                                           M. ----.


                      SENTENCED FOR LIFE.

Early in my prison work I found in one of our penitentiaries a man
sentenced for life who claimed to have acted only with the motive of
self-defense. That man is still confined in prison, though he is one
of the best of prisoners and has given evidence of being a good,
Christian man, worthy of pardon. I wrote to the governor once in his
behalf, but too late to avail anything, as his term of office was just
expiring. While that poor man has been held there, pardons have been
granted to Chinamen, Spaniards and other foreigners who were wicked
and guilty, yet this Christian man has been kept in confinement all
these long years, until there is only one other besides himself who is
now left of the prisoners who were there on my first visit. The other
has gone insane and I have feared that the one of whom I write would
lose his mind also. His article on the need of prison reform entitled
"Meditations of a Prisoner," found in another chapter, will, I
believe, commend itself to every fair-minded reader.

I give a few selections from his letters. I feel sure he should be a
free man. O the indifference of those who have the power to free such
worthy cases and will not! May God give power to the faint and grace
to the afflicted and let us pray God to show the governors of our land
to whom to give pardon and freedom and from whom to withhold.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 State Prison, December 21, 1902.

     Dear Mrs. Wheaton:

     Your kind and welcome letter received and I was very glad to hear
     from you and I do hope you will soon be strong again. The world
     needs many Mother Wheatons, so it can ill afford to lose you, but
     if the Lord calls you home we must all submit, for He does all
     things for the best.

     I was much surprised to see by your letter that you had written
     to Governor S. in my behalf. From my heart I thank you, dear
     Sister, and may God bless you for your kindly interest in me. But
     Governor S. will leave the office tomorrow and the newly-elected
     Governor will take his seat. It is too bad that you have gone to
     all that trouble for nothing. But the fact that you did so will
     always be most gratefully remembered by myself and Charles G. He
     also wants me to send his kind regards and thanks for your good
     will to him.

     When you have your book ready please send me one. Could you say
     about when it will be ready? I suppose you would like to know how
     we spent Christmas. It was spent in the dining-room, but we had a
     nice dinner and were kindly remembered by the Warden and Chaplain
     and everything was very nice and pleasant.

     I will close with kind regards and best wishes, and may God bless
     you.

     Sincerely yours in the Master's service,

                                                               E.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     State Prison, Aug. 19, 1903.

     Dear Mrs. Wheaton:

     I have just received your welcome letter and was very glad to
     hear from you, also to know that you were well. It is a wonder
     you never get tired of traveling so much. When I think of how you
     are constantly battling for the right in the interest of lost
     sinners as we are it brings forth the thought in my mind--does it
     pay? If one only looks at the general result he can but say--it
     does not pay that one pure life should be worn out in the cause
     when so few are made to see the error of their ways and turn to
     the path of truth and right along the way of righteousness.

     But again, if one life is truly brought into the light and a soul
     saved, then we must admit it pays. And I know that your
     pilgrimage of mercy brings forth good, for all who know you speak
     kindly of you. Well, if a little spark of love is kindled in the
     heart of the most hardened by the kindly deeds of another, who
     can tell how great that spark may become? So let us not weary of
     well doing but press on, hoping for the best and accepting the
     worst in true Christian resignation.

     I gave your message of love to all the men here. All were glad to
     hear from you. O, my dear friend, I am so often troubled in heart
     by the attitude of some people. Certainly I have been very
     sinful. I have fully realized all that was wrong in my life. It
     has been my endeavor to cast it all out of my life and to build
     on a foundation of righteousness and faith in its place. I have
     been blessed in my effort by the help of many who I feel have a
     personal interest in me. At the same time no man has been more
     inhumanly treated by those who profess to be Christians than I
     have been and am.

     Yes, my friend, we are commanded to pray for such people. This I
     have done for nine years, but the persecution still goes on. May
     God forgive them.

     Now, a few words about the prison. Everything is changed here. We
     have all new officers and guards, also another Governor. The
     Chinese cook you spoke to was pardoned last January. I was
     denied.

     I am, with love, your sincere friend,

                                                               E.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                                January 24, 1904.

     Dear Sister:

     Your welcome letter duly received and I was glad to hear from you
     and to know that you were well.

     Well, sister, I am again denied a pardon. Guess I must die here.
     Well, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." Still the lack
     of a Christian spirit is felt as rendered to me. You remember the
     Chinaman who was cook for the Warden? Well, he was pardoned,
     likewise several Indians and many others who were without faith,
     but Christians--oh, well, prison is a good place for them it
     seems.

     With kind love and best wishes to you, I remain,

                        Yours in His service,
                                                               E.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     State Prison, Feb. 29, 1904.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton:

     Yours received and I was glad to hear from you. I am getting
     along very nicely, but the heart is often sad. Oh, I was so much
     disappointed, and while I was almost heart broken over it I have
     also felt sorry for the friends that stood by me. Why, just think
     of it--there are five members on the Board of Pardon, and they
     all voted against me! So you see it is not the Governor alone who
     is against me, but every one of them.

     My dear friend, I don't think you would be able to do anything
     for me. The Lord is strong certainly, but the ones who have my
     freedom in their power leave the commands of the Lord out of the
     question. Read the 18th chapter of Matthew, from the 21st verse
     to the last of the chapter, and you will see what I mean.

     Now, dear sister, may God help, bless and comfort you in this
     seemingly cold world of ours, is the prayer of your friend,

                                                               E.


           FAITHFUL INSIDE AND OUTSIDE OF PRISON WALLS.

Another case with which I was very much impressed in the early days of
my missionary work was that of a young man of rare ability, gifted and
sensible, who was spending a term in one of our United States prisons.
He was converted and began working for God among the other prisoners.
After faithfully serving his time, he left the prison with good
prospects. He was taken into an office and did exceedingly good
service for the company, also for God and souls,--his past being known
only to his pastor, employers and prison officials. After several
years he married a most estimable lady who was doing missionary work.
They prospered well. He was promoted from one position to another. For
nineteen years he has lived a devoted Christian. All who know him
honor and respect him. His wife has recently passed over to the
kingdom of heaven. He is still living a true and noble life and he is
only one of many who have served time inside of prison walls, who are
living for God outside and for Heaven at last. I quote a few extracts
from letters received from him during the time of his incarceration.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     In Prison, January 12, 1885.

     My Dear Friend:

     Your kind note was received and I was very much pleased to hear
     from you, but was pained that you should think for a moment that
     I was forgetting you. Since you left us we have had several very
     earnest and interesting meetings--the fruit of your presence and
     labor among us. Praise God, He can find his way inside prison
     walls as well as outside. He is no respector of person. Many men,
     not before confessing Christ or even anxious sinners, have stood
     up manfully for prayers and may God give them grace to accept and
     believe. It is very simple, my dear sister, is it not? How I wish
     that all could see it! It only means total surrender to Him, to
     give up the old longings and desires and trust Him from day to
     day. Then comes the "perfect peace" which is vouchsafed to them
     whose mind is stayed on God. Of course, you will see us again.
     Our dear Chaplain and Warden are doing everything possible for
     the spiritual welfare of all the men. The Warden dignified our
     first meeting by giving us his personal religious experience at
     the commencement of the service, and he is willing and anxious to
     encourage in every way possible the religious sentiment now
     prevailing. As for our Chaplain, I do not believe there is his
     equal. I who am so closely associated with him can truly testify
     to his untiring zeal in behalf of all of us. If ever there was a
     living man, free from any selfish or worldly motives, I believe
     it is he. The moral tone has been increasing ever since he came
     among us. I shall not feel at all slighted if you save your
     strength and time by not writing to me. Just send me some little
     message by F. or any others (for I see them all daily), and I
     shall be just as well pleased. It is not because I do not like to
     have you write me, but I had rather spare you, or help you.

     If you will let me know the address of that dear lady at Raleigh
     whom you stayed with, I will gladly make her something and would
     like very much to make something for any other of the dear
     friends who are good to you on your pilgrimage of love and mercy.
     Shall not forget to make something for your brother. May God
     bless and keep you and make his face to shine upon you for many
     years yet to come, and may we finally meet in heaven where there
     shall be no more parting and sorrow.

     Your loving brother in Christ,

                                                            C. W.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                                  August 8, 1886.

     My Dear Friend:

     Do you think we have forgotten you? Why, no indeed! We think and
     speak of you almost daily, but you are moving so that we hardly
     know where to locate you. A day or two ago L., who is my friend,
     got a postal card from you, and as he cannot write, by permission
     just now and I have the privilege to do so, I drop these few
     lines for him as well as for myself.

     How glad we are to know the Lord has prospered your work. How
     literally is the promise of Christ fulfilled, "Lo, I am with you
     alway, even unto the end of the world." It seems so wonderful
     that all people are opening their doors to Christian workers, the
     doors which a few years ago were closed and to be opened only
     through the power of God, who, as Daniel said, would "set up a
     kingdom which shall never be destroyed," but it shall break in
     pieces and consume all these kingdoms and shall stand forever.
     Our Sabbath School is not in session this month but will renew
     its course the first of September. We like our new Warden very
     well. Our dear Chaplain is still with us and is quite well and
     engaged as ever in his life work. His place would be very hard to
     fill here. I have been reading this morning the 34th Psalm--"all
     my fears," "all his troubles," "all his afflictions"--a
     deliverance from all. "There is no want to them that fear Him."
     This Psalm is full of comfort. Praise His name! We can find help
     and comfort in any part of His holy Word. We all pray for God's
     blessing upon you and your work and for the conversion and
     salvation of all whom you minister unto. It does not seem too
     great a thing to ask of the Lord. Both L. and F. send their love
     to you and L. will write you soon. Also Mr. A. and Mr. R. and
     many more send love and best wishes. I shall always consider you
     my friend, and if in the Providence of God we shall never meet in
     this world I hope to meet you with recognition in our eternal and
     glorious home above.

                          Truly your friend,
                                                               C.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                                January 29, 1890.

     My Dear Friend and Mother:

     Your letter received yesterday made me very happy. It was so good
     of you to write so soon and send such a nice long letter, too. I
     trust I am getting to value a letter from you as I ought, as I
     realize more and more how your time is so zealously occupied and
     needed. I have ever valued your letters for the help they gave
     me, but I value them now for their scarcity. In the future, when
     perhaps you may be no more, I shall esteem them among my most
     valued treasures. Yet I may be called first! We know not the
     hour, whether in youth, or old age, or in our prime when the
     angel of death shall come to summon us to eternity. "Watch
     therefore, be ye also ready," are words that I try to keep ever
     in mind, or rather to keep my mind so stayed on Christ that
     moment by moment He shall keep me saved so that I shall never
     need to whip myself into keeping watch for my Lord. I am glad you
     believe in and have the blood cleansing freedom from all sin. It
     is an experience that meets with much opposition from worldly
     Christians and from some whose good works follow them. These
     latter really enjoy the experience, but are prejudiced at the
     name given to it by others. I know that it meets with much
     opposition. The "Christian Witness" comes to the prison every
     week. It is an exponent of holiness and very interesting, as well
     as spiritual. I have a magazine which contains a story of an
     ex-convict which would do some good to those who think there is
     no hope or reform for such an individual. I shall mail you the
     magazine, and if you can read it do so and give it to others to
     read.

     After a silence of several years my father has written me again.
     You know he is living in C. and was formerly an instructor in the
     State Prison at S. He is now old and broken in health, making him
     incapable for steady work, so he is residing at a soldiers' home.
     He expresses great anxiety in regard to my future, thinking me
     friendless, etc. I have written him a long letter reviewing the
     principal incidents of my prison life. How good God has been to
     me and how my mind is at rest as regards the future because I
     have left it in His hands. To find favor with my God is all I
     desire. Having that, whatever my condition I shall be like St.
     Paul, content. That is my view of a successful future or life.
     Wealth, power, ability, all things that men aspire to in this
     life, do not make or lead to success in my mind. Nothing but the
     favor of God brings it to man, and that favor comes through the
     "washing of regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Ghost." Oh,
     I am so glad that I know this--even me! How can man doubt the
     wondrous love of God when He is so patient to all who will but
     look and see. Well, said someone, that they do not want to look
     and see lest they should be healed and be saved. My poor old
     father is a church-member, but I fear he knows nothing about Holy
     Ghost religion, Jesus Christ's religion, pure and undefiled. I
     want to do just right all of the time. I know my heart is right
     because I hate sin and love righteousness. If the Lord has no
     other work for me when I leave here, I would like to labor under
     your guidance. When are you coming this way again? I would love
     to greet you once more before I die.

                                                               C.
                  *       *       *       *       *

       From every nodding flower, from every whispering breeze
       From mountain's lofty height, from towering trees,
       From softly twinkling star, from lightning's giddy flash,
       From the softest twitter of a bird and thunder's awful crash,
       From hills the ants may call their own,
       From crested elders 'round their throne,
       From babbling brook, from storm-lashed wave,
       From nature smiling, nature grave,
       From earth and air, from sky and sea,
       There comes the self same voice to me,
       Like softest note of cooing dove,
       And sweetly whispers, "GOD IS LOVE."

                                                  --_A Prisoner._

[Illustration: ADMINISTRATION BUILDING, MITCHELVILLE, IOWA.]

[Illustration: CAMPUS AND PLAYGROUND, GIRLS' INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL,
MITCHELVILLE, IOWA.]




                            CHAPTER VII.

          Letters from Co-workers, and Some of My Prison Girls.


In speaking of prisoners or of those within prison walls many think
only of men being found there. This is due doubtless to the few women
compared to the number of men found in these places. In my efforts to
do good to all, I have been especially mindful of those of my own sex,
and have ever endeavored to encourage and lift up my sisters who have
fallen victims to sin and misfortune. I give in this chapter a few
letters from sisters who are directly interested in the care and work
for the prison bound; also extracts from letters from a number of my
prison girls. The co-operation in my work and the kindness and
hospitality ever shown me by the sisters, matrons, wives of officers,
etc., are especially appreciated, and all these dear ones are often
remembered at the throne of divine grace. These too shall all share in
the fruit of the toil and labor in the final reckoning. Neither will
my girls whom I have tried to help, that have shown their appreciation
and have tried to serve the Lord, be forgotten.

Women who are the victims of sin and are condemned by society and the
law, have as much right to be restored and encouraged when they amend
their ways, as have men. The following letters are, I believe,
sufficiently explanatory in themselves, and may be read with interest.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Huntsville, Texas, Aug. 19, 1904.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     Mr. Baker, Superintendent of Prison, said he would like for you
     to visit our prison once a year; they all were pleased with you.
     Dear Mother, please pray for little George, that he may be truly
     converted to God and take an interest in his studies. It seems
     that he has no desire for them. My greatest aspiration is to live
     to see him saved and have an education. How my heart goes out for
     him! I feel that I won't be with him long. I sometimes think that
     I had rather see him put away before I go, then I would know
     where he was. When you go to the Faith Home pray for us that if
     it be God's will that I may be relieved of afflictions and that
     my husband may be able to do a great and lasting work for the
     poor unfortunate men. Dear mother, I write you because I have
     confidence in you. May God bless you.

                                              MRS. MARY MCDONALD.

     (Wife of Chaplain at Huntsville, Tex., a great sufferer.--E. R.
     W.)

[Illustration: CHAPLAIN'S RESIDENCE, HUNTSVILLE, TEXAS.]

                  *       *       *       *       *

     My Dear Mrs. Wheaton:

     Your letter to one of our boys was handed to me by him today. I
     enjoyed reading it, and want to write you at once. I think V. was
     very seriously impressed by your service here, although I have
     not yet had an opportunity to talk with him as I have wanted to.
     He was sick yesterday and not in school. Tomorrow I hope to see
     him again. I am so glad that you had the opportunity of seeing
     his parents. I know they will be greatly benefited spiritually by
     your visit. I am sure our blessed Lord leads you, as you carry
     peace and comfort wherever you go. Dear Mother, you comforted me.
     I was impressed, as I have never been before, by the _power of
     prayer_, and I know your prayers are heard and answered. This
     text came to me _over and over_ while you were here, "The
     effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much." I
     felt instinctively that your prayers could help me. Oh, my
     friends! I _appeal_ to you to pray for me. I may be here only
     until April, but if God has work here which He wishes _me_ to do,
     I know He will order it that I shall stay longer. But I do want
     to be _filled_ with His Holy Spirit, that while I stay I may do
     _everything_ that is possible to warn and encourage these poor
     fallen brothers to seek a Savior's love and forgiveness. I _want_
     a power which I feel _might_ be mine, but it has not yet come. I
     want to reach the boys and tell them of Christ's love, but I have
     not the power of speech. I cannot convince them that _my_ Savior
     is their Savior too. So often they say to me, "Well, I guess that
     kind of a life is the best kind to lead after all, but I never
     will make a start in a place of this kind."

     The next day after you left one boy said to me that he had never
     before heard a talk that had impressed him as he was impressed
     Tuesday. I believe he is seriously awakened. I think _three_
     others are, also, beside the one of whom I told you the day you
     left. I think V. is one.

     There is a boy here who says he heard you in Kansas City eight or
     nine years ago. He was not at service, but saw and recognized
     you. He thought you would know him if you saw him.

     Yours in Christian love,

                                                  FANNIE A. HOYT,
                                   (Teacher and wife of Officer.)

    Buena Vista, Colo., Oct. 24, 1896.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Atlanta, Ga., Nov. 12, 1893.

     Dear Mrs. Gore:

     This will introduce to you Mrs. Wheaton and Mrs. ----, Prison
     Evangelists. You will be so glad to meet them and they to meet
     you and talk about our dear boys "shut in."

     God bless you.                         MRS. CHARLTON EDHOLM.

     Mrs. A. B. Gore, Oakland, Cal.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Anamosa, Ia., Nov. 20, 1893.

     Dear Mrs. Wheaton:

     Anna H. has written you about the death of Emma S. She had a hard
     cold, not so bad as some of the girls, however, when she left
     here. We tried to persuade her to remain here over Sunday, where
     it was warm, as it was very cold and stormy. She, however,
     insisted upon going. We of course could not compel her to stay,
     although we felt it was for the best. When she reached Algona she
     was too sick to go into the country five miles where she was
     going to stay. Tuesday morning she was taken out, and Thursday
     afternoon died with La Grippe or Pneumonia. Several of the women
     here have had La Grippe. All seem to be improving, as I insist
     upon their taking excellent care of themselves.

     Now, Mrs. Wheaton, I hope you will write to Anna, also a letter
     to all the girls that I can read to them. They will be glad to
     think you have not forgotten them. Trusting that you are in good
     health and that you see good results from your labors, I remain
     your friend,

                                                JENNIE A. POWERS.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                              Jefferson City, Mo., Jan. 25, 1900.

     Dear Sister:

     Your card was received in due time. All glad to hear from you.
     The quarantine is still on at the prison. No news there. No
     visitors allowed. No baskets sent in, only money. Mr. Cook has
     not missed a day at work since last winter. He was off twelve
     days to visit his dear mother. She will soon pass to the other
     side. Your card was filled with sadness. Be cheerful and rejoice,
     for soon you will go to glory to praise Him forevermore. I will
     write some to Sister Kelley. Write me a long letter. Chaplain P.
     has been on the sick list. Everything going on nicely. Never had
     a better warden than now in the last eighteen years that I have
     known this prison. Hoping to hear of your good health, I am ever,

                                                      CLARA COOK.

                  *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: WOMEN'S PRISON, ALLEGHENY CITY, PA.]

              Western Penitentiary, Allegheny, Pa., June 7, 1904.

     Mrs. Wheaton:

     I am glad to learn that you are about to embody your experiences
     as a missionary to the inmates of the prisons and penitentiaries
     of the various states in which you have labored in the name of
     the Master. It has been no easy work. It has demanded much faith,
     hope and charity on your part. You have gone with untiring zeal
     to those who are despised and forsaken on account of their
     criminal acts.

     In the spirit of our blessed Lord and in obedience to His command
     you have gone year after year to the habitations of disgrace and
     sorrow and carried the cheering and helpful promises and the
     forgiving mercy of our dear Savior.

     You will have a rich reward from our Heavenly Father. I am sure
     your words of gospel truth and your songs of praise have often
     touched the hearts of the female prisoners under my care. The
     most rebellious and hardened have felt and testified to the
     gracious power of the gospel of love as you have uttered it
     here. My hope and my prayer is that the Almighty Shepherd may
     guide, keep and sustain you in this noble work of your life.

                                                   SARAH J ARNER.

     Allegheny, Pa.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                              Allegheny City, Pa., Dec. 31, 1893.

     Dear Mrs. Wheaton:

     I will try and answer your kind and welcome letter which came to
     hand a few days ago. We were all very glad to hear from you. Our
     dear sister, Mrs. Jones, is dead. The dear old lady who was up to
     the workhouse with you when you were here. She was a dear friend
     to all the girls here, but she has gone home. She can come to us
     no more, but we can go to her. The last words she said when she
     was here was good-bye, and that she would meet us all in heaven.
     We have very nice meetings now and would like to have you with
     us. We pray for you every day and we want you to pray for us that
     we may see the right way and that we may go out of here with
     light hearts and go about doing good.

     We had a nice Christmas. Our Warden treated us with turkey, and
     we were all so glad that he was so kind to us.

     Well, we will begin a new year tomorrow, and I hope we will lead
     a different life, a better life, for if we believe in Jesus He
     will save us; yes, He will keep us through the dark valley. He
     will go with us to the end, as He has promised, if we will put
     our trust in Him. I have gained a great victory since you were
     here. I have forgiven an enemy that I thought I never could
     forgive.

     Well, I will close by sending you my love, and as I have only one
     sheet of paper my friend will send this on to you. I remain,

  Your sincere friend,
                                                          Lucy F.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                              Allegheny City, Pa., Feb. 16, 1896.

     My Dear Mrs. Wheaton:

     I am so glad to hear from you once more. I had been thinking of
     you so much of late and I asked God to let me hear from you or
     send you to us, and so you see He answered my prayer. I cannot
     express how glad we all were to receive your kind and loving
     letter. It was read to all and I do wish you could have peeked
     in to see how quiet all were to listen to it, and our two
     matrons, too, for they do love you.

     I was very sorry to hear of your being so sick, but God has
     raised you up for He has work for you to do yet. I pray for you
     every night and morning that He may strengthen you and keep you,
     for you are to us like the rain is and the sunshine to the
     flowers, for we know that you do love us poor unfortunate ones.

     Will you please send us the hymns called "Tell of the Unclouded
     Day" and the one called "When the Pearly Gates Unfold"? Dear
     Mother, pray for us all, but pray for me especially, for I am in
     great sorrow and trials. Pray that God may raise me up friends
     and that He may keep me.

     Good-bye, hoping to hear from you soon, I remain, yours in
     Christ,

                                                         LAURA M.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                              Allegheny City, Pa., Feb. 16, 1896.

     My Dear Mother:

     I wish I could tell you how much joy and happiness your letter
     gave me. It came just at the time when I needed it most. I am
     sick and feeble, suffering with spine and lung trouble, have not
     been able to work for the last three weeks. Can go to my meals
     and wait upon myself, and I have my Jesus with me. Oh, how He
     comforts and helps make the rough places smooth, and in the
     lonely hours of the night when the pain is almost beyond
     endurance, I think of my Savior and what He suffered without sin,
     and of what a weak coward I am to complain.

     Mother, we are some of us so impatient when we have pain, and I
     am afraid I am one of those. Please pray for me that I may bear
     mine with Christian fortitude.

     I hope it may please God to let me live to get out of this place
     and have a home for myself and baby, and if my dear Mother
     Wheaton would come and see me and rest herself for a few weeks,
     would it not be nice? Mother, I am a widow with one child and
     some means, but not much. Still I intend to use some of my money,
     when I have control of it, to do good to others. I have suffered,
     God has opened my eyes and showed me my sins and selfishness of
     former years, and I thank Him for sparing me to see it in this
     light.

     Many of the girls that were here when you last visited us have
     gone out and a good many are going out this year. Pray for them.
     I pray for you every night. God bless and keep you is the prayer
     of your friend,

                                               L. R. T. No. 9722.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                              Allegheny City, Pa., Feb. 16, 1896.

     My Dear Mother Wheaton:

     Your very welcome and unexpected letter received. It is
     impossible to tell you with what joy and heartfelt gladness we
     all gathered together to hear it read. You do not know how often
     your children speak together of you, of where you are and what
     you are doing and what keeps you so long away from your Western
     flock. It was so long since last we heard from you that we are
     beginning to think our Heavenly Father had need of you and had
     taken you home, but all praise to His name. He has spared you to
     send us another loving, encouraging message, which we promptly
     answer in love and sympathy, each one giving a word, although
     only three different handwritings will be seen. Remember when
     reading the words that twenty-five of your lone children are here
     represented in your letter.

     You speak of wishing for your prison children when you were sick.
     O, how gladly many of us would minister to your wants, to be
     under the influence of your kind and loving advice, following in
     your footsteps of love and life as it is in Christ Jesus our Lord
     and Master. But though we are separated by so many miles, thanks
     be to the Almighty we can feel the influence of your continued
     prayers, and many of us are greatly encouraged to keep on
     striving, knowing that the crowning day will come by and by.

     Each one says: "Ask Mother Wheaton when she is coming." Do not be
     too long in coming, for some of your dear ones are leaving every
     month during the spring, and we are anxious to receive your
     blessing before entering the cold, heartless world of sin and
     sorrow. Yet some of us will take Jesus with us, and in His name
     begin life again. Pray for us all that our hearts may be fully
     and entirely given over to God, with our hands in His hand, be
     led to the mercy-seat. Yes, dear Mother, we shall, with God's
     help, "strive to enter in at the straight gate."

     These are the names of those who send you special love and
     requests for prayer: Emma M., Emma W., Pearl S. (who is very
     sick), Laura M., Anna M., Ella A.

     With love and best wishes from our matrons, we close, hoping soon
     to see you.

     Good-bye, God bless and keep you always and send you to us again.
     All join in best wishes to you.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                              Allegheny City, Pa., Feb. 14, 1897.

     My Dear Mrs. E. R. Wheaton:

     Perhaps you will be surprised to get this letter, but I have
     heard so much about you that I feel as though I was personally
     acquainted with you, so I hope you are well, dear Mother, and
     that you are doing work for the Master and that He will give you
     a great many souls for your hire.

     O, I do want to see you. Indeed I would like to hear you sing and
     pray. The girls all want to see and hear you. Pray for them. One
     woman in here said that you were the only person that ever did
     pray a prayer that touched her heart and brought tears to her
     eyes. The old girls talk about you so much to the new ones that
     they all love you, although they have not seen you. They tell
     over and over of your love and sympathy and that you know how to
     reach poor unfortunate souls. You know that they need kind words
     and a loving smile to cheer up their broken hearts.

     Dear Mother, you know that a smile goes where a dollar cannot go,
     for it goes to the heart and makes it so very happy.

     Good-bye, hoping to hear from you soon, I remain,

                            Yours truly,
                                                          LINA S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                   Allegheny City, Feb. 14, 1897.

     My Dear Mrs. Wheaton--Dear Mother:

     I will say dear, for you are dear to me. O, you do not know how I
     have been longing to see you and once more hear you sing some of
     your beautiful hymns. O! just to hear you pray once more in this
     world. There are only eighteen women of us now, and when you were
     here last time there were thirty-three.

     O, dear Mother, do make me a special subject of prayer that God
     may keep me and guide me in the right way. I have been trying to
     lead a Christian life for six years now. When all earthly
     friends have forsaken me Jesus comes and speaks to me, and He
     alone comforts me, and I thank God for a full and free salvation.
     O bless His holy name! Hallelujah in the highest to God!

     Our matron, Miss S. J. Arner, sends you her best regards. I am
     very sorry to tell you that Miss Osborn was called home by the
     death of her sister; pray for her and for me, Laura M., No. 9351,
     that God may spare my life that I may work for the Master when I
     am a free woman. The two Morgan sisters send you their love. All
     of the girls send love to you. Come on a week day and perhaps you
     can get the widow's mite.

     Good-bye, I remain, yours in Christ,

                                                         LAURA M.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                             Allegheny City, Pa., March 21, 1897.

     Dear Friend:

     I received your very kind and welcome letter and was very glad to
     hear from you, and dear Mother Wheaton, your letter did me good
     as I sit and hear it read to me. I shall try to keep it, and get
     it read often to me, as it does comfort my broken heart. I am a
     poor orphan girl. My mother died when I was about twelve years
     old, and I have wandered on in sin and I have fallen by the
     wayside. Will you pray for me that I may come to live just as you
     do, my true, strong friend. I do wish I could see you today, to
     hear you pray and sing. All of the girls wish to see you and hope
     that you will come on some day through the week so that we can
     write out a money order for you. Perhaps it may be only a couple
     of dollars or three, but it will be like the widow's mite.

     I remain, yours truly,

                                                          LINA S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Allegheny, Pa., March 21, 1897.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton.

     Dear Mother: We received your very kind and welcome letter. O, we
     are so glad that you sent us a letter and some tracts. Mrs. S. J.
     Arner, our matron, read the letter in the dining-room to all of
     us and we did enjoy it so much. Indeed I feel that I had a visit
     from a dear friend. I hope you are well and I pray for you that
     God may strengthen you in your labors. You have done a great
     work, but God has more for you to do yet before you shall pass
     through the pearly gates of Heaven, for you have cheered so many
     broken hearts. God sent you to cheer those in prisons. I was just
     thinking today, O, how happy you will be in the end when Jesus
     shall say unto you: "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the
     Kingdom prepared for you." And O, dear Mother, He will say to
     you: "I was in prison and ye visited me." I am still looking unto
     Jesus. He has been my only friend for these years in prison. He
     keeps me day by day and makes me feel happy in prison. He causes
     me to hear "songs in the night." Pray for me that God may keep me
     and my children.

     I dreamed that I was sent to preach the gospel to some poor soul
     and I have dreamed it three times over the same. First time I
     said, "No, I cannot do it," and the Lord laid me on a bed of
     sickness, and then I said, "Lord, I will go." I had no rest by
     night or by day until I consented to go.

     All of the girls join me in love to you. We hope that these few
     lines may find you well and happy, for you are always so happy
     and bright. One of the old girls said that your face has such a
     happy smile on it and a light shines over you while you talk to
     them. Write soon.

                                                         LAURA M.

                  *       *       *       *       *

This is an extract from a letter by an orphan girl, a type of many
other poor girls whose fates are equally as sad:

                                       Spokane Falls, ----, 1889.

     O if I was only free, the greatest pleasure of my life would be
     to go with you and work for God. Your kindness has won my heart.
     I have never had any one to be kind to me; I have known nothing
     but sorrow all my life. My past is almost a blank. Dear, kind
     sister, look on me with pity--a friendless, motherless girl. I am
     alone in the world. I was drawn into this place through cruel
     treatment. I have no money, and I am helpless. If God does not
     have mercy on me, I do not know what will become of me. If I had
     only a good, kind friend like you to guide me through life, I
     would have been a far better woman than I am. If God will save me
     I shall live in the future a life of honor and work for God.

     Pray for me. Tell me in what way I am going to help myself. O
     sister, I am so troubled; sometimes I think I will end my
     miserable existence. But I know if I should take my own life
     that it would be a terrible sin; but how can I help thinking
     such things in a place like this? No friends, no home, and no
     money; sick at heart, sick in body, sick in mind.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Lancaster, Neb., Jan. 27, 1895.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Washington, D. C.

     Our Dear Friend: We received your kind letter of the 7th inst. We
     were glad to hear from you and to know that you were enjoying
     good health. Dear Mother, if we may address you thus, we were
     very glad to hear our friend, Mrs. Beemer, spoken of so well, for
     she is a friend never to be forgotten. And Mr. Beemer is just a
     splendid warden, kind to everybody; and we ask you to pray that
     they may be retained here for another time. Dear Mother, indeed
     we will know how to appreciate our freedom in the future. Of
     course you do not know our names, but I will give them in the
     following words that each sends to you. Hattie and Edna send
     their regards to you. Nannie says to pray for her. Annie sends
     her best regards to you and wishes you well. Hattie R. sends love
     and best wishes. Annie H. is the one who was sick when you were
     here and sends love to you, and knows that God answered your
     prayers that she might be restored to health. Effie joins in
     sending love, and my prayer is that God may bless you and help
     you in all your good work. So we close for this time, asking you
     to pray for us poor unfortunate girls.

     We remain, your loving children,

                                H., E., A., N., H., A. and EFFIE.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                      Canon City, March 27, 1899.

     Dear Friend and Mother:

     I know you are my friend and everybody's friend. I heard your
     kind letter and cannot help writing to you. I cannot write very
     good, so please excuse mistakes. Your letter found all the girls
     well. I have often thought of you and wished that I could be a
     Christian like you; but I am a poor sinner and have been all my
     life. I never heard one word out of the Bible in my life till I
     got in jail. I never had any Christian parents, and therefore I
     am a deep sinner, but I want to do better. My conscience tells me
     that I must try to be a better woman. I have been a very bad
     girl, but I think my Savior will forgive me, if I repent in
     time. Sometimes I nearly go crazy just thinking what a life I
     have led. O if I would die now what would become of me? I want
     you to pray for me, mother, for I do believe you can help me by
     praying for me.

     I have not long in here now. My time expires on the 25th day of
     December, 1899; pray that I will be a better girl. I want to go
     home to my brother if I can when I leave here. I am tired of this
     life. My soul is tired. O, I am so wicked! I have tried to pray
     the best I knew and I got scared. Something seemed to bother me,
     and I was afraid to go to sleep. Mother, why do I get scared? Is
     it because I have sinned so much? But I will try again and again.
     I am willing to do right and live an honest life, and I will or
     die in the attempt. I have had a lot of trouble in my life and it
     drove me to all my downfalls, but I can see that I am sending my
     soul to everlasting torment, so I want to turn now and seek for
     the Lord. Tell me how I can, mother.

     Mother, this is the best I can do; may God bless you in all your
     undertakings. The matron was glad to hear from you and also the
     girls. Pray for me.

                                                       ANNA 4309.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Waupun, Wis., March 6, 1899.

     Dear Sister Wheaton:

     Thank God I received your kind and Christian letter last week. We
     are getting along nicely with our meetings and I know and feel
     that God is with us every day and especially the eleven that have
     given their hearts to God and let His dear hand guide their every
     footstep.

     Our dear Matron gave me your letter. I am as contented as can be.
     I believe it God's will that I should be here, and His will be
     done. I love our dear Heavenly Father with all my heart and soul
     and I love all my sisters and brothers and I love my enemies and
     I pray for them and ask God to bless them.

     I have ten months more and I hope you can come here again before
     I go. Our Matron is with us in our meetings every Saturday. I
     read my Bible and pray three times a day, and I have more
     strength to perform my daily work, and I know our dear Savior
     will not forsake me or leave me alone because I know Jesus loves
     me now, and I know He will answer my prayers.

     I told you before it is my second term, but when I sit in my
     little room reading my Bible I thank God for it, for I know it
     was God's will that I should be here a second time, for there is
     work for me to do here as well as when I am free, and He put me
     here to show me He wanted me for one of His own dear humble
     children and I know and feel it now.

       "Happy day, happy day,
       When Jesus washed my sins away;
       He taught me how to watch and pray,
       And live rejoicing every day."

     And I want you to pray for us all that we may have more of God's
     grace given to us day by day and help us to be humble and meek
     and willing to be led by His loving hand and pray for us that God
     will keep us from all temptation and sin and may we ever prove
     faithful. "Have mercy upon me, O God, according unto the
     multitude of Thy tender mercies. Blot out my transgressions."
     Every word here is just as I feel in my heart.

       "I may not do much with all my care,
         But I surely may bless a few;
       The loving Jesus will give to me
         Some work of love to do.

       "I may wipe the tears from some weeping eyes,
         I may make the smile come again,
       To a face that is weary and worn with care,
         To a heart that is full of pain."

                                                       MRS. J. G.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                    Anamosa, Iowa, Aug. 11, 1901.

     Elizabeth R. Wheaton,
          Tabor, Iowa.

     Dear Mother:

     We received your kind and loving letter yesterday. Was more than
     glad to hear from you, but sorry that you have been so sick; but
     I praise God for His healing divine. We did not have the smallpox
     in the prison. There were cases of them in town, but the warden
     quarantined the prison and vaccinated every prisoner. Dear
     mother, I am trying to get a parole. My petition is now before
     the Governor with a thousand signers, besides several letters
     from friends. I have had three good homes offered to me if the
     Governor will only parole me. I desire so much to be where I can
     live a better life and take care of my little boy and help my
     parents, who are in very poor health. I do pray so much for a
     better place and better companions, where I can do something for
     my own and others. Dear Mother, will you pray for me? I always
     remember what I promised you when you bid me good-bye; that was,
     to pray for you every day. I am so glad we have a Savior who will
     hear our prayers though we are behind prison walls and our
     prayers are weak.

     With love and prayers,

                                    FROM D. F. TO MOTHER WHEATON.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Anamosa, Iowa, Oct. 6, 1903.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     I thought I would write you a few lines. We are all well at
     present. We cannot express how thankful we were for your visit to
     us. We only wish you could have staid longer. Mrs. Waterman has
     prayer and song service every morning. It is something wonderful.
     We all wish so much to hear your voice. Mrs. Waterman spoke to us
     about writing to you and I was only too glad to write and ask you
     to pray for us all. I believe and know it will do good. I am
     trying very hard to pray and be a good Christian. I will ask you
     to pray for me.

                                     Respectfully yours,
                                                           G. Mc.

[Illustration: GROUP OF GIRLS IN AN INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL.]

[Illustration: SOUTHERN ILLINOIS STATE PRISON AT CHESTER.]




                             CHAPTER VIII.

                     Incidents in My Prison Work.


               LETTER FROM THE PRISONERS AT CHESTER, ILL.

                              Southern Illinois Penitentiary,
                                     Menard, Ill., Nov. 27, 1902.

     Dear Mother:

     We are writing you from within these dark grim walls. Although we
     are condemned as the outcasts of society and separated from
     friends and loved ones and continually laboring under great
     mental strain and worry, still there is no pain or sorrow great
     enough to destroy our happiness in our thoughts of you. Your love
     and thoughtfulness for us and our spiritual welfare is a
     priceless jewel that all the wealth of the world cannot buy nor
     sorrow rob us of. No, never. Although the world has condemned and
     despised us, but we know that there is one--if only one--that
     loves even the outcasts.

     Several of your boys have gone from here since you were among us.
     Some have crossed to the beyond; others to blessed freedom. Still
     a greater number are left here with fondest recollections of all
     you have done for us, which is one of the greatest among our
     causes for thanksgiving. It is hardly necessary to say, Remember
     us. We all remain your sons until death.

                                  YOUR BOYS OF CHESTER, ILLINOIS.

An extract from a report of the Chaplain of the Southern Illinois
Penitentiary will be of interest:

                                                    Chester, Ill.

     To the Honorable Board of Commissioners,
                  Chester, Ill.

     Gentlemen:

     I take pleasure in making a report of my first year's work as
     Chaplain.

     The regular chapel services have been held every Sunday at 9:40
     a. m. The chapel has been well filled at all regular services and
     crowded on special occasions. The attendance at religious
     services is voluntary, but most prisoners consider it a privilege
     to attend.

     The words of encouragement I have received from prisoners in
     conversation and by letter make me feel that good is being
     accomplished. More than one hundred men have given me their names
     as Christians or seekers of religion.

     I attend all calls made by the prisoners during the week and
     visit one cell house each Sunday evening.

     My visits are so planned that I see each prisoner in his cell at
     least twice a month and give him a chance to make his requests
     known.

     The men have been urged to study the Bible and have been
     furnished tracts and other helps in Bible study. I have been
     astonished in making my rounds to find so many men reading the
     Bible. One hundred and fifty new Bibles have been purchased
     during the year. Six hundred Sunday-school quarterlies have been
     furnished the prisoners each quarter during the year and they
     have been urged to keep in touch with the outside world by
     studying these lessons. The Sunday-school lesson is read every
     Sunday as a scripture lesson and comments are made upon it.

     The sick in the hospital and the shut-in prisoners in the cell
     houses are visited daily and are supplied with books and papers.
     Some of them read a book each day.

     The Murphy Temperance Pledge has been furnished and more than
     five hundred prisoners have signed the pledge. If the saloons
     could be closed out poor-houses, jails and prisons would soon be
     almost empty.

                             Respectfully submitted,
                                        W. N. RUTLEDGE, Chaplain.


                      SUICIDE OF A PRISONER.

While on my way to the State Prison at Chester, Illinois, in the year
1888 (if I remember rightly) I was especially impressed by the sad
appearance of a fellow-passenger, a mother, accompanied by three
children. I was sure that she was in deep trouble. I said to my
helper, "Mary, that woman is going to the Penitentiary." She said,
"How do you know?" I answered. "I feel sure of it and I will convince
you that I am right."

Having entered into conversation with the woman, I assisted her as I
found opportunity in caring for her children. When I asked her where
she was going, she said, "I am going to Chester." I said, "I, too, am
going to Chester and will gladly assist you in getting off with the
children."

At the station we parted, but the next morning, which was the Sabbath,
as I passed through the guard-room of the State Prison I saw this
woman talking to her husband, who was a prisoner. She sat beside him
and he was holding one of the children and she had another in her
arms. The third was playing near by. All were too young to know of the
sorrow that had come to their home, or the shame that had fallen upon
them. They were with papa and mamma and felt safe and happy. Alas! how
little they knew how soon they were to be left fatherless!

I passed on and was busy during the entire day for I had the liberty
of the prison and the privilege of working among the prisoners. So
busy was I that for the time being I had lost sight of that poor wife
and mother, but only the next morning the Chaplain called for me and
said, "Sister Wheaton, I have oh, such a sad task before me this
morning! I wish you would do it for me." I said, "Chaplain, I will
try. I am willing to do anything that I can to help you." And then he
said, "Do you remember the man and woman you saw yesterday in the
guard-room talking?" I said, "Yes; I remember them well; I met the
woman on the train on my way here." He replied, "Well, that man was so
heart-broken at the thought of parting with his wife and children that
he asked her to promise him that if he should die in the prison she
would have him brought home for burial. She promised him she would do
so and last night that poor man committed suicide in his cell and now
someone must go and tell that woman of her husband's death." I said,
"Chaplain, that is a hard thing to do, but I will try." He said, "I
wish you would,--being a woman you can comfort her better than I
could." Well, I went along the hall until I came to the door of the
room she occupied, for, she too, as well as myself, was a guest of the
kind warden's wife. I opened the door softly and looked in. In memory
I can see her yet as she sat with one child in her lap while the other
two little ones were playing around her knee. She was softly singing
some old country tune. As I looked my heart failed me. I turned away
in sorrow and returned to the Chaplain and said, "Chaplain, I cannot
do it. I cannot break that poor woman's heart. I just can't tell her,"
and he said, "Then I will have to do it. Someone must tell her," and
so he broke the message as best he could. Never will I forget the
anguish of that poor woman's heart as she wept out her grief and
suffering! I tried to comfort her as best I could. I took the same
train with her as she started for home with her husband's body in the
baggage coach ahead. As best I could I ministered to her and those
poor helpless children as long as our journey carried us over the same
road and when I changed cars I tried to utter some words of comfort,
but oh, friends, what could I say, what could I do? Only the sympathy
of the loving Savior could reach her case and I left her, never to
meet her again on this side, but oh, may we not hope that in some way
God found a way to have mercy upon that poor, misjudged man and that
those loved ones may meet again where no mistakes will be made by
judge or jury? For many believed that poor man to be innocent of the
crime with which he was charged. If I remember rightly a barn had been
burned and he had been accused of setting it on fire and had been
convicted through purely circumstantial evidence. Brokenhearted over
his disgrace and the thought of again being separated from wife and
children, the poor man made a rope of the bed-clothing in his cell and
used it to take his own life.


                       "I HAVE NO FRIENDS."

On the 4th of July, 1903, I was in the Ohio Penitentiary at Columbus.
Officers and chaplain were kind, as usual. After holding services in
the hospital, I held service with the men under death sentence; then
went to the prison-yard where all the others were having a holiday.
There the Chaplain assisted Sister Taylor and myself to hold services
in the open air. Many seemed glad to get the message of love in song
and prayer and preaching and many came to shake hands with us, while
singing the closing hymn.

One poor old man, a foreigner, handed me a little package about as
large as a walnut. The paper was soiled from contact with his hand
that warm day. The poor man in tears said, "Good-bye," and I forgot
all about the little package till on the train that night going east,
where I found it in my pocket and found inside a silk handkerchief and
a 25 cent silver piece. On the paper was written his name and number
and these words, "I have no friends." I wept over that small token of
love as I do not often weep over a gift. I have that little
handkerchief safe. It seems sacred to me. How I felt repaid for my
hard day's toil.

That night while I was holding services on the train the conductor
said, "Mother, I don't see how you stand so much hardship;" I said,
"Conductor, I had even forgotten that I had had neither dinner or
supper today."

I think I know something of what Jesus meant when He said to His
disciples after ministering to a needy soul, "I have meat to eat that
ye know not of."

Chaplain Starr in one of the following letters refers to the open air
service on July 4th; also to some of the men under death sentence with
whom I had labored. The Indian woman to whose death and burial he
refers is the same one who is mentioned in the letters of W. H. M. in
another place.

                                   Columbus, Ohio, July 11, 1903.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton.

     My Dear Sister: Your letter received this morning was a very
     pleasant surprise. We have now an additional man in the Annex.
     There are three men sentenced to electrocution in September and
     October. What change may come we do not know. I gave them your
     letter; they will read it over by themselves, and the tracts
     also. They still say that your visit with them on the Fourth of
     July did them much good. I have also delivered your letter to D.,
     and with it a letter from myself, giving him encouragement and
     offering to render him any friendly assistance. The old Indian
     woman, Elsie J., whom I think you have several times seen in the
     female prison, died on the 9th, and we gave her a Christian
     burial yesterday. She was converted and baptized some time ago. I
     am glad that you are preserved and sustained in your great work
     as prison evangelist. If D., and N., and W. write to you I will
     forward the letters to your address. With kind wishes and
     regards, I am,

                              Your brother,

                                     D. J. STARR, Chaplain, O. P.

     Your talk in the yard on the Fourth of July did good.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Columbus, Ohio, Sept. 26, 1903.

     Dear Sister: Your recent postal came duly to hand. I received
     your letter in July from the South and wrote you a reply, but
     have kept it until the present time, not knowing where to mail it
     so it would reach you. I will now send it in this letter, so that
     you will see that I have not forgotten you and answered your
     letter at the time. You inquire concerning the men in the Annex;
     we have now six men in the Annex. One of them has been granted a
     new trial and some others are expecting to get new trials. They
     do not take any great interest in religion, but yet they read the
     Bible some and talk about it. I will tell them of your interest
     in them and assure them that they are not forgotten in your
     prayers.

                          Sincerely yours,

                                     D. J. STARR, Chaplain, O. P.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Ohio Penitentiary, Feb. 22, 1904.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton.

     Dear Sister: I have just received your letter from Washington, D.
     C., inquiring about the men in our prison death cell.

     There are ten there now and two have been taken out for new
     trials. If these are sent back we shall have twelve. The largest
     number, until this list, ever in the Annex was nine.

     Murders, as well as other crimes of violence to person and
     property, are on the increase and society is trying to protect
     its life--without much security, so far.

     Perhaps three of the men are Scripturally penitent, three others
     interested and four indifferent to religion--so far as we can
     see. The men have Bibles, religious song books and papers,
     library books and religious letters from relatives. They are not
     allowed to correspond without especially good reasons for permits
     to do so. I hold a little meeting and Bible study with those who
     care for it almost daily at 2 p. m., at which time you might help
     us with your prayers.

     Sentiment is not salvation. The trouble, both in the prison and
     out of it, is, men will not seek after God. Yes, I am busy and
     ought to be busy about my Master's business, and so are you.

     With best wishes, I am,

                          Respectfully yours,

                                           D. J. STARR, Chaplain.


                    WAY OPENED IN ANSWER TO PRAYER.

I had for many years prayed for an opportunity to preach in one of the
largest state prisons. Again and again I had been refused by both the
warden and chaplain. But at last through a new governor of the state I
was permitted to enter this prison for religious services.

Calling at the office of the governor and asking permission to go to
the prison and assist in the services, he said, "Certainly, we shall
be glad to have you. There will be no difficulty, as we have new
officers. You can preach in the prison." Before I had left the
Governor's private office the warden of the prison being present spoke
and said, "Certainly, they would be very glad to have you take part
with them." I asked if I should not see the chaplain, but the warden
said he would be all right, and be pleased. But I insisted that it was
only courtesy to see the chaplain. And asking the governor to please
write a note to him, he did so and remarked that the state carriage
was waiting at the door and I should be driven to the chaplain's
house.

Arriving at his home I was met by his little daughter who carried my
card to her father and he soon came into the room asking what I
wanted. "I should like, if you please, to take part with you in the
services at the prison chapel tomorrow (Sunday) as I have been some
years in prison work," I replied. "No indeed," he answered, "I cannot
allow a woman to speak in my meetings. I will never permit any woman
to take my pulpit." I made no reply, but that the state carriage was
waiting for me and I must go, but said to him, "Here is a letter from
the governor. Will you kindly look at it before I leave?" He took the
message and noting its contents he changed color and seemed confused;
saying, "I never did allow a woman to speak in my meetings. But seeing
the governor's request and your years of experience, I will allow you
to come in the morning and conduct the women's meetings." The
governor's letter read as follows:

                             Executive Department, Oct. 24, 1891.

     Dr. O. W. G.,
       Chaplain of Penitentiary.

     Dear Sir:

     The bearer, Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, is a prison evangelist of
     national reputation and experience, who brings letters of strong
     recommendation from wardens of the prisons she has visited, and I
     commend her to your kind consideration. She has expressed a
     willingness, if not a desire, to participate in your services
     tomorrow afternoon in the chapel and I trust you will afford her
     every facility for so doing.

                          Respectfully,

                                                DAVID R. FRANCES.


                     A WOMAN CONVERTED AND HEALED.

I went praying for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit. While I was
speaking I was impressed to step down the aisle and lay my hand upon
the head of a vicious looking colored woman. I afterward learned that
she was a life time prisoner and a very dangerous woman. Instantly the
power of God fell upon her and she was wonderfully converted then and
there, and to the best of my knowledge is still true to God. The other
women seeing this, their leader in sin (for so she was) so changed,
were subdued and convicted of their sins. The meeting closed with
victory for God. The chaplain was convinced and said, "You have won
the worst woman in the prison. You have the hearts of all the
prisoners now, for her influence is great. You come and preach to the
men this afternoon. I am convinced." Years have come and gone.
Governors, wardens and chaplains have been changed; but God does not
change, and the doors of that prison are still open to me, and God
always blesses every service.

Some years later upon visiting this prison again we found this poor
colored woman much afflicted and walking on crutches. The sister with
me and I prayed for her, and she was instantly healed, throwing her
crutches aside at once. The matron then gave her the key to go down
and unlock the outside door for us, having so much confidence in her.
She received a pardon from the governor later.

Another woman in the same prison was also prayed for and was instantly
healed by the Lord, of a large tumor, and ran and praised God for what
He had done for her.


                         A CHANGE WROUGHT.

For some years another prison was closed to me. Why, I never knew. I
prayed that the doors of that prison might be opened to me. When the
Lord sent me back there I found such a change as I had never before
witnessed in the same length of time. There was a good Christian
chaplain, one of the best of wardens, and good deputies. Every
prisoner was in an improved state of mind and morals, and all in
harmony and glad to obey the rules of the prison. I was treated with
courtesy and kindness, and was given all the time in the services, and
was entertained. When I left I was conveyed to the depot with ladies
as escorts, and a "trusty" as driver. Such are the wonderful workings
of God through faith and prayer. The meetings in this state prison
were owned and blessed of the Lord. The Holy Spirit led and all seemed
to enjoy and appreciate them. The chaplain said, "How much good was
accomplished!" All were united in harmony and God was glorified.


                        A CHAPLAIN IN MY AUDIENCE.

At another time, arriving at a certain city where there was a state's
prison, I met in the depot a young lady wearing a Salvation Army
bonnet. She was crying at not being met by friends as she had
expected, and I asked her to go with me. She gladly did so and I
proceeded to the prison to ask permission to hold services for the
prisoners on the next day which would be the Sabbath. Obtaining the
consent of the chaplain I waited till the time for the service on
Sabbath morning and returned. The guard refusing to admit me, I sent
for the chaplain. When he came he also refused me, saying he could not
permit me to hold the service, as he thought I belonged to the
Salvation Army. A friend suggested that I should go to the Governor at
his residence, saying that he was a kind man. I did so, and was very
kindly received. Having listened to my request he said, "Yes, you may
have your meeting in the prison,"--he having heard of my work before.
He wrote a card for me to carry with me, and I took it and returned to
the prison. The preacher and the Sisters of Charity had all gone to
the women's department. The men were out in the large yard. I called,
"Boys, come on, we are going to have a meeting." How they hurried pell
mell to the chapel! And such a meeting! The power of God fell. Just
then the chaplain entered, much surprised of course, and I said,
"Chaplain, I am permitted through the kindness of the Governor to hold
this service. Will you please be seated?" Had a most glorious meeting,
closing with results altogether satisfactory to the chaplain.


                          IMPRESSED TO TARRY.

While holding a meeting in a certain city, I was impressed day after
day to tarry. I did not know why. I wanted to go, but still the Lord
impressed me to wait. One evening a cry was heard, "A man is shot."
Immediately the Spirit impressed me, "That is what I detained you here
for." I rushed out into the night, and inquired where the man had been
carried. They told me to the hotel. I went immediately, got admittance
to his room and found him in a dying condition, with no one that knew
God to pray for him. And there by the bedside of the dying man, some
mother's boy,--dying without God and without hope in the world,--I
tried to point him to the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the
world, hoping that the Lord would give him a chance at the eleventh
hour to seek salvation, and I believe God heard my prayer for this
soul.


                      ENCOURAGEMENT BY THE WAY.

In the Pacific Garden Mission in Chicago one night, after addressing
the audience and singing the Gospel to the people, I gave an
invitation to all who desired to lead a new life and serve the Lord to
come forward and publicly confess Christ and repent of their sins.
Instantly a fine looking young man rose in the rear of the hall,
hurried to the front and grasped my hand, saying that he saw me three
weeks before in the Deer Lodge, Montana, State Prison. He said that
three days before, he was released and had come to Chicago, and
passing along the street he heard me singing a favorite hymn at the
open air meeting before services in the hall, and was attracted in.
With hand raised, he promised to be a Christian and live for God and
meet me in Heaven. He said he had my Bible that I gave to the matron
of the prison, who, when he was leaving, gave it to him. "Cast thy
bread upon the waters, for thou shalt find it after many days." Many
others gave themselves to the Lord that night but this was one of my
prison boys, and I was his mother, in that sense, as my life has been
consecrated to God for that special line of work.

The day following, on my way east, I was compelled to stay over night
at a way station where we were to change cars. As I left the train I
heard, as usual, the call of cab-men but passed on into the waiting
room. Several followed me, but one took me by the hand and addressing
me familiarly said, "Get into my cab, mother, it is all right; I'll
take you where you wish to go." Mother Prindle, who was with me said,
"Do you know Mother Wheaton?" He replied, "I have read about her,"
but the look in his kind eyes told me it was one of my boys from
prison. He was now settled in life, a good man, with a wife and two
children. He escorted us to the jail where I desired to hold services,
then to the home of a minister, and from there to our lodging house.

I bless God, and will through all eternity, that the dear Lord ever
called me to work in the prisons as well as in other lines of
Christian work. There are many all over this land now serving God,
leading good, honest lives, a blessing to their country and an honor
to God's cause, who were found in prisons and slums, discouraged and
having given up all hope of ever being anything but miserable and
wretched. They are now serving the blessed Christ who came to seek and
to save that which was lost, and destroy the works of the devil, not
willing that any should perish, but rather that all should be saved. O
reader, many are the lives we might rescue from the ranks of the enemy
if we were more in earnest and lived in close touch with God, and more
under the power and inspiration of the Holy Spirit.

Once in a meeting I was attending, the minister in charge took another
young preacher by the hand, and said: "I want you to preach for us."
The one addressed came to the front of the platform and said: "Yes, I
will; but first I want to say I was once in an insane prison, an awful
place. No one will ever know all we had to suffer there. I was insane
through drink--no one could help me. I was sin-hardened and
hard-hearted, but this Mother (pointing to myself) came to our
criminal prison and sang and prayed and talked to us, and was kind to
us, and my heart was melted, and I wept--something I could not, would
not do until then. Her kindness won me, and I was saved, truly
sanctified, and I have been preaching the Gospel for four years."


                      A CASE OF CRUEL NEGLECT.

At the best, life in prison is hard. How much worse when cruelty and
neglect are added to the necessary restrictions that are placed upon
those in confinement. I knew of one young colored man in prison in the
south who was compelled to endure the winter weather without proper
clothing or covering. His one blanket was so short that his feet were
so badly frozen they had to be amputated. Think you that such things
as these do not cry to God for vengeance?


                           ANOTHER SUICIDE.

Well do I remember a promising young man, who, when I was preaching in
a prison in a southern state, began trembling and ran back into his
cell and called for an officer to bring me to him. I found that he was
quite weak from a bullet wound he had received in a drunken row in a
saloon, he having killed a man in the fight. He was a young man with
bright prospects before him, but bad company and a love for strong
drink had wrought his ruin. He told me of his uncle who was a
minister, a prominent evangelist. I was much surprised that a nephew
of so popular a minister should be in state's prison for such an awful
crime, crushed with shame and remorse. Could it be possible? His
mother was a rich lady.

This young man either because of his wealth and position, or because
of his good conduct in prison, or both, was given privileges and often
sent outside the prison grounds. Often I plead with him to come to
Christ. But one day the old demon of drink had overcome him and having
secretly obtained some liquor, while at a game of cards he shot
himself. Let us throw the mantle of charity over that blighted life,
and leave him in the hands of a just God. Who will be willing to
answer at the bar of God for that soul? "Woe unto him that giveth his
neighbor drink, that puttest thy bottle to him and makest him drunken
also."--Hab. 2:15. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord."


                         JUST OUT OF PRISON.

    "O the wrongs that we may righten,
    O the skies that we may brighten,
    O the hearts that we may lighten--
    Helping just a little!"

While traveling on the train one day, the brakeman said to me: "There
is an ex-convict in the smoking-car." "All right, I will go in and see
him," I said. I went and took him by the hand as he sat alone in the
rear seat of the car, sad and dejected, with no money, no friends, no
home. His mother had died while he was incarcerated in prison; home
broken up, nowhere to go. How glad I was to take this poor soul upon
my heart, and intercede for him in silent prayer; and then have him
come into the other coach and share my lunch. At parting he promised
me he would live a temperate life, and serve God the best he knew. I
believe the dear Lord had me travel on that train to meet that poor
unfortunate and help and strengthen his faith in Christianity, by
showing him attention outside as well as inside the prison walls. How
often a soul is saved from a downfall by a word in season; a kind
hand-clasp, a "God bless you; cheer up, look up, better days are
coming," etc. When hope is well-nigh gone, and friends have forsaken,
and all has failed; yet we can always tell such that "God never
fails."


                        DYING IN PRISON.

One day as I was alone in a gloomy prison a poor boy called to me and
said, "Write to my mother, but don't tell her where you found me.
Please don't tell her, for it would kill her. She never could live and
know her boy was in prison." On the dirty floor, lying on a pile of
still dirtier straw I found this poor prison boy dying. I fell on my
knees and poured out my heart to God in his behalf.

    "That head had been pillowed on tenderest breast,
    That form had been wept o'er, those lips had been pressed,
    That soul had been prayed for in tones sweet and mild;
    For her sake deal gently with some mother's child."

Do not tell me that it does not pay to labor and pray with these dear
lost ones. For if I can be the means of rescuing but one soul from
eternal punishment, thank God, it pays me.


                            WILL IT PAY?

Some gentlemen were once looking at a large building erected for
newsboys, that they might be brought under religious and refining
influences. One of the spectators asked a large contributor to the
benevolent institution this question: "Now you are erecting this
building at a cost of many thousands of dollars, and I admire your
motives, but suppose that after all this great expense only one boy
was saved here--would you still think it paid for time, labor and
money expended?" The man answered quickly and earnestly, "Yes, sir; if
it was my boy." The most precious thing in the sight of God is a soul.
For the redemption of every soul on earth was paid the precious blood
of the Lamb of God. Count it not then a light thing in His sight for
one to be saved or lost. For "There is joy in the presence of the
angels of God over one sinner that repenteth--more than over ninety
and nine just persons who need no repentance." Hundreds have been
saved under my observation and instrumentality both inside and outside
of prison walls, and my motto has been, "Throw out the lifeline across
the dark wave."


                  SAVED AND PREACHING THE GOSPEL.

Upon a warm July day, starting to walk out from Bismarck, N. D., to
what I took to be the state's prison, but which proved to be a large
water reservoir, being overcome by the heat I fell, and crawling to a
shade I lay down with my Bible under my head. After a time I saw some
distance away some persons driving in an open hack and signaled to
them till they saw me and came to me. They drove me to the home of the
warden of the prison where I was kindly received by the warden's wife
and made comfortable. Late that night I held service in the prison
corridors. This was in 1885, and in 1901 I was leading a meeting in a
mission in Portland, Oregon, and asked all who had something special
for which to praise the Lord to speak. A brother arose and said:

     "I want to thank the Lord tonight for the privilege of hearing
     'Mother' Wheaton preach outside of prison walls. I have heard her
     in many a prison. Years ago, one night at 9 o'clock, when all the
     prisoners had been locked in their cells, the officers unlocked
     the doors to let this sister sing some hymns and hold services in
     the corridors. One hymn that especially touched my heart was
     'Throw out the life line.' I was an opium fiend, a morphine
     fiend, a whisky fiend, and an all around bad man, and was ready
     to despair. But God touched my heart and saved me and called me
     to the ministry. At this time I was with my other sins a deserter
     from the United States army. When my time expired I went and
     gave myself up and was sentenced to five years more in prison.
     But God had mercy on me and in seven months I was pardoned out.
     Since that time I have lived an honest life, and for eight years
     have preached the gospel."

This man was married to a Christian woman and has done much to rescue
men from the pit from which he had been taken, and is still preaching.


                      IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT.

One Sunday I sang perhaps thirty hymns and preached seven times to
prisoners in solitary confinement, where I dare not see them or clasp
their hands as I do in other prisons. There are hundreds there, and as
I sang in all the prison wards or corridors many different hymns, the
dear souls cheered and responded with their clear voices as best they
could to show their sincere appreciation of my efforts to brighten
their lonely prison life. Each was "some mother's boy." Reader, is
there not a sympathetic chord in your heart for these poor
unfortunates?


                           CRAPE ON THE DOOR.

I once felt impressed to go to a certain prison and hold services.
Arriving at the place early in the morning, I thought I would go to
the prison first before I would telephone for a cousin who often
helped me in the singing. When I arrived at the prison, the chaplain
said, "Mother Wheaton, the Lord sent you to help me. To-day I have a
funeral service of a prisoner, something we have never had at this
prison." I did not telephone then for my cousin, as the services were
arranged. I worked all day in the prison, holding services with both
men and women prisoners, visited the hospital, and went to the city
jail at 5 p. m. and held services, and then went to my relative's home
and was greatly shocked to find crape hanging on the door. I found my
cousin cold in death. Relatives asked me, "Who told you?" I said, "God
impressed me to come at this time." And I went with them to the grave
of my dear cousin, and kneeling beside the open grave, I promised to
faithfully do God's holy will, and meet the departed one in Heaven.


                        IN A POLICE STATION.

In 1903, while I was in San Francisco, I was impressed to go to the
police station about nine o'clock one night. I found, on arriving, an
ambulance bringing in prisoners, among them a woman who was arrested
for drunkenness. I talked and prayed with her. Hearing a noise like
one in distress, I walked on through the corridors and I found a young
soldier who was badly wounded in one eye and the head. He was standing
alone in his cell in great pain. The bandage had been torn off, and
the blood was running down his face, though his wounds had evidently
been dressed by a physician before coming there. He was crying from
the pain, and was under the influence of drink. I wiped the blood off
his face, and put the bandage on his eye again. Then I knelt in prayer
with him. I left the city on an early train, and never saw him again,
but I believe God heard and answered my prayer for his salvation.


                          BURNED IN HIS CELL.

I went into one of our western cities to hold services at the jail. On
the way from the depot I stopped at a store, where a young clerk told
me of a horrible crime that had been committed in the jail. That the
prisoners had been trying to make their escape, and one young prisoner
had revealed the plot to the jailer, and thus saved his life. The
prison wall had been "worked" in a cunning manner, and the prisoners
were about to escape, when this poor boy informed the jailer of what
was being done. The other three prisoners were so enraged that they
threw coal oil over the boy, set fire to his clothing, and he was
burned alive in the cell. I was grieved at hearing this, and felt that
I could see them punished severely. They were in an underground prison
for safe-keeping until the wall could be repaired. The officers were
afraid to let me go in, but I told them I was not afraid, and went
down the stairs ahead of the officers. I saw only one dim candle
burning, and called for a light. A lamp was brought, and I went boldly
into the presence of those criminals. I sat down and thought of the
awfulness of it all. So, as I wept, I sang "Some Mother's Boy," and
they cried like their hearts were breaking. I went over to them, where
they were sitting together on an old bunk, and we cried together. They
were humble and convicted, and it was love that did it all--God's love
which showed them that though their sins were as scarlet, they shall
be white as snow, though red like crimson they shall be as wool. God
heard prayer for them and I trust they were forgiven.


                          THE INNOCENT IN BONDS.

In a certain state prison the officer called my attention to a man and
said, "That man is innocent of the crime he was sentenced for." "Then
why do you keep him here?" I asked. "Because he serves for his friend,
willingly allowing the guilt to be placed upon himself rather than see
this friend who was really guilty suffer." On leaving the prison I
came upon this man with an officer on the train, and had the pleasure
of talking to the man and hearing his story. I referred him to Psalms
15:1, 2, 4. "Lord, who shall abide in thy tabernacle? Who shall dwell
in thy holy hill? He that walketh uprightly and worketh righteousness,
and speaketh the truth in his heart. He that sweareth to his own
hurt, and changeth not." He was being taken to another court for
trial.


                            CONFESSED HER GUILT.

A woman in a prison was convicted of sin under my preaching, and sent
for me to come to her cell, where she gave me such an account of her
crimes that I was shocked, and yet was powerless to liberate an
innocent man that she said was in ---- state's prison for a crime she
committed. She asked me to go and tell him for her that she was the
guilty one, and try to have him freed, but wanted the matter kept
secret. Now that she was under conviction of her sins, she could not
rest. I went to the state prison she named, found the man, and told
him her story. His agony was pitiful to behold. He said, "O how I
loved my wife and baby. I am an innocent man. How can I live my
sentence out in this way? Nothing to live for." Such bitterness as he
held toward that wicked woman, for her crime and duplicity! I left him
in an agony of grief. And yet there are so many who are serving as
unjustly for others' crimes! This woman had killed the wife thinking
she herself would then get the husband.


                          UNDER SENTENCE OF DEATH.

Going into the presence of two condemned men on our national holiday,
the chaplain remarked, "I wish you could reach these men's hearts. You
have often helped others in this prison who were under death
sentence." I prayed in silence for wisdom, and as I walked into their
presence, I said, "I have come to sing to you and have a little visit
with you, but if you prefer to be alone, I will go away." They said
they would be glad to have me stay. I sang several songs, and before
I had spoken of religion, I was made glad to see tears in their eyes,
and then we knelt in prayer, and I prayed God to pardon their sins and
make them pure in His sight.

I do not believe in capital punishment. Lord hasten the day when the
crime of putting men to death legally shall be done away with. It does
not stop crime. I thank God that one noble warden gave up his
honorable position and salary, rather than take the lives of any more
men. I wish God would raise up men all over our land who in like
manner would be brave enough to refuse to sacrifice human lives
because the law licenses them to do so. When I see wicked men so
anxious to see poor, helpless men executed, I think of that
authoritative utterance, "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the
Lord." Jesus said, "He that hateth his brother is a murderer." There
is a day of reckoning coming.


                       THE RELIGION MOTHER HAD.

Many times prisoners have said to me when speaking to them, "That's
the kind of religion mother had. You remind me of my own dear old
mother;" and many, even statesmen, and the attendants in the capitol,
and in the President's mansion, have said to me with uncovered heads,
and tears in their eyes, "That is the kind of religion mother had. I
wish I was as good as she was." I find the crying need to-day in all
stations of life; from the palace to the dungeon, is real, genuine,
heartfelt, common-sense salvation, not to be cranks and fanatics, not
to be one-sided or half-way professors of religion; but to have the
Holy Ghost in our hearts and lives, and a burning desire to help every
one into the Kingdom of Heaven. Being "all things to all men" that we
might win some wandering souls to Christ.

O the joy of knowing that you are doing just what God wants you to
do--winning souls for His Kingdom, from all walks of life; often in
houses of ill-fame souls are truly saved and reformed. Often in
saloons men and women are impressed by the straightforward message of
love brought them. You say, "No use to try." O thou of little faith,
wherefore did'st thou doubt? I have much encouragement among the
criminal classes, for they are despised and rejected by earthly
friends.

I might give many more instances, but this is probably sufficient. Let
no one think for a moment that these poor unfortunates have no tender
feeling, no remorse because of sin. They see their shame and feel the
separation from home and loved ones. There must be places to confine
criminals and protect the lives and property of other people, but we
must remember that behind all the guilt there are precious souls that
live through all eternity.

Sin is treacherous, the human heart deceitful above all things and
desperately wicked; perhaps under unfavorable conditions the heart of
the most moral man or woman may generate the evil of the human nature
and cause it to show its corruption in crime. All that saves some
people now from the felon's cell, or gambler's hell, is that they hold
the propensity of their corrupt hearts in with bit and bridle. And
thousands tread the earth in freedom, who, if justice could find them
out and fasten their guilt upon them, would be in the prison stripes
and iron cells. So be not so ready to cry "Crucify him!" "Stone her!"
until you can look into your own heart and see that it is pure and
clean.


                  CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.

    Thank God! that I have lived to see the time
      When the great truth begins at last to find
      An utterance from the deep heart of mankind,
    Earnest and clear, that ALL REVENGE IS CRIME!
      That man is holier than a creed--that all
    Restraint upon him must consult his good,
      Hope's sunshine linger on his prison wall,
    And Love look in upon his solitude.
      The beautiful lesson which our Saviour taught
      Through long, dark centuries its way hath wrought
      Into the common mind and popular thought;
    And words, to which by Galilee's lake shore,
    The humble fishers listened with hushed oar,
      Have found an echo in the general heart,
      And of the public faith become a living part.
                  * * * * * * *

    No more the ghastly sacrifices smoke
    Through the green arches of the Druid's oak;
      And ye of milder faith, with your high claim
      Of prophet-utterance in the Holiest name,
    Will ye become the Druids of _our_ time!
      Set up your scaffold-altars in our land,
    And, consecrators of Law's darkest crime,
      Urge to its loathsome work the hangman's hand?
    Beware--lest human nature, roused at last,
    From its peeled shoulder your encumbrance cast,
      And, sick to loathing of your cry for blood,
    Rank ye with those who led their victims round
    The Celt's red altar and the Indian's mound,
      Abhorred of Earth and Heaven--a pagan brotherhood!

                    --JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER.

[Illustration: INTERIOR OF CHAPEL-DINING APARTMENT AND ROW OF CELLS,
CHESTER, ILL.]




                             CHAPTER IX.

  Conversion of Desperate Prisoners Prevents a Terrible Mutiny.


During the fall of 1888, I was deeply impressed that I should visit
the state prison at Waupun, Wis. Following the guidance of the Spirit,
I reached the place, after a long journey, on the evening of November
third. A dear Christian girl was with me. It was a lovely moonlight
night and as we came to the prison, the yard was plainly visible
through the heavy iron grating. My companion called my attention to
its beauty but my heart was heavy and I could only reply, "Sister,
pray! O do pray! There is something awfully wrong here--some danger
pending--something terrible!"

The officers of the prison welcomed me heartily and the chaplain said:
"I am glad you have come and shall be pleased to have you take the
service tomorrow morning." (It was Saturday.) His wife entertained us
during our stay and after taking us to their own rooms he said:
"There's a man here who is a terror to both the officers and
prisoners. All are afraid of him. Neither kindness or punishment seems
to affect him. I wish you could do something to help him." My reply
was: "I cannot do anything, but God can." And earnestly did I look to
God for help.

The next morning a heavy burden still rested upon my heart and I
prayed God to go before me to that prison chapel and lead the meeting
Himself and give me the right message. Nor did I plead in vain, for
many souls were that day deeply convicted of sin and some were
blessedly saved as was clearly manifested a little later.

After the sermon my friend and myself sang a hymn and this was greatly
used by the Spirit in connection with the sermon in reaching the very
depths of hearts. It was the custom to hold an after meeting for
thirty minutes, but those who wished to remain were expected to secure
cards or tickets, granting permission, on the previous day. That
Sunday the chaplain said: "All who wish to remain to this service can
do so without a card, as these ladies are here."

A hardened looking criminal (whom I afterward learned to be the one to
whom the chaplain had referred the night before) arose to retire with
a few others. I went to him at once and took him by the hand and urged
him to stay, but he said: "No, they don't want me here. This meeting
is for good people and I am too bad to stay." But I pleaded: "No, you
stay--we want you to stay. I want you to stay." And then he said:
"Well, I'll stay for your sake," and sat down. The meeting progressed
under the power of the Lord and many arose to say that they had been
very wicked but were sorry; and if God could and would forgive them
they would lead a different life and be good men. Some told how their
dear old mothers were good and had prayed for them and that they
wanted us to pray for them and they would serve the Lord.

I noticed that many of the men as they arose glanced furtively at the
man to whom I have referred and that he sat looking at each one as he
spoke and evidently had great influence over the other prisoners. At
last he arose and said, "Men, don't be afraid of me. If there is any
good in this religion you are talking about, go ahead and get it. I'll
stand by you and nobody shall say before me, 'There's your praying
man' or 'There's your hypocrite.' I can't be good--I'm too far
gone--but I'll stand by the men who are going to do right." All were
evidently deeply impressed by his words. As he sat down I went to him
and taking him by the hand, I said, "God loves you and He wants to
save you and to help you to live for a better world than this." Again
he insisted, "I'm too far gone! It's too late for me to try to do
right! There's no hope for me," but still I pleaded with him to return
unto the Lord--that there was still mercy and pardon for even him--and
that he would yield to the Holy Spirit's pleading and become a
Christian. He was evidently very deeply convicted of sin and soon
arose and with deep feeling he said, "Men, you know what I have
been--watch me from today and see what I will be;" and as he sat down,
the prisoners cheered.

Fearful as to what the outcome might be and somewhat doubting his
sincerity, the chaplain quickly closed the service and ordered the men
to their cells. They obediently left the chapel, but truly God had
wondrously wrought that day in the hearts of many of the most noted
and hardened criminals. In the afternoon we went, in company with the
chaplain, from cell to cell singing, talking, and praying with the
men. The chaplain took me to the cell of the man who had given so much
trouble--a man who had taken several lives, and there he gave his
heart to God and was converted.


                          PLAN OF THE MUTINY.

After all the prisoners had been locked in the cells and the officers
had gone to their homes or rooms, only a few guards remaining on duty,
he sent for the warden to come to his cell and requested to be taken
out into the prison yard. At first the warden refused to do so because
of his being known to be such a dangerous character. Still he
insisted, saying that he had something to show him. The warden, who
had been an army officer and was a very brave man, was only partially
convinced but finally consented saying: "I'm not afraid of you--one
wrong move and you're a dead man. I have had enough trouble with you.
I will take you into the yard, but beware!"

Well armed, he marched the man into the yard. There the prisoner led
him to the extreme end, and taking away some dry leaves and boards he
said to the warden, "Look in." The warden did so and, O, what a sight
met his eyes! There, in a hole, were knives, guns, and other weapons!
Staggering back he exclaimed, "My ----, where did you get those
things?" "It don't matter where I got them," replied the prisoner,
"but take me back to my cell and then take away these weapons. I
intended to liberate the prison tomorrow morning and would have done
so if that woman had not come and preached here today. I am a changed
man now."

How he got those weapons was a mystery, but he had been long years
planning an escape, and had chosen some of the most daring of his
fellow prisoners (both those inside and others who had gone out) to
aid him! Whether he could have succeeded or not, doubtless many lives
either of officers or prisoners or of both would have been lost had
the attempt been made. But God wrought so mightily that instead of
lives being lost precious souls were saved. Several were converted
that day who are still living noble Christian lives. Others may be,--I
leave that with God. I do not know whether the leader is still living
or not, but have heard that he was dead. At any rate he served his
long sentence and claimed to be still a Christian when he left the
prison.


                            HAVOC OF SIN.

Among the many who were converted during that Sunday morning service
in 1888, was a very amiable, intelligent, refined-appearing young man,
still in his teens, who was serving under life sentence. He was a real
"mother's boy," so young and so small that after his conversion I used
to call him my little son. He belonged to one of the best families of
the state. His father was a physician and a classmate and friend of
the governor. For the sake of his broken-hearted parents, as well as
his own, and being satisfied that he was really innocent of the crime
of which he had been convicted, I began to pray earnestly for his
release. But the case dragged on and though he was pardoned some years
later, it was not until after his father died broken-hearted and the
mother's health had failed under her weight of sorrow and an aunt had
gone insane.

During his imprisonment I at one time visited his poor mother in her
home. Oh! what havoc sin had wrought! What sorrow! For though I
believe him entirely innocent of the crime for which he was condemned,
his conviction was the result of his being led astray by evil
influences and associates.

Oh, that I could warn young men of the dangers of bad company, and
that I could warn parents of the dangers of discouraging their
children in waiting upon and serving God.

When this boy was quite young, he wanted to become a Christian and
engage in work for souls, but his parents thought it would be a
disgrace, as they were aristocratic, but alas! what snares had the
enemy set for him, from which he might have entirely escaped, if they
had encouraged him to be true to God.

I received many letters from him while he was in prison and quote from
two of them. We have not heard from him for years but trust that if
alive he is still living for God and Heaven.

                                      Waupun, Wis., July 7, 1895.

     Dear Mother, "In His Name":

     Since my last letter to you several things of interest have
     transpired. My attorney went to see the governor and then came to
     see me. We went over some evidence, and at last I convinced them
     that I alone can untangle the skein of false evidence.

     I located a Mrs. N. and she gave an affidavit which would have
     cleared me at my trial. She said she felt that she had been the
     cause of all my suffering, but that she went to LaCrosse at the
     time of my trial and was met at the train by a detective, who
     told her if she wanted to keep out of serious trouble to take the
     first train out of the city, and she did so. I expect to soon
     have another witness to corroborate her statement. Then if I can
     locate the sister of the deceased and get her evidence I will
     have a sure case against those who perjured themselves to send me
     here.

     Yes, I have placed all my life in God's hands and have begun my
     work here; but, being a convict, I am much hindered. Therefore,
     in order to do a more abundant and faithful service, I desire my
     freedom. If I get it, I will try and enter the Moody Institute
     and take a course of training for the work. Mrs. K. is anxious to
     have me do so.

     Our chaplain will preside over our Christian Endeavor Society. I
     recently sent out my report to be read at the Boston convention
     in session the 10th inst., and I ventured, in the light of all
     events, to place the following motto over our penitentiary:
     "Wisconsin Prison for Christ" for the coming year, and by the
     time of the next convention, I hope to be out to represent the
     Christian Endeavor boys.

     Brother H. told me of a song you sing. "Some Mother's Child" is
     the song. Will says it is simply sublime and I ought to have it.
     Such songs turn the mind back to home and to the memory of fond
     parents and loved ones. Such pieces are always very sacred to me.

     God bless you and spare you for many years to come, that you may
     continue to be a Mother to the prisoners of earth. Write me when
     you can.

     I am your loving little son, "In His Name,"

                                                          ALBERT.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Waupun, Wis., Nov. 27, 1895.

     My Dear Mother:

     Your excellent letter duly at hand. Both Brother Colgrove and I
     were surprised, for we had concluded that God in His infinite
     love and wisdom had carried you home.

     I am at work here in the official building, in the office of our
     dear chaplain. Brother Colgrove is in the hospital across the
     hall from our office. I have talked with the chaplain about your
     coming, and he says to tell you to come and stay two weeks. He
     would like to have you spend two Sundays, and in the meantime we
     will no doubt, under the present warden, be able to secure the
     evenings during the week for a series of revival meetings.

     Lovingly your son in the work,

                                                          ALBERT.

                  *       *       *       *       *

    Guilt comes not, thundering on the wings of time,
    With vice-distorted feature and the leer of crime,
    But like enchanting vision from a pagan dream,
    Or softly echoed cadence of a whispering stream,
    She steals upon us gently, with ever-changing art,
    And usurps an empire--the waiting human heart!
    Her outward form is beauty, her voice with Passion tense,
    She only craves the privilege to gratify each sense;
    All apparent pleasures 'round her path are spread,
    But, alas! you seize the flower to find its fragrance fled;
    But still pursuing, row with bated breath,
    You clasp her to your bosom and--embrace a death!
    Then, conscience stricken, you the wreck survey,
    And with shuddering horror--humbly kneel to pray;
    While the pitying angels on their pinions bear
    The ever sacred burden of repentant prayer,
    And almighty love descending reasserts control,
    And mercy in the guise of grace has won a human _soul_.

                                            --_A Prisoner._




                               CHAPTER X.

       Remarkable Conversion and Experience of George H. Colgrove.


Among the others who were saved that fourth day of November, 1888, at
Waupun, Wis., was the very remarkable case of Geo. H. Colgrove. Years
afterwards the chaplain said of him, "I regard him as an ideal--one of
whom you would expect this report: 'If ever there was a good Christian
man on earth he is one.'" At one time he had three Bible classes in
prison each week--one in English and two in German--and was the means
of the accomplishment of much good in the conversion of prisoners.

[Illustration: GEO. H. COLGROVE.]


                             HIS OWN STORY.

The story of his life and conversion is given, as nearly as possible,
in his own words, but as found in two different statements--some
particulars being given in one that were not in the other--in order to
make the account as complete as I can.

     It is very difficult for one in prison, especially, to write of
     themselves without giving to strangers the impression of either
     vanity and conceit on the one hand or of craft and deception on
     the other. Therefore, it is with considerable hesitation that I
     write. Yet my greet indebtedness to "Mother" Wheaton, who was
     chosen of God as the agent through whom His wondrous work should
     be made manifest to the world in my salvation, as also of many
     others, has at last led me to make the following statement:

     Just on the verge of manhood, at the age of nineteen, I obtained
     some _infidel literature_ of the mild stamp, yet scholarly and
     persuasive withal, containing no harsh criticism of Christian
     people and principles. This aroused my interest and admiration
     and led to my obtaining more of a like nature, until under their
     combined influence my youthful mind was entirely surrendered to
     such doubts and disbelief as they advocated.

     This was the pivotal point in my early life from which I started
     down the deceitful road that leads from peace, happiness and
     honor into the depths of sorrow, infamy and despair. Having thus
     imbibed the subtle poison of infidelity, I soon became blinded
     and indifferent to the rights of my fellowmen and to the enormity
     of violating divine law.

                             BURGLARY AND MURDER.

     From this low plane of morality it was easy to enter the path of
     crime; and this I did, following the precarious calling of
     burglary for five years. This dark way ended in the midnight
     gloom of a murderer. Detection, arrest and conviction followed in
     rapid succession, soon bringing down upon me the crushing weight
     of a "life sentence." So that on a cold wintry night the officers
     of the law delivered me within the portals of a living tomb.

     Four dark, hopeless, weary years succeeded. Yet the Lord in His
     great mercy had not forgotten me; and when all the world deserted
     me, then He in His loving kindness took me up and His favor was
     manifested through the instrumentality of "Mother" Wheaton.

     During the early years of my incarceration no words could portray
     my intense and bitter hatred of Christianity and anything
     pertaining thereto. Feeling that I had sold my soul to the prince
     of darkness, it enraged me to be reminded of a better life, or a
     possible Heaven.

     Burning with the fires of hatred and revenge toward those whom I
     knew had unjustly deceived and wronged me, my only desire was to
     escape from here even long enough to rush upon my enemies and
     hurl their souls into eternity, and then follow them immediately
     if need be. I continually planned and schemed for the
     accomplishment of this purpose, and had a plan of escape well
     defined and was making arrangements to put it into execution,
     when one bright and beautiful Sunday morning it was announced
     that a lady preacher was going to hold services in the chapel
     that day.

     Though I did not often attend church, yet on this occasion I
     swore some big round oaths that I would go up and hear the lady
     talk.

     That was the morning of November 4, 1888. The beautiful sun that
     shines alike on mansion and cottage, palace and prison, shone as
     though a special degree of radiance had been granted to light a
     benighted soul on its way out of darkness into light. But I
     entered the chapel with cold indifference, drawn only by
     curiosity--at least so far as I knew; but results proved that God
     was leading. I awaited developments; _and they came_. Our prison
     chaplain introduced "Mother" Wheaton, whom I had never seen
     before, and announced the services as "entirely in her hands."
     She gave us a short, earnest, impressive address; then she and
     the sister who came with her sang "Meet me there."

     During the singing I heard an accompanying strain, low and
     inexpressibly sweet, the like of which I had never heard nor
     imagined.

     The two sounds harmonized, yet were distinct, but oh, how lovely!
     Words fail to convey the most distant idea of their soothing and
     attractive power.

     The thought flashed through my mind, "That is delicious music to
     fall upon ears that have listened to the sound of murderous
     guns."

     Suddenly and with all the vividness of continuous lightning
     dispelling dense darkness, revealing all surrounding objects
     distinctly, the awful depth and blackness of my iniquitous career
     blazed up before my mental view, like a clear and definite
     painting of each act in my wicked life--portrayed on canvas by a
     master hand and set in clearest rays of the noonday sun. And at
     the same time there was given an assurance of forgiveness, if
     accepted then.

     Surprise, consternation and intense fear came with this
     revelation of myself to myself, as my depraved spiritual
     condition was, for the first time, fully realized. Also as
     distinctly and positively it was granted me to know that _my last
     opportunity_ for divine favor was before me. Accept and be saved
     or reject and be _eternally lost_! Such was the alternative.

     Although every nerve thrilled in rebellion against Christianity
     and a thousand obstacles seemed to intervene, rendering a change
     in my course of life impossible, yet I dared not refuse that
     stern, terrific ultimatum, "_Your last opportunity_," and before
     its mighty mandate my proud, headstrong, sin-burdened soul
     _surrendered unto Jesus of Nazareth_.

     I wished to fly from the room, but could not. I felt frightened
     at the power which was mastering me, and thought in a confused
     way of the ridicule which would be heaped upon me, of my intended
     escape, and of revenge upon my foes. Ah! what? Revenge? No, no
     revenge now. No, no. That was all gone. The evil desire had thus
     suddenly been removed without my knowledge, and in its stead
     there reigned in my heart and in the depths of my soul a feeling
     of forgiveness and peace, both between them and myself and
     between myself and my God.

     I said, "Surely the Lord has visited me this day; for I came in
     here a devil in human form, and now my dark sins are forgiven and
     I am free. Glory to God!"

     The chaplain and warden were nearly thunderstruck to learn that
     the low, miserable, worthless wretch, the hopeless vagabond,
     Colgrove, had been brought to the foot of the cross; still they
     must have entertained but little hope of my remaining in the
     straight and narrow path that leadeth unto life. How could they?
     They had not heard that strange music which had floated in on my
     soul. They could not feel the awakening which was permeating and
     ringing through the corridors of my heart, nor could they
     perceive the realizing sense of divine favor which was so clear
     to my own consciousness.

     That very week it was impressed on my mind that I must at once
     commence the study of the Holy Scriptures for work in the cause
     of God and devote the remainder of my life to leading my
     fellowmen, and especially prisoners, into the light of Calvary. I
     said, "What will it all amount to--I a friendless prisoner,
     doomed for life?" An answering whisper came, "Friendless, with
     Jesus for your friend? Study the Word." So in blindness, with
     fear and trembling, doubts and misgivings, I took from my shelf
     in the prison cell the neglected, despised and dust-covered Bible
     and commenced studying the Word to the best of my ability, with
     none but God to direct or assist me except a hasty explanation
     now and then from the chaplain as he passed on his hurried rounds
     through the cell rooms.

     I immediately destroyed the implements of destruction and escape
     which I had made during two years previous to my conversion.
     Instead of dirks and saws, my hands now grasped the Bible and the
     cross; and thanks be unto Jesus of Nazareth, they still retain
     their hold, and I believe with ever increasing strength.

     The way thus far has been rendered more pleasant by the hand of
     the Lord than I then thought possible amid such dark
     surroundings. With an ever realizing sense of my unworthiness I
     have been kindly led in the way of life and am eleven years
     nearer my eternal Home; while in my soul there is the "peace of
     God which passeth all understanding" which is an additional
     evidence of the faithful care and guidance of Jehovah. During the
     last decade the motto of my life has been, as through future
     years it shall ever be (Isaiah 26:4): "Trust ye in the Lord
     forever, for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength."

     I know not whether earthly freedom will ever be mine, but I do
     know that, if it is His holy and righteous will, it will be given
     me; and I know that it matters little, for earthly joys must soon
     fade away, and down at the close of the earthly journey Jesus is
     waiting for me. And with my weak and faltering hand laid in His
     strong and mighty one I shall walk through the dark waters of the
     Jordan of death, and with Him kindly leading His rescued child we
     shall enter with joy and eternal thanksgiving the beautiful "city
     whose maker and builder is God."

The following extracts from letters written me at different times
after his conversion will, I believe, interest the reader:

                                     Waupun, Wis., Sept. 5, 1891.

     Mrs. E. Wheaton:

     Dear Christian Friend: No news received since you were here has
     afforded me so much pleasure as the announcement of your return.

     It was through your earnest work that I was converted. When you
     came here before there was, I presume, no more sinful, hopeless,
     hardened, miserable wretch inside these walls than myself. When I
     entered the prison chapel that Sabbath morning, November 4, 1888,
     I for one came to observe, sneer and laugh. But while you were
     singing that glorious anthem, "Meet Me There," power from above
     opened my spiritual vision to see the horrible condition of my
     soul, and so enabled me to realize my great need of divine favor.
     I thank God and will bless His holy name forever that in His
     infinite wisdom and kindness He brought me inside these walls and
     sent you, His chosen instrument, to lead my wandering
     sin-darkened soul into the path that leadeth unto life eternal.

     Amid the trials, cares and vexations of the passing days I often
     look up to the blue vault of heaven's dome and rejoice at the
     thought that the flying moments and hastening hours are bringing
     me nearer, ever nearer to the blessed hour when I shall meet
     Jesus face to face and clasp His rescuing hand, never from Him to
     part. Ah, never to part! Thanks unto God most high.

     May the Lord ever bless you, my dear spiritual Mother. Good-bye.

                                                         G. H. C.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Waupun, Wis., Oct. 29, 1891.

     My Dear Spiritual Mother:

     Your kind letter most gladly received. I am surprised that our
     boys do not write more frequently to you. They often inquire as
     to your whereabouts and health and ever have a good word for you
     and your work. Even many who do not care for their soul's
     salvation speak favorably of Mrs. Wheaton.

     God knows how much your letters cheer me and brighten the prison
     gloom. After twenty years of infidelity, with all its direful
     train of evils, leading on from bad to worse, the prison gate
     threw its protective barrier between society and one who had
     become almost a devil in human form, thus showing that a just God
     had taken account of my iniquitous course and had said, "Thus far
     and no farther." Then followed four years of hopeless misery,
     borne with the sullen stolidity of despair, while in thought,
     intent and purpose I sank lower and lower into the horrible
     cesspool of criminality, and farther and farther away from God.
     Then, in His infinite mercy, He sent you with the message of
     salvation, which He crowned with His invincible power of
     conviction and a realization of my lost and hopeless condition.

     My prayers shall ever be with you, dear sister, and if I might
     send a message by you to all the prisoners from the pine-shadowed
     shores of Maine to the far Alaskan mountains it would be this:
     "Ye captives, look aloft to the Star of Bethlehem, and whatever
     betide, do not fail to grasp the hand stretched out to you from
     Calvary." Hoping to hear from you soon and praying God to ever
     bless you I remain,

                     Yours for God and humanity,
                                                  G. H. COLGROVE.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Waupun, Wis., Sept. 4, 1892.

     My Dear Mother:

     How many, many times I have thanked our kind Father above and
     praised His Holy Name for sending you to our prison gate on that
     November night in 1888. Three years and ten months ago today the
     radiant light of Calvary, fresh from the throne of the Infinite,
     came, through your ministrations, down into the dark recesses of
     my sin-burdened heart and crime-laden soul, while mingled with
     the music of the sweet hymn you and your companion were singing
     the heavenly strains of an angelic accompaniment so entrancingly
     and irresistibly soothing and lovely that my hardened heart
     melted like frost before the noonday sun.

     Can you believe that I stayed to that after-meeting when every
     nerve in my body thrilled to get up and run out of the chapel?
     Yes, I desired to flee; yet an irresistible power restrained me.
     I know now it was Satan urging me to flee away from there; for
     he, of course, readily understood that he was in danger of losing
     an active member from his minions of evil. But thanks be unto
     Jehovah, who ruleth over all, Satan failed. God and His servant
     held the field and a soul was redeemed from death. Glory to God
     forever and ever. Amen.

     The years from that time have been so pleasant and bright, though
     spent where sorrow, misery and gloom were on every hand, as I
     journey on to our beautiful home everlasting, which Jesus has
     gone to prepare.

       "Filled with delight, my raptured soul
         Would here no longer stay,
       Though Jordan's waves around me roll
         Fearless I launch away."

       "When peace like a river attends on my way
         Where sorrows like sea billows roll,
       Whatever my lot, thou halt taught me to say
         It is well, it is well, with my soul."

       "When we've been there ten thousand years,
         Bright shining as the sun,
       We've no less days to sing his praise
         Than when we first begun."

     Yes, since your first visit here my bark of life has been
     "standing away" on her new course over the sea of life, and she
     is now nearly four years nearer the heavenly harbor, where
     destructive gales of temptation will never sweep the white sails
     of purity from the "masts of purpose," nor break the "yard arms"
     of effort, nor rolling breakers of iniquity dash her upon the
     rocky shore of eternal ruin.

     Mother, please give my kindest wishes to all who are helping you
     in the great work which Jesus established while on earth and
     which He left for us to continue until the resounding trump and
     advancing angel hosts proclaim His return to our earth to claim
     His own and crown the redeemed. When the sullen and long silent
     graves shall release their victims and the long absent fleet of
     the lower ocean shall again whiten the seas with their snowy
     sails and bring their passengers and crews to join the vast
     congregation assembled before the judgment seat of Christ.

                           Ever yours,
                                                         G. H. C.

                  *       *       *       *       *

     Waupun, Wis., Jan. 14, 1895.

     Dear Mother:

     Your kind and most welcome letter very gladly received. It is
     ever one of my chief pleasures to hear from you.

     There was a man here by the name of William L., who led a very
     godless life, being extremely profane. During the past summer he
     was transferred to the prison hospital. On September 4 I was
     placed in charge of the sick ward as assistant steward, and I
     found this man L. in here when I took charge of this department.
     He had been a bitter enemy of mine for several years, as he was
     utterly opposed to Christianity, and he tried to utterly
     disregard me. I continued to treat him kindly, which was, of
     course, a Christian duty which we owe to our Heavenly Father, and
     in a short time he grew into the habit of calling on me for
     favors, and as he sank lower I spent the night with him. One
     evening he spoke of you and said: "Oh! I wish I could hear
     'Mother' Wheaton sing one of her sweet hymns."

     During three days and nights he continued to speak of you. The
     last day on which he mentioned you was in the morning about 8
     o'clock. While sitting in his chair beside the bed he said very
     earnestly and emphatically: "I would give a dollar to hear
     'Mother' Wheaton sing one of her sweet hymns just now--right
     here and now."

     About midnight that night he sat in his bed looking upward for
     some time in silence and then dropped his head in a most dejected
     manner and in mournful tone exclaimed, "No, no, no." The intense
     sadness of his manner made my heart ache for him. After that hour
     he appeared to have given up all hope. The death chill came on
     while he was in the rocking chair, and he asked me to assist him
     into bed and send for the prison physician. He expressed himself
     well satisfied with the treatment he had had while sick, and
     then, seeing it was too hard work for him to talk, he relapsed
     into silence, while I offered a silent prayer for the departing
     soul.

     I write this explanation because of the intense desire he had to
     see you and hear you sing once more.

     The Christian Endeavor still exists by the power and blessing of
     God, and my Bible class is continuing and some good has been
     accomplished through its instrumentality.

     Rev. B. has left us. Our new spiritual guide and counselor is
     Rev. Simerville, an earnest Christian, whose influence bids fair
     to lead many hitherto careless ones to turn their footsteps in
     the straight and narrow path that leads to life. The beacon light
     to Calvary cheers us on every day to our eternal home. Meet me
     there. Good-bye, Mother. God bless you now and ever.

                                                  G. H. COLGROVE.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Waupun, Wis., Nov. 28, 1895.

     Dearest Mother:

     Your kind and welcome letter gladly received. Brother Albert
     wrote you yesterday and I sincerely hope the invitation extended
     to you by the chaplain and contained in Albert's letter, will be
     promptly acted upon and that we shall soon behold your face among
     us once more and again hear the songs of Zion fall from your
     lips.

     Albert is librarian and the chaplain's assistant, while this
     child is assistant steward at the hospital; thus we shall be able
     to meet you frequently if you will spend a couple of weeks with
     us, and a forty-day month can be used to good advantage in Waupun
     and visiting among the bad boys like us, and your many good
     friends in this locality.

     The Lord has given us a Christian man for warden and I can tell
     you, dear Mother, we find that the warden, the chaplain and the
     Lord God Almighty make a strong combination. If "Mother Wheaton"
     will come and join them the quartette will be complete and this
     prison can receive such a baptism of grace that his satanic
     majesty will hate the very name of Waupun.

     God's blessing ever be yours and hoping to meet you once more
     this side the golden gate,

                       I am your spiritual son,
                                                  G. H. COLGROVE.

The following short extract is from a letter to a brother who had
become interested in Brother Colgrove and had written him:

                                    Waupun, Wis., April 30, 1897.

     Mr. H----, Dear Christian Brother.

     Your kind letter received, and I most sincerely hope it may be
     preliminary to a long continued and beneficial correspondence. It
     will ever be a pleasure to hear from you, so please write when
     convenient, and I will do as well as my adverse surroundings will
     permit.

     I am pleased to learn of the continued successful work of dear
     "Mother Wheaton," and it is a source of great encouragement to me
     to meet and converse with Sister Kelley. We shall undoubtedly
     have her for a spiritual leader when our toil-worn "Mother" has
     been summoned to her rest and reward by the great Master.

     Please write soon and often to

                                            Your friend,
                                                  G. H. COLGROVE.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Waupun, Wis., Oct. 25, 1897.

     Dear Mother:

     Your kind and most welcome letter gladly received and the
     unexpected photo was a very delightful surprise. A thousand
     thanks. I have many, many times wished I had a picture of the one
     whom God selected as my helper to lead me from the dark valley of
     despair in which I was then dwelling up into the radiant light of
     Calvary.

     November 4th next will complete nine years of the homeward
     journey since Jesus set my face Zionward, so we are nine years
     nearer the heavenly shore and from the watch tower of the golden
     city the beacon light beams bright and fair, welcoming us into
     the port of peace. Our duties are pressing, time is flying, the
     whistle and signal bells are sounding, and I must close for this
     time.

                               Kindly and sincerely yours,
                                                  G. H. COLGROVE.

In 1897, as indicated in the two following letters especial effort was
made to secure Brother Colgrove's pardon, which I believe would have
been successful but for lack of wisdom on the part of some of his
friends. As it was Brother C. was doomed to spend the remainder of his
life in bondage.

                                     Waupun, Wis., Oct. 10, 1897.

     Dear Mother:

     When you were here you offered to call on the Governor of
     Wisconsin in my behalf. I thank you a thousand times for that
     kindness.

     Since you were here I have been promoted to the position of
     prison librarian. That places me in the Chaplain's office, and it
     is the position occupied by the Washburn banker when you were
     here.

     I have received a letter from Mrs. Worcester in Natal, South
     Africa, lately. It was just thirty-five days in coming through.
     It was intensely interesting. One of our boys died last night and
     two life members have died since you were here. One was a
     Christian.

     Dear Mother, the enclosed card shows date, locality and offense.
     I have been here over twelve years, and have a clear prison
     record. My Christian work you are well versed in, as you were
     God's chosen instrument for my conversion. Nine years of
     Christian life on Nov. 4th next.

     If possible please inform me when you will be in Madison, and may
     our Heavenly Father bless you, and crown your effort with
     success. My papers are all in the executive chambers at Madison.
     I have recommendations from many parties, and from my trial
     judge, Hon. A. Scott Sloan. My jury did not support my
     application, but the judge did. He is now dead, but he gave me a
     splendid letter, and it should be just as effective. I shall have
     to ask you to wait for your reward, until freedom comes to me,
     and then you will not be forgotten. I hope Sister Kelley can
     accompany you on your Madison trip.

     I received a letter from your friend Miss Josephine Cowgill,
     Jerusalem, with several cards of Palestine flowers; those that
     grew in Mount Olivet I have framed and they are hanging in our
     office.

     I am on duty from 5 a. m. to 9 p. m.

                            Sincerely and kindly yours,
                                                  G. H. COLGROVE.

                  *       *       *       *       *

     Waupun, Wis., Nov. 7, 1897.

     Dear Mother:

     Inclosed please find copy of letter just received from Executive
     Clerk. It will be useful perhaps as a reference when you reach
     Madison. The entire recommendation from my judge is there as is
     stated herein. My judge is now deceased. A letter received today
     from ex-Chaplain T. J. Brown, now of Lancaster, Wisconsin,
     informs me that he will gladly meet you at Madison, and assist
     you in any way possible. One of our officers is also making
     arrangements with a Madison party to join you at that time. So we
     seem well favored and I regard it as indicative of divine favor,
     for all the present participants are Christians and we may
     therefore hope for especial favor from our heavenly Father.

     The Lord be with you in all your ways. As ever,

                                            Sincerely yours,
                                                  G. H. COLGROVE.

The enclosed letter read as follows:

                  Executive Chamber, Madison, Wis., Nov. 4, 1897.

     Mr. G. H. Colgrove, State Prison, Waupun.

     My Dear Sir: I have looked up the matter about which you wrote me
     on Oct. 21st, and find there is a letter from Judge Sloan among
     your papers. This letter says, among other things: "If it be true
     that Mr. Colgrove has behaved himself well during his
     imprisonment and has thoroughly reformed, I think he ought to be
     pardoned."

                             Yours truly,
                              WM. J. ANDERSON, Private Secretary.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                      Waupun, Wis., May 1, 1901.

     Dear Mother and Sister:

     Your kind letters of 24th ult, duly at hand, and as you wrote in
     unison, I hope this companion letter will be acceptable. I am
     pleased to learn that your book work is progressing and will soon
     be launched upon the restless sea of activity, and accomplishing
     good work under the divine blessing, leading souls into the light
     that never shall fade while Eternity rolls its unending years.
     Sorry that so much sickness and suffering has fallen to the lot
     of each of you, but rejoice that it is passed and can not assail
     you again in this world, and in the world to come "There shall be
     no more pain; for the former things are passed away." There, the
     cheeks which we here beheld pale with suffering and tear-stained
     by sorrow, will be mantling with the rich glow of everlasting
     health and radiant in the matchless loveliness of deathless
     bloom. A refreshing rain has broken a long drouth here, and the
     world looks lovely and sparkling in the golden sunlight this
     beautiful May morning. As we behold the face of the earth
     beautified by the hand of God, it is a source of regret that all
     this harmony of nature, this smiling peace and bloom, is marred
     and clouded by the dark stain which iniquity has brought into
     this fair world; and the sad, stern fact confronts us, that "The
     dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty."
     But it is true. Peace in its entirety, and purity in divine
     perfection, are fled from this world, and we cannot possess them
     in full until we have passed beyond Jordan's cold wave and
     through the dark portals which intervene between this
     sin-darkened land and the glory crowned hills of Immanuel's Land.
     But it is a soul-cheering fact that we are daily and hourly
     nearing that blest clime where sin and sorrow can no more cast
     the cloud of estrangement between us and the Divine Master who
     arose triumphant over sin and death and in His eternal majesty
     and power has gone to prepare for our home coming.

     Though our barque of life may be tossed by violent seas of
     strife, and meet with disaster in various forms, so long as we
     know that Jesus is awaiting us in the Harbor of Peace we are not
     dismayed by the howling blast nor raging billows of earthly
     storm, but relying on His unfailing promise we keep in mind the
     coming greeting of the great Master and remember

       "By cool Siloam's shady rill
         How fair the lily grows;
       How sweet the breath beneath the hill
         Of Sharon's dewy rose."

     Yes, Mother, I too am glad and thankful that the Lord sent you to
     Waupun and into our chapel on that glorious autumn morning, Nov.
     4, 1888. Surely the good work then accomplished has not been
     extinguished, although Satan has exerted himself to cast dark
     clouds of misunderstanding, strife and contention over it all.
     But the light of Calvary shines amid the gloom, the heavenly
     sheen of the cross of Christ sheds a halo of undying and
     imperishable glory over all, that like the pillar of fire that
     led the hosts of Israel through the wilderness, will lead and
     sustain each weary heart, until we arrive on Jordan's banks, and
     raise the song of everlasting triumph, as we view our eternal
     home.

     With kind regards to each, and best wishes for your happiness and
     welfare, I remain,

                                   Sincerely and kindly yours,
                                                  G. H. COLGROVE.

The following letter from a dear sister who is deeply interested in
prison work is inserted here because of its reference to Brother
Colgrove:

                               Minneapolis, Minn., Dec. 19, 1900.

     My Dear Mother Wheaton:

     I cannot tell you how very glad I was to hear from you; and to
     know that you have been blest all along the way, is indeed good
     news. Some one asked the question, "What is the best thing that
     can be said of a friend?" Many answers were given, one good one
     being "He rests me," but the best answer was "He inspires me."
     This can be truly said of you. No one more than yourself inspires
     me to live a true Christian life. I do want to be ready at all
     times to serve Christ.

       "Just ready to do His bidding,
       If only I do His will.
       Then I will be ready to meet him
       When shadows flee away
       Ready to serve Him perfectly
       When dawns eternal day."

     Last week we had another meeting at the Soldiers' Home. You
     cannot imagine how we missed you. So many of the sick men
     inquired for you. One said if you would only come back he would
     shout for joy. Of course it made me very happy to know that they
     had received such a blessing from your talk. This same man said
     he had prayed for you every night.

     The young man that called for you to come out to see him in the
     jail was sent to St. Cloud for two and a half years. The poor
     colored man was sent to State's Prison at Stillwater for five
     years.

     The strangest thing has happened since the last time Mrs. ----was
     at Waupun. Mr. Colgrove's wife, whom he had not heard from for
     twelve years, has been to see him. His young lady daughter, whom
     he thought dead, is living. Is not that precious news? I am sure
     Mr. Colgrove must be the happiest man inside of these walls just
     now. Had a good letter from S. yesterday.

     I have Christmas cards for all of the women and some for the men
     in the prison. Must say good bye.

                     Your sincere friend and sister in Christ,
                                                      GERTRUDE M.

From an editorial written by Brother Colgrove while editor of the
Christian Endeavor Department of the prison paper published at Waupun,
we clip the following:

     Perhaps our uninformed friends may infer that we advocate the
     abolition of all punishment in penal institutions. Not at all,
     brother; nothing so absurd. But we do claim and will maintain to
     our dying hour that punishment should be judicious, and only when
     the culprit will not heed any humane treatment nor be influenced
     by admonition.

     When punishment and imposition are used at the mere caprice of
     some low down scoundrel, instead of discretionary treatment, at
     the behest of a man of sense, reason and upright principle, the
     effect has ever been, and will ever be, to develop the worst
     traits inherent in the nature of the individual whom the laws
     have already pronounced unsafe, and when released, the
     consequences of that development, are going to fall on some
     innocent and unoffending member of the law-abiding class. When we
     consider the vast amount of mischief which one criminal can
     accomplish in an incredibly short space of time, have we not
     cause to be thankful that all over our land are self-sacrificing
     souls, brave men and women, who are determined in the face of all
     opposition, ridicule and every evil, to use every possible means
     within their power, to elevate and reform all of the criminal
     class, who may by any means be led from the old path of sorrow
     and misery to themselves and danger to the peace and well-being
     of their brother men?

     Men and women who will place in the hand of the prisoner the
     Bible, in exchange for the revolver, dagger and bottle? The
     citizen in his quiet home, who is unacquainted with the prison
     systems of the various forms which are being used in different
     states, depends entirely upon the laws of the land to secure him
     in the peaceful possession of his accumulated earnings. But
     experience proves that human law alone and unassisted by higher
     power _is not sufficient to guard the home from intrusion and
     desecration by those who have no regard for right principles_.
     The man who has criminal tendencies, and is not striving to
     restrain them in conformity to divine law, will laugh the human
     power to scorn, and trample the law of man under his feet
     whenever there seems an opportunity of financial gain thereby.
     _The man who has been led to observe and rightly regard the
     divine law will have no occasion for inducement for infringing on
     the laws of the land._ Therefore these reformers, both clergy and
     laity, _are striking at the very root of crime, when they lift
     the fallen out of the slough of vice and iniquity_, and _turn his
     face toward the higher life and the city "whose maker and builder
     is God."_

During the fall of 1903 I received several letters telling me that
Brother George Colgrove could live but a short time. In December,
1903, I visited again the prison at Waupun. I found Brother Colgrove
in the Prison Hospital, very weak in body, but peaceful and resting in
the Saviour's love. Once more he related to the young sister who was
with me the wonderful story of his conversion; and how for over
fifteen years he had been kept by the power of God, saved and filled
with love for God and souls. We knelt and prayed with him and sang his
favorite hymns and as I bade him farewell he said, "Sister, if we
never meet on earth again I will meet you in Heaven."

That was our final parting. Brief notes from the chaplain and warden
informed me that Brother Colgrove died February 19, 1904, and that
funeral services (an unusual thing) were held in the prison chapel
February 21. The warden's letter contains this testimony. "He died a
Christian."

Bless God for his sustaining grace that is sufficient even amid the
trials of a prison life and enabled this one of his children to prove
true to God for so many years, inside of prison walls!

O how wonderful is the power of God to seek and to save that which was
lost!

[Illustration: SMELTER AND WORK-SHOPS, CHESTER, ILL.]




                              CHAPTER XI.

       Work in Stockades and Prison Camps in Southern States.


During the first years of my missionary work I was led to stay much of
the time in the South. I was learning lessons in patience, faith and
humility before God. The cross was very heavy. In many places I was
not allowed to stay with white people if I preached to the negroes.
THE RACE QUESTION ran high and the color line was very closely drawn.
In those days I could not understand why this should be. I was taught
in the word of God that all nations were made of one blood and that
God was the Father of us all. I was ignorant and the views of the
southern people were new to me. In many cases, perhaps, I offended
them when I might have avoided it. I knew no better and they often
thought me obstinate. But I was only obeying God the very best I knew
in trying to keep immortal souls out of hell, and I knew that I must
obey God though all the people should misunderstand and misjudge me. I
found nearly all of the prisoners of the South confined in Stockades
and Prison Camps. In many cases the prisons themselves were almost
empty.

The following are from among the many letters of introduction and
recommendation, received while laboring in the southern states:

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Montgomery, Ala., Dec. 30, 1884.

     Col. J. T. Milner, Superintendent.

     Dear Sir: This will be handed you by Mrs. Wheaton, who is a
     prison missionary. She has been having religious exercises at
     the various prisons in the state, and I respectfully request
     that you will permit her to do so at New Castle.

                                                 Yours truly,
                                                  R. H. DAWSON,
                        President Board of Inspectors of Prisons.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                   Raleigh, N. C., June 10, 1893.
     Gulf, N. C., C. F. & Y. V. Railroad, Halifax farm (near Weldon);
         Captain Bradshaw (near Weldon); Captain McMurray (near
         Weldon, on canal); Captain McIver (near Tillery); Captain
         Hamlet (near Tillery); Captain Lashley (near Castle Hayne).

     The superintendent desires that every courtesy be shown Mrs.
     Wheaton and Mrs. ----, and that they be given opportunities to
     talk to the prisoners.

                                         JNO. M. FLEMING, Warden.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                       Rusk, Texas, Jan. 9, 1888.

     Mr. George Egbart, Coling Camp.

     Dear Sir: This will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton,
     prison missionary, who is making a tour through southern prisons.
     She passed the day with me yesterday in the prison. I was pleased
     with her manner and with her talk to the men. She wants the
     privilege of talking with your men today at the dinner hour. I
     think you will be pleased with her. Please give her the necessary
     attention and may God bless you, bless her effort, and bless the
     men.

                                          J. C. WOOLAM, Chaplain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                   EXECUTIVE DEPARTMENT OF ALABAMA.

                            Convict Bureau.

                                Pratt Mines, Ala., Nov. 30, 1889.

     Mr. Thomas C. Dawson, Warden of State Prison, Wetumptka, Ala.

     Dear Tom: This letter will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth R.
     Wheaton and Mrs. ----, two ladies who are devoting their lives to
     the benefit of convicts all over the United States.

     These good ladies have done much good, and they should be treated
     with every consideration. Give them rooms and access to your
     convicts at both prisons. I hope a visit from them will result in
     much good.

                                            Your Father,
                                               R. H. DAWSON,
                                   President Board of Inspectors.

                  *       *       *       *       *

       Huntsville Penitentiary, Huntsville, Texas, Jan. 13, 1892.

     Capt. Abercrombie, Wynne Farm.

     Dear Sir: This will introduce to you Mrs. Wheaton, who wishes to
     talk to your men in a body. Any courtesies shown her will be
     appreciated by me.

                                              Yours truly,
                                       J. G. SMITHER, Asst. Supt.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                       STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA.

                     Executive Department, Raleigh, June 9, 1893.

     Hon. A. Deazer, Supt. State's Prison.

     Dear Sir: This introduces Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, prison
     evangelist. I have assured her that you will grant any request
     she may make not in conflict with prison rules.

                                  Very respectfully yours,
                                            ELIAS CARR, Governor.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                      STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA.

                    Executive Department, Raleigh, June 15, 1893.

     His Excellency, B. R. Tillman, Governor of South Carolina,
        Columbia, S. C.

     Dear Sir: I have the honor and it gives me pleasure to state that
     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton and Mrs. ----, prison evangelists, have
     held religious services at the penitentiary farm and at the
     penitentiary and have given satisfaction to the authorities in
     both places, and it is thought that their services were
     productive of great good. With highest esteem, I am,

                                       Very truly yours,
                                            ELIAS CARR, Governor.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                         STATE OF ALABAMA.

                 Executive Department, Montgomery, April 3, 1896.

     To all Wardens of Prisons within the State:

     Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the bearer hereof, is a prison
     evangelist, and well recommended as a good lady. She is desirous
     of holding services in the prisons. Any courtesy shown her will
     be proper and commendable.

                                      WILLIAM C. OAKES, Governor.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                         STATE OF GEORGIA.

        Penitentiary Department, Atlanta, Georgia, June 30, 1893.

      To the Captains in Charge of Convict Camps in Georgia:

     I desire that each of you extend to these ladies, Mrs. Wheaton
     and Mrs. ---- any courtesies possible during their stay with you,
     that they may be given opportunities to talk to the men and women
     in your charge. I will particularly appreciate any kindness shown
     them. The governor requests that they be shown courtesies.

                               GEORGE H. JONES, Principal Keeper.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                  Penitentiary, Columbia, S. C., August 11, 1893.

     Mother Wheaton.

     Dear Madam: It affords me much pleasure to say that we were glad
     to have you come down to the prison and visit other camps
     connected therewith, and we believe that you have done lasting
     good among the prisoners.

                                              Yours truly,
                                      W. A. NEAL, Superintendent.

Accompanying the above was a list of the convict camps connected with
the prison with the following order:

     The sergeant in charge of the above camps will please admit Mrs.
     E. R. Wheaton and Mrs. ---- and allow them to hold religious
     service at the camp with the convicts.

                                                      W. A. NEAL.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                          STATE OF FLORIDA.

               Executive Department, Tallahassee, April 21, 1894.

     Messrs. West Bros., West Farm, Fla.

     Gentlemen: This will be presented by Mrs. Elizabeth Rider
     Wheaton, prison evangelist, who is visiting the convict camps of
     the state. Any courtesies and kindness extended to her will be
     duly appreciated and reciprocated by,

                                  Yours very respectfully,
                                      D. LANG, Private Secretary.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                           STATE OF GEORGIA.

           Penitentiary Department, Atlanta, Ga., March 21, 1896.

     To the Captains in Charge of Convict Camps in Georgia:

     I desire that each of you extend to Mrs. Wheaton and Mrs. ----
     any courtesies possible during their stay with you, that they may
     have an opportunity to talk with the prisoners. Any kindness
     shown them will be appreciated by this office.

                    JAKE C. MOORE, Assistant Keeper Penitentiary.

                  *       *       *       *       *

          Executive Department, Governor's Office, Jackson, Miss.

     Mr. J. J. Evans, Jr., Penitentiary.

     Dear Sir: Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, who is interested in reform
     work, desires to talk to the convicts. Any courtesy shown her
     will be highly appreciated.

     Very truly yours,
                                     J. J. COMAN, Governor's Sec.


                              A STOCKADE.

Many inquire of me what a stockade or prison camp is. I will here
explain. A man, or party of men, lease or hire from the state the
labor of a certain number of prisoners for a certain length of time.
They are "doing time," as the prisoners say, for the state. Both men
and women are thus leased out. Their labor is used in clearing up
land, working in cotton and sugar cane fields, in mines, in turpentine
camps, in building railroads, on brick-yards, in phosphate works or in
any place where a company can work together. Their food consists
mostly of swine's flesh and corn bread made with meal, water and salt.

The stockades are large rough wooden buildings, erected by the lessee,
in which the prisoners are confined at night. The men are generally
chained by one ankle to a heavy chain which reaches through the center
of the building from one end to the other, being securely fastened to
strong posts. They usually sleep on the floor in the same clothing
worn through the day--which is generally very scant and poor; but
sometimes they may have a bunk and a rough dirty blanket. The stockade
is guarded by men with loaded guns, and besides this every camp is
abundantly supplied with great, strong bloodhounds. And woe to the
unfortunate criminal that must be tracked and caught by them!

Each prison camp has its mode of punishment for those who break the
rules or fail to do as much as is allotted to them. The keepers of
past years were often very cruel in their treatment, and seemed to
enjoy the punishment which they inflicted upon those under their
control. These poor souls had no way of redress. If they should speak
of the cruelty, they would be treated far worse; the penalty for such
a complaint being a severe whipping. Oh, God, how long shall the cry
of the prisoner be heard? Lord Jesus, come quickly!

Each camp has its officers, guards, etc., among whom is the whipping
boss. And God pity the man or woman who falls into his cruel hands.
There is a board of prison inspectors, the president of which travels
from place to place looking after the interests of all. The conditions
of the stockades are much improved since I first went among them years
ago. I have gone to the governors of different states and pleaded for
the betterment of conditions in the prisons. Especially have I asked
that the women might have better treatment and not be whipped so
brutally for slight offenses or violation of the rules which the
lessee is allowed to make. Upon one occasion I wrote the governor of a
certain state as follows:

                                 Washington, D. C., May 10, 18--.

     To His Excellency the Governer of ----.

     Dear Brother: I write in behalf of the prisoners in your state
     prison at B. M. I find them greatly in need of food and clothing.
     The sick prisoners are suffering with hunger. I held services
     there one week ago today, and went into the kitchen myself to see
     what there was for sixteen sick men and those who are supposed to
     wait on them, and I found only one half gallon of milk a day for
     all, one chicken, very poor bread, no vegetables, no fruits, and
     no seasoning but salt. Who is to blame for this? I find you feed
     those prisoners (miners and farmers) on seven cents a day.

     It is an outrage, a sin, a curse on this nation, the suffering
     you men, you governors or officers, at least allow to exist in
     prison walls. You permit those men in B. M. prison to be whipped
     for not furnishing daily from three to five small car loads of
     coal each, and feed them on food not sufficient to give them
     strength to perform that amount of labor. God help you, my
     friend! As you are the first officer of the state you should see
     that this inhuman treatment is stopped.

     Forty men were whipped in one day on two occasions, and on an
     average there are from six to eight every day. These men are not
     murmuring, I gave them no chance to tell me of this. But the
     officers and their wives told me. I saw with my own eyes. The
     water in those mountains is very impure and many of the men have
     died from mere neglect. Many more will die soon unless something
     is done for their relief. Governor, for God's sake, please look
     after the temporal interests of your prisoners. I would have come
     to you face to face and talked these things over if possible.
     Recently I have been to see governors of several of the different
     states. They are not aware of the treatment of convicts in their
     own states, but I have seen it all these years of my pilgrimage.
     The awful suffering I see is just breaking my heart. Poor lost
     men and women! Who is responsible for the sin and crime and
     suffering? Largely the saloon. Men and women are born in sin and
     conceived in iniquity; shut in for years and years for some
     little crime, and subjected to the hardest labor, serving out
     sentence in prison under whip and lash. It is inhuman and unjust.
     What will God Almighty require of you and me in the day of
     judgment, For surely we must meet it and answer for our
     stewardship here on earth. May God help me to deal faithfully and
     do my duty by all classes--to those in authority as well as those
     in bondage. Now, understand me, I have no personal grievances to
     bring to you. It is simply mismanagement and the desire to run
     these prisons on as cheap a scale as possible, to save money for
     the State and hold position; and something must be done soon.

     I told the men to be obedient and faithfully discharge their duty
     as prisoners. In all my work in every state and territory,
     Europe, Mexico and Canada, I have never had any trouble; and can
     go again to all these prisons where I have held services. What
     object have I? None, but the good of the souls and bodies of
     those in bonds. They are my children, given me by the Lord, and I
     feel as much compassion for them as you would for your child. All
     the officers and people were kind to me and treated me with the
     utmost respect. All I desire is that you obey God and cause this
     starving and brutal treatment to cease. Please say nothing of
     this letter but investigate for yourself and see if these things
     are not so. Two meals a day (and very little then) for a sick man
     is not enough.

                                      Yours for humanity,
                           MRS. E. R. WHEATON, Prison Evangelist.

The following is an extract from the letter I received in reply to the
above, from the general manager of the prison mines referred to:

                                      ----, ----., ---- 22, 18--.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton.

     Dear Madam: Your letter of recent date addressed to Gov. ---- was
     referred to me. I regret exceedingly that you did not call at my
     office on the occasion of your visit. While there is a great deal
     of truth in your letter there is much that indicates that you
     were innocently misled by statements of convicts. I know that you
     must be a good woman, that your heart is in your work, and from
     your wide experience, amply capable of advising and instructing
     one like me. In undertaking the task of uniting to bring our
     prison systems in this state to a humane basis, we have done more
     than you can understand. Had you been familiar with the
     conditions during the past thirty years under the lease system
     you would realize that much has been accomplished even in the
     short time we have been at work. I realize that more is yet to be
     done. But "Rome was not built in a day." The public has got to be
     educated as well as individuals in immediate charge. I hope
     therefore you will be patient, and will be only too glad to see
     and confer with you should you again visit us here. In the
     meantime I beseech your earnest sympathy and prayers for proper
     guidance in our work, for I assure you that it is one that
     requires such moral support as only such as you can fully
     understand and appreciate. With great respect, I am,

                                               Yours, etc., ----.


                     PLEA FOR WOMEN CONVICTS.

In some instances women are made to do the farm work, work in brick
yards, and to do other kinds of hard work. At one place in the south
the women cultivated a thousand acres of cotton, doing other farming
and caring for the stockade, horses, mules, cows and hogs and having
only men to guard them. They were not allowed a woman matron to care
for them when they were sick or dying. I found them in rags and
tatters and looking almost like wild beasts. I went to the governor of
that state and pleaded with him for my own sex. I begged him to
protect the poor women from such cruel treatment and brutal
punishment. I asked him to have them taken in from the farm, where
they were clearing up the land and compelled to carry logs, to the
state prison at the Capitol which was nearly empty, and given proper
work and humane treatment.

[Illustration: WOMAN CONVICT AT WORK.]

Once upon my knees before a governor I begged him to take the women
from the stockades to the prison walls at the capital, and place them
under the care of a good matron and give them such work as women
should do. Also that they be properly clothed and fed and taught
morals and religion. I said, "For the sake of young men which you now
employ to control and guard these women, won't you do this?" (I had
found several young babes, born in this place.) He promised that he
would see that this was done.

But a year later I found these women still in the fields laboring and
suffering as before. I again went to the governor. He was now so
changed I hardly knew him. I said to him, "Well, governor, I see the
affairs of state wear heavily upon you. You look ten years older than
you did a year ago when I was here. Why did you not fulfill your
promise to me about transferring those women from the stockades to the
prison here at the capital? I promised that I would not make public
the condition in which I found them if you would look after them. You
promised to have them treated better, but it is just the same now." He
was surprised at my knowledge of affairs and my firmness and tried to
excuse himself, and said that he had brought some of them away to the
prison.

Upon one occasion in later years, in a place I had visited for some
years, I found that an old colored woman had been tied to a log and
severely whipped on the bare flesh. The other women could not bear to
see her so cruelly treated, and silently cried unto God to take the
cruel captain who had ordered her so punished out of the way. He did
so; for when I arrived there in a few days he was struck with death
and soon died. God did not allow him to compel the whipping of any
more women.

I think that upon only one occasion was I ever treated other than
kindly and with respect by any governor. In this case I insisted that
the women prisoners, especially, should be more humanely treated. The
governor refused to take any action regarding the cruelties practiced
but said, "Go to the Principal Keeper." I replied, "I have just come
from the Principal Keeper and he sent me to you, Governor. These
captains are not permitted to strike one blow without a license from
you. It is by your permission that they whip and punish them." He was
evidently annoyed to think that I so well understood the condition of
the prisons and their management. It was now election time and he was
running for office for another term, and he dismissed me without
further ado. Many like him are saying: "Am I my brother's keeper?"
Yes, you and I dear reader, and those in authority will surely have to
answer in the great day of reckoning, if we neglect to alleviate the
sufferings of our fellowmen, when it is in our power to do so. There
are many kind men in office who really desire better conditions of
affairs, but are only servants of those who are higher in authority.
Truly the penalty for crime must be paid, but give all a chance to
reform and do right before God and man. Can we not let poor fallen
human beings see that we do care for them? And that there is hope in
Christ for them if they will repent and confess their sin to Him? Did
He not come "to seek and to save that which was lost?"


                           BLOOD HOUNDS.

I never will forget my feelings when first the howls of the
bloodhounds sounded in my ears. I was in a stockade and there was a
noise such as I never heard before. I was on my knees praying and the
wife of the captain came in saying, "There has been an escape and the
guards and dogs are after the convict." I just lifted my heart to the
Lord in prayer for the poor unfortunate, hunted man. I never stopped
to think whether white or black; old or young; innocent or guilty; my
one cry was for the life and safety of my boy.

Mothers you know how you would feel were it your boy. Well, I got
initiated in that part of prison management that day. I have one
thought above all others and that is to do God's will and obey Him and
help all in anyway I can into a good life here and a home in Heaven at
last; poor heart-sick, home-sick and sin-sick souls. The very thought
of the convict being helpless should appeal to our sympathy and God,
the Judge of all the universe, is going to call us to give an account
for our stewardship. Men and women must be governed but not by brute
force. We may overpower them, but do we conquer them? Have we won them
to a better life and to good citizenship?

[Illustration: CONVICTS GETTING OUT COAL.]


                           COAL MINES.

The prison stockades vary in number. Sometimes there may be thirty or
forty in one state, sometimes probably not half that many. It depends
upon the number of prisoners in the penitentiary and into how many
sections they are divided. When I was at Coal City, Ga., a number of
years ago, it was one of the most weird and desolate-looking places in
which I had ever found a stockade located. There were three stockades
on the summit of the mountain, and one at its base. At the last place
the men were mining coal. When I first went there they used a small
car that would hold eight passengers. Then this was abandoned and we
were obliged to ride on the engine, as they carried only coal cars for
shipping the coal that was mined by the prisoners. I was often in
great danger of my clothes taking fire as the fire blazed out of the
engine when the men were shoveling in the coal. The railroad
zig-zagged up the mountain, and once, a sister and myself were obliged
to ride on the coal-box, as the engine was packed with men and one
woman before we had arrived from the other train. I had to kneel down
and hold onto the side of the coal box with both hands, and as the
engine twisted and turned, I was in danger of falling, and it was
hundreds of feet down to the foot of the precipices in places where
our train crept along. All the way up the mountain I prayed God to
protect us. The train was run by prisoners, yet I always felt safe
with them.


                         A TOUCHING INCIDENT.

"Lady, is you a preacher? Coz, if you is, I want you to come over to
my house 'long wid me and make a prayer, coz my mother is dead, and my
father is in prison over the stockade wall, and they are goin' to bury
my mother, and there ain't nobody to make a prayer, 'cept a colored
woman who was kind to my mother and loved her coz she was good. We
children ain't got nobody to care for us."

It was just as I was leaving the railroad station near the Pratt Mine
prison stockade in Alabama that I was accosted as above. The speaker
was a small white boy with hands and face so black with coal dust that
one could hardly tell that he was white. The sadness of that child's
voice touched my heart, and I said, "Yes, surely I will be glad to go
with you, my child."

Through the mountain forest the little boy had come in search of some
one to make a prayer over the dead mother who, while she was living,
had taught her children about Jesus. I found the cabin by his guiding
me along the mountain path through the underbrush. Such a sight as met
my eyes! A body covered with a ragged sheet, lying on a board held up
by a couple of rickety stools. Nothing was in the hut to make it look
like home. Two old crones sat by the stump fire in the large
fireplace, making free use of snuff and tobacco. It was a dirty little
one-roomed cabin. The funeral was to be at once, but the man who was
making the rough box which was to serve as a coffin was so slow that
we finally waited for the funeral till the next day.

I went to the prison camp and found the husband and father of the
little boy, and obtained permission of the officials for him to attend
the funeral of his wife, providing that I should be responsible for
his return. Well, God understood it all and helped me there in that
wild country; for that was when the prison stockades were not what
they are today. Conditions are much changed since I first went with a
gospel message to those lonely prisoners and sin-bound souls.


                  MY FIRST MEETING IN A PRISON CAMP.

That night I held my first service in a prison camp. The captain was
loth to allow me the privilege, but the Lord touched his heart and he
said that I might try. I had come a long distance on the train and had
taken little to eat for several days for those were days of much
fasting and prayer. The call of God was upon me. I must preach the
Gospel to these men. So now, I had but one thing to do, to wait alone
upon the Lord. I knelt before God in the little old wooden hut used as
an office, and cried to the Lord, "O Lord, help me! O Lord, help me!
Show me how to hold a meeting here!" Just after dark a guard came and
said, "We are ready for the meeting to begin. Come on." Imagine how I
felt when there alone before hundreds of men in rags and tatters, with
hands and faces so black and grimy with coal dust (this being in a
prison mining camp) that I could scarcely tell the white men from the
colored! The building was low and dirty, the men were seated on rude
benches, the guards standing with their guns in hand and many great
strong bloodhounds by their sides. The room was dimly lighted by three
smoky old lanterns hanging on the walls. I had conducted prayer
meetings in the church, led in temperance meetings, and labored with
church people in the cities, and had been a Sabbath school teacher for
years; but I had never before faced a congregation such as I now saw
before me. I knelt in silent prayer before stepping upon the rough old
box upon which I was to stand while I spoke. I arose and sang an
old-time hymn, and again knelt and offered prayer. I told God all
about why I was there. I sang another hymn, but could go no farther.
All eyes were fixed upon me, and I asked, "Is there one Christian
here? If so please raise your hand." I stood trembling and thought,
"Must I stand all alone here with no one to pray for me, or encourage
me in my labor for the Master?" At last one old colored man timidly
raised his hand, followed by another, and then another. How I thank
God even now for this--after all these years of toil as a prison
worker. Then, I was soon lost in the theme of Jesus and His love. I
seemed to see those rough prison miners as dear children once more in
the old home at mother's knee at night-fall listening to her "Now I
lay me down to sleep." As I closed, seeing that the Lord had spoken to
many hearts by His Holy Spirit, I asked who would kneel with me in
prayer and begin a new life. I think every prisoner bowed there before
God with the heavy prisoners' chains clanking as only such can do. The
sound is inexpressibly sad to me even now after so many years of labor
in prisons and the rattling of the great keys in the hand of the guard
and the sound of the heavy iron doors as they open and close,
receiving "some mother's boy," are still as affecting to me as in
those early days of my prison work.

Many of these men on that night in humility and meekness sought and
confessed Christ as their Savior. I know not how many who knelt with
me there, I shall meet in heaven; but I know that God has said His
Word shall not return unto Him void. "He that goeth forth and weepeth,
bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing,
bringing his sheaves with him."

At the close of the service an officer informed me that his wife had
prepared to entertain me. I gladly accepted of the kind offer and went
to their humble home, greatly enjoying their hospitality, for I was
much exhausted and very weary with the long journey, the anxiety and
the labor of the day. These remained my faithful friends while I knew
them. I thank God for those who open their homes to the children of
the Lord.

The next morning the lady said, "I will let my little girl go with you
to the funeral and to show you the way through the mountains to visit
the sick." So I went again to the miserable home of the poor little
ones who were left worse than orphans. How my heart was filled with
sorrow, seeing the lonely helpless children, two boys and a beautiful
little girl, with mother dead, and father in prison! I wondered what
their future might be. A few mountaineers' wives had assembled, but
there were not enough men present to lift the box that contained the
corpse into the old coal wagon. After the short, sad services, with my
assistance as a pall bearer the crude coffin was lifted into the
wagon, and I helped to steady it as we traveled over the rough
mountain road to the cemetery. I had double duty caring for this and
making sure that the husband and father did not attempt to escape; for
you know liberty is sweet. The Lord of hosts must have kept him true
to his promise, and I must say that I can always trust the poor
prisoners not to betray the confidence I place in them. At the grave I
sang the old hymn. "I would not live always" and we laid the faithful
wife and mother away to rest until the trumpet shall call the dead to
rise.

What was the cause of the sad plight of this family? Sin. The saloon!
There had been a saloon fight, and some one was killed. Some one did
the deed. Oh, God! What a reckoning there will be in the end for those
who vote to license the saloon, as well as they who dispense the rum,
God will open the books and all shall be judged out of the things that
are written therein. "Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord
of hosts." This faithful wife and mother had spent all her living in
an attempt to secure the liberty of her husband. But failing in this,
she had come with her children to live in that dreary place, hoping to
be able to lead him to a better life, finally dying in want, and of a
broken heart. After the funeral I pleaded with the little girl to go
with me. But she true to her trust, true to her dead mother's loyalty,
said, "Never will I leave my poor father with no one to care for him.
Mother never would, I never will. I will go to see him and tell him of
Jesus."

Wearied with toil and the journeying from place to place to visit the
sick to whom the little girl from the camp had guided me, I returned
in the evening with her to her home and then to the camp. Thinking to
lie down and take some rest, and kneeling to pray, I was impressed
that I must visit the other stockade some two or three miles away. I
knew it was the voice of God and said, "Yes." The lady strongly
pleading that I must not go, that it was dangerous, said I could not
go alone, that I would lose my way, etc. The husband also said one's
life was in danger, that several men were found dead in those
mountains and no one knew who killed them, etc., and pleaded with me
not to go. But I said, "If God sends me, He will see that I am not
harmed. He will not forsake me." Soon I started on my way, and
presently met the two little boys whose mother had just been buried. I
asked if one of them would not show me the way to the other camp, and
the older one kindly did so. With my little guide we hurried down that
rough mountain side, we being compelled to carry stones to build a
bridge across a stream of water, and finally came within sight of the
camp. Upon insisting that God had sent me, and that I had held
services in the other camp, the captain (overseer) invited me into his
home. I had not expected such kindness, but thanking the Lord I
accepted it as from Him. They kindly brought us food, but I would not
eat, and gave it all to the little boy who was so hungry, and praying
for him he started homeward. Here also we had a wonderful meeting. Men
with broken hearts wept with longing for a mother's sympathy and a
Savior's love. Some came to Christ and were saved, and I believe that
I shall meet some of them in the great home gathering bye and bye in
heaven.

Early the following morning, I was told that the engine which was to
take me on my way was ready to start with its train of coal cars for
the station some ten miles distant; but that I would have time to
visit the hospital department where many were lying sick. I hurried
through the prison yard, filled with hogs and bloodhounds, to the
hospital, where I sang a song and prayed. I was turning to go when a
guard came running and said, "The whole train is waiting for you,
hurry up." As I was hurrying out a door opened and a woman called, "Do
come and see my son, he is dying. Do come and pray for him." I ran in
saying, "The train may go; I dare not refuse the request." I grasped
the dying boy's hand firmly and said, "Take hold on God as I take hold
of your hand. He will not forsake you. He will save you; look and
live." I offered a short prayer and ran down to the engine, which
still waited. There was something seeming so dismal in its sound in
those lonely regions. I had to ride on the engine, as there was
nothing but coal flats on this train. I was helped on and we were off.
The sun was just rising over the mountain and the heavy fog was
beginning to rise, and oh, such a blessing I received as we sped along
the winding way! I shall never forget the gloomy sight I left behind
me there. The poor prison-bound men marching out to the mines with
their lanterns on their caps and with their picks and shovels. They
never seemed so dear to me, and I began to see more clearly than ever
that God had a special work for me to do. I saw the value of a soul
bought with the precious blood of Christ. I saw, too, the need of
fully consecrated Christian workers. As we wound around the mountain
side I knew I had been obedient to my God, and His Spirit bore witness
with my spirit that He accepted my weak efforts.


                      DIFFICULTIES OVERCOME.

I was not always kindly received as mentioned in some instances. We
are not carried to heaven upon flowery beds of ease. I have many times
been refused the privilege even of singing a hymn in a prison. My
singing has often been blessed as a means of touching hearts, and
through it souls have been converted and are still true to God. I went
to visit another prison mining camp or stockade, in a very lonely
region where few people lived. I arrived upon a dark, gloomy night;
there was no depot and not a house near. There I was alone, yet not
alone, for God was with me. A young mulatto man who proved to be an
ex-convict, had come to the train with a lantern, and I asked him to
kindly show me the way to the home of the captain of the camp. I found
the officer had gone in search of a prisoner who had made his escape,
and his wife refused to take any one in in her husband's absence. She
said I should go to another officer some distance away. Ascending the
steps to the large house my heart sank within me, for I felt that I
should be turned away again in the night. The officer himself came to
the door to answer my call. Telling him my mission, I asked to stay
with them till morning. His wife would not consent to entertain me,
and I answered, "Where shall I go? I am alone, and a Christian woman
sent of God to help people in prison to a better life." He replied,
"There's a boarding house a mile away down the mountain," and the door
was shut. I asked my guide, "Is there not one Christian here in these
mountains?" He said, "Only one, a poor old colored man, that's been in
prison, and he lives up the mountain with his daughter, a young
woman." Crying as I went along holding to the brush with one hand, we
finally reached the hut at the top of the mountain. I told the young
woman my story and asked if I might stay with her for the night. She
answered, "No, my father is away and I cannot take in a stranger
without his consent." "Then I must stay out on the mountain alone all
night." She seemed sorry for me, and said I should wait till her
father came. I had not to wait long till he came, and kindly consented
for me to stay. I was weary and hungry from my long journey. I saw the
old colored man open the basket he had brought home with him. It
contained some cold food given him where he was employed. He asked me
to share his lunch, but I refused, as I believed he needed all he had.

How thankful I was for shelter in that poor hut that night, though
sleeping by my side was that poor unfortunate colored girl with a babe
in her arms that cried all the night. There were cracks in the hut
through which you could see the stars. What a change the Lord had
wrought in the once proud woman that I had been! I remembered that
Jesus said, "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but
the Son of man hath not where to lay his head." And "The disciple is
not above his master." I spent the night in prayer and God heard my
cries for the poor convicts who were cruelly starved and beaten by the
drunken guards and captain who seemed to bitterly hate all who were so
helplessly bound under them. This is a strong statement but I will
meet it at the Judgment.

In the morning one woman who had turned me from her door sent to find
out what had become of me. She said she would give the young woman who
had sheltered me a present for not leaving me out on the mountain
alone. I had prayed earnestly that God would convict her for her lack
of hospitality. Upon going to the officer to learn when I could have
a meeting with the prisoners, he unkindly turned me away saying that I
should _never_ have a meeting there, and that I might as well go.

Well, I did go; traveling eighty miles back to the capital,
Montgomery, Alabama, to see the Governor. I knew the Lord had sent me,
and how could I meet Him at the Judgment and tell Him I had failed? I
knew, too, that Satan had hindered. I asked for the Governor but was
told that the President of the Board of Prison Inspectors was the
proper person for me to see about the matter. He was sent for and soon
came. He was a very kind old gentleman and sat down and asked me what
I wished. When I had related the facts he said, "Who dare refuse you
holding meetings in that prison camp? You go back there and hold your
meeting. I'll write him a letter and let him hear from me." I said,
"But he will say he did not receive your letter." He then said he
would write a letter for me to present to him. But, how should I get
back to the camp? After selling my trunk and such articles of clothing
as I could spare, I yet did not have enough money to pay railway fare.


                          MY FIRST FREE PASS.

Trusting the Lord to in some way provide means for me to get back to
the camp, I went to the janitress of the depot, an intelligent
mulatto, and told her of my need, as she had previously assisted me in
securing half-fare rates on the railroad, she having known the
officials since their childhood. She insisted that I should go to the
office of the general manager of the L. & N. R. R. and ask for a
half-fare rate to the prison camp at New Castle, Ala. Oh, how I
dreaded to go to that office! But tremblingly and prayerfully I went,
and presenting to him the letter which I was to carry with me to the
camp, I told him my desires. Upon reading this letter he handed me
what I supposed was a half-fare permit. I humbly thanked him and
returned to my lodging. After making preparation to start early in the
morning on my journey, before retiring for the night I knelt by my
bedside to thank God for the permit. Thinking I would see just how it
read before I prayed, I took it up and began reading, "Pass Mrs.
_Elizabeth R. Wheaton_ From _Montgomery_ to _Birmingham, Ala., Prison,
Missionary_." What! Did my eyes deceive me, or was it a mistake. No.
It was a free pass, and the following note was enclosed to the
Superintendent at the other end of the route regarding a return pass
if I should ask for it:

                            Louisville & Nashville Railroad Co.,
                                 Montgomery, Ala., Jan. 15, 1885.

     L. Hage, Esq., Supt., Birmingham, Ala.

     Dear Sir: This lady, Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, bears credentials
     showing her to be a prison missionary. Any courtesy you may
     extend to her, in the way of pass, will be properly applied.

                                               Yours truly,
                                             M. S. BELKNAP, Supt.

Oh, how I did thank God for this manifestation of His goodness to
me--doing above that which I could ask or think! Mr. Belknap, that
kind R. R. officer, has been dead many years, and perhaps is forgotten
by some who knew him better than I, but I shall never forget his
unexpected kindness to me. Since then, through the goodness of God and
the favor and confidence of the railroad officials, I have received
transportation throughout the country, to carry the Gospel of Jesus to
men and women of every class.

Upon my return to the prison camp I asked for the officer and told him
I had come to hold meeting for the prisoners. I suppose he had
received word from the Governor's office, as he so readily consented,
asking at what hour I would like to have the service. I thought best
to wait till the following day (Sunday) for the services, that I might
have sufficient time for my work. The Lord came in mighty power that
Sabbath day as I sang the old time hymns, and asked God to forgive and
help those precious souls. The Spirit gave me utterance and carried
the truth to the hearts of the hearers. Sobs and groans were heard
from men in tears who sought forgiveness and gave God their hearts. At
the close I took each one by the hand and exhorted them to be faithful
to God. I afterwards visited the sick and talked and prayed with them,
exhorting them to seek a home in heaven where sin can never come, and
where God wipes away all tears. How true the words,

    "Down in the human heart, crushed by the tempter,
      Feelings lie buried that grace can restore;
    Touched by a loving heart, wakened by kindness,
      Chords that were broken will vibrate once more."

One Sunday morning I was going to a prison camp to hold meeting. There
was no way to get there excepting to walk through the deep mud. There
were a couple of boys going towards the stockade leading an old mule.
I said, "O, boys, CAN'T I RIDE THAT MULE?" "Certainly," they said. It
was with difficulty that I mounted the novel conveyance, and that I
remained on the mule's back. For some reason, I was filled with
apprehension. I had an impression that there was danger. I asked the
boys if they would not lead the animal, but they kept a good distance
from it, saying that they wanted to keep out of the mud.

When we reached the camp and the officers came out and helped me to
dismount, they looked at me in great astonishment, and one of them
said, "What a narrow escape you have made! I only wonder that you got
here alive. It is a wonder that old mule didn't kill you. I wonder
that the boys let you take it!" I learned that the animal was so
utterly uncontrollable and vicious that they could only use him on a
dump cart to carry the prisoners' dinner or something of the sort and
then he would sometimes kick the cart all to pieces.

I raised my heart in thanksgiving to God, knowing that He who stopped
the lion's mouth and held the flames of the fiery furnace had in some
way kept this ugly creature from doing me any harm and saved my life.




                              CHAPTER XII.

            Work in Stockades and Prison Camps--Continued.


I once had a novel experience in a prison lumber camp. I was being
entertained at the home of the superintendent of the camp and was to
hold service with the prisoners at twilight. The superintendent came
to the parlor and asked if I was ready for the service. We had not far
to go, but I was unable to walk the distance; so a carriage, drawn by
some of the prisoners, had been brought to the gate for me. I answered
that I was ready, but as I was waiting he again asked if I was ready
and why I was waiting. I replied that I was waiting for the horses. He
answered, "You come on, the horses will be all right." I had learned
to obey the officers, so followed on down through the beautiful yard
of flowers and reluctantly stepped into the carriage. Instantly four
prisoners took hold of the carriage and we were off. The men seemed
glad to assist me and I was so thankful to them. God bless them! I do
not think a queen with all her body-guard could have felt more secure
or have been more appreciated, than I, there surrounded by my dear
prison boys. After the service I was conveyed in the same manner back
to the home of the superintendent.

At another time, desiring to visit a certain prison camp, I found
there was no way to reach it but to ride on a flat car with the men
going from their work. I was glad to go with them and have a chance to
speak a word of kindness and sing some hymns that might cheer them on
the way.

In the pineries of Florida the stockade prisoners are engaged in
taking the sap from the pine trees. The camps are located some miles
apart, and in going from one to another the forests are so dense that
we were compelled to go in a two-wheeled donkey-cart. We encountered
great dangers, there being many poisonous reptiles and alligators in
the lakes and rivers which we had to pass.


                   ASSISTING A COLORED MINISTER.

I arrived one Sunday morning at a stockade where hundreds of men and
some women were kept. I went to the keeper, or captain, as he was
called, and asked for the privilege of holding a gospel service with
the prisoners under his charge. He not only refused me, but was
abusive, cursing me and ordering me away. Of course I was much
grieved, as I felt the Lord had sent me there to preach the gospel. I
was greatly surprised that an official should use such language to a
lady, and without provocation. Weeping, I asked if I might sing for
the women prisoners. Again, with oaths, he refused me. But Brother
Frank Joseph, a colored preacher who knew me, was there to hold
religious services by permission of the governor, and he came and
invited me to assist him. Of course the captain could say nothing
against it and I went with him. But when he asked me to conduct the
service I could not at the first sing, preach or pray for weeping, but
I told him I would pray God to give them a kinder officer for I knew
the one they had was a cruel man. God used even my weakness and my
tears to touch their hearts and we had a blessed meeting.

After service I had a chance to talk to the women prisoners. We wept
together and oh how thankful they were that there was one woman who
would try to help them and make their burdens lighter. They told me
how terribly they were treated and said they would be beaten if the
captain knew of their telling me of it. How glad I was to carry the
message of Jesus' love to them in their distress. Before I left they
said they wished they had something to give me, and some gave small
tokens of their regards. It was all they had to give and when they
urged me I accepted them as from the Lord, feeling that He would in
some way reward them and bless their offering as He did the widow's
mite.


                         THROUGH DANGER ALONE.

Desiring to reach another stockade some miles distant I asked the
captain if he could not supply me with conveyance and a guide, but he
refused. I determined, however, to find the other prison and started
on foot alone. The prison women told me that it was very dangerous
because of fierce dogs and cross cattle in the mountains; but feeling
that God wanted me to go I knew no such thing as fail. After walking
some distance I sank down with exhaustion under a big tree and wept
out my heart to God for guidance, protection and success. I arose
feeling strengthened and comforted and soon came to a farm house and
asked a young man who stood in the garden if he could direct me to the
prison camp. "Yes, come in, lady, you look so tired and faint and my
mother will give you something to eat and we will show you the way,"
was the kind reply I received. I stopped and rested a while but would
neither eat nor drink as I had given myself to fasting and prayer that
my way might be opened for services in the camp to which I was going.
After a long walk we found the stockade and knowing the young man who
was with me, the officers gave their consent for me to hold a service.
After I had been singing and talking to the prisoners a while suddenly
my strength failed me. I had only time to say, "Will you sing?" Then
I saw and heard nothing more. I HAD FALLEN PROSTRATE among those
chained prisoners. When I came to myself I heard singing from inside
the walls, such singing as could only come from truly broken-hearted,
repentant souls. I had been carried outside and the poor prison women
were caring for me. A good old colored sister was holding me close to
her and pleading with God to restore me. I heard her say, "She's a
woman like we is--and she's given her life for us." They were doing
all they knew and were crying around me. I said, "Please carry me back
into the prison." When they had done so I asked, "How many of you
prisoners will kneel with me in prayer and give your hearts to God,
take Him as your Savior and start today for heaven? God loves you,
Jesus died for you! And if you will come to Him and confess your sins
He will save you." Every one knelt before God, and many with prayers
and broken sobs cried out their hearts to Him who is not willing that
any should perish, but that all should have eternal life. I expect to
meet many of them in heaven; for He is able to save to the uttermost
all that will come unto God by Him--and able also to keep them from
falling.

The following day, traveling from this prison to another stockade,
sitting near me in the car was an aged gentleman who on seeing my
Bible asked me where I was going. When I had told him, he asked me the
nature of my work and how the prisoners were treated in these places;
also how I was received by the officials of the prisons generally.
Thinking to only entertain a kind old country gentleman, I told him
many things which I probably should not have been so free to mention
had I known who he was. He asked me many questions about the
stockades. I told him that I had never been so cruelly treated as at
a camp on the previous day. "Where," he inquired, "Who did such a
thing?" In answer to his inquiry I told him who it was. Little did I
know that this was God's way of revealing sin.


                       A MEETING AT DAY DAWN.

Reaching the small station at the foot of the mountain; we had to take
a box car only large enough for six persons. The old gentleman was one
of the passengers also. Going to the house of the captain at the top
of the mountain (such a lonely place), he thought it impossible to
have a meeting with the men, as he said they were so wicked and
unruly, etc., but finally said I might do so at day-break the next
morning. He was very careful, saying, "These men are so wicked and
cruel that never could a woman stand before them." I wept and prayed
most of the night and cried, "Oh God, can you let me fail now?" In
those early years of my labor I traveled much alone but later I
usually had a sister accompany me, or sometimes a sister and her
husband.

Out in the prison yard at break of day I found hundreds of men all
ready to go down into the coal mines. I wondered how to gain their
attention and make them all hear my voice. I asked to have the men
drawn closer together, as they stood in the prison yard. This being
done, I sang a hymn. Oh how I do praise God for the gift of song! I
forgot my weird surroundings and the rough appearance of the men and
their dangerous looks. I saw them as little boys in the old home far
away and then as human souls, hurrying into the presence of God and I
felt that I stood between them and the Judgment. Conceive, if you can,
how this company must have looked to me, bound in companies of perhaps
fifty in a "gang," to a long strong chain to which was fastened a
number of shorter chains; these short chains being fastened to the
men's ankles.

God enabled me to deliver His message and eternity alone will reveal
the results of the seed scattered there that morning. After shaking
hands with the men I was introduced to the old gentleman whom I had
met on the train the day before. To my surprise he proved to be the
President of the Board of Prison Inspectors of the state. I saw him no
more after that time, but a year later I visited the prison of which I
had told him. I saw at the depot a young colored man nicely dressed,
but I knew by his clothes that he was one of the prison boys. He had
come to get the morning paper for the warden. I walked with him to the
prison, and on the way asked him how they all were at the camp. "All
so nicely, thank you," he replied. "Who is your captain now?" I asked.
"Has there been any change since I was here last year?" "O yes, ma'am,
soon after you was here ma'am, just as soon as Massa (meaning the
President of the Board) could find a good man to take de place ob de
ole captun what treated de men so bad and 'bused you so, he sent him
away." "Oh, is that so?" I said. "Yes, an' we's got a good time now to
what we had befo' God sent you heah ma'am. He certainly did send you
heah ma'am dat time." So I had only suffered these indignities that
these abused ones might have better officers and treatment. The new
captain received me very kindly and giving me a seat said my breakfast
would be ready as soon as the prison women could prepare it for me.
Well, surely the Lord had been at work. Such a change all around! We
had a grand meeting and much good was accomplished, the captain
furnished a buggy to take me to the next camp and bring me back to the
depot.


                     HELPING TO BURY A PRISONER.

After visiting the hospital department of a stockade where I had never
been before, I saw the guards nailing up a long, apparently heavy,
box. I said to them, "What have you in that box?" One replied, "A
man--a dead man." Soon after I heard an officer say to a guard, "Send
five prisoners to go with me to bury that box." I arose from where I
had been praying, and hurried out and asked permission to accompany
the men with the box, but was refused--the officer saying they had no
guard to spare to assist me up the mountain side. "Oh, just please let
me go," I said. "I do not need any one to help me to climb the
mountain. Please, won't you let me go?" He then consented, and I did
not wait for either bonnet or help; but with my shawl over my head I
hurried out after the men bearing the corpse. On we went up the
mountain side, until we came to a very steep place, and the poor weak
prisoners began to tremble under the heavy burden, along in front of
the guard who had his gun in hand. I knew if one should fall, the
guard might suppose he was trying to escape from him, and fire at him
and kill him.

I took up a stick in my left hand to steady myself and placing my
right arm under the end of the box added my strength to that of the
tired men. When we reached the summit of the mountain we found the
grave already dug, but it was much too short for the box. I was almost
exhausted and came near falling. The grave being too short, they were
going to leave the corpse until morning and then return and bury it.
But I said, "Boys, you dig the grave longer and I will sing for you
while you work." I sang an old time hymn, and they lowered the box, by
pounding and jumping upon it and then hurriedly shoveled in the dirt.
Then I said, "Let us pray." And there in that dreary place I prayed
for the poor men who had performed this sad rite and for the guard. I
forgot my surroundings. I thought only of "SOME MOTHER'S BOY," who
perhaps died with a broken heart without a mother's care, now lying in
an unknown grave far away from home. Perhaps she had prayed for him
and God had sent me to pray over the lonely grave. There we left him
where all his mistakes should be forgotten. He may have sought and
found pardon in God. Who can tell? The stars were now shining and the
stillness filled me with awe. The men hurried down the mountain side
to the prison, leaving me behind in the dim starlight. I found my way
to the stockade, but found the door locked and with great difficulty I
made them hear me and was admitted. At about nine o'clock the
prisoners were brought together to have a meeting. The guard
ridiculed. The prisoners wondered at seeing a woman preaching. How I
trembled! Oh, for some one to share my burden! I asked, "Is there one
Christian here among you prisoners?" as I shook hands with them and
some of them pointing out an old colored woman, said, "She's a
Christian." I clasped her hand, hardened by work, and said, "Will you
pray for me, sister?" "Yes," she said, "Yes, I will, honey."

God was there to touch and tender those hearts. They were unused to
meetings of this character, and perhaps had never heard of a woman
preaching. I well knew that unless God undertook for me the meeting
would be a failure. There seemed to be no way to reach these hard
hearts. The men and women stared at me. Suddenly I thought of the
great danger I was in, and the risk I had to run in getting back to
the village that night. I saw the head of a young prison boy droop
over on a man's shoulder, too sleepy to listen longer. Then I heard
and saw no more, but fell unconscious to the floor. The weariness from
the day's labor proved too much for my strength. But God used my
weakness to reach these hearts and when I regained consciousness, men
and women with tears, sobs and prayers, were crying to God for mercy
and forgiveness--pleading for help to be better men and women. I hope
I shall meet many of them in heaven "when the roll is called up
yonder" for they truly seemed to bring forth fruit meet for
repentance.

The following day was spent among the sick and dying in the village. I
had asked the privilege in the morning to go with the train men to the
prison pest house where the sick prisoners were, but was refused by
the train crew, some of them ridiculing me and my work. I had only
kindly asked them the privilege, and then exhorted them to come to
Christ. I then told them I feared the next message would be judgment
from God. God bless the railroad men if some of them do make mistakes!
My heart goes out for them as they are always in much danger. I make
it a rule of my life to always pray for every train on which I travel
with its crew and passengers. And hitherto God has been my help. Bless
His holy name!


                      WRECK OF A COAL TRAIN.

When I had returned to the boarding house in the evening I lay down to
rest. Many striking things occurred in this place. As I lay resting,
dishes were rattling and children were crying in adjoining rooms, my
room door leading into the open hall was standing open, and in came a
drove of little pigs. I looked up to see what it was, and one had
walked up to the fireplace where was burning a low fire, and stood
warming its nose. But they soon grew tired of indoor life and all
quickly scampered out as they had come in. They had seemed as much at
home there as myself. Amid this confusion I fell asleep. How long I
slept I do not know. I was awakened by heart-rending cries from men
and women. I sprang up and throwing a shawl over my head, I ran out in
the rain to see what I could do to help, for I knew some one was in
great agony. What I saw I shall never forget. The coal train and its
crew that had gone out in the morning had come in. THE ENGINE WAS
DITCHED in a terrible manner and men were crushed in the wreck. Women
were screaming as they ran to see if their loved ones were among the
victims. I met the same men I had warned in the morning carrying on a
board the fireman badly cut and bruised. I said, "Men, I gave you the
warning this morning. You rejected my counsel and I thought judgment
would come, but I little thought it would come so soon." They carried
the wounded man to an old baggage car. People were so excited they did
not know what to do. Here I was to learn a lesson in surgery. I found
an old pail and brought some water. Some bystanders gave me their
handkerchiefs and I proceeded to wash the blood from the poor wounded
head and limb, which was much crushed, and helped the doctor to bind
up the wounds. Soon there came a call for help from the scene of the
disaster. A messenger came running, saying, "Come quick! there is a
man dying whom we found under the engine." It was very dark, but I
hurried along through the mud and rain after the doctor to the scene
of suffering. They had carried him into the nearest hut, and he was
lying upon the floor unconscious. Kneeling beside him I raised his
head upon my hand. Consciousness returned. I cried, "Jesus can save
you even now; He loves you. He will forgive you now, only believe on
Him." He replied, "I do believe He does save me just now." Glory to
God! He is a present help in time of need; a friend that sticketh
closer than a brother. Dear reader, it is better to be saved before
the crash comes. The man was suffering terribly. The women, thinking
they must do something, had poured turpentine into the wounds thinking
it was camphor. We washed the wounds and I assisted the physician in
setting the broken limbs. God wonderfully helped me there to practice
what I preached, and I found what it means to love my neighbor as
myself. These railroad men were my neighbors, and they were suffering
and in a dying condition. One of the poor men cried piteously for his
mother. I traveled on the train on which one of the wounded men was
taken to the city where his mother lived and helped to care for him on
the way. We were delayed at that camp for two days. I will never
forget those days of service and suffering.


                       THE SUGAR CAMPS.

At one time, I went into the Sugar Refining Stockades in Texas.
Leaving the train, we had to walk a long distance to the first camp.
The superintendent was angry at us for coming, and ordered us to go to
the next camp. He said there were women at the other stockade and that
he would not let us have any meeting, any way, with his men. We asked
him if he would please send a boy to carry our luggage, and he
refused, so we started on alone, to walk a long way. When we arrived
at the second camp we found only one guard and a couple of prisoners
working, and no women within miles. When the guard saw the situation,
he seemed sorry for us, and we were allowed to rest and wait until
the return of the prisoners, who were at work at a distance on
railroad repairs. In the meantime he sent a man to another stockade
some miles away, and the captain's wife there agreed to entertain us,
for which we were thankful. We had a meeting after the men came to
camp, and the guards came to us and said that the women at the camp
mentioned before had sent word that they would not keep us over night.
What _could_ we do? Finally I said, "Can you take us to the depot?"
They answered that they had no conveyance but AN OLD MULE AND A CART.
I said, "That is all right." So they got the mule and cart and helped
us in, and handed us our luggage. Then they sent a colored boy to go
before the mule with a lantern, and another followed after. In this
way we went on until we reached the little country depot, which was
all dark. One of the prisoners, who went with us, lighted the lantern
inside, and we called to the ticket agent, who had retired, asking him
to please check our luggage to San Antonio. This he refused to do, so
I said, "We are Christian women and will give you almost any price, if
your wife will allow us to stay with her until morning." He was angry,
still refusing to get up to check our luggage. He said he was not paid
for night work. We could not have gotten on the car had it not been
for a gentleman, going on the same train, who had his servant help us.
We went to San Antonio before we could get a place to rest and it was
then morning, but God blessed us in holding services in the prison
there that day. I never reported the agent who was so rude to us, as I
was sorry for him, for I was told he was a cripple, and I thought he
needed his work to provide for his family.


                        IN A GAMBLING SALOON.

From Knoxville, Tenn., I went one night to the coal mine region. I
asked the landlord at the hotel for some one to show me a way to the
stockade some distance, and he sent his chore boy with me. We had a
long walk, and returned after meeting at night. It was late and as we
came down the mountain side I saw a light at a little distance, and I
said, "Where is that light?" He said, "That is the wickedest place;
they kill people there." Without waiting to consider the danger I
might be in, I said, "Wait here for me," and I hastened up the valley
and into the place, which I found to be a gambling saloon. Then,
without waiting, I poured out to them the Gospel message which burned
in my heart, I fell on my knees and prayed to God to save them from
the destruction to which they were going. Then I rushed out into the
darkness again, and found the boy waiting with the lantern and we went
on our way. I was thoroughly alarmed next day when I realized the risk
I had taken in going into such a place, but God has wrought mightily
for me all these years and preserved me from harm. As I write I feel
near home and heaven. Jesus is there. Soon I shall be with Him.


                          CONDITION OF CONVICTS.

I wish that some who whine so much in church about taking up the cross
could see the inside of those stockades as I saw them--see the
suffering that existed, the sorrowful, heart-broken prisoners with no
ray of hope, no one to care about them; everything poor, scarcely
enough to keep them alive; the poorest of places to sleep; men
fastened to a large post in the middle of the stockade by a heavy
chain, compelled to wear their clothing till it would decay on them,
often so ragged that they could not hide their nakedness, and guarded
by bloodhounds and armed men. It was not proper under other
circumstances for a woman to see men in such conditions, but they had
souls to be saved or lost, and the Lord had commissioned me to go to
these men and tell them that Jesus loved them and wanted to save and
deliver them from the power of the devil who got them into such
places.


                             UNJUSTLY CONDEMNED.

Judges often sentence men and women to years of hard labor in prison
for the slightest offenses. An old colored man employed in a store
took a box of cigars, but regretting the act, returned them confessing
his wrong, and asked forgiveness. He was arrested and sentenced to
twenty-five years in the stockade; one year for each cigar. Another
colored man was found on the street at night carrying five ears of
corn. He was sentenced to prison for five years. He with others was
working where the earth caved in and killed him. Who will answer in
the day of Judgment for that man's life and death? Yes, and his soul?
Were I to here relate some things I know to be true, awful in the
extreme, they would not be believed. Let us have the laws of God
enforced. Let those who may be anxious to punish wrong and have men
condemned upon circumstantial evidence, look into their own hearts and
lives and see if they have been free from condemnation. I do not want
to condemn judges nor jurymen, for they are not all to blame. A man or
woman should never be condemned until known to be guilty. People are
often prejudiced, and without proper investigation many are condemned
to punishment for crimes of which they are innocent. The cries of such
are come up before the Lord and He will hear and answer prayer. At one
time there were forty stockades in one state and about four thousand
prisoners in one state. Let us help those that are down.

In many stockades I found men and women living together promiscuously
and children being born in the camp. The poor creatures were subjected
to all kinds of abuse and suffering, the women in great need of better
quarters, better food, and care. Ofttimes they were afraid for their
very lives. Many were killed outright; in one place where they were
far out in the coal mines many were brutally whipped and ill-treated.
I went to the Lord in prayer, and then to the state authorities and
the Governor went out with men and opened the graves of many, who had
died in camps. One of the officers was imprisoned for ten years;
another made his escape; others were dealt with more or less severely.
I had been out there myself, getting on the engine to ride out to the
stockade, and requested to see the prisoners after their day's work
was done, and as they came up from the mines they were so ragged that
I was compelled to turn my back as they passed. I got permission to
hold a Gospel meeting. After it was over, I requested the captain to
let one of his men take us to the next house, a distance of a mile or
more from the camp. When we knocked asking permission to stay for the
night, and telling who we were, the woman of the house said, "You had
better go and preach to those prison guards, who are killing off the
poor prisoners." She said she could not stand it to hear such awful
cries as reached her ears even at that distance from the stockade. She
told the guard just what she thought of the brutality shown the
prisoners and convicts. He said he was not to blame. He seemed to be a
kind young man.

In one place I found one old colored man who was condemned to death.
He was filthy and dirty and had nothing to lie on but a heap of straw;
he was hungry and his cell was dark and damp. My heart ached to see
him so shamefully abused. Even condemned men have rights and they
should be respected; it is enough for them to know that they are to
die a horrible death, without having all kinds of abuse heaped upon
them; yet I have seen this in many prisons. How is it that friends are
so often denied the privilege of seeing those that are under death
sentence or those who are sick and dying? Let the truth be told and
let there be some one to investigate these things. I believe that
those who are most against prisoners, are those who are not familiar
with the conditions. Let good discipline be maintained, but let
prisoners never be brutally treated, simply because they are powerless
to help themselves. I find many things going on that are not right,
but I have never made complaint to the governors of the states, unless
compelled to do so, because of cases of extreme cruelty.


                            NEED OF REFORM.

There is great need of reformation in the management of prisons, and
especially in the prison lease system and management of women
prisoners in the south. Oh, the shocking sights that have greeted me
on almost every hand! There is nothing more heart-rending to me than
the terrible, brutal treatment of helpless humanity. These prisoners
are entirely at the mercy of officers who are oftentimes void of
feeling, coarse and vulgar in the extreme. To get positions and make
money is the aim of many of today. The poor unfortunates shut up in
prisons and asylums are in many cases most shamefully mistreated. They
are supposed to be there for the purpose of reformation or treatment,
but were it not for the grace of God in my soul, I never could endure
the torture and anguish resulting from the sufferings I find among
these poor helpless men and women. I am not supposed to know the
conditions in these places, but twenty years of experience going
inside these walls have opened my eyes and I get behind the scenes.
There is a time of settling up of accounts and there will be a final
reckoning day at the judgment bar of God, for what was done in this
life, and how many will be weighed in the balance and found wanting!

The following paper by Clarissa Olds Keeler was written to Brother S.
B. Shaw and read at the meeting of the National Convocation for Prayer
at St. Louis, Mo., May, 1903, and will serve to convey some idea of
conditions as they have existed in some parts of our land; though we
are glad to say that they are somewhat improved, in many places at
least.

         "LET THE SIGHING OF THE PRISONER COME BEFORE THEE."

     "Now mine eyes shall be open, and mine ears attent unto the
     prayer that is made in this place."--2 Chron. 7:15.

     When attending the Christian Workers' Convention in New York in
     1887 a man from Tennessee also attending the convention, said to
     me, "I wonder the Christian people do not take up the work of
     alleviating the sufferings of prisoners in the Southern States."
     For years he had been an eye witness to treatment which he
     described as "most atrocious," and the condition of the convicts,
     especially those hired to contractors to work in coal mines, as
     one of "starvation, fear and disgusting filth." Since these words
     were spoken to me I have spared no pains to inform myself about
     this new and most revolting form of slavery, and I can find no
     words more applicable than these: "This is a people robbed and
     spoiled; they are all of them snared in holes, and they are hid
     in prison houses; they are for a prey, and none delivereth; for a
     spoil and none saith, Restore. Who among you will give ear to
     this? Who will hearken and hear for the time to come?" (Isaiah
     42:22, 23.)

     Each one of the twelve convict leasing states has had its own
     bloody record which has been written down in God's book.
     Influential politicians, United States Senators from both north
     and south, members of state legislatures, private citizens,
     heartless corporations, have all shared in the money coined out
     of the bodies and blood of convicts in our southern states.

     But it is not my purpose now to go over the past. Wherever the
     convict lease system has been introduced "Its presence has," as a
     Georgian once said, "been marked by a trail of blood." The
     accounts of this ghastly institution are too revolting to
     present.

     But I want to call the attention of the Christian people to the
     present condition of convicts, most of whom are colored, and many
     of whom are guilty of but trifling offences and some of them none
     at all.

     A man in Buncome County, North Carolina, wrote to the _Asheville
     Gazette_, under date of March 15, 1903: "Where are we at and
     where is the society for the prevention of cruelty to animals
     that they or the Christian world have never heard the cries from
     the poor unfortunate prisoners in the buck and the ringing of the
     cruel blood stained lash? I have seen white men beaten until
     their persons were blue and blood oozing from the lash from the
     captain's hands in the Buncome chain-gang. And negroes--there is
     no use talking." These prisoners, the writer says, have been
     guilty of some misdemeanor and being poor and unable to pay a
     fine are "sent to the road prison and there the lash is
     administered on the naked back contrary to the spirit of the
     constitution in abolishing imprisonment for debt and the lash at
     the whipping-post."

     Now I would suggest that a society be formed for the prevention
     of cruelty to prisoners. While the good people are praying for
     the outpouring of the Holy Spirit on other lands may they not
     forget that we need a baptism of fire right here in our own land.

     Our Saviour's last act of mercy and forgiving love was shown
     toward a prisoner and shall we imitate His example, or shall we
     not? His last command was: "Go ye into all the world and preach
     the gospel to _every creature_." How many inmates of our prisons
     have the gospel presented to them? When we all meet at the
     judgment, as meet we must, how many will be there from the
     mining pits and prison pens who can say truthfully, "No man cared
     for my soul!" Neither do we care for the bodies of these
     unfortunates; and as proof of this I will give you a few extracts
     from papers of recent date.

     When the National Conference of Charities and Corrections was
     holding its session in Atlanta the first of the present month,
     some of the delegates were invited to visit the city prison
     stockade where misdemeanor convicts are housed at night. This was
     done "just for the amusement of the delegates." Hear what Mr.
     Timothy Nicholson of Indiana, a delegate, said about his visit to
     this "school of crime." He says: "I found in one room one hundred
     and sixty prisoners, white men and women, black men and women and
     even children, both black and white, male and female, all mixed
     together indiscriminately. I was surprised and shocked to find
     such a condition of affairs in a civilized country. It is simply
     a shame and disgrace to civilization." The delegates declared the
     place "inhuman and degrading." Yet this does not fully represent
     the awful pen picture that might be given of this class of
     prisoners in the county chain gangs all over the state.

     The following extracts are taken from an account given by an
     Atlanta correspondent of the _Washington Post_ written under date
     of May 5, 1903. "Revelations made to the Ware County grand jury
     in regard to the horrors of the Georgia convict camps reached
     Governor Terrell today. Hon. E---- M----, one of the leading
     members of the Georgia House of Representatives, is involved in
     the findings of the grand jury.

     "According to the report M---- and his brother operate an
     extensive camp in Lowndes County. Witnesses before the grand jury
     testified that in the M---- camp the brutalities are such that it
     is revolting to describe them. For the slightest offence, it is
     alleged, prisoners are stripped and chained and unmercifully
     lashed by the whipping bosses. It is also alleged that the M----
     brothers go into counties adjoining Lowndes, pay the fines of
     misdemeanor convicts, carry such convicts to their Ware County
     (convict) camp and there keep them in serviture long after the
     term for which the criminals were sentenced have expired.

     "The grand jury claims that at least twenty citizens of Ware
     County are held as slaves in M----'s camp although their terms
     expired over a year ago. There men are kept in stockade about
     which armed guards march in order to prevent an escape, and men
     thus illegally detained who escaped have been chased by
     bloodhounds and recaptured."

     Official reports show that this class of convicts are guilty of
     but trifling offences and some are vagrants. (For further
     particulars see _Atlanta Journal_ May 5 and 11, 1903.)

     The penitentiary convicts of Georgia are worked in coal mines and
     are subject to the same treatment. An experienced penologist said
     recently concerning convicts worked in the mines: "In the rooms
     of the mines are perpetrated practices too horrible to mention.
     They become the nesting places of a bestiality that in many cases
     lead the liberated convict into that crime to punish which the
     mob, the rope and the stake are ever ready." (See Atlanta
     Constitution, May 14, 1903.)

     Under the heading "Convict Camp Horrors," the editor of the
     Memphis, Tennessee, _Commercial Appeal_ says in his paper, dated
     April 11, 1903, concerning the facts recently brought out by the
     legislative investigating committee: "The stories coming from
     Brushy Mountain mines, with side lights from the state's convict
     system, generally, furnish painful reading to the people of
     Tennessee. When human beings who through fault or fortune's
     untowardness are condemned to helpless and unresisting servitude
     and who are subjected to torments and tortures, floggings and
     flaggellations which are merciful only where they terminated in
     speedy death, humanity is outraged and a sort of savagery in the
     public cries out for speedy vengeance." Continuing the editor
     says:

     "Convicts have been whipped to death. Convicts have been whipped
     into physical helplessness. Convicts have been whipped
     sufficiently to keep them in bed for months and injure them
     permanently. Torturing them in the prison or in the mine recesses
     is a sin against high heaven." These are some of the facts
     brought to light by the prison investigating committee.

     The average number of prisoners worked in the Brushy Mountain
     mines is about seven hundred and fifty. These convicts, which
     form but a part of the number of the state's convicts, and who
     were so inhumanly treated, earned last year for the state, clear
     of all expenses, the sum of one hundred and ninety-five
     thousand, seven hundred dollars. (See Nashville American, March
     30, 1903.)

     Recent developments also show that many innocent men are
     kidnapped and worked and treated as convicts; especially is this
     done in Alabama. Women and children share the same fate. During
     the recent investigation into the enforced slavery of negroes in
     Alabama by the United States Secret Service, among the abuses
     which were unearthed was the whipping to death of a negro woman.
     "This woman accused of being rebellious was laid across a log and
     given one hundred lashes. Still showing a rebellious spirit her
     hands were tied, and the rope was thrown over the limb of a tree
     and pulled up so as to make it barely possible for her feet to
     reach the ground. The woman, it is said, died two days later."
     (See Washington Times, May 29, 1903.)

     The system of peonage slavery has been practiced for years in
     Alabama and Georgia. One of the most successful plans practiced
     is to bring a negro before a magistrate on a flimsy charge. As
     the matter has been arranged beforehand, the negro is convicted,
     and having no money to pay his fine, a white man offers to
     advance him money provided the negro will make a labor contract
     with him for the money and trouble he has taken to keep the negro
     out of jail. He is taken away and begins what is usually a long
     term of cruel servitude, frequently whipped unmercifully, and
     every moment watched by armed guards ready to shoot him down at
     any attempt to escape.

     Among the evils which have grown out of the prison contract
     system, the number of which is legion, is that of turning out men
     and women, boys and girls, thoroughly educated in these schools
     of crime. They are thrown upon the world homeless and friendless
     to poison and destroy those with whom they come in contact. Many
     soon find their way back into prison, and some end their lives
     upon the gallows.

     We sometimes on a Sabbath morning hear the President of the
     United States prayed for, but what minister ever prays for the
     poor parish behind prison bars?

     When the book is opened and we hear the words: "I was sick and in
     prison, and ye visited me not," what are we going to answer?

    1415 A. St., S. E., Washington, D. C.      CLARISSA OLDS KEELER.

For about four years at times Mrs. M. A. Perry, of Washington, D C.,
traveled with me. In answer to my request for a brief report of the
work during that time I received a lengthy letter, from which I
extract the following:

  Dear Sister Wheaton:

I praise God for the privilege of adding a few words for your book.
May the blessing of God rest upon it. To the readers I will say: I
first met Mrs. Wheaton in Boston, in February, 1893, in the home of H.
L. Hastings, the well-known publisher, where she was a guest. She had
then spent ten years in prison and other evangelistic work. I had
visited a jail and stationhouses, but never a penitentiary. We first
went to the Boston and Maine Railway office. Sister Wheaton said: "You
pray while I go and ask for a pass to go to the Thomaston, Maine,
prison." In about ten minutes she returned with the desired
transportation. By the kindness of the railroad officials from ocean
to ocean they have helped to forward the work of God. Many earnest
prayers are offered by Mrs. Wheaton for these men. We never boarded a
train without asking our Heavenly Father to bless the train men from
the engineer to the flagman. Many times we have spoken to conductors
who have said, "No one ever talks to railroad men about their souls."

At Thomaston we had to wait until Sunday morning to enter the prison.
If ever the Lord Jesus Christ revealed Himself in a prison chapel He
was in the midst that Sabbath day. While "Mother Wheaton" preached, I
prayed for her and the presence of the Holy Spirit was so manifest
that every man expressed a desire to serve God. The result of that
day's work for the Master will not be known until we meet when Jesus
will reward his servants.

We next went to the jail in Bangor, Maine, and God blessed the work
there in the salvation of souls. Then we went to the prison in
Wethersfield, Connecticut, and from there to the Vermont State Prison
at Windsor. But I cannot tell about them all! But wherever we went I
saw that the prisoners, both men and women, greeted "Mother Wheaton"
with a heartfelt welcome.

We went to the prisons of New York state--to Auburn, Sing Sing, the
Troy jail and on to Buffalo. We visited the penitentiaries in
Philadelphia and Baltimore, and the workhouses of Maryland and the
District of Columbia. We met in these places many precious souls whom
the Lord gave his life to redeem and many of them were Christians. The
blood of Jesus is all powerful to reach any man or woman who will
repent and forsake sin and believe in Him. We have great reason to
praise God for the power of the Holy Spirit to reach the hardest
hearts. But O, there are behind the bars and "in the shadow of the
walls" loving and tender hearts. O, that professors of religion would
wake up to the fact that when Jesus, the King of Glory, shall come He
will say, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my
brethren ye have done it unto me."

May God by his presence and power reveal to the managers of penal
institutions in every land and nation that Jesus Christ is the friend
of sinners in every condition. I believe the dear Lord Himself has put
such love for prisoners in the heart of our sister Wheaton that she is
willing to take a mother's place--no matter when she sees them. In
riding along on the trains sometimes we came to prisoners (leased out
to hard labor) in the most unexpected places. We were soon off the
train to look after these men who were marched from the camp or
stockade.

I must speak of some of the experiences we had in the prisons,
stockades and prison farms of the southern states. We were, in most
cases, courteously received and entertained by the wardens and their
families. God bless the men who have done what they could! But O, how
I have been shocked at things we saw in these places, many of which I
cannot write. I wish I could give some idea of how glad the poor
manacled prisoners were to see their white-haired "mother" come again.
I believe the seed sown shall not be lost.

The women on the farms are required to roll logs, clear land and do
all kinds of drudgery.

We went to the camps, the phosphate mines, saw-mills, coal mines, and
the turpentine camps. Sometimes we rode for miles in wagons. I think
Mother Wheaton never felt that any place was too dangerous or too out
of the way for her to go in order to say a word of comfort and to
encourage hearts. We sometimes rode on the engine up the mountains to
camps where hundreds of prisoners were working. We saw men with iron
rings around their necks and a chain and ball attached, some with
chains around their waists and running down to their ankles with a
ring attached.

I want to speak especially of a visit to one of the state farms where
all the prisoners, with two exceptions, were colored women.

When we arrived at the station there was no vehicle in sight but a
buggy and mule which a little boy was driving. She asked him to take
us to the women's prison, which he kindly did. When we got there
between seventy and eighty women were at dinner, sitting on the ground
under the trees with their little tin pails which held boiled bacon
and cowpeas, with a piece of corn bread in their hands. They had
worked from sunrise. How they welcomed "Mother Wheaton"! Many of them
were in tears as she began to sing. She asked how many of them had
seen her before. Many hands went up and they told where and when they
had seen her in the past. How they shook her hand and said, "O, 'deed
I is glad to see you once more, honey." But soon they had to go back
to the field till dark. After all had their supper we went to the
stockade where they were to sleep, to hold a service. Such singing I
never heard. Then "Mother Wheaton" preached, prayed and sang. If ever
God answered prayer He surely did for those poor women and in place of
that stockade there is now a new prison house with things reasonably
comfortable.

We went to other farms, stockades and prisons. I do thank God for the
privilege of going into these places where "Mother Wheaton" was the
first white woman to visit or to pray and sing. Regardless of danger
in approaching these out-of-the-way places, her love for God and for
those who were despised and downtrodden, carried her through untold
hardships. We were at times in danger of bloodhounds, alligators and
venomous reptiles.

I am sure that through her intercession with governors and wardens and
superintendents "Mother Wheaton's" work has proved a blessing to
thousands of prisoners. I have seen the results of her work in many of
the states. Her preaching and singing have been used of God, but above
all I knew that the hours of prevailing prayer have been a still
greater power for good. In answer to prayer God has opened doors and
done many wonderful things whereof we are glad.

Again we went to the South to visit prisons and stockades where we had
been in former years. Great changes had been made. There was much
improvement in their condition. I hope the time may soon come when
only the law of love and kindness shall prevail.

We held street meetings in many places. One night after holding one of
these open-air services we boarded a train. A man and wife came on the
train. She told us that her husband had attended the street meeting
and was under such conviction for sin that he could not rest. There on
the train, while we knelt in the aisle of the car, he was converted to
God and went on his way rejoicing, while we went to visit a
penitentiary where hundreds of men and women needed the same work of
grace wrought in their hearts.

Often we saw answers to prayer in the healing of prisoners who were
sick. God's Word is true. He says He is no respecter of persons, and
He is able to do more than we can ask or think. May God bless every
soul for whom we have prayed.

Sister Wheaton and myself have spent many long hours at a time
together pleading for the men and women behind the bars. It means much
to be divinely called to this work.

Oh! how many with broken hearts lie in the lonely cells every night!
May God help everyone who reads these pages to remember that there is
one MOTHER of all the prisoners who weeps and prays in sympathy with
them. I wish every mother and wife, or sister, who has a precious one
"in the shadow of the walls," would pray for "Mother Wheaton," that
she may be helped of God in preaching the Word, and that God's
blessing may rest upon her for her kind loving words and the
hand-clasp that reaches so many hearts. Pray that health and strength
may be given her as she comes in and goes out among these erring ones.

I know she has been through deep waters and great sorrows. Her life
has been one of self-sacrifice in behalf of the unfortunate. May God
bless and help her and give her the crown of righteousness that is
laid up for the faithful.

One night after worship at the home of the warden with whom we were
stopping, Sister Wheaton was singing a hymn, when suddenly the warden
asked, "Sister Wheaton, will you come over into the prison-yard and
finish that hymn?" She replied she would gladly do so if he thought it
would do good. So we hastened to the prison-yard, some little distance
away, and quietly entered the enclosure, and she began singing. Her
clear, strong voice awakened the sleeping prisoners. The incident was
so unusual that some of them (as we were told afterward), negroes
especially, awaking suddenly, thought that the Judgment Day had come,
and tumbling out of bed, fell upon their knees and began praying for
God to have mercy upon them and save their souls; so God evidently
used the song to bring conviction to hearts. After the singing we
returned as quietly as we had come, trusting the results with God.

[Illustration: NEW MEXICO PRISON, SANTA FE, N. M.]




                          CHAPTER XIII.

       Work in Fort Madison, Iowa, and Santa Fe, New Mexico


Soon after starting out in my work, when changing cars in an Iowa town
I saw a crowd of people who were curiously gazing upon three young men
who were handcuffed, and bound together being taken to the state's
prison at Fort Madison. I went up to them, shook hands, and said, "I
am sorry for you. Don't be discouraged. Cheer up. Give God your
hearts. Obey the rules. Do the best you can and God will do the rest."
They seemed cheered and relieved seeing I neither feared nor shunned
them. I inquired their names and told them I would try to see them in
prison, but did not know how soon.

A few weeks later I went to Fort Madison and obtained permission of
the Chaplain, W. C. Gunn, to hold a meeting the following Sunday. This
was my first effort to hold divine service in a prison. Then I
inquired for the three young men I had seen when on their way there,
but could find no record of them. I assured the Chaplain they were
there and observing the prisoners closely I saw one of them at work.
As our eyes met, I saw a look of distress on his face. He recognized
me and was afraid I would tell who he was. He had given a ficticious
name--as had also the others.

But before Sunday came I began to think: "What if I should make a
mistake and could think of nothing to say when I come before all those
hundreds of prisoners?" And then there were the officers in their
suits of blue with brass buttons! It all seemed too much for me, and,
like Jonah, I took ship and ran away.

That night I started by steamer for Mobile, Alabama--but God knew I
did not mean to disobey and He let me work among the stockades in the
south until I got boldness to enter other prisons. After a year or
more I returned to Fort Madison and was granted the privilege offered
me before and from that time to this I have always been made welcome
there and have had many blessed seasons within these walls. There is
no place where I have been more kindly received by both officers and
prisoners than at Fort Madison. Chaplain Gunn and wife were always
true and loyal friends. 'Tis now several years since he crossed over
to the better shore. I shall ever remember with deep gratitude the
kindness of himself and family. Chaplain Jessup and wife, and Warden
Jones and wife, as well as other officials, have been especially kind
and courteous. To the prisoners at Fort Madison, also, I must give the
credit of contributing freely from their small savings to my
necessities. While I would gladly mention all who have especially
befriended me I feel that this tribute is due to the officers and men
of Fort Madison. That it is deserved may be easily seen by the
following communications and selections from letters which I find
among my papers:

                            Warden's Office, Iowa Penitentiary,
                              Fort Madison, Iowa, August 3, 1889.

     The bearer, Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, a devoted Christian woman,
     has for years been visiting the prisons and jails of this country
     seeking to do good to their inmates. I think she should be kindly
     received and encouraged by prison authorities. I do not think any
     one has ever spoken to the convicts in this prison with better
     effect and I am sure that no one who has ever addressed them will
     be longer or more kindly remembered by them than Mrs. Wheaton. I
     heartily commend her and her good work to those engaged in
     prison management and to good people everywhere as most deserving
     of their aid and encouragement. It affords me all the more
     pleasure to give Mrs. Wheaton this testimonial because it was
     unsolicited and because of the unobtrusive way in which she goes
     about doing good.

                                           G. W. GROSLEY, Warden.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Ft. Madison, Iowa, Oct. 5, 1893.

     Rev. J. M. Croker, Chaplain State Prison, Anamosa, Ia.

     My Dear Brother: This will introduce to you our dear sister, Mrs.
     Wheaton, the prison missionary, who would like to address the
     prisoners. Any favors shown her will be duly appreciated.

                        Yours truly,        W. C. GUNN, Chaplain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Fort Madison, Iowa, June 4, 1897.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Tabor, Iowa.

     My Dear Mother: I will first ask your pardon for not answering
     your letter sooner. But I am always so busy the last days of the
     month, also the first days, as I have all the time of the
     contract men to make up to send to the contractors, also have my
     monthly report to the governor, and as we give the boys a holiday
     Monday I think you would readily see I have had my hands full.

     I sometimes think it is more than I can stand. I want to do right
     by the men but it is so hard at times to tell just what is right.
     I sincerely thank you for your kind interest in me. And may our
     great and good God always be with you is the wish of your true
     friend.

                                      J. R. JONES, Deputy Warden.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                               Fort Madison, Iowa, Sept. 6, 1899.

     Mrs. Wheaton: Enclosed please find draft for ----, the poor boys'
     free-will offering in appreciation of your kindness in visiting
     them. You are thought more of by them than any one else
     living--even their relatives. Please sign the enclosed receipt,
     and send it back to me, that I may have something to show what
     became of the money. Thanking you for your visit.

                                               Yours truly,
                                            W. C. GUNN, Chaplain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                               Fort Madison, Iowa, Feb. 13, 1901.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Tabor, Ia.

     My Dear Sister: Enclosed find draft for ---- from
     prisoners--entirely a free will offering, given without other
     solicitation than what you heard me say when you were here.
     Please excuse delay in forwarding, partly due to uncertainty as
     to your whereabouts. Perhaps you will write me a short message
     for the men, who will be glad to hear from you. With best wishes
     and prayers for your welfare and success in your work, I am, Very
     sincerely yours,

                                          A. H. JESSUP, Chaplain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

     My acquaintance with Mrs. Wheaton began four years ago, at the
     first Sunday service I held as chaplain of this prison. Standing
     by my office window before the men had come into the chapel, I
     saw a motherly-appearing lady enter the prison, escorted by the
     assistant deputy. A few moments later we met on the chapel
     platform, and I was introduced to "Mother Wheaton," the woman who
     for many years had, in prisons and jails, all over the country,
     sought to quicken in the prisoners' bosom a new life, and lead to
     the Savior those who all their lives have been rejecting Him. It
     was my first service with the men, as I have said, and I felt
     constrained to preach as I had come prepared to do, although on
     subsequent visits I have gladly granted all the time to Mother
     Wheaton. After I had preached, Mrs. Wheaton talked, and sang, and
     prayed, and many of the men were visibly affected, some to tears,
     by her earnest pleading. Later she went to my office and met a
     boy who was soon going out, and prayed and talked with him in a
     manner that must have made him determine to strive for a better
     manhood. Our prison has received several visits from Mother
     Wheaton since then, and always, I believe, with lasting good to
     the men, over many of whom she has exerted an influence for good.
     Earnest, apt and ready in speech, always seeming to live close to
     God, and to hold instant communion with Him, and consecrated soul
     and body, time and means, to her work--these perhaps account for
     her useful service. That she has a ready sense of humor, too, is
     perhaps one reason the "boys" listen to her so well. I recall one
     incident. She had come down from Burlington, where she was
     obliged to secure a pass on the railroad. The proper officer not
     being at hand, she went from one to another, until at last one
     was found with authority to issue a pass, but who did not know
     her or her mission. "On what ground do you want a pass?" said the
     railroad man. "I am working for God, and He owns the railroads,"
     was the unexpected reply. "But, madam, where are you going?"
     gasped the official. Quick as a flash came the answer, "To
     heaven!" But by this time the railroad man had recovered from his
     surprise, and seemed equal to the emergency, and proved himself
     to be a gentleman as well, for he said quietly: "If that is your
     destination, madam, I am unable to accommodate you, for I regret
     to say the place is not on our line; but if you want a pass to
     any place on our road you can have it." In relating the incident
     in the prison chapel Mother Wheaton added that she secured her
     pass to Fort Madison, and that when she reached here she thought
     she was next to heaven, for here she had first attempted her work
     for souls, in State's Prisons, and here she believed many
     precious trophies for the Master had been given her.

     I noticed on her last visit that while she seemed in usual
     health, her hair was whiter, betokening the gathering years. I
     could wish that now she who for so many years has not known the
     blessing of home, might find a place in which to spend in rest
     and communion with God, and helpful but gentle ministrations, the
     balance of her life, until He whom she has followed in her
     efforts to do good, may say: "Come up higher, thou blessed of my
     Father. Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of these my brethren
     ye did it unto me."

                                                 A. H. JESSUP,
                                Chaplain Iowa State Penitentiary.

     Fort Madison, Iowa, April 18, 1904.


                  WORK IN SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO.

Several interesting experiences have occurred in connection with my
visits to the prison at Santa Fe, New Mexico. At one time I found
there a good old Christian man, "a trusty," who had charge of the
Superintendent's horses, driving the family to town, etc., and had
much liberty given him. One day he sat in front of me, driving to
town, and I said to him, "I am going to pray to God to remove the
'stripes' from you." He said, "Pray for my release--I know God hears
prayer." I did so, as did also my good co-workers, returned
missionaries home from Africa on a visit. In three or four days the
warden gave him citizens' clothes; and soon after the governor gave
him his pardon.

We were led to pray for a pardon for brother T. of the same prison,
and in three months he was a free man. At the time I had a sister with
me from Japan. On my return from the Pacific coast we again held
services in the prison at Santa Fe, and during the meeting I said,
"What do you want me to sing, boys?" One said, "Sing, 'Some Mother's
Boy.'" I did so, and in the morning, before I left the prison, the
officer said to me, "Here is two dollars a man sent in from the prison
for you." Upon inquiring the name of the prisoner I found it was J. L.
As they told me he was a good man, a Christian, and a good prisoner, I
took his case also to the Lord in prayer. Within three weeks he was
given a pardon by the governor. The three men mentioned were all
Christians.

In none of these cases did I go to the governor, but just left all in
God's hands, and prayed if God was pleased to set these men free, that
He would impress the governor to give them their release. These cases
occurred at different times. I am sure that the hope of pardon has in
many cases saved the lives of prisoners, and also saved them from
insanity.

I give below a letter received from Brother T., also quote from a
sketch of his life, as published by McAuley Water Street Mission, N.
Y., and sent me by himself; also letters from the Secretary of the
Christian Endeavor Society of the Santa Fe Prison, and very kind
letters from Governor Thornton, Superintendent H. O. Bursom, and
Brother S. H. Hadley, of Water Street Mission.

                                                    May 26, 1903.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     I suppose you will be surprised to hear from me. The last time I
     saw you was in the Santa Fe Territorial Prison. You had a meeting
     in the cell house. I was the trusty who went with you to the
     depot. If you remember, you prayed for the removal of the number
     from the back of No. 917 and that he would be freed; you also
     told me you would pray that I would get out of prison. Your
     prayers have been answered. I was pardoned last Christmas, and am
     here working among the criminal classes as a missionary. You
     remember of my having been converted before your visit to the
     prison. It is a great blessing to me to spend the balance of my
     life thus, who had been sent to prison for forty years, under
     conviction and sentence for a crime of which I was perfectly
     innocent, although I was a great sinner in other respects.

                     Yours in the grand work,
                                                         E. U. T.


                SENTENCED TO FORTY YEARS IN PRISON.

     On the night of July 6, 18----, I was playing the banjo in a
     notorious gambling house in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It had been
     my business for years and I liked the surroundings; they suited
     me exactly; in fact, I have traveled from my home in the East,
     from city to city, through all the slumdum of the western cities
     playing my banjo; I thoroughly enjoyed it and the company which
     it brought me. * * * I was arrested on suspicion and locked in
     jail. I had no money, no friends and no character, and I began to
     realize for the first time what my life was bringing me. I was
     finally brought to trial and convicted on circumstantial
     evidence, and sentenced to forty years in prison for a crime that
     I knew nothing more about than the judge who sat upon the bench.

     Dear reader, can you enter into this story with me; can you form
     an idea of my despair as I received practically a life sentence
     for something which I did not do? My heart was hard and bitter
     against myself and everybody else as I was taken to the
     Territorial penitentiary at Santa Fe, New Mexico. I was in the
     prime of life, only 28 years old, but, oh, what steps I had
     already taken in the downward path that leadeth unto death. Every
     evil habit had fastened itself upon me, and after I had taken my
     place in the prison I almost went wild with terror and despair
     when I realized what was before me. I was soon set to work with
     pick and shovel digging out trenches on the grounds, and I tried
     to do the work the best I could and be a good prisoner. I presume
     I was, for a little time afterward I was placed in the library,
     and had charge of the greenhouse as well.

     One Sunday afternoon in the chapel the speaker took for his text,
     St. John, 3, 14th and 15th verses: "As Moses lifted up the
     serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of Man be lifted
     up;"

     "That whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have
     everlasting life."

     The speaker dwelt at length on this actual occurrence and also
     how God commanded Moses to erect a pole with the brass serpent,
     and although there were there people dying by the thousands,
     those that looked on that brazen serpent were healed. He brought
     the application home to us prisoners--how the serpent of sin had
     stung us so deeply and our only remedy was to look to Jesus
     Christ, who was lifted up on the cross, and my hard heart began
     to melt and a desire came to me to be healed of this terrible
     serpent's bite. The speaker instructed us when we got back to our
     cells to read this whole chapter, and when I got back to my cell
     I took up the book and read, and I prayed to God to open my heart
     so that I could understand what He wanted of me, and as I read
     the blessed Holy Spirit came to my poor soul and showed me what a
     sinful man I was, and I then and there became a child of God.
     Great peace came to my soul, which at first I could scarcely
     understand, but although still a prisoner and wearing the
     stripes, I was a free man in Christ Jesus, and I rejoiced in my
     new found life. After this, prison life was not so dreary as it
     was before.

     Among the many different workers who came to the prison was Mr.
     and Mrs. J. E. Wood, of Santa Fe; he is Mail Agent on the road.
     He is a blessed man, and one who loves the prisoners. Another
     person I would like to mention is the person known as "Mother
     Wheaton." I think I should speak of a little circumstance that
     happened to one prisoner who went by the number 917, and who wore
     this number in great big cloth figures on his back; he drove
     "Mother Wheaton" to town, as he was a "trusty," and she said that
     she was going to pray that the Lord would take that number off
     his back, and in a few days after that the Warden came in with a
     new suit of clothes for him without the stripes or
     number--citizen's clothes. She once said to me: "I am going to
     pray to the Lord to get you out of here," reminding me of the
     prayer she made for No. 917. "Mother Wheaton" prayed for my
     release. On Christmas day, 1902, three months after the above
     conversation took place, I was in the chapel of the prison in the
     entertainment that was going on. Governor Otero sat in the
     balcony.

     The custom is that someone shall receive a pardon on Christmas
     day, and no one has any intimation who it is excepting the
     Governor. I had not the slightest idea that I would be the lucky
     man, and after the Assistant Superintendent asked that I play a
     certain composition of my own, he requested me to step out and he
     read the pardon; to my surprise my name was in the pardon, and,
     oh, the joy that came to me when I began to realize that I was a
     free man, but, dear reader, this pardon, great as it was, did not
     compare with the joy that came in my soul as I realized that I
     had received the pardon from my Redeemer, and that all my sins
     were forgiven and all my past crimes blotted out.

     While in the prison I read an account in a paper of the
     experience of S. H. Hadley, who was then in New York connected
     with the Jerry McAuley Mission, and I was desirous of going to
     New York to meet this man. I did so, and before I had been ten
     minutes in his office he told me what already was filling my
     soul, that I should be a worker for Christ and try to save those
     who had fallen, and the down-trodden. I stepped out on the Lord's
     promises with but very little knowledge, except the knowledge of
     sins forgiven, and a big hope in my soul of eternal life, and a
     love that I cannot express, without one dollar in my pocket, but
     with the simple faith in Jesus. I am working every night and day
     at every door that is open, and every one that I can open, where
     I can tell the wonderful story of Jesus' love to sinners. Dear
     reader, pray for me that God may wonderfully use me.

       "The dying thief rejoiced to see
         The Fountain in his day,
       And there I do, though vile as he,
         Wash all my sins away."

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                         New York, ---- 18, 1904.

     Dear Mother:

     It gives me much pleasure when I think of your going from prison
     to prison telling the poor boys and girls behind the bars of
     Jesus. It always gave me great joy when I heard that our dear
     mother was going to speak to her boys at ---- Prison; because I
     knew you were our friend. I wish to again thank you for the day
     that you prayed that God would open the prison doors for me. God
     answered your prayer, and after serving about seven years of a
     forty years' sentence the prison doors were opened for me, and
     God sent me to New York to labor for souls. He sent me to Mr. S.
     H. Hadley, the present superintendent of the old McAuley Mission,
     and he has been indeed a father to me.

     I am so thankful that God sent me to such a good man--one who
     loves the lost sinner; and one who is willing to do anything in
     his power to help the helpless. May God's richest blessings be
     your portion is the prayer of your son in the Gospel.

                                                         E. U. T.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                    McAuley Water Street Mission,
                                        New York, Sept. 11, 1903.

     "Mother Wheaton," as the boys behind the prison-bars, yes, and
     those who have by her prayers gone out from behind the
     prison-bars, affectionately call her, is one of the unique,
     missionary characters in this country. She travels all over this
     land with but one object in view and that is to tell sinners of
     the powerful, deathless love of Jesus and how no one can be too
     bad for Him to save. She brings sunshine to many sorrowing hearts
     and hope to thousands who never knew what hope was until they met
     her. An ex-convict, who is one of my helpers now, was prayed out
     of practically a life sentence by Mother Wheaton.

     I have seen her curled up in some seat in a day coach at three
     o'clock in the morning on a Southern railroad because she had not
     money enough to take a "sleeper" and had to travel all night or
     lose an appointment to speak at some stockade or prison.

     God bless her book and speed it on.

                                                    S. H. HADLEY.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                   Santa Fe, N. M., May 26, 1903.

     Elizabeth Wheaton, Prison Evangelist,
        Los Angeles, Cal.

     Dear Friend in Christ: Yours of 23d received, and am happy to say
     that Mr. Trout (No. 99) has been pardoned, and is now engaged in
     bringing souls to Christ down on Water street in the McAuley
     Mission, New York City, using his musical talents to further the
     cause in which he is now devoting the rest of his life. I am sure
     he would be more than pleased to hear from you. All the boys are
     as well as could be expected, and a visit from you would be much
     appreciated.

     The C. E. S. has increased by seventy, making a total of one
     hundred and five. God bless you in all your efforts in the cause
     of Christ is the wish of all.

                                              Respectfully,
                                      P. M., sec. Prison C. E. S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Santa Fe, N. M., July 28, 1903.

     Dear Mother: ... Your letter to Mr. J. W. L. came to hand in due
     time. I wrote you at Tabor, Iowa, in regard to the God-given
     gift, sweet liberty, which came to him on the twelfth of July.
     God has answered your prayer sooner than he had expected. He left
     the prison gates with full trust and confidence in the mercies of
     the omnipotent power of God. He is now in W---- with his brother.
     May God's benign countenance look down upon you and increase the
     manifold blessing and grace that He has so richly endowed you
     with. I will distribute the tracts and learn the song. All your
     boys send their respects and wish to be remembered in your
     prayers.

                                        Yours in Christ Jesus,
                                             P. M., Sec. C. E. S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

        New Mexico Penitentiary, Santa Fe, N. M., Sept. 19, 1903.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     I was pleased to hear from you, and was exceedingly happy to know
     that you are going to put your experiences and noble work of the
     past amongst the unfortunates in prison into book form.
     Certainly, dear mother, no one knows the heartaches and sorrows
     of this class better than yourself. God has blest you in
     preparing you for this work and sending you from prison to prison
     to gather in the wavering souls from eternal destruction.

     God grant you many years more of service in the field where souls
     are perishing and when your earthly career shall have closed, the
     shining crown of eternal bliss in the presence of the King of
     Heaven and Earth, will forever be your beacon light to make you
     think of the ones below. Many, yea many unfortunates not yet born
     will read from these same prison cells of the work of "Mother
     Wheaton" in the prisons of our country. My every breath and
     prayerful utterance is "God be with you till we meet again."

     As ever, one of your boys in Christ Jesus,

                                         PHILIP M., Sec. C. E. S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                      TERRITORY OF NEW MEXICO.

            Office of the Executive, Santa Fe, N. M., Oct., 1895.

     Judge E. V. Long, Las Vegas.

     Dear Sir: This will introduce to you Mrs. Wheaton, traveling in
     the interests of the prisons and asylums. She may want to hold a
     service at the asylum. If so please see that the opportunity is
     afforded her.

                                          Yours respectfully,
                                        W. T. THORNTON, Governor.

                  *       *       *       *       *

        New Mexico Penitentiary, Sante Fe, N. M., Sept. 19, 1903.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton has been paying our institution visits on
     various occasions for some years past, and during these visits
     has done very much valuable work towards furthering the
     discipline of the institution. Her words of comfort and wholesome
     advice together with her teachings of Christianity has cheered
     many a poor, unfortunate soul up to believing and hoping for a
     better future; to realize that justice demands that some
     punishment be meted out to wrong doers and violators of the laws
     of the land; that such punishment is not eternal; that they can
     receive consolation and comfort their conscience even inside of
     the prison walls by resolving to be better men, by a closer
     observance of the moral laws as dictated by their conscience, a
     faithful compliance of their duties as men or women, and a strict
     obedience to their overseers acting under the law and, above all,
     an abiding faith in the Almighty God.

     Mrs. Wheaton has taught them to understand that they must not
     only resolve but must demonstrate by their actions in every day
     life a sincerity of purpose.

     The management feels very grateful indeed for the splendid work
     so generously devoted in the interest of humanity, which I
     consider also a most valuable assistance to the prison management
     in maintaining discipline and turning out discharged prisoners as
     better men and women, better equipped morally, physically and
     spiritually to meet and solve the problem of living an honest and
     upright life, earn and care for those who may be dependent upon
     them.

                                    H. O. BURSOM, Superintendent.




                             CHAPTER XIV.

                     Gone Home from the Scaffold.

     "Let the sighing of the prisoner come before thee; according to
     the greatness of thy power, preserve thou those that are
     appointed to die."--Psalms 79:11.

     "Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer."


One of the most touching things, and to me the most important of all
this God-appointed work, has been my special mission to those who are
doomed to execution.

If there ever is a time in our lives when we need a friend, it is when
we are sick, in trouble, or about to die. The last words of our loved
ones are very dear to us all. Nearly every home has at some time had a
call from the death angel. And looking through the bureau drawer, you
might see the little garments, shoes and playthings that used to be
our darlings' before they went away. Turn the leaves of the old Family
Bible and you will see hidden between its pages a lock of hair,
perhaps father's or mother's. We look up to Heaven through our
blinding tears, and cry out between our sobs: "Oh, God, help me to say
'Thy will be done.'"

In looking over my packages of old letters from the departed ones who
have paid the penalty of a violated law, dying either in the electric
chair or on the scaffold, I find them coming to pieces, some so badly
worn I can scarcely read them. And I know the hands that penned them
are now returning back to dust.

In order to show how God saves when they are truly penitent, even men
of this class, who are counted the worst of criminals, I will give an
account of a few instances which have come under my own observation,
and extracts from some of the letters I have received--written before
execution. And let us remember that our Savior declared that every sin
shall be forgiven to men, except the sin against the Holy Ghost.


                  INDIFFERENT BUT FINALLY CONVERTED.

The first one who was converted under my ministry, before going to the
scaffold, was executed in August, 1885, in the state of Kentucky. On
going to jail I found this young man there with the sentence of death
upon him. The burden of his lost condition came upon my soul in great
power. I felt I should die unless he was saved, and cried mightily to
God for his conviction and conversion. I held several meetings there
and was entertained a part of the time by the sheriff's wife, who was
a Christian lady. She, too, was very anxious for this young man's
salvation. As I took the train to leave the place, his mother
accompanied me to the depot--crying and pleading, "Oh, pray for my
poor boy. It will surely kill me." The bitter wail of that mother's
heart seems to still ring in my ears. Letters from the sheriff's wife
came often, telling me of the boy's still seeming indifferent. But she
said that he often inquired about me and wanted to see me.

I prayed for this soul almost incessantly for forty-five days, being
scarcely able to sleep at night; and he was finally converted. After
his conversion I received from him the following letters:

                                       ----, KY., August 5, 1885.

     My Dear Friend:

     I received your card this morning and was very glad to hear from
     you indeed. Mrs. Wheaton, I feel my Savior in my heart. I know
     that He will save my soul. I am praying to my God every hour in
     the day. I am praying for God to place something in my heart to
     tell the people when I go to the scaffold. I want to tell them
     what my Savior has placed in my heart--the man that suffered and
     died that I should have everlasting life. I wish you could be
     with me once more on earth to sing and pray with me, but if not,
     I will meet you on that other shore. My friend Charley is praying
     and singing with me every day and night and says he will meet us
     in the kingdom. They are all well here but Mrs. N. (the sheriff's
     wife). She has been sick, but is better now. I would like to be
     with you once more before I die, and if not, look out for me when
     you reach that happy land. Good-by, good-by. Remember me in your
     prayers. I have yet nine days to live.

                                           From your friend,
                                                     H---- F----.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                      ----, KY., August 12, 1885.

     My Dear Friend:

     I received your card tonight at my cell door. I seem to see you
     now at the door of my cell, praying for me. The sheriff came in
     this morning and put shackles on me. But I thank God that after
     two days more I will be at rest. I have been praying to my Father
     to teach me something to tell the world at my last hour. I would
     like to tell everybody what my dear Savior has done for me. He
     has given me what I asked Him for and He will go with me to the
     scaffold. I will see you again, "In the fair and happy land, just
     across on the evergreen shore." I am ready to go home to rest. I
     have suffered enough in this world, so I will bid the world
     good-by. I will have to bid you good-by for the present. I will
     see you again. I will watch for you. Excuse me for not answering
     you sooner. I am in my cell and it is very dark for me to write,
     but I do my best. I fast and pray most all the time. Good-by once
     more for a while.

                        From your true friend,
                                                            H. F.

Below is an extract from a letter written by the sheriff's wife to me
shortly after the execution took place:

     Dear Sister:

     I fulfill the promise I made to poor Henry the day he was
     executed, to write you a letter and tell you all about him after
     he was gone to that bright glory land. It would have done you
     good to have seen him the last three days he lived. He was as
     happy as he could be. He had a smile on his countenance all the
     time and never broke down, no difference who of his friends came
     to see him. He talked to his mother and brothers so nice and gave
     them such good advice. He told his mother to not grieve after
     him, but to rejoice, for he would be so much better off after he
     was gone, for he knew that he would be at rest. And if they would
     live and do right they could come to him. The people that were
     here that day (and there were between four and five thousand)
     were surprised to see the beautiful countenance he left the
     prison with. He helped to sing that beautiful hymn,

       "And must I be to judgment brought,
         And answer in that day
       For every vain and idle thought
         And every word I say?"

     with the chorus,

        "We are passing away,"

     and he was heard distinctly by all. He clapped his hands while he
     was singing; then he stepped on to the trap and was soon gone. He
     had a prayer on his lips when the black cap was drawn over his
     face, and said, "Good-by" to all his friends, and repeated,
     "Good-by." He told me to tell you he expected to meet you in
     heaven. His mother and brothers send their kindest regards to
     you. May God bless you.

                               Your sister in Christ,
                                                            S. N.

                          MOTHER'S PRAYERS.

The case of C---- was one of most intense interest to the public as
well as his immediate friends. For long months I wept and prayed for
this young man. He was hoping for a new trial. He was always glad to
see me and to have me sing for him. He was refined, educated, a member
of "one of the F. F. V.'s," as they say, yet doomed to die on the
scaffold. How my heart longed to see him saved--for Jesus, too, was
longing for his salvation.

I was called to other fields of labor before the fatal day and was not
sure of his acceptance with God, but can but hope that his poor
mother's prayers and mine were heard in heaven and that that poor,
misguided youth whose every wish had before been gratified was
forgiven. We can but cast the mantle of charity over the case and
leave it with Him who wills not that any should perish but that all
should turn to Him and live. He wrote me the following:

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Prison Missionary:

     I appreciate very highly your kindness and sympathy and more so
     your prayers. I trust we may all meet in a better land. Return my
     thanks to Mrs. Gen T----.

                                              Respectfully,
                                                         T. J. C.

     Aug. 24, 1885.


                        CLAIMED TO BE INNOCENT.

The following letter is from one who was executed in 1887. He declared
to the very last that he was innocent of the crime for which he was
convicted. He always maintained to me that the person he was supposed
to have murdered committed suicide under circumstances which threw
suspicion upon him. For myself, I do not believe in capital punishment
and certainly if it is ever justifiable it is not in any case that
leaves a possibility of doubt regarding the guilt of the accused.

In spite of great hindrances, being in the place, I was led to visit
the jail. After having sung for some of the other prisoners an officer
came to me asking if I would go down below to visit a condemned man
who had heard me sing and requested that I would come to him. Of
course I went--though the opening to his cell was so small that I had
to stoop very low to get in. If I remember rightly he claimed to be
converted that day. I was obliged to leave the city soon after, but
heard from him several times before his execution.

                                    Petersburg, Va., April, 1887.

     My Dear Friend: I received your postal and will answer it at
     once. I was very glad to hear from you, especially as you remind
     me so much of my dear old mother--not exactly now, but as she was
     about fifteen years ago. * * *

     Mrs. R. sang the same hymn for me that I heard you sing to those
     in the room above me. She said she would, if she had the chance
     before she left the city, write it for me and bring it to me, but
     as she has not been here yet I fear she has left, so I will be
     very glad if you will be so kind as to write it for me. It is
     beautiful.

     I was very sorry you left so soon. I would have been so glad for
     you to have been in town longer so you could have called at least
     once more! But if I never see you on this earth it is comforting
     to know we may meet in heaven. But, O God! had I received
     justice, today I would be as free as the birds of the field.
     There is a blessed hope in knowing while we are persecuted by
     men, it is only the body they can persecute on this earth, the
     soul is out of their reach. And before the flesh is cold in death
     my soul will be soaring above in the realms of bliss to be
     forever blessed! O forever! Forevermore! It is one of the most
     consoling of all consolations for me to know that it is only the
     condemnation of man and the so-called law of the land by which I
     was convicted--not by--no, not by--the great Judge of all hearts
     and not by justice at all. Only condemned by man--not by my God
     and justice. But it is all in God's hands and He will repay, for
     "Vengeance is mine," saith the Lord. Vengeance is not mine nor do
     I wish to revenge any one. * * * "Revenge is sweet," is an old
     adage, but not to me to get revenge and by so doing lose my own
     soul, for what is the whole world to gain and lose your own soul?
     I am charged with that of which I am not guilty, but my
     protestation is in no way believed. Neither was the only pure
     one who ever trod the soil of this earth. He was caught and
     charged, accused, condemned--yes, more than that, was crucified.
     Was he guilty? No--emphatically no. But his innocence could not
     save him. Nor did mine do me any good in my trial at all. But,
     thank God, it will do me good in the world to come, where I will
     receive justice and I will not be in danger of prejudice as lies
     and prejudice are the cause of my being in this lonely cell
     today. * * *

     All the boys in the room over me request me to be remembered in
     my letter to you kindly. Many thanks to you for those tracts you
     sent me. I hope to be remembered in your daily appeals to our
     Maker, in whose care I prayerfully submit myself and you to his
     keeping in the future. God grant it and may we meet in heaven.
     Hoping this will in no way offend you and that it may be answered
     soon to one in solitude--yet not alone; condemned--yet not
     guilty.

                           Your brother in Christ,
                                                         W. R. P.


                          HARDENED IN CRIME.

The case of the writer of the following communications (which were
written on postal cards) was one of note. He was supposed to be so
hardened in crime and so void of feeling that there was no hope for
him--that nothing could reach or save him. But I believed that God
loved him just as the Word teaches us, and I laid hold on the promises
of the Bible for his soul's salvation. I am sure that God never turns
a penitent soul away empty who comes to Him in faith, feeling that He
is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him. "O ye of little faith,
wherefore didst thou doubt?"

After the light of God broke in upon this poor man's soul he saw that
he was a wretched sinner, but that there was pardon and peace for all
who truly repent of their sins and who confess and forsake them. To
such God has given the promise of eternal life and that the blood of
Jesus Christ his Son shall cleanse their hearts from all sin. This man
was convinced of his need of a Savior and deeply convicted of sin and
we believe was made ready to meet God. He seemed very deeply thankful
to me for my untiring efforts in his behalf and surprised at my faith
and confidence in God for him, and through these He was brought by the
power of the Spirit unto repentance toward God and faith in our Lord
Jesus Christ.

                                                   June 18, 1887.

     My Dear, Kind Friend:

     I received your welcome postal and it makes me happy to read it.
     I am now ready to go to my fate. I pray every night and day for
     God to forgive me. I put my whole trust in Him. Pray for me that
     God will wash my sins away and receive me in heaven. As I expect
     God to forgive me I forgive and love everybody. Think of me when
     I am gone. I wish you could pray with me before I go on my long
     journey, for I love to hear you pray. Good-bye.

     From your penitent brother in Christ.
                                                            A. T.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                             Jail, June 23, 1887.

     Dear Sister in Christ:

     My time on this earth is now very short (but seven days) and I am
     now ready to go to my Father, whom I trust and pray will forgive
     me my crime and receive me in his heavenly home. I pray every
     hour in the day and, my dear sister, do the same for me that my
     sins may be washed away in His blood. Pray that He may give me
     everlasting life. O, if I could but live my life over again, how
     I would pray and put all my trust in Him. Dear sister, this may
     be the last time you may hear from me on this earth, but I hope
     we may meet in heaven. Good-bye, God bless you and your noble
     work.

                    Yours waiting to go to his Savior,
                                                            A. T.

     May God forgive me.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                          L., Ky., June 25, 1887.

     Dear Sister in Christ:

     If you only knew how much a poor sinner like me needs the prayers
     of such Christians and lovers of God and His Word as you are, you
     would pray both night and day that He will receive me in his
     heavenly home, where there is no sin or sorrow, but where all is
     love and peace. I have now but five short days until all that is
     of the world will be consigned to the tomb and I do so pray night
     and day that Jesus will cleanse me of my sins. I think this will
     be the last time you will hear from me on this earth and when I
     go to eternity I do so praising God, forgiving my enemies, firm
     in faith and the belief that my sins are washed away in the blood
     of Jesus. Good-bye. May we meet in heaven.

                                                            A. T.

In 1888 I visited a county jail so crowded with prisoners that I
wondered how they could live in that poorly ventilated, filthy prison.
They had little to eat and evidently no one to care for them. There
were Indians, Mexicans, white and colored all together. There I found
TEN MEN UNDER DEATH SENTENCE; and I was convinced that several were
innocent of the charges laid against them--being condemned by
circumstantial evidence. Those ten condemned men were made the subject
of constant, earnest prayer. O, if judges and jurymen could only know
what eternal destinies hang upon their decisions, surely they would be
less ready to condemn on less than positive evidence. Several of the
ten were executed--among them the writer of the following letter:

                                             ----, April 2, 1888.

     My Dear Sister:

     We received your postal. I was so glad to receive it from those
     who love my soul. I have not forgotten one word you left with me.
     Jesus Christ is the subject of my day talk and night dreams. I
     remember you when I get down on my knees to pray. I pray for the
     Lord's will to be done with me as it is done in heaven. I have
     forsaken the world for Jesus' sake. His love is shed abroad in my
     heart. Myself and Brothers W. and A. (whose sentences have been
     changed) are still serving God--also Brother S. I could not tell
     you how it is with the other boys, but I talk to them every day.
     Brothers W., A., and S. join with me in sending their love to
     you. God bless you. I am your brother in Christ.

                                                        ---- ----

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                            April 26, A. D. 1888.

     Sister Elizabeth R. Wheaton. My Dear Sister in Jesus Christ:

     My days have been numbered here on earth by man, but there is no
     end to the number of days that my God has promised me in
     heaven--no more a prisoner here on earth, but to live with our
     Lord forevermore. Let not your heart be troubled about me, for
     all is well! Yes, indeed, all is well. The love of Christ will
     bear me home. Jesus Christ is in me and I am in Him. In God I
     trust, in Him I die. I could not tell you how the case is with
     the other boys, but I do know for myself I am ready at any time.
     My dear sister, I have sent the lovely handkerchief you gave me
     home to my old mother. I told mother who gave it to me and for
     her to place it in my Bible and put it in her trunk and then I
     said: "Here is a picture of mine and a lock of hair for my poor,
     old mother and sisters and brothers." I leave a mother, four
     sisters and two brothers. If you wish sometime to write to my
     mother her address is ---- ----. Farewell until we meet again. I
     am your brother in Jesus Christ,

                                                        ---- ----


                    CONVERSION OF A JEWISH BOY.

In the same year, I found in one of the prisons of California, a young
Jew under sentence of death. While under the influence of drink, he
shot the girl he truly loved. He never realized it till he became
sober and found himself in prison. Naturally he was surprised and
greatly shocked. Wondering why he was there, and being told of his
crime, he was overwhelmed with grief, and remorse of conscience. Poor
boy! His was a sad ending. He was so grief-stricken! And yet the
courts were against him, and the world at large, for the sin was
pronounced murder in the first degree and he must die--_a boy in his
teens_.

As I looked through the grating at the poor doomed boy, an old
gentleman spoke to me and said something very unkind about him. The
boy said, "That man is a _hypocrite_. But I like those hymns you sang.
_Won't you sing for me?_" So I sang for him, and he requested me not
to talk to him then. So I said, "Can I come and see you again?" "_Oh,
yes, come again, do."_ This poor boy was one of the lost ones, and
Jesus touched his heart while I sang, "Meet me there." This was from
that time on his favorite hymn, and I sang it for him just before he
went to the scaffold.

I went back and forth from San Francisco to other places for six
weeks, but his case lay very heavy upon my heart. I knew that on the
14th of September he was to go, and that worse still, he was in danger
of eternal death. I pleaded and wept for him day and night, that he
might be brought to see his lost condition and his need of Christ and
yield to God. How I bless God that He hears and answers prayer! "If
any man see his brother sin a sin which is not unto death, he shall
ask, and he shall give him life for them that sin not unto death."--1
John 5:16.

Before his conversion I received from him the following letters,
beautifully and correctly written:

                                     San Francisco, Aug. 9, 1888.

     Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton:

     As to religion I do not profess any creed. I do not mean by the
     above that I hate them--on the contrary, I love religion and hate
     hypocrisy. I am not an atheist and must admit that I believe in a
     true, just and most merciful God. I appreciate your visits very
     much and hope you will call to see me as often as opportunity
     and convenience will allow, so I now close this brief epistle by
     sending kindest regards and best wishes. I am

                                               Respectfully,
                                                       ---- ----.

     "Condemned Cell."

     P. S.--Kind thanks for singing.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                    San Francisco, Sept. 7, 1888.

     Mrs. Wheaton:

     I am pleased that you called to see me and hope you will repeat
     your visits. It grieves me to see you shed tears, and although I
     say nothing, remember that "still water runs deep." I have faith
     and believe in prayer, so I believe that the cause of a condemned
     boy will be heard in heaven and will come to pass. I am not
     allowed to shake hands, much less give my mother a comforting
     kiss. I now end by thanking you very kindly for your kindness and
     consideration to me.

                            I am, respectfully,
                                                       ---- ----.

I went, the day before the execution, to see him. No one was allowed
to go inside the doomed boy's cell, so I was compelled to submit to
the law. The sheriff said positively, "No, you cannot go inside." But
the chief jailer said, "I promised that this lady should go inside the
boy's cell before the execution, and I must keep my word. I will go in
with her." He opened the door and we went in. He was a grand man.
Myself and the sister who was with me prayed for the prisoner's
salvation. We sang and read and prayed, and at last the presence of
the Holy Spirit seemed to fill the gloomy little cell, and to touch
the poor boy kneeling there with the shackles on his limbs. (They
frequently put shackles on some days before the execution, and place
them in the "doomed cell.") We kept on praying and singing and at
last the light came into his heart, and God owned him as His child.

On the morning of the execution, I went early to the prison; and as I
hurried along there met me a young Catholic priest, who was our mutual
friend, and very kind. He said, "_Come quickly, the boy wants you._ He
has called for you all night, and they could not find you, so they
came for me. I have been waiting for you." This priest had labored
with me to convince the poor boy that Jesus was the Christ and that He
alone could save him. I hurried on into the prison for my last
greeting on earth with the poor condemned boy. There was no loud
demonstration--he was going to die, and knew it; but he felt that he
was ready. He said to me: "I can hardly wait the hour to go home. I am
willing and ready to die. O sing for me my favorite songs. I wish you
could go with me to the scaffold, but that is against the law for
women to go to the execution in this state." Mothers could not endure
such things, but I feel, when permitted, as if I must stay till all is
over.

I took a white silk handkerchief and gently folded it around the boy's
neck, and said, "I think the rope won't hurt so bad, and the pain
won't be so severe with this around your neck." I shall never forget
the grateful look on his face, as he smilingly thanked me. He was a
very refined young man, and only for whiskey he might be living yet.
As I bade him good-bye he said, "Please sing for me _once more_ before
I go." I sang and passed out among the crowds of people. I seemed to
be lifted above the things of earth--I was so thankful for his
salvation. Reader, do you know what it is to travail for a soul and
then count the hours and moments till you see them go over the river
of death, and by-and-by with the eye of faith see them enter the
pearly gates into the presence of Him who was crucified for them?

After the execution I received the following kind letter from the
young priest to whom I have referred:

                                    San Francisco, Oct. 13, 1888.

     Dear Madam:

     It was with great pleasure I read your kind and welcome note. I
     thank you very much for your pleasant remembrance and hope that
     God will bless your efforts and sacrifices on behalf of the poor
     prisoners.

     In regard to A., I can say that he was resigned to the last and
     died well prepared, in my opinion. I was with him almost
     constantly during the last twelve hours. I think his family
     placed the silk handkerchief in the coffin with him.

     Please give my regards to your kind companion and say sometimes a
     little prayer for me. I hope to see you soon in San Francisco and
     have the pleasure of renewing my acquaintance. I have the honor
     of remaining,

                                 Yours truly in Jesus Christ,
                                                Rev. N---- F----.


                           MYSTERIOUSLY GUIDED.

In April, 1891, I was in Kansas City, Mo. After waiting upon the Lord
for some days asking Him where He would have me go next I was
impressed to go to the depot and that there it would be shown me what
I must do. I did so, but even then was left for several hours in
uncertainty as to what train to take, as I had passes on four
different lines. I spent the time in earnest prayer. At last, toward
evening, I was led to take the Rock Island train for Chicago and
impressed that the Lord would show me when and where to stop. I had
two sisters and a little boy with me and they could not understand my
indecision.

As our train hurried on during the night, I kept asking the Lord where
I should stop, and He made it very plain to me that I was to stop at
Ottawa, Ill. I knew no one there, and there was no state-prison there,
but the Lord showed me to go to the county jail and when I did so
found there were several men there soon to be executed. I was told
that no one was permitted to see them; but we went praying and the
Lord touched the hearts of the officers and we were permitted to hold
a service. We were much helped of the Holy Spirit and I believe some
of these condemned men were saved--at least they seemed to give
evidence of it. One of them afterwards wrote me two letters. These I
give to my readers. It is well to remember, however, that not many
such prisoners are accustomed to expressing their thoughts in writing
and hence their letters fail to express the depth of feeling clearly
shown in their words and manner when I am with them. Again all their
letters are to be read before they leave the prison, so they do not
open their hearts as freely when writing as when speaking with me
alone.

                                            La Salle County Jail,
                                    Ottawa, Ill., April 28, 1891.

     Elizabeth R. Wheaton.

     Dear Sister: We are doing very well. As for Mr. C. and myself, we
     will do the best we can to reach that Beautiful home in the New
     Jerusalem, for the Lord saith: "He that believeth and abideth in
     Me shall have everlasting life." As you must have seen, our
     belief is a little different from yours in some respects, but,
     nevertheless, we are all working for that one place and that is
     heaven. He that leaveth his sins behind him shall be saved. The
     example of those who died for Christ, for the faith and for
     virtue's sake are also continually placed before us that we may
     learn to endure sufferings and even death rather than be
     unfaithful to God and stain our conscience with sin. The
     Christian's motto is, "Death before dishonor." Hoping that you
     will continue to pray for us that we may be cleansed from sin and
     be saved, we send you our sincere and hearty wishes for your
     welfare. God bless you and keep you ever for your sincere effort
     in our behalf. Hoping that we may meet in that beautiful place
     where the penitent shall find rest, I remain yours in respect,

                                                    CHARLIE ----.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                 La Salle County Jail, Ottawa, Ill., May 6, 1891.

     Dear Sister:

     I was glad to receive your letter and to hear that you are still
     praying for us. Mr. F. has gone out, so there are just two of
     us--me and Mr. C., who, I think, will get a new trial. He sends
     his kind regards and is doing well.

     As for me, I am very close to the grave as I have only four more
     days to live, but hope that it will be all for the best. I am
     preparing myself for death as much as possible for so short a
     time. My thoughts are not of the outside world, but of a higher
     world, where there is no sin or trouble or care, but everylasting
     life and happiness. I also hope that we may meet in that haven of
     rest. I will do as you say, put my trust in God and believe in
     Him. Life is very short at best, but we all have our cares and
     troubles and must bear with them the best we can, as we are
     helpless without the grace of God. Thanking you sincerely for
     your kind efforts in our behalf, I remain your brother in all
     sincerity. Farewell.

                                           Yours in respect,
                                                    CHARLIE ----.


                          IN LONG EXPECTATION.

I first saw E. B---- in the jail in Wichita, Kansas. There were many
prisoners there at that time and especially in the Oklahoma ward. It
was soon after the opening up of Oklahoma territory and the rush for
claims. There was great excitement and many lost their lives. Some
were thrown from their horses and killed. Others died from exhaustion,
running as for life to get the property they so much coveted. There
were many things done that were wrong. Some are still lingering inside
prison walls for "defending their rights" as they thought. I do not
remember just what E.'s trouble was, but he was sentenced to death
and the day and the hour were set. I went often to the prison and sang
and prayed for the prisoners. They were my friends. I knew and loved
them as a mother would, and especially this young boy--the youngest of
them all.

I went away to Europe and on my return I again visited the jail in
Wichita to hold a service. While singing the first hymn the jailer
came into the apartment where I was and said, "The Oklahoma boys have
heard you singing and want you to come at once to their ward. They did
not know you had returned from Scotland and are so anxious to see
you." And such a welcome as those dear boys and men gave me I had
received no where else since my return. Some were under death
sentences. O how my heart aches even now as I think of the tears they
shed and of their warm handclasp. Then I could only fall on my knees
and sob out my sorrow for them and my heartfelt thanks to God for the
warm welcome and as I wept and prayed I believe good was accomplished
and souls saved. Some are dead and gone. Others are in the asylum for
the criminal insane. A few were pardoned out. Eddie's case lingered.
While hoping for a commutation of sentence he wrote the following
letter:

                                            Wichita, May 3, 1891.

     Dear Friend:

     I received your kind letter. Was glad to hear you were well and
     still at your post, working for others. I am still in my little
     cell awaiting what comes and have not heard much yet regarding
     commitment, but hope it may come in time. I am feeling as though
     I have a heavy load on my shoulders for a boy, but I hope and
     pray for the best to come. I want to see the light, if there is
     any for me. I sometimes think that I am forgotten; and then again
     I know better, for there is One who never forgets us. I have
     read those nice tracts you sent me and they are all true. The
     boys are all well and send their best respects to you and hope to
     meet you again; and you know I do, for I feel the need of your
     kindness and appreciate it highly. I know what a kind mother is.
     I have a good Christian mother and father. Oh, if I were only
     free again, so I could enjoy life with my dear mother! No one
     knows how lonely I am. You are only one hundred miles from my
     home in ----, Illinois. If you go there you could find them by
     enquiring for them. They would be glad to see you, as I have told
     them about your being here. I hope some day that you can come and
     see me on the outside. What a happy boy I would be! If not, I
     hope we may meet in that brighter home. I have been reading my
     Bible and find relief. What a book it is, and the good that can
     be gotten from it! I wish you success through life and that you
     may save many a poor lost sinner. No one knows the good they can
     do until they try.

     May God bless you, is my prayer.
                                                      EDDIE ----.


                           SENTENCE COMMUTED.

Many of those acquainted with the case were anxious for his release
but met with little encouragement. I continued to pray earnestly that
at least his life might be spared. When the day appointed for his
execution came I was in a distant state some miles from a telegraph
office, but I sent a little boy to the office with a message telling
him that the Lord might even yet deliver him and if not would sustain
him in his dying moments. The same day a wire came for him from the
governor changing his sentence to imprisonment for life. He was
transferred to a northern prison, but only lived a few years. So far
as I could learn he lived and died a Christian, and I hope to see him
again by and by in heaven.


                            A MAN DECEIVED.

At one time I held a service with the prisoners in the county jail in
Sedalia, Missouri. Among them was a poor old man awaiting execution.
He seemed unmoved, stolid, indifferent. I talked and prayed with him
and asked him about his soul's salvation. He said it was all right
with his soul and that he was saved. I knew the Lord showed me that he
was a deceived man and that the devil had deluded him into thinking he
was all right. I was faithful to my convictions, to my God and to his
soul. I said to him: "You are not prepared to face the scaffold and
death." He seemed indignant that I should doubt his word, but I left
him with the warning, "Prepare to meet thy God."

I went to the wife of the sheriff, who was an excellent woman, and
found she too was very anxious about his soul. I told her of my burden
for him and asked for a room where I could wait on God in prayer and
she kindly furnished it. In an hour the old man sent word to the
sheriff to send for me to come and pray for him as he was not fit to
die. In company with others I went to him and the poor deceived old
man repented of his sins and confessed them to God and to us and was
blessedly saved and died in the full assurance of faith. His last
words were of his hope in Christ and of his acceptance with God. I
fully believe that the blood of Jesus--who died on the cross for
sinners and was the friend of sinners always--did cleanse his soul.
The sheriff's wife told me of his last words and that all was well. We
give a clipping from a Sedalia paper concerning the case.

                          VISITORS EXCLUDED.

        WILLIAMSON WILL RECEIVE NO MORE VISITS--PREPARATION FOR THE
                               EXECUTION.

     Sheriff Ellis R. Smith has commenced to make his arrangements for
     the execution of Thomas A. Williamson, and everything will be in
     readiness before Saturday morning. The rope with which John Oscar
     Turlington and Bill Price were hanged will be used, the sheriff
     having received a telegram yesterday from Sheriff Mat S. Ayers,
     of Saline county, stating that it had been forwarded to him by
     express. On the day of execution the police force will assist the
     county authorities in preserving order in the vicinity of the
     jail building.

     No more visitors will be permitted to see and talk with
     Williamson, except his spiritual advisers. This is in compliance
     with the condemned man's wishes, which are contained in the
     following note which he sent to Sheriff Smith yesterday:

     "Sheriff Smith: I would like a cell by myself the rest of my
     time. You can put me any place. I will give you no trouble. My
     mind is on God. I would like to be upstairs; it is lighter up
     there. I will go where you put me.

                                                        T. A. W."

I received from him the following letters written after his
conversion. One of them reached me after his execution:

                                                     Sedalia, Mo.

     Sister Elizabeth R. Wheaton:

     I am well this morning. I thank God for it. I hope this will find
     you well. I prayed to God to watch over me through the night, and
     He did. I feel happy. I will meet you across the river. We will
     have a good time. May God keep you. I am going to heaven. I will
     meet you in that bright land. I am glad to hear from you.

                                                         THOS. A.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Sedalia, Mo., October 29, 1891.

     My True Mother:

     I got your letter right now. I read it and got on my knees and
     prayed to God to have mercy on me. My sister, I have my mind on
     Jesus all the time. I feel happy this morning. Mother, I will
     meet you on the other shore. Mother S. (the sheriff's wife) is so
     kind to me! My mind is on God so I can hardly write. I will pray
     for you.

                                                         THOS. A.


                INTERCEDED FOR THE LIFE OF A BOY.

I went to a city in 1898, where there were four under sentence of
death, and when I went into the jail found many waiting trial. Some
were going to state's prison. Others were to die on the scaffold. I
was especially impressed with the case of one boy who was under death
sentence. I held a service with the prisoners and talked personally to
those condemned to die. One man was wonderfully saved and I believe
went to heaven from the scaffold. I then went away to other states.
But I was so troubled I made inquiries and found that the young boy to
whom I referred _was not charged with being a murderer_, and was not
deserving of death. I plead to God if there was nothing the law could
find in him worthy of death, that his sentence might be commuted, and
the poor boy might live. Upon my return I went to the capital to see
the Governor, and asked him to grant the boy a life sentence in
prison. My request was granted, it was soon all settled and the boy's
life was spared. Yet the Deputy Sheriff was very angry at the Governor
for granting the commutation!


                    WENT TO THE SCAFFOLD SINGING.

In May, 1899, another poor prisoner ended his life on the scaffold.
The Friday before, two died on the same gallows. I visited them the
day before the execution, talked and sang hymns (their favorites), and
then we three kneeled together in prayer in the little "condemned
cell." Kneeling between my boys, clasping each by the hand, we gave
ourselves to the blessed Savior, who said just before he expired on
the cross, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." I
shall never forget that last prayer meeting with those unfortunate men
who had been led astray by evil surroundings and associations, forming
habits which finally sent them to early graves, by fearful deaths.
Yet, as we knelt there together, just we three and the blessed Holy
Spirit witnessing, we promised to meet in Heaven. Jesus met us there
and forgave them their sins, and joy filled our souls with love for
Him who gave Himself a ransom for us, not willing that any should
perish, but rather that all should have eternal life. How my heart
rejoiced to hear them say they were prepared to go, and the parting
was very sweet. A solemn hush filled the little cell--sweet peace
which only comes when souls have been redeemed, fell upon my heart,
and I was glad Jesus Himself did His own work for His own name's honor
and glory. They sang hymns and prayed all night before the execution.
They refused to eat, preferring to sing and pray till the last, and
went to the scaffold singing and praising God, and were still singing
when the drop fell, and they were gone from earth.

My heart cried out for the living that May morning, as another one
went to the scaffold, "O God, save his soul! O God, forgive him all
his sins. The same scaffold, the same sin, and the same Jesus to blot
out all his transgressions." I believe God, where he says, Isa. 1:18,
"Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow:
though they be red like crimson they shall be as wool." If it were not
for the promises of God in His blessed Word, I should give up in
despair, sometimes, over those cases who have been so deceived by the
devil. Yet God is able to snatch them as brands from the burning. Jude
22-23 says, "And of some have compassion, making a difference: and
others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire; hating even the
garment spotted by the flesh." Jesus said, "Whosoever will may come,"
I believe His promises are "Yea and amen to all that believe." When I
see what saloons and other evils are doing to wreck lives and ruin
souls, I wonder how God on His throne can ever forgive such
premeditated, intentional sins. The keepers of these places sell
themselves to Satan to be used by him to defeat God's plan of saving
those who will come unto Him. O that all who claim to be Christians
would unite to overthrow the means that Satan uses to lead down to
eternal death so many precious souls!

The case to which I shall now refer was one in many respects
especially touching. The condemned man had occupied _a prominent
official position_. The dear, noble wife never turned away from her
husband. Hers were the kind heart and hands that ministered to his
needs and cheered the long, gloomy hours of his imprisonment. She
stood by him in his trial and during those days of agony and suspense.
Then came the verdict "Guilty," and the sentence of death! Yet, though
her own heart was breaking as she thought of herself and her
beautiful, helpless children, she still sought to cheer and comfort as
best she could that poor condemned man whose heart was torn with
anguish when he realized that because of his sin that faithful loving
wife and those innocent children must be left disgraced and destitute.
What is to become of the little ones who are powerless to help
themselves and of the poor despised, rejected, forsaken mother, trying
to earn with her own hands by toiling night and day enough to feed and
clothe those helpless babes? O my God, will you not help me to provide
a home for such as these? For the sake of these heart-broken mothers
whose lives are doomed to be (only as helped by the grace of God) one
great unending sorrow--for the sake of the poor children so cruelly
robbed of their birthright--a father's good name and protection, these
who are worse than orphans, yet for whom nobody seems to care, help
me to do what I can--what thou dost require at my hands. This man was
brought up in a Christian home and but for the power of evil
associations with which he was brought in contact and the curse of the
legalized saloon, would today in all probability have been a respected
and honorable member of society.

I first found him one Fourth of July. While others were spending the
holiday I went toiling through the heat to the prison and there I
found my reward. My soul was borne upward by the Holy Spirit as I sang
many songs of praise and tenderly led this poor man to the foot of the
cross where he was saved. His wife was there a part of the time. I
seem to see the parting even now of those dear ones! Well, God knows
it all. Had I never known a wife's and a mother's love I could not
have sympathized with them as I did. I thought--What if _my_ boy had
lived and come to such an end--and I wept with that faithful wife as
she took leave. O, sisters, there is a power in even a look of love
coming from a true heart.

I give two letters received from the condemned man and one written me
by his wife. I omit the name of place and exact date and even the
initials, as so few years have passed and I do not wish to do anything
that might bring pain to the hearts of surviving friends. The family
was of the most cultured and respected.

                                                      July, 1899.

     Dear Sister Wheaton:

     It was with the greatest pleasure that I read your card this
     morning. I was wondering where you were; but I knew that if your
     health permitted you, you were somewhere doing good to some poor
     unfortunate.

     Yes, I am putting my entire trust in Jesus. He saves me from my
     sins and when the cares and woes of this life come to disturb my
     peace, I look unto the Savior and soon all is peace again. What
     would I do in a place like this and under such circumstances did
     not his gentle voice speak unto me and say, "Fear not, I will not
     leave nor forsake you." My wife was down to see me last Monday,
     and is coming today (Thursday). She wrote me that your songs and
     prayer were still ringing in her ears--so you see that your good
     work is not only felt by prisoners. I hope that you may be able
     to go on with the good work that so much delights you and that
     you may yet win many wandering souls and bring them into the fold
     of God and that when your work on earth is ended you may rest
     from your labors in the most beautiful palace in the city of
     heaven. You may think that strange that I said "palace," but I
     believe that heaven is a real and tangible city--the home of God,
     from where He sends the Holy Ghost to dwell in the hearts of all
     those who are willing to receive Him.

     I will now say good-by, and if I never again meet you on this
     earth, I hope to meet you in heaven.

     I am yours most sincerely in the hope of heaven.

                                                       ---- ----.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                                    August, 1899.

     My Dear Mother, for such you seem to me, I will never while I am
     on this earth cease to think of you. I have remembered your voice
     since I first heard you sing and pray while in the cells of poor
     W----and S----, the condemned men. I wished then that I could
     have seen you, and I told the boys that you were certainly born
     of God; and from that day I have desired to have your influence
     and prayers. I am still trusting in the love, mercy and power of
     the Savior to save my soul in the eternal world and to keep me
     from sin while I am in this. I have no other hope, no other
     desire than to serve my Master. I would want to attain to a state
     of perfection here, if such were possible, but you know that the
     cares of this life come in to rob us of the pleasure that we
     would enjoy in the anticipation of heaven. But some day the dark
     clouds that overshadow us and prevent us for a while from seeing
     the Savior's smiling face will be rolled away. I am glad to tell
     you that the sentence of R----, whose cell was next to mine, has
     been commuted to life imprisonment. He and the man P---- send
     their regards to you. P----'s sentence is respited until the
     17th of November, and in the meantime he hopes for a new trial.

     I will close, wishing you the choicest blessings of heaven, and I
     am yours very sincerely, trusting in the hope of eternal life,

                                      Your brother in Christ,
                                                       ---- ----.

The following from the _Star_ of ----, ----, explains itself. The men
are referred to in the above letter:

              BOTH TWICE CONVICTED OF THE CRIME OF MURDER.

     Everything is in readiness at the District jail for the double
     execution which is to take place tomorrow, when S---- and W----
     will pay the penalty of their crimes. So far as outward
     appearances are concerned, the condemned men are in a better
     frame of mind than are most of the other prisoners in the big
     brown-stone prison. Their spiritual advisers are with them most
     of the time, and when they are absent the men pass the hours
     reading religious books and praying.

     S---- and W---- have both been well-behaved prisoners and have
     given the jail officials no trouble whatever. The former has been
     particularly friendly with the guards and others, and today he
     thanked several of them for past kindnesses. He also desired to
     express his gratitude to his many friends for what they had done
     for him, and said he desired to do so through the _Star_. S----
     has had many visitors during the entire time of his confinement
     in jail, but more especially during recent weeks. Most of them
     have been female relatives. They have been endeavoring to collect
     funds enough to defray the expenses of a decent burial. In the
     event of their being successful the body will be turned over to
     them after the execution by the undertaker employed by the
     government to prepare the bodies for burial.

     Monday afternoon, just before the prison doors were locked for
     the day, the bell rang and the guard at the door admitted a woman
     who handed in her card on which was printed:

                      "Elizabeth Rider Wheaton,
                         "Prison Evangelist.
                       "No Home but Heaven."

     She had with her a number of tracts which she distributed to some
     of the prisoners. Her religious work is all done in prisons, and
     she makes a specialty of laboring with condemned men. She stated
     to the guards that she had traveled about 2,000 miles to see
     those in jail here before their execution. The warden admitted
     her to the cells. She had W---- and S---- join her in prayer and
     song in the latter's cell, and the men seemed greatly to
     appreciate her hour's visit. She next saw E---- S----, who is to
     die on the scaffold next week. He, too, appeared to enjoy her
     call.

                                                        ---- ----
     _Star_.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                                    August, 1899.

     Mrs. Wheaton.

     My Dear Sister: I must write a few lines to you, in my husband's
     letter, as you have shown yourself so kind to him, poor fellow. I
     can see you now and hear you, in my fancy, singing those
     beautiful pieces. Oh, how sad I felt on that Fourth of July as I
     sat and listened, especially to the one called "Some Mother's
     Child," as I looked upon my dear husband and thought of his
     mother and how tenderly he had been reared by Christian parents,
     and was always a good and thoughtful son and husband until by
     reason of evil associations he fell into sin and kept going
     further and further from God until at last he was led to do the
     most dreadful of deeds. How I pity him!

     O how happy I once was! Had a pretty home and everything to
     brighten it. But alas, they have vanished and now I feel alone,
     without anything. Did I say "alone?" No, not so, for the God that
     I have served and who has been with me these twenty years, is
     still with me; and I feel to say, "Though he slay me, yet will I
     trust him." I feel that he will open up a way for his children.
     Now, my dear sister, I would love to see you again in this life
     and talk with you, but if I never meet you here I trust I shall
     meet you above, where your voice will be heard with the angels of
     God. Please remember me to your lady helper. Would be glad to
     hear from you at any time. Good-bye.

     Yours in love and the hope of heaven,
                                                       ---- ----.

Two years later, while in the same city, a friend invited me to go to
an open-air service and after I had sung and spoken to those who were
gathered a dear lady clasped my hand and said: "I am so glad to see
you, mother--don't you know me?" As I failed to recognize her she
turned her careworn but lovely face so that the electric light shone
full upon her and said, "Don't you remember me now?" When I still
answered "No, I do not," the tears gathered in the dear eyes as she
said, "My husband never forgot your singing and your prayers before he
went away," and then it dawned upon me that she was the wife of the
man the people hung to gratify the saloon men's greed. She said: "I do
wish I could ask you home with me, but I have only a little hall room
for myself and children. I am keeping boarders to make a living for
myself and them." O how I wished for a home to which I could welcome
them, but I, too, am a pilgrim and a stranger, and all I could do was
to kiss the dear sister and commend her to the widow's God and her
dear ones to the Father of the fatherless.

The letters following are from two brothers with whom I labored, and
who showed much appreciation of my efforts with them and professed to
be saved. I received a number of encouraging letters from them and
from others in the same place before they were taken away. We can not
always tell as to the sincerity of these poor men, or of their
responsibility, some of them doubtless are so nearly unbalanced in
mind, under such a strain, but we know the God of heaven before whom
we must all stand will judge righteously.

                                                October 18, 1903.

     My Dear Mother Wheaton:

     While my dear unfortunate brother, Mr. K., has given me space in
     his letter, I just wish to congratulate you for the wonderful
     good you did while here with us, as we have not forgotten your
     topic, "Salvation," and often speak of you and hope you will
     come again at your earliest convenience. Thank God there is some
     of us have the Spirit of God with us. Bless His holy name! And I
     for one can praise Him for the wonderful good He has done me, and
     through His wonderful love I have been granted a stay of
     execution, which was to take place the 21st of this month; for
     God in heaven knows I am innocent of this crime, as is also my
     brother. I am sorry to say I do not know much about the Bible,
     but intend to learn more about His wonderful love to man, and
     will serve Him to the end. Trusting that you will look upon us as
     your children, I will close, hoping to hear from you again,

                                         Your unfortunate boy,
                                                            B. W.

                  *       *       *       *       *

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     Received your letter and was glad to hear from you. It brought
     great joy to our bleeding hearts. We think of you and wish you
     could talk and sing for us every day. Your kind, loving words
     bring me near to God. When I leave this world I will go to my
     heavenly Father, where there is everlasting life, and if we never
     meet on earth, I will meet you in heaven. I shall never forget
     you and the prayer you made for me. We felt bad when you could
     not come back and tell us about our loving God. Pray for me that
     I may walk daily with God. I remain as ever,

                                             Your dear boy,
                                                            A. W.

     Columbus, Ohio.


                           THREE YOUNG MEN.

Some cases of special interest to me because of such recent
occurrence, are the three young men mentioned elsewhere and from whom
I received the following letters. I will first give a note very kindly
written me by the son of the warden, in answer to an inquiry about the
cases while they were awaiting some decision of the supreme court:

                     Colorado State Penitentiary.
                             Canon City, Colo., December 7, 1904.

     Mother E. R. Wheaton. Tabor, Iowa.

     Dear Mother: I have not answered your postal on account of my
     absence from the city, but I hope you will overlook the delay.
     The fate of the four prisoners under sentence of death is still
     undecided, as their case is in the hands of the Supreme Court.
     There is some doubt as to the legality of the law and it is a
     hard matter to tell what the outcome will be. No, my folks did
     not attend the Prison Congress this year on account of my
     sister's health. The boys at the prison often speak of you and
     some have started to forget the past and try to do better in the
     future on account of the good words you spoke to them. I hope you
     will come to see us before my father goes out of office, but if
     this is impossible, I pray that we may meet at some future time.
     I remain,

                                          Yours respectfully,
                                                Willard Cleghorn.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Canon City, Colo., May 3, 1904.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     I have received your kind letter and postal and I am very glad to
     know that you have not forgotten me. I have not forgotten you
     either, nor never will. For it was no other than you who put me
     on the right road to heaven, and I know that if I do all you told
     me that I will meet you there. I am praying both day and night,
     and I pray from my heart, and mean every word that I say, and I
     know that my sorrow is more than I can bear without God's help. I
     know that God has forgiven me all of my sins, and will save me
     too. I do not care who laughs at me for praying and asking God
     for help. There is nothing that can ever make me quit praying and
     believing in God, for He has done me good already.

     With love and best wishes, and hoping to hear from you soon,

                                     Yours sincerely,
                                                            F. A.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Canon City, Colo., May 3, 1904.

     Dear Mrs. Wheaton.

     It is with pleasure that I answer your most kind and welcome
     letter that brother A. and I received some time ago. We also
     received a postal card this morning. I have neglected my promise
     of writing, but hereafter will write more promptly. I have not
     been feeling well, but am better now. I hope you will forgive me
     this time.

     It does my heart good to know that you are praying for us. I feel
     very grateful to you. Us boys pray and read the Holy Bible every
     day. I am trusting to our Heavenly Father, for He makes right the
     wrong. We are being treated most kindly by the warden and the
     officers of the prison.

     I will close, as Brother A. wishes to say a few words.

     Hoping to hear from you again, I ever remain

                                           Your son in Christ,
                                                               C.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Canon City, Colo., May 17, 1904.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton.

     My Dear Mother: I received your kind letter and was very much
     pleased to hear from you, as all of us were. * * *

     When I saw and read your letter and those little tracts, they
     certainly did take effect on me. As I read them and saw the
     terrible mistake I had made, it caused the tears to fall. I am
     trusting in God, but I can't come right out and tell you that I
     am really saved, for I don't believe in deceiving you. But I do
     believe that God has laid a hand on me, and I hope He will take a
     stronger hold on me. I know you will think more of me for telling
     you the candid facts. I have seen lots of people who would tell
     that they were really saved, when they knew they were not. But
     "God help my poor soul," is my regular prayer. I realize that I
     need His help in my present circumstances. I still ask you to
     pray for me that God will help me to look to Him. I try my best
     to do what is right, and never go to sleep a night without
     praying to Him to save my soul and spare me so that I may be of
     some benefit to His cause, and I do fully believe that He will
     answer my prayer, for when I pray I am sure I do it with all my
     heart and soul.

     I am quite well at present, and hope that these few lines will
     find you the same. May God bless you and protect you, is my daily
     prayer. I hope to hear from you again soon.

     From one of yours, and I hope, the Lord's sons.

                                          Yours respectfully,
                                                            N. A.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Canon City, Colo., May 27, 1904.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     I take pleasure in answering your most kind and welcome letter
     received a few days ago. I am quite well at present. I am taking
     things as easy as I can and waiting most patiently to know how I
     will fare. I haven't forgot to pray and read the Bible, nor will
     I as long as I live. I am trusting in the Lord, for He makes all
     things right. I will close, hoping to hear from you again.

                                         Very sincerely yours,
                                                            C. P.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Canon City, Colo., May 27, 1904.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     I take pleasure in answering your letter. You don't know how glad
     I was to hear from you. This leaves me well and in good faith and
     I am trusting in the Lord, for I know He will help me if I will
     only be good and do His will. I pray and read my Bible every
     night and day. Oh, if I ever do get my freedom I will make a man
     of myself and do God's will and make my poor wife and mother and
     father happy. I will never take a drop of whiskey or anything
     again. So good-bye. We have heard nothing of our case yet. The
     time seems so long.

                                      From yours sincerely,
                                                            F. A.

The following are extracts from touching letters from the aged mother
and young wife of this young man:

                                  Kansas City, Mo., July 4, 1904.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     We received your card and were indeed glad to hear from you. Oh,
     I am praying to God all the time to spare my baby's life. How can
     I ever live if they take his life! Why do they want it? He did
     not kill any one, although the deed he did almost breaks my
     heart. F. never drank until he got with those people on Market
     Street. They got him to smoking hop and drinking whiskey. My dear
     and only child, will God and man have mercy on him? Oh, I thank
     you for going to see my poor baby boy! God bless him and save his
     life.

     I hope you can see the Governor and see if he will do something
     for a mother to save her only child. I can hardly stand it. It
     has done F. so much good for you to see him. He always speaks of
     you when he writes home. Oh, I do hope the Governor will give you
     some hopes, for if I could get any hopes of F. being spared it
     would do me so much good! I pray day and night for my boy. He is
     on my mind all the time. Hoping to hear from you soon, I am

                            Sincerely yours,
                                                          MRS. A.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Kansas City, Mo., July 4, 1904.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton:

     Kind Friend: I was truly glad to hear from you and that you are
     going to see my dear husband soon. I hope it will not be long
     till I see him, for it seems like years since I have seen poor F.
     I hope my loved one will come out better yet, for I can never
     stand it. I hope and pray that F. will have a show for his life.
     How short our young lives were together. F. was always kind to me
     and it almost took my life when I was robbed of my darling
     husband. I was an orphan girl. My dear mother died when I was
     five years old. I had a hard time all my life till I was
     eighteen, when I was married to F., last September. I was so
     happy with him. He was a good boy and never drank till he met
     with the Market Street gang and they got him to drinking and
     smoking that hop.

     This is the Fourth of July and F.'s gray-haired mother and I are
     here grieving over the loved one in prison. If a wife ever loved
     a husband truly I love mine. I remain your friend,

                                                       MRS. F. A.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                               Canon City, Colo., Sept. 22, 1904.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     I was glad to hear from you, which I always am, for your letters
     are full of kind words and it is a pleasure to read them in my
     lonely cell and know there is one true friend who prays for me.
     Kind words are few for me now when I am in need and going through
     the most terrible and trying time of a lifetime. But I am living
     in hopes and trusting God for my future, come what may. I surely
     thank you for seeing the Governor in our behalf.

     My mother and wife are well. Their letter to you must have been
     missent, for they wrote. This leaves me well.

                                              Yours sincerely,
                                                            F. A.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                               Canon City, Colo., March 26, 1905.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton:

     Dear Mother: I was very glad to hear from you as I did not know
     what had become of you. Well, the law has been found good and the
     death watch is over us. Poor ---- was hung the 6th. Our time
     begins the 21st of May. Yes, I am trusting God and I know He has
     heard my prayers, and whatever comes will be for the best. P----
     is getting better again they tell me. A---- is the same as ever.
     I wrote to my mother today and told her I heard from you.

                            Yours sincerely
                                                            F. A.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                               Canon City, Colo., April 12, 1905.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Los Angeles, Cal.:

     Dear Mother Wheaton: I was glad to hear from you. Your letters do
     me so much good, they always give me new hope. Of course you
     understand what I am going through, and at times hope seems
     hopeless for the time seems so long to me in this dreary cell,
     and to think if I had left that horrible liquor alone and stayed
     away from bad company where I could have been to-night--free and
     happy, at home with my wife and my poor old mother and father.
     But as it is I am sad and lonely and my loved ones are far away,
     heart-broken. But I believe my prayers will be answered yet, for
     I know God has heard them. But, the Lord's will be done. I know
     He will do what is best for me.

     Well, dear mother, the boys are well and send their best regards.

                           Sincerely yours,
                                                            F. A.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Canon City, Colo., June 15, 1905.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     I received your kind and welcome letter and was glad to hear from
     you again. I will never have the pleasure of reading another
     letter from you in this world, for I have been put back in a
     horrible death cell again and the Board of Pardons and Governor
     have refused to save me from the terrible death I am doomed for,
     but I expect to meet you in heaven, dear mother, for I know God
     has forgiven me all of my sins. I want to thank you again for all
     you have done for me, for I know you have spent many a sleepless
     night on account of me. I felt a great deal better after seeing
     and praying with you the last time you were here than I had since
     I've been in this trouble. I am glad things are most at an end
     for I am very weary of these lonesome death cells. Of course I
     don't want to die nor am I glad of it, for I have lots to live
     for yet as you know, but the Lord's will be done. I know it will
     be for the best. Well, I will close for this time. I am to be
     hung in the next twenty-four hours, so good-bye, dear friend.
     Think of me sometime in the future.

                                 From your son in Christ,
                                                            F. A.

                  *       *       *       *       *

     Mother Wheaton:

     Dear Mother: We just received your loving letter last night and
     was glad to hear from you. Oh, dear mother, my darling boy is
     gone; never can I see his loving face in this cruel world. Oh, it
     is terrible; it seems too hard for me to stand. Just think, my
     only darling child. But I know he is in heaven. He died on the
     16th. We went to see him and he was so glad to see us. He kissed
     his papa and all of us and said he wanted us not to grieve any
     more than we could help.... His last words were "Good-bye,
     mamma," with a smile and wave of his hand just like I was coming
     back again. He said he would like to be buried close to home.
     Poor, darling boy; he loved to be close to home and mamma in
     life, but it is hard to think that he had to spend his last days
     away from us, all on account of whiskey.

                                           Your friends as ever,
                                                   MRS. A. AND L.

     (The above was from the aged mother and the young wife.)

Think you, dear reader, that these experiences are passed by lightly
when I must enter into the sorrows of these mothers and loved ones who
must give up their dear ones in this way? Only the grace and love of
God can sustain me and these dear bereaved ones in these trials. This
was one of my saddest experiences, as I was personally acquainted
with the parents and the dear young wife of one of these young men,
having been entertained at their home some days at a time during their
sorrow. This is only another example of what strong drink is doing in
our land. God pity those who in the least favor this traffic.

I give below short extracts taken from _The Daily News_ of Denver
concerning these cases:

     "Not yet has the final word for F. A., C. P. and N. A., under
     sentence of death, been said.

     "It is likely that it will not be said for at least a week or ten
     days. The Board of Pardons adjourned late yesterday afternoon
     without deciding the fate of the three boys....

     "But, though the tragic element was lacking, there was present
     throughout the meeting an undercurrent of deep human woe. The
     mother of A. was there, clad in black, with a hopeless expression
     on her face pitiful to see. Beside her at all times was the wife
     of A., young, pretty in an indefinite sort of way, her blue eyes
     holding ever before them the wreck of her shattered girlish
     romance. Both women wept freely at times.

     "With the two women were a dozen of their women friends, whose
     coming had been actuated by a mixture of curiosity and sympathy.


                         FRIEND OF ALL PRISONERS.

     "Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, friend of prisoners the world over,
     was there too. She sat next Mrs. A., the elder, and wept
     copiously in sympathy. 'Mother' Wheaton visited the boys at Canon
     City, and she told the board the impression of her visit, how,
     she was sure, they had repented of their deed and had their sins
     forgiven.

     "She also pleaded for their lives on the ground of opposition to
     capital punishment. She has been in state prison rescue work for
     twenty-one years, and her silver hair, refined face and gentle
     manner have brought comfort to criminals everywhere."--News, May
     6.


                         SESSION OF THE BOARD.

     The Board of Pardons met in special session at 10 o'clock
     yesterday morning for the purpose of passing finally upon the
     applications of the three boys for commutation of sentence from
     death to imprisonment for life.

     Interest in the proceedings of the morning centered around four
     women, two mothers, a sister and a wife of the condemned boys.
     They were Mrs. J. A., bowed with the weight of her seventy years,
     who had come all the way from Buffalo, N. Y., to be present at
     the meeting; her daughter, Miss A., of Denver; Mrs. J. A. and
     Mrs. F. A., mother and wife, respectively, of F. A. All four were
     present throughout the hearing and made personal pleas to the
     Board.

     After the hearing was concluded they went together into the outer
     office of the executive chamber and sat huddled up in one corner
     of the big room, their eyes fixed on the door which led to the
     inner office where four men were deciding whether the boys they
     loved should live or die.


                         HEARD THE BAD NEWS.

     When the news of the Board's action was conveyed by Secretary C.
     E. Hagar to the four women waiting in the outer office, their
     grief was pitiful in the extreme. Mrs. A. very nearly collapsed.
     She clung to the arm of her daughter and moaned in heart-breaking
     accents. The daughter, too, was almost overcome, but controlled
     herself for her mother's sake.

     The mother and wife of F. A., while it was evident they were
     suffering keenly, maintained an outward composure except for the
     tears which welled from their eyes. They hurriedly left the
     capitol building together. The young wife will go to the
     penitentiary Friday to say a last good-bye to her husband.


                            PLEA OF ATTORNEY.

     W. E., attorney for A., made a wonderfully eloquent plea for his
     client's life. It was logical, pathetic and at times scathing in
     its denunciation of the methods used by the police to extort
     confessions from the boys. He said these methods, in their
     horrible brutality, were without parallel anywhere.

     "The only evidence upon which N. A. was convicted," he said, "was
     the alleged confession wrung out of him by police brutality. This
     confession was made after the prisoner had been 'sweated' and
     intimidated. One ear had been almost torn off, he had been
     cuffed, kicked and trampled upon, and then, under the influence
     of threats, he made his alleged confession."


     NEWS THAT SON IS TO HANG BROKEN TO AGED WOMAN BY HER DAUGHTER AND
                            CAUSES COLLAPSE.

     Sitting and staring with a blank look into space, at intervals
     relieving the tension of her misery by low moans, and then again
     ejaculating pitifully, "Oh, my boy! My poor, poor boy! Can I live
     and know that you died upon the gallows?" Mrs. J. A. is now
     hovering on the borderland of life at the home of her daughter in
     Denver.

     It was not until noon yesterday that Mrs. A. was told that the
     pardons board had refused to grant her son, N. A., a commutation
     of sentence from death to life imprisonment. Up to that moment
     when the terrible knowledge became hers she had a mother's hope
     that the pardons board must save her boy. From the moment she
     heard from her daughter's lips that the son and brother must die,
     Mrs. A. has been verging upon a semi-comatose condition, and
     under the constant care of a physician.

     She was illy prepared to hear the news yesterday, for she had
     spent the night previous without closing her eyes in sleep. It
     was not until 5 o'clock that slumber came to her mercifully, and
     even then she merely slept in a fitful doze until 8 o'clock.


                            SUPPRESSED EMOTION.

     The serious phase of Mrs. A.'s condition, her physician regards,
     is that with her it is all suppressed emotion. She does not cry
     out or rave, but endures her intense suffering in quiet. It is
     but seldom that tears come to her relief, and the only vent her
     emotion has is in her low moans for her "poor boy."

     After the news was broken to her, Mrs. A. spent most of the day
     in bed. Late last night she was still in the same condition, and
     the gravest anxiety is felt by her relatives.

     Mrs. A. is 70 years old. She lives in Buffalo, N. Y., and made
     the long trip of 1,500 miles to personally plead with the State
     Board of Pardons for the life of her son.


                               TO TEST GALLOWS.

     Warden C. will today test the automatic scaffold upon which N. A.
     and F. A. will be executed next week. He will see that
     everything about the device is in perfect order and will make a
     final test just prior to taking the first of the two to his
     death. The execution house, where the men will be confined until
     the final summons, is 28x30 feet. It contains three condemned
     cells and across the hall from these are two large rooms. In the
     center of one is a large iron plate and on this the condemned is
     asked to stand after the noose and cap have been adjusted. The
     weight of the man causes the plate to drop about an inch. This
     closes the circuit of a current connecting with a bucket of water
     which stands on a shelf in a closet in an adjoining room. By a
     magnet arrangement a plug in the bottom of the bucket is pulled
     and the water begins to flow out. As soon as the vessel is empty
     an automatic connection releases a catch holding a bag of sand on
     the end of the noose.

     The sand, being heavier than the man, falls, causing the body at
     the other extremity of the rope to be jerked off the floor to the
     height of three feet. The sandbag is in the room containing the
     closet where the bucket is and the rope from the noose reaches
     that room over a pulley and through a hole in the wall.

     The condemned man does not see any of the details of the
     execution when he enters the death cell. The iron plate in the
     floor and the noose around his neck are the only parts he can
     see. He does not hear the dropping of the water nor the working
     of any of the mechanism.

     The instant the man is jerked off his feet and suspended at the
     end of the rope his neck is broken. The time intervening between
     the pulling of the plug in the bucket and the falling of the sand
     is usually about a minute. The suspense to the prisoner, however,
     is not regarded as any more cruel than that experienced by a man
     in the electrical chair or on the scaffold while he awaits the
     fatal current or the springing of the trap.

     The hanging apparatus was invented by a convict fifteen years
     ago.--_News_, May 20.

As shown by foregoing letters these cases were continued till June 16.
Such is the suspense, sorrow of heart and grief through which many are
constantly passing in this world, all on account of sin. What are we
trying to do to lend a hand of relief?

Such, dear reader, are a few of the many, many cases of this class
with which I have had to do in these more than twenty years of
ministry to those that are bound. Some were hardened criminals, others
innocent of the crime for which they were condemned and others no more
guilty than thousands that the world honors. For all, Christ died; and
many others beside these I have mentioned have given evidence of
saving faith in the blood that is able to cleanse the deepest stain
that sin has made.

One case is just as near and dear to my mother heart as another and
yet how different in many respects are these condemned men--different
in their natural inclinations and unlike because of their different
circumstances in life. Among them are found the refined, the educated,
the gifted, the beautiful as well as the low, the ignorant, the
degraded. All must share the same fate. All are shown in the worst
possible light to a gaping, sensation-loving, curious world. Let us,
dear reader, take these cases home to our hearts as if they were our
very own and so learn to have that charity that suffereth long and is
kind. Even Moses and David took life, yet they were forgiven, and
Moses who in haste slew the Egyptian, became the prophet so
wonderfully used of God because of his meekness of spirit; and David
in his thankfulness declared, "This poor man cried and the Lord heard
him and delivered him out of all his troubles."




                              CHAPTER XV.

                      Work in Churches and Missions.


As stated in preface I have always as opportunity offered been ready
to preach the gospel to all men. In this chapter I speak very briefly
of some of the work done in churches and missions and give some
letters from pastors and friends referring to this part of my labors.


                             STRANGELY LED.

I once had a young sister with me whom I had taken from Toronto,
Canada. I had told her mother I would return her safely and had given
her money to pay her fare home. As we returned through a field to the
city from the poor farm where I had held a service, I said to the
sister, "I am so hungry." She replied, "O wait till we get to heaven,
then we shall have of the twelve manner of fruit, and drink of the
water of life," and I was cheered and blest as I went along the way.
The Lord showed me to trust Him. When I reached my lodging-house I was
so weak and tired that I sat down to rest a few moments before
ascending the stairs to my room. The landlady sat by her well-filled
table after the boarders were all gone. She asked the servant for a
plate, and I watched her while she cut off a nice piece of turkey and
a piece of roast beef and then put some bread on the plate and handed
it to me. I was, O, so glad, but feared she was going to ask pay for
it, and I had only a dime. I asked, "How much is this?" and she
replied, "Nothing." I was so overcome with gratitude to God for His
goodness that I hastened to my room and thanked God for answering
prayer, in giving me food I needed to give me strength for the
meeting that afternoon on the street, and in the evening at the
colored people's church. At the close of the meeting in the evening
the preacher said: "The sister has given us a good sermon, and the
gospel must be carried, so come up and give us a good collection." The
people responded heartily and gave a very liberal collection, but
after the meeting the preacher handed me 25 cents, keeping the rest. I
felt very badly as I had prayed for money which I needed so much. I
must go to another city, and no money for traveling expenses. I had
been obliged to have some work done by the dentist which must be paid,
and no money, but I kept believing, yet no open heart or door. I
wondered why I was led to go to another place with no means provided.
When I had gotten the amount needed I left, heart-sick, lonely and
weary to go on alone in the work, and the sister to go home to Canada.
A few days later I was walking along the streets of Lynchburg, Va. I
met a man who said, "I am Rev. B---- from Chicago. I have met you
several times in your work. Sister Wheaton, won't you come with me to
church?" I said, "Where?" and he said, "To the First Baptist church."

When we entered the beautiful new church building the evangelist
introduced me to the young pastor, who hurried by indifferently. He
then presented me to some fine looking ladies who also passed by on
the other side. When the evangelist had closed his sermon he said,
"Now, friends, this is the lady I told you about who has done more
good than we preachers. I know her, but she don't know me. Receive her
as a sister. She is worthy." When the service closed, one after
another came to speak to me and gave me their hand and invited me to
their homes. A gentleman and wife came up and said, "We claim you as
our guest." The husband said, "The carriage is at the door. I will
walk and you may ride with my wife." I was at a loss to know just
which invitation to accept, when the evangelist came up and said,
"These are the people for you to go with." I did so and the Lord went
with me. I was invited to preach that night and the Lord was there in
mighty convicting power. At the close of the meeting the evangelist
said, "Sister, how did it happen that I met you just as I did this
morning?" I said, "Brother B., things don't happen with me. The Lord
sent me to this place."

The next day a young lady called at the house and inquired for me. I
went to the door and she handed me a small parcel saying, "Your
friends from the First Baptist church sent you this." Thanking her I
went inside and found it was fifteen dollars.

I was the guest of one of the F. F. V.'s, so was welcomed everywhere.
Other churches and other preachers invited me to their pulpits. In a
few days Mrs. Col. O. asked me if I would conduct a meeting for women
only at the M. E. church if she would arrange for it. I was impressed
that the thought was of God and agreed to do so. The meeting was
appointed for Wednesday at 4 p. m. On the way to the church I was so
burdened with the responsibility of the meeting that I told the sister
(the kind friend who entertained me) that I could not talk, I must
pray the rest of the way to church. To my surprise the place became
crowded. I had expected perhaps a dozen women and no men; and here the
place was full of elegantly dressed ladies, and the pastor of the
church, Brother H., and a policeman were also present. I tried to
proceed with the service, but seemed unable to do so. After prayer and
singing, "How firm a foundation," I arose and said: "Is any one led of
the Spirit to give me a text. I have no message." A sister arose and
timidly said, "The 14th chapter of John." Well, the flood gates of
Heaven were opened to my soul. God spoke and waves of salvation rolled
over the church, and women, God bless them! arose and said, "I thought
I was a Christian until today, but I find I have never begun to serve
the Lord yet. I promise, by God's help, to begin anew today for
Heaven." The dear Lord touched proud hearts and melted them together
until the place was filled with the glory of God. The pastor and
people asked me to hold another meeting the following day for both men
and women. I said I would do so in the fear of the Lord, and the Lord
wonderfully blessed the services. Souls were brought in touch with God
and saved. I said to them, "Friends, begin a revival at once. God is
ready to work with you if you follow Him. My services are ended in
this church. The prisoners, my special care, need me, and the poor and
the colored people." I remained three weeks in that city, wonderfully
blessed of God. When I left there were over fifty dollars in my hand,
of free will offerings. I see why the Lord sent me to the city to
arouse the sleeping church members and preachers, both white and
colored, from their cold, lifeless spiritual condition.

Soon after leaving Lynchburg I received the following letter from the
sister who planned the meeting, which greatly encouraged me:

                                          Lynchburg, May 2, 1887.

     My Dear Sister:

     I received your letter several days since. I am truly rejoiced to
     know that you receive that peace and comfort which a child of God
     knows to be her portion.

     My thoughts have followed you since your departure from our city
     and prayers from many hearts have ascended to the throne for
     your safety and success in the great work God has called you to
     do.

     I have not known of a revival such as is now in progress at Dr.
     Hannon's church. Men and women are flocking to the meetings, old
     and young, to know what they must do to be saved. My son was
     happily converted last Friday night. He had long been cold and
     indifferent, but now all is joy and he works and speaks for God
     with willingness. He is in solemn earnest now in working, praying
     and speaking in the great congregation. Surely goodness and mercy
     have followed me all the days of my life and I will dwell at the
     feet of my Master forever.

     Though God has sent tears to my eyes and grief to my heart,
     thanks to His dear name He has kept me from falling. I think you
     left a good influence among the fallen women here. I have been
     sent for to go to some since you left. I have sent this day a
     request to the official board of my church to give me the use of
     one room in the church where I can always meet them for the
     purpose of hearing of their desires to lead a new life. In this
     way my pastor can meet them and help me in this work. I await the
     result.

                    Your friend with sincere love and prayers,
                                                  Mrs. Lucy K. O.

I went on my way, and some time after was in San Francisco,
California. Hearing one day, as I left the jail, of a holiness
convention, I was impressed to attend. When I arrived a testimony
meeting was in progress. I arose and began to sing, "Yes, I will stand
up for Jesus," and the minister in charge came down the aisle to me
and said: "Is this Sister Wheaton who held meetings in my church in
L----, Va.?" I said, "My name is Elizabeth Wheaton, and I held
meetings in that city. Are you Dr. H.?" and he said, "Yes." He
returned to the platform and told the people of my work in his church
and that about four hundred had been saved, and told the people to
receive me as a child of God. So homes were opened. The work of God
moved on. As I was a stranger in a strange city, I blessed God for
the leadings of the Holy Spirit in all my pilgrim way. I have not seen
Dr. H. since that time. He gave me a pressing invitation to his church
in San Francisco but work on other lines prevented my acceptance.


                       LETTERS FROM OTHER FRIENDS.

                                   Wetumpka, Ala., Jan. 12, 1885.

     My Dear Sister:

     It would be impossible for me to express in words the Christian
     sympathy and love I have for you--one that has left all; yes,
     all--denying yourself and taking up the cross of Jesus, carrying
     the glad tidings of salvation to the despised, to the outcast, to
     the poor in spirit and to the oppressed. I pray daily that the
     good Lord may bless you.

     Dear sister, those in the world whose minds are carnal, cannot
     understand your work, for your life is hidden in God, and cannot
     be discerned in any other way but by the Spirit. Our crosses will
     soon be over. Jesus will not let us suffer for Him long. He is
     coming for us soon. Then "Be not weary in well-doing, for in due
     season we shall reap, if we faint not." We are not the only
     friends you have in Wetumpka. Long will you live in our memory. I
     pray that the Lord may ever guide and lead you as He knows and
     sees best. I am your brother in Christ,

                                            A. J. ROGERS, Pastor.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Fort Wayne, Ind., Sept. 2, 1897.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     We were so glad to hear from you. Our meeting closed on Sunday
     evening, August 22, with twenty-eight persons asking the prayers
     of the church. We are beginning special services three evenings
     in the week.

     We are planning to begin another revival meeting about the middle
     of October. Would be glad to have you with us. We are praying
     that the dear Lord may so order it if it is His will. The Lord is
     leading and we are expecting great things.

     Remember us kindly to Mrs. H. I hope you will write again, so
     that we may be posted as to your movements. We are praying for
     you. Do not forget us. Mrs. Cooper and Merrill wish to be
     remembered to you. "The Lord bless and keep thee and cause His
     face to shine upon thee." Good-bye for a little while.

                                        Fraternally,
                          M. C. COOPER, Pastor St. Paul's Church.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Fort Wayne, Ind., Sept. 29, 1897.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton.

     Dear Sister in Christ: Your letter received and I must say I hold
     it very sacred and dear.

     I think of you often, and not only I, but a large number of
     others. We cannot tell the good you did while here, but God above
     knows and He will reward you. Many have been more willing to do
     their Christian duty. They seem to realize more fully what it
     means to be a Christian. O there is so much in it!

     Dear sister, the Lord being willing, we are going to hold another
     revival campaign, commencing Sunday, October 17. I am so anxious
     I can hardly wait. I enjoy myself so much when I can be doing
     work for my dear Lord and Master, who did so much for me. I wish
     the Lord would see fit to send you this way during our revival,
     and my prayers shall be to that end. It is God's work and you are
     one of His workers. You have the constant prayer of St. Paul's
     church, and we are sure that we have yours. May God's choicest
     blessings rest upon and abide with you. "The Lord lift up His
     countenance upon thee and give thee peace."

                                                     LOUISE ROUX.

       *       *       *       *       *

                  (From the _Gazette_, Fort Wayne, Ind.)

   MRS. WHEATON, FAMOUS PRISON EVANGELIST, "LED BY THE LORD HERE"--HER
  FAITH IN THIS ABSOLUTE--OPENS INTERVIEW WITH PRAYER--LARGE AUDIENCES
                               HEAR HER.

     Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton is in town and last night and
     yesterday afternoon addressed a large audience at the revival
     services which Rev. Mr. Cooper, of St. Paul's M. E. church is
     conducting in a tent situated near his church, on Walton avenue.
     She reached this city Saturday evening over the Pennsylvania.
     Having missed a train at Warsaw en route to visit a sister who
     lives at Elkhart, she was directed, she said by the Lord, after
     prayer, to come to Fort Wayne to spend the Sabbath. On the way
     over her singing and praying on the train attracted attention to
     her and a member of the Wayne Street Methodist Church, on
     learning who she was, invited her and her sister, Mrs. Hoffman,
     to spend the night at his home. She had heard, she said, of the
     meetings that Mr. Cooper is conducting, and she said, with a
     manner of absolute confidence, that she had been directed to
     attend these meetings. Rev. Mr. Cooper said yesterday that the
     meeting was in progress as she and her companion entered and that
     he was impressed to speak to her. On learning her name he knew
     her instantly by fame as the widely traveled and much beloved
     prison evangelist. She was given a welcome and was at once asked
     to participate in the services. At the night meeting there were a
     thousand people, it is said, who listened enrapt to her prayers
     and moving appeals to the sinner to accept the salvation in which
     she so thoroughly believes.

     The prisoners at the jail were her first concern Sunday morning.
     She told Mr. Cooper that after arising she turned to her Bible
     for guidance and her eyes fell upon certain Scripture which
     contained the word prison three times. She took this as evidence
     that she should first visit the jail and thither she went. It is
     quickly apprehended by those who come in contact with her that
     she pauses not when directed, as she believes, to do a service in
     the cause of the Master, but goes at once. She has no
     questionings of faith.

     A Gazette reporter found her last night at the home of Mr. Bower,
     No. 136 Walton avenue. Her physical appearance marks her as no
     ordinary person. Her face beams with a kindly smile, being plump
     and fresh with the vigor of apparent health, though gray hair
     indicates her past the prime of life. She dresses modestly in
     black and carries with her a satchel in which she keeps a
     Testament, her pass holder and some tracts. Her handshake is a
     model of firmness and heartiness, conveying the impress of
     intense earnestness. Before permitting the interviewer to proceed
     further than the salutations, Mrs. Wheaton kneeled and prayed for
     the Lord's blessing upon the interview. This unconventional
     prelude was novel in the experience of the reporter, but coming
     from such a woman seemed perfectly in place. There is reverence
     and piety proclaimed by her presence and no thought of
     incongruity obtruded. The prayer took the range of ready
     invocation and communion with the Lord, and as is probably the
     evangelist's wont, the prisoner and the fallen woman were not
     forgotten in her petition to the throne of grace.

     Mrs. Wheaton was not inclined to talk about herself. "What has
     been done by me," she said, "was done of the Lord--His be the
     glory. I was called to this work thirteen years ago, and I walk
     by His guidance. I have never asked and could not accept a
     salary. I have never had a collection taken for me. It is a
     wonderful thing how He has led me. Here are some of the railroad
     passes that have been given me."

     And here she unrolled a leathern holder full of passes from all
     the leading roads. Some were "Account of Missionary Work" and
     some "Account of Christian Work." It is evident that she has
     traveled this country over, and her ministrations have also
     extended to the old world.

     Mrs. Wheaton again attended the services last night, and moved
     all by her stirring words. Many could not repress the tears. Her
     address was not anchored to a formal text, but was a strong
     appeal, nevertheless, to the sinner to repent. The audience was
     slow to pass out after the meeting, being anxious to meet the
     speaker.

The following from Bro. Snyder and his estimable wife who are my very
dear friends and whose home is always open to me when I am in
Baltimore, are very much prized. They explain themselves. Their work
for God and souls is very exceptional:

     During the winter of 1894, Mother Wheaton was conducting a
     service at the state prison, when one of our men expressed his
     desire that she should attend our services. This was my first
     introduction to this noble child of God, and since then she
     seldom comes East without visiting our church; we all love her,
     but she rarely stays over a day at one time, as her work calls
     her away.

     In 1898, we induced her to remain with us a week. At this meeting
     hundreds of people attended and many souls were saved. One of
     the wealthiest ladies of the church received her pentecost and is
     now one of our best workers. During the day Mother Wheaton would
     visit the outcast of the city. I recall a case of an old colored
     woman that we found in a miserable hovel, dying without Christ;
     how, after preparing the room and then praying to Father for the
     body, she seemed to be brought back to life by the prayers of
     God's saint that she might be led to Christ, and after she gave
     her life to Him we administered the Lord's supper. Mother Wheaton
     has always been a blessing, whenever she has come to my church;
     good people are made better, bad people made good.

[Illustration: CHURCH OF THE REDEEMER, BALTIMORE, M. D.]

     The church was dedicated to God by "Mother Wheaton" before it was
     finished; while the building was in course of erection she paid
     us a short visit; with the moon shining through the open windows,
     mortar, bricks, etc., around us, she was prompted to take the
     church to God in prayer. I will never forget the scene. Thousands
     have been saved and many sanctified. The work is still spreading.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Baltimore, Md., January 19, 1901.

     Dear Mother: Your kind letter to your children received today.
     Began special meetings Wednesday night, the 16th. The three
     nights have been blessed and owned of Father. Those in and out of
     the church saved. Thirty-three at the altar.

     You were mentioned last night in the meeting. I told them they
     could look for you to come in at any time, as I believe Father is
     going to send you. Never in my ministry did I feel more in
     harmony with the divine Spirit. As I am writing I am thinking of
     our citizenship in heaven. What a time we will have!

     How I longed for you to shout with me Wednesday night over the
     conversion of a man 60 years of age, who never knew Christ. I
     could not sleep, but praised the Father all that night. He had
     his wife and daughter with him in church last night.

     Mrs. Snyder joins me in much love to you and Sister Taylor. As
     ever,

                         Your son in the Gospel,
                                                    J. K. SNYDER.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Baltimore, Md., October 20, 1902.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     Your kind letter came today. Mrs. Snyder and Eddie often speak of
     you; and once a day, at least, we pray for you.

     Yesterday several of the boys in the Sunday School formed a
     committee, and without a word being spoken about you, came to me
     and asked of you and wanted to know when they would have you with
     us.

     Last week had fifteen born again; four last night. So you see
     Father is still blessing your children.

     God bless you and keep you, is the prayer of your son,

                                                    J. K. SNYDER.

                  *       *       *       *       *

               1737 North Broadway, Baltimore Md., June 23, 1903.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     Your long expected letter received. Our dear heavenly Father
     continues to bless us at home and at the church, souls saved and
     believers sanctified. Glory! The Blood covers our sins.

     Eddie was glad to know you had not forgotten him. He is a great
     help in the church; your prayers are not in vain. We remain

                                      Your children,
                                           J. K. SNYDER AND WIFE.

                  *       *       *       *       *

              (From the Whosoever Will Rescue Mission.)

                                  New Orleans, La., May 24, 1897.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     We are getting along nicely at the Mission. The Lord is blessing
     our work and many souls are being saved. We have started a branch
     mission further downtown. We call it "No. 2."

     We will never forget you, dear mother; your visit did us so much
     good. The boys at the Mission often talk of you and Sister
     Kelley. We would like to have you visit us again soon, the Lord
     willing. Mother and all send kindest regards. Wife sends love to
     you both. Pray for us. I remain

                           Your brother in Jesus,
                                                      J. H. HAAG.

                  *       *       *       *       *

              (From the Mission Worker, New Orleans.)

                          PRISON EVANGELIST.

     "Mother Wheaton," the noted prison evangelist, arrived in the
     city on the evening of February 21, and spent several nights
     during her stay. This sister in Israel has visited nearly all if
     not quite every state prison in the United States and some in
     foreign countries, preaching to their inmates the glad tidings of
     great joy. She is a forcible speaker and very deeply in earnest.
     Her visit to this city was a pleasant one and resulted in much
     good to many.

     During her stay here Mother Wheaton has been kept very busy about
     her Master's business. She has visited about all the prisons and
     eleemosynary institutions in the city, singing, praying and
     exhorting the inmates to a better life. She has been at the
     Mission every night, and we have had some wonderful meetings.
     Sister J. H. Haag has been her almost constant companion and the
     two have done splendid work. On her way from the Mission this
     Mother in Israel has several times stopped in at saloons, and
     talked to all present about their soul's welfare. She is
     intrepid--absolutely without fear--and well she may be for she
     leans upon the Everlasting Arm.

     We do not know how long she will stay with us, but probably for
     some days, as she now has several invitations on hand. She will
     go when and where the Lord leads her. Our prayer is that she may
     be made the instrument of winning many souls to Christ that her
     crown in glory may be studded with precious jewels. She says of
     herself that she "has no home but heaven."

                  *       *       *       *       *

                  (From Pacific Garden Mission.)

                                        Chicago, October 6, 1903.

     My Dear Sister Wheaton, God's Chosen One:

     How I praise my heavenly Father for your life and that I ever
     knew you, and for your unselfish mercy to the poor and neglected
     classes. May you long be spared to "gather them in from the
     fields of sin" is the prayer of

                                  Your sister in Christ,
                                                SARAH D. CLARK,
                                          Pacific Garden Mission.


                        SUCCESSFUL MEETINGS.

During the early years of my mission work I arrived one day alone in a
Southern city. Went to the postoffice and was reading my mail when a
good old man stepped up and inquired who I was and where I stopped. I
told him I had just arrived. He said, "Come home with me. My wife has
a room and a home for good women like you." I was praying for an open
door. Did not know where I was going to stay over night, but was sure
God had sent me to that place. I found them kind, hospitable people.
He was an old-fashioned Methodist preacher already superannuated, and
he has long since gone to his reward. He sent for the pastor of their
church and arranged for me to hold a meeting. I went at the request of
the pastor to visit an old lady who was sick; thought best to have an
open air meeting on the street and invite people to the church that
night. During the service on the street I noticed a very well dressed,
fine looking young man. When I closed he came to me and taking my
hand asked me to call at his store a few doors away. I did so and he
gave me a fountain pen and seemed unusually interested in what I had
said.

The meeting that night was led by the Holy Spirit; souls were saved,
Christians quickened into new spiritual life and power, and sinners
awakened. Other services were held in several of the churches. God was
honored and the Holy Spirit held right-of-way. Often I would have
services in the white people's church till 9 p. m., then hurry to the
colored people's church and preach and sing and pray till 11 o'clock.
Then at 5 in the morning would meet again, at the Methodist church,
such crowds of worshipers--devout, humble seekers after God. I left
the city just as the meetings were at their height. In the next world
when we all assemble together I expect to see many who were converted
at that series of meetings.


                      CALLED TO THE MINISTRY.

The young man who seemed so interested in that first street service
came to all the meetings. He was clearly converted and was called to
the ministry. For some time he was a successful soul winner,
manifesting a pure spirit and a godly life; but he afterwards became
discouraged and went into business to support his family. In a letter
from him in later years I received the following words:

     "At the time I got your postal I was in serious meditation on
     spiritual affairs and was fully considering re-entering the
     Gospel ministry. I know I was called of the Lord through His Holy
     Spirit to preach His everlasting gospel. Praise His holy name! He
     gave me the seal of His approval in the witness of His Spirit and
     the fruit of my labor in the salvation of souls. I know this of a
     truth from experience. You cannot imagine how I long, Oh, so
     intensely, to be again filled with His Spirit and to enter upon
     His work in the salvation of souls.

                        Lovingly yours,
                                                        I. H. N."


                   A COLORED WOMAN SAVED AND PREACHING.

In the year 1886 I was holding meetings in Houston, Texas. Was in a
colored people's church one day, and was much perplexed as to how to
reach the people's hearts. I wept before the Lord in prayer. I did not
know it then, but God was working, using my zeal and grief to help
save a soul. Finally a woman who came to scoff and ridicule was
converted. She received a call to preach after vowing that women were
never called to preach. Well, the years rolled by and one night in
Oklahoma City I saw the Salvation Army gathering in a tent. I went in
and was invited to read the Word and lead the meeting. I did so, and
as the services were about to close a colored woman arose and said she
wished to state that she was saved, and told how she was also called
to preach by the Spirit of the Lord through what I said in that
meeting in Houston, Texas, so long before. She labored for years as an
evangelist and so far as I know is still preaching. In her
evangelistic work she has labored successfully in many of the states.

At one time she wrote of her conversion as follows:

     "When I was seeking life in the Lord, I did not want to eat for
     two weeks, and had no appetite, but I prayed on and the change
     came and I felt brand new. I loved everybody--white and colored.
     I seemed to have on a white garment, and that death had fallen
     beneath my feet and had no more dominion over me. It seemed that
     I had seen the Lord and He told me to go in peace and sin no
     more, and I was one more happy soul. I wanted to tell everybody
     what the Lord had done for my soul."


                       STRIKING EXPERIENCES.

Once while holding meetings in Wichita, Kansas, I was greatly
troubled. I knew not why. I could neither preach nor sing. I did not
know what was wrong. Suddenly a large man rose and rushed from the
room taking his wife and children with him. He told me afterward that
he came with the avowed purpose of killing another man who was there.
And they both came there with the intention of killing each other.

At the same mission a man came running in and said that a young
railroad man across the street in the jail was dying, having taken
poison. I went to the jail where the young man was lying on the floor
and kneeling beside him, took his hand and for two hours pleaded with
God to spare his life and save his soul. And the Lord answered prayer.
The doctors were amazed and perplexed, as they could not understand
how the man could live, as all their efforts had seemed to be
fruitless. It was simply one of God's miracles.


                           SAVED BY A HYMN.

Passing along the street one night in Louisville, Ky., I saw standing
in a doorway a group of well-dressed young ladies, also a lady much
older. I spoke to them and asked for a drink of water and some favor
to further the conversation. When once in doors I saw a piano, and
said, "Which one of you ladies will play a piece on the piano? I love
music so much." A little boy four years old came in. They asked him to
tell me what he intended to be when he grew up. He said, "A preacher.
I am going to see my mamma in Heaven." He was their sister's boy. He
sang for me while one of his aunts played the piano. In his sweet,
lisping voice he sang, "I never will cease to love Him." I was
impressed to ask him to come to the mission where I was going to
preach that night, and sing that piece, and have the aunt play the
organ. Both consented to go with me and when I asked him the little
boy came on the platform and sang beautifully. His father had heard
of my desire to have the child sing, and had straggled into the
mission under the influence of strong drink. He was so convicted and
heart-broken he wept, and that four-year-old boy walked from the
platform down the aisle to that lonely, heart-sick father, who then
and there gave himself up to God, and was saved before he left the
hall, through the singing of a hymn!

                  *       *       *       *       *

    God _will_ forgive each penitent whate'er his sin may be,
    Whose heart is overflowing with _love_ for bond and free.
    Oh, listen! brother, listen--'tis Jehovah's plan--
    And a _time is fixed_ to right the wrongs of Man....

                                               --_Prison Poetry._

[Illustration: ARTHUR C. HOFFMAN, NEPHEW OF E. R. W., SITTING ON FRONT
OF ENGINE.]




                              CHAPTER XVI.

                Preaching the Gospel on Railway Trains.


The young man on the front of the engine in the foregoing illustration
was my sister's son. I give here an extract from the account of his
death June 7, 1890, as published at the time in the daily of
Huntington, Ind., where it occurred:


                             KILLED BY CARS.

     A. C. Hoffman, a switchman in the Chicago & Atlantic yards, was
     run over and killed this morning.

     He was employed at night and about 5 o'clock this morning went to
     the coal dock to run down two cars that had been unloaded there.
     The track is very much inclined leading from the dock and it
     requires that brakes be set very tight. When the cars started
     down the track Hoffman ran from the rear end to the front of the
     head car to set the brake, but in doing so stubbed his toe and
     fell from the car to the middle of the track beneath. The car was
     running rapidly and no sooner did he strike the track than a
     brake beam of the car struck his right leg near the hip,
     fracturing the bones and bruising it otherwise. That threw him
     over and the flange of a wheel struck the lower part of his back,
     tearing the flesh all off clear to his backbone, exposing it to
     sight.

     Hoffman was picked up and taken to the Arlington house, where he
     boarded, and Dr. L. Severance, the railroad surgeon summoned. He
     did all in his power to make the injured man easy and alleviate
     his pain, but it was out of the reach of medical skill to save
     his life and at about 10 o'clock he died in awful agony.

     Hoffman's mother and brother live in Lincoln, Neb., where the
     latter is a physician. He also has a sister in Elkhart county,
     this state, all of whom have been telegraphed the sad news.

     He was a good switchman and more than ordinarily intelligent.

     It is a most distressing accident. The young man was here among
     strangers and died surrounded by the friends of so short an
     acquaintance but who did everything within human power to save
     him or make his end one of peace. His injuries were fatal though
     and nothing short of death would relieve him.

"ALL ABOARD!" So shout the railroad men, year in and year out, daily,
hourly, their cry is to get on board the train. I often think if we
preachers and mission workers were as faithful in _our_ work to get
people on board the old ship Zion, how many to-day would be en route
for Heaven who are on the broad-gauge rapid transit to the bottomless
pit of destruction. Will we not arise and shine for God as we have
never done before?

Over fifty years ago when I was a small child, I stood at a
flag-station waiting for the train. I was to go alone ON MY FIRST TRIP
by this wonderful mode of travel. It was just the grandest thing to
know I was really to ride on a railroad train--only four miles, yet I
often think of it after these twenty years of constant travel. Have I
ever had such a remarkable experience, going alone, too, and as there
was no station or ticket office, I was obliged to pay my fare on the
train. I had a silver 25-cent piece, and I sat down in the first empty
seat I came to and waited to see what next! Along came a tall man in
uniform and asked where I was going. I told him and handed him my
money. I remember yet how kindly that conductor looked at me,
hesitated a little and then handed me back my quarter, and let me ride
those four miles free. I have never forgotten that act of kindness on
the railroad, and during my pilgrimage I have been shown much kindness
by the railroad officials.

My work among railroad men has been greatly owned and blessed of the
Lord. Many of them saying, "You are the only preacher that ever speaks
to us about our soul's salvation." They often say I remind them of
their mothers who were good Christians.

The following by a railroad man will be of interest and profit to
all, and will doubtless have more weight with his class than anything
I could say here:


                            TO RAILROAD MEN.

                            BY ONE OF THEM.

     Dear Boys: One time in my life these words came to me: "_Where
     will you spend eternity?_" Then and there I turned my back on sin
     and "set my face like a flint" toward God and heaven, and cried
     to God for Jesus' sake to forgive me; and near the hour of
     midnight while kneeling at my bedside I received the witness of
     the Spirit that I was saved. Then and there I was "born again"
     into newness of life. I was changed from a man of sin to a child
     of God, and since then such wonderful joy and peace fills my soul
     every minute of the time that I want to tell all of you about it.

     Brother, isn't there in your breast at times an awful aching
     void? Aren't there times when after trying every pleasure and
     amusement the world affords, you just quietly sit down all alone
     before God, and realize that it is all in vain? These things
     don't satisfy; and there down deep in your heart is a longing
     that is never satisfied, a hungering for something that will give
     you complete joy and peace, and soul rest. Brother, there is only
     one thing that will give you this complete rest, and satisfy
     every longing of your heart, and that is salvation from sin.
     Jesus died on the cross that you might be free from sin and live
     through all the ages of eternity with Him in heaven. "If we
     forsake our sins he is faithful and just to forgive our sins and
     cleanse us from all unrighteousness." If we do the forsaking He
     will do the forgiving, and then through His atoning blood we
     become new creatures, and after we have received the clear
     witness that we are adopted into the family of God and can truly
     call Him Father, if we feel angry at times or have some desire
     for the world and the things of it, we can come to Him again and
     completely abandon ourselves to Him, our will, our life, our
     desires, our time, our talents to be used for His glory, then He
     will baptize us with the Holy Ghost and power so that it becomes
     a pleasure to do right and all evil becomes distasteful to us. By
     the power of the Holy Ghost He cleanses our hearts, and the
     Comforter which is the Holy Ghost takes up His abode in us,
     sanctifying us, causing us to live pure, holy lives. We railroad
     men whose lives are in danger at all times should be prepared to
     meet God, for one minute we are here and the next we may be
     standing at the judgment bar of God to answer for deeds done here
     on earth. Dear reader, are you prepared to do that? If not, make
     this the time that you will settle this forever by giving your
     heart to God, then if this little flame of life is snuffed out
     you will be borne on angel's wings onward and upward through the
     gates of pearl, over the golden paved streets of the New
     Jerusalem up to the great white throne where you will see Jesus
     in all His glory and majesty and hear Him say to you, "Well done,
     enter thou into the joy of the Lord."

     Let me tell you, brother, when the Lord saved me and gave me such
     sweet joy and peace I told Him that I would never use beer or
     tobacco in any form, for I knew it was displeasing to Him, for He
     says, "What? know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy
     Ghost which is in you?" (1 Cor. 6:19). "If any man defile the
     temple of God, him shall God destroy" (1 Cor. 3:17). "Cleanse
     ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit" (2 Cor.
     7:1).

     And, brother, perhaps you are a slave to tobacco. Many times you
     have felt that it was a dirty, useless, expensive habit, and you
     get thoroughly disgusted with it, and perhaps you quit it for a
     short time, and then how surprised and disgusted you feel because
     you find what an awful hold it has got on you. It is worse than a
     spell of sickness to try and quit it, and you soon take it up
     again, realizing as you do so that you are harboring something
     that is stronger than you are, appetite; and although you are a
     strong, robust man you have to admit that it is your master. And
     when you go home to meet your mother, wife, sister, you notice
     them shrink away from the breath made foul by the poisonous
     tobacco. And the times that it almost destroys the taste for
     anything else, and you use all the more of it till the
     disagreeable "heartburn" warns you that the deadly poisonous
     nicotine is eating away at the lining of your stomach, and you
     are more disgusted than ever, but you can't quit without
     torturing yourself.

     Oh, how I loved my beer, plug of tobacco and pipe before I was
     saved, but I quit them all--drinking, chewing, smoking, swearing
     and all immoral habits, and I would have died before I would have
     indulged in any one of them in the least; but the _desire_ was
     still there; at times I wanted them. And seven days after I was
     saved I was convicted for sanctification or a clean heart. There
     were some Holy Ghost Christian people who told me there was a
     place I could get in the higher or complete Christian life where
     God through Jesus' blood shed without the gate (Heb. 13:12) would
     cleanse my heart from everything that was displeasing to Him, and
     would so fill it with love and the power of the Holy Ghost that I
     would be _completely delivered from all desires that were wrong_,
     from anger, malice, pride, love of the world, lust, jealousy,
     etc., and take away the appetite for beer and tobacco. I found
     God's Word taught it, and believed He was "strong to deliver,"
     and that it was God's will, even my sanctification (1 Thes. 4:3).

     And I cried to God to give me "a clean heart, and a right
     spirit," and he answered my prayer. It was done instantly. I
     arose from my knees with a sweet sense of complete deliverance,
     and such joy and perfect peace filled my whole being that I
     couldn't praise Jesus enough for it. From that moment I have not
     had the least desire for those things any more than if I never
     had tasted them, and the very smell of beer or tobacco makes me
     sick. This is a wonderful, grand deliverance. Now I am as free as
     the very air--saved, sanctified, and sweetly kept by the power of
     God.

     Brother, this is for you if you are willing to give up the
     foolishness of the world for Christ. The joy that we have in one
     hour in the service of the Lord is far greater than all the
     pleasure the world can give in a lifetime. This power of the Holy
     Ghost within us, this abiding Comforter fills us with glad
     sunshine all the time, and there is constantly a power like "a
     wall of fire round about us" warding off all evil.

     Oh, it's glorious and grows better and brighter each day.

       "Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
       Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
       Heir of salvation, purchased of God,
       Born of His spirit, washed in His blood."

        Your fellow brakesman, in Jesus' name,
                                                     M. L. ODELL.
     Cincinnati, Ohio.

                            TRANSPORTATION.

People sometimes ask me how I am able to get transportation on the
railroads. Well, in a few words, it is because I pray to the Lord to
have the way open to whatever place He wants me to go, and the
railroad men know me and of my work for suffering humanity, and are
glad to help me in it.


                           A KIND CONDUCTOR.

On July 17, 1903, I was on my way from Washington, D. C., on an
important journey, and the conductor told me the train I was on did
not stop at Sherwood, and I wanted to know where I should stop to get
another train that would stop there. He told me at Defiance, and when
we reached there I got off the train. Just then the conductor looked
out and called for a porter to "put that lady back on the train." I
was bewildered at this. He again called "put that lady back on the
train." I said, "Isn't this Defiance?" "Yes, but I shall put you off
at Sherwood." Who told that conductor to telegraph to headquarters to
get a permit to stop the train for me? God did it! That conductor will
never know how much his act strengthened my faith in God. Dear reader,
do you ever think of the hardships and dangers through which these
railroad men must pass? We put ourselves in their care without praying
for them. I seldom enter a train without praying God to protect the
railroad men and passengers, and give them His blessing. He does hear
and answer prayer. How often the dear Lord has heard my cries for the
safety of the trains!

Some of my


                MOST INTERESTING GOSPEL SERVICES

have been held on railway trains. As I was once leaving Chicago over
the C. & R. I. R. R. at night, a request was made that I should sing
for the passengers. I was conversing with Mrs. Colonel Clark of the
Pacific Garden Mission, Chicago. As she was to soon leave the train I
said I would sing when she had gone. I sang some hymns, and then a
gentleman requested that I should ask all in the car who were
Christians to raise their hands. I did so and quite a number responded
to this, and he then asked all who had raised their hands to give a
word of testimony. He was the first one to speak and said, "I am a
Christian. The last thing before I left my home for Chicago was to
gather my wife and four little children around me and commit them to
God's care and ask for my safe return. I have for years been a stock
dealer and frequently come to Chicago. There is a young man in our
neighborhood who is also a dealer in stock, but being unacquainted
with the ways of the city, he did not like to go alone and as I was a
Christian came with me. When there is an opportunity like this given,
if I did not honor God and show my colors this young man could have no
confidence in me. I speak for his special benefit." He closed with an
exhortation to the unsaved to prepare to meet God and requested me to
sing again. Then one after another arose and spoke. It reminded one of
AN OLD-FASHIONED METHODIST CLASS MEETING. Prayer, testimonies and
singing continued till after midnight. The young stock dealer and
others were saved. Toward morning I fell into a sound sleep. I do not
know how long I slept, but when I awoke the sun was high and our car
was standing alone on the track. A lady passenger spoke to me saying,
"How could you sleep during that wreck?" "What! has anything
happened?" I said. "Yes, a wreck," she replied. The engine and other
cars were gone and they were clearing up the wreck. I heard from that
meeting years afterwards.

One night a meeting was held in the open air for the special benefit
of railroad men. I asked all who wanted to be saved to raise their
hands; then said, "Will you not give your hearts to God now?" One year
from that time while in meeting a man arose and said that he was in
the crowd that night, and raised his hand, and then at once looked to
God and was saved then and there.


            TRAIN SAVED FROM WRECK IN ANSWER TO PRAYER.

The Lord has often made known to me when the train was in danger. I
could see the plots laid by wicked men to wreck the train, and when I
have prayed, He, in answer to prayer, has delivered us from harm and
death. He says: "The very hairs of your head are all numbered," and "I
will never leave thee nor forsake thee."

At one time I had been in old Mexico and changing cars at El Paso,
Texas, I found a heavy trainload of passengers on the way east. I was
impressed all night of impending peril. I could not sleep, and walked
the floor of the car in silent prayer. I went to the young sister with
me and said, "The train is in great danger, and something will happen
unless the Lord delivers us. The text comes to me so forcibly, 'What,
could ye not watch with me one hour?' Watch and pray!" That night six
train-robbers had determined to wreck and rob the train. They had
stolen six horses and gone to a lonely place uninhabited for miles
about. They bound and gagged the section foreman and his men, then
took the switch-key and threw the switch to wreck the train. When they
saw the train passing on they tried to hail it with their lanterns,
but by some mysterious power of God their lights were put out, so that
the engineer did not see them. Then they tried to board the train but
were unable to succeed. It was a most remarkable occurrence. They
either did not open the switch properly and the train set it back to
its place, or the hand of God closed the switch. The newspapers
published quite an account of this incident, from which source the
above concerning the robbers was obtained, as they were caught and
made confession.


                        A TRAIN IN DANGER.

In July, 1889, I was on my way from St. Joseph, Missouri, to St.
Louis, having with me a man and his wife. About 1 o'clock in the
morning I awoke with awful fear upon me of some impending danger. I
told my friends that we must pray for God to save the train, and that
no power but God's could avert the coming disaster, whatever it might
be. Still the horror as of death was upon me, and later in the night
the train suddenly stopped. The train men ran out with their lanterns
and found that the engine had become uncoupled from the cars and just
in front of the engine was a pile of iron. The iron rails of the track
were set so that a wreck would have been the result if God had not
interposed. God thwarted the well-laid plans that had been made to
wreck and rob the train. This was in a lonely place where no help was
near, and the robbers would have the best of chances to rob the train.
On our return west a similar terror came upon me and I said, "Pray for
this train, or something will happen to it before we reach St. Joe." I
was terrified all day. Just as the train stopped at the depot our car
was wrecked. The front wheels of the car were turned around crosswise
of the track, tearing up the planks, rails and earth. Such a queer
looking wreck, and apparently no reason for it! Yet we had been
brought in safety to our journey's end and no one was injured.


                   IMPRESSED TO LEAVE THE TRAIN.

At another time after preaching at Canon City prison in Colorado, we
had our baggage checked to Leadville in the same state. We held
meetings on the train and some were moved to tears. When the engine
whistled for Salida a dreadful feeling of fear and terror overtook me.
Something seemed to say to me, "_Get off the train_." I felt it was a
command from the Lord. I told the friends who were with me what the
words of the Lord were, and said that we must leave the train. We
hurriedly left the train without waiting for another warning. I looked
after the train as it moved away and said, "I wonder why I had to
leave that train. Perhaps not till the judgment will I know." We went
on the street and held an open air meeting, and some one invited us to
hold a service that night in a church. We did so, and God poured out
his Spirit on the people. After the meeting we went out and visited
the saloons, and spoke to many about their souls. At about 11 o'clock
at night we returned to the depot and I asked the agent what time the
next train would leave for Leadville. He said, "I don't know. The
train you got off from was terribly wrecked twelve miles up the road.
The east-bound train crashed into it, and I have sent out two wrecking
trains already." I told him of my presentiment of danger, and how God
had impressed me to leave that train. He asked me to come into the
office and explain my impressions and talk to him. We did so, and
about 3 o'clock in the morning the wrecked train backed down to the
depot where we were waiting and we again got aboard. I told the
passengers as they looked at me as I came into the car, "The Lord
warned me of the danger and impressed me to get off the train." I have
taken the Lord as my guide all these years and He has never forsaken
me.


                          A TELEGRAM RECEIVED.

Waiting for a train where I changed cars I was invited to sit in the
ticket office, as the waiting room was uncomfortable. I was writing at
the agent's desk when he handed me a telegram, saying, "I think this
is intended for you, Mother." It was an announcement of the death of
one of my brothers, and was being sent to another town, having to be
transferred here, and the agent seeing my name handed it to me. I
could see the hand of God in this.


                    HELPED TO CARE FOR WOUNDED MAN.

Once on my way from Burlington to Ft. Madison, Ia., I told the
conductor I was impressed to go on that special train. When we were
about a mile out of the city, the engine accidentally struck a man and
hurt him badly. The man was put into the baggage car and as there were
no seats, I stood behind him and held his head, and after we had gone
twelve miles, warm water was secured and I washed the blood from his
head and cared for him until we arrived at the station, when they took
him to the jail, there being no other place for him, and there I
helped the doctor dress his wounds. Then I knew why I was impressed to
go on that train.


                       CONDUCTOR'S GOD BLESS YOU.

Once the conductor on a train said to me so kindly, as he assisted me
from the train, "God bless you; let your good work go on. I gave the
tracts you gave me to the trainmen--they needed them." How this
cheered me, for I had tried to preach to them on the train, and I
feared the scoffs or reproof of the railroad officials. How I do long
to help and encourage the railroad men--they are so loyal and
faithful, and have so much to contend with in their work. "Be not
overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good."


                       A WOMAN'S FAITH ENCOURAGED.

On the way from Philadelphia to New York I was one day led to pass
quietly through the car giving out tracts. After seating myself, a
lady came and asked if she might speak with me about the work I was
doing. She said, "If I only knew God could and would heal a person
whose mind was shattered, I would give all that I possess. I am
troubled about my daughter's grieving over the death of her husband."
I told her God never fails to perform his miracles when we fully
believe and accept God's way of healing the body and soul. She seemed
much blessed and encouraged and kindly invited me to her home. "As ye
go, preach." How glad she was to find some one who would tell her
about salvation. She was a wealthy lady, as I afterward learned. We
became fast friends and she learned of healing in answer to "the
prayer of faith."


                       RIDING IN PARLOR CAR.

Leaving the Indian School in Indian Territory on one of the coldest
mornings I ever experienced, myself and sisters were driven by two
young Indian boys to a flag station. We were wrapped in warm blankets
and hurried to the railroad. We were in danger of freezing, as the
train was long delayed on account of the blizzard and snow drifts, and
we sought the only place of shelter--a freight car in which the
section foreman and his wife lived, where we shivered with the cold
until the train came in sight.

We were compelled to stop in the parlor car (a luxury that I never
indulge in) as platforms of the other cars were too icy to pass from
one car to another while the train was in motion. We were much
blessed, and I began singing, and praising the Lord. When the train
came to a station, we arose to go into the other car, but a gentleman
passenger called to the conductor and said: "How much is the fare for
these ladies to remain in this car?" He and his companion paid the
amount required and we were permitted to ride in the parlor car to
Topeka, Kansas.

My soul was so blessed that I felt I must go into the other cars and
hold services. We were invited to go to the diner with friends. When
we arrived at the station where dinner was served, one after another
of the passengers handed me some money. When we came in from dinner I
knelt down in the car, and was praying in silence, thanking God for
what He had given us, when I felt someone crush some paper in my
hands. I looked to see what it was and found it was a ten dollar bill,
given by the two gentlemen who had paid our fare in the parlor car. Of
course I was greatly surprised, and as Sister Taylor was kneeling by
my side, I said, "Sister, this must be in answer to your prayer. Did
you pray for money?" She said "Yes, I prayed for hours last night." I
said, "Why you should have been praying for souls." She answered, "I
knew you needed money, and no one was giving it to you." Thus God
hears and answers prayers and provides for the needs of his little
ones.

I give below a letter received from one of the gentlemen who gave us
the ten dollars who was a prominent business man in Pittsburg,
Pennsylvania:

                                  Pittsburg, Pa., March 25, 1899.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Tabor, Iowa.

     My Dear Madam: Your card of the 18th duly received and I was glad
     to hear from you and to have your good wishes, but was especially
     grateful for your prayers, for I believe in prayer. Do you
     realize how much a busy man needs the prayers of God's people?

     Brother M., my companion whom you met last fall in Indian
     Territory, is well and I know will be glad to hear from you. I
     will see him next week, D. V.

     If you pass through our city on your trip East, and I know of it,
     would gladly call upon you.

     With best wishes for your welfare, and Mrs. Taylor's, too, I am,

                        Very truly your friend,
                                                         T. M. N.

The following brief extract is from a report of a service on the train
as we were in company with a number of delegates on their way to the
Convocation of Prayer at Baltimore, in January, 1903:

     We left Indianapolis at 3:05 p. m., Monday. After we started
     Mother Wheaton, who was with us, started up a song, then went to
     the front of the car, and standing in the aisle she began
     preaching to the people. She moved down the aisle still
     preaching, taking about ten minutes to come through the car. This
     she did several times, then went through the dining and palace
     cars. As she told of her prison work, how God could save
     criminals, we could see tears come into the eyes of the
     passengers. A U. S. marshal sitting near us became much affected,
     and made inquiry of Brother S. B. Shaw who the woman was, and
     said he knew what she said was true, and said he desired to be
     saved. A wealthy Mexican on the train, whose wife had recently
     died while he was on a trip to Europe, was also brought under
     conviction, and would have Sister Wheaton take dinner in the
     dining car; also had Sisters Wheaton and Shaw take a berth in the
     sleeper at his expense. I must not forget to tell you that
     Brother Shaw gave us an excellent talk standing in the aisle of
     the car.


                          FAVOR THE R. R. CO.

I sometimes have an opportunity to do a kindness for the R. R. Co., in
return for the many favors they do for me. At one time I reached the
railroad station at Fort Worth, Texas, before my train arrived. While
we were waiting for a Santa Fe train, an old lady who was evidently
not in her right mind and who had been sent by friends to go alone to
other friends who lived at a distance, of her own accord tried to
climb over one train to get to another and was injured. The injury was
caused by her own mental condition and through no fault of the
railroad men.

Before she left us, I wrote a little message of love and put it into
her hand bag with my name and address on it. In a few days I received
the following letter from her attorneys.

                             Fort Worth, Tex., November 21, 1898.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Tabor, Iowa.

     Dear Madam: We conclude from a kind and sympathetic letter you
     wrote to Mrs. Harper, the old lady who fell from the platform at
     the Gulf, Colorado & Santa Fe Railway depot at Fort Worth, Tex.,
     on Friday night, the 11th day of November, that you likely saw
     the old lady fall. And perhaps you can tell us how she came to
     fall and who else saw her when she fell. Mrs. Harper has employed
     us to sue the railroad company for said injuries. She claims that
     she walked off of the platform where there were no railings and
     fell between two freight cars left standing on the track, left so
     far apart that she could see the railroad car she wanted to board
     between said opening so left. Will you please write us all you
     know about the matter, and who else saw it, if any one, and where
     such person or persons live if you know. By doing so you will
     greatly oblige,

                              Yours truly,
                                          WYNNE, MCCART & BOWLIN.

In reply I assured them that it would be utterly unjust to bring suit
against the railroad company--giving them the facts as far and as
fully as I knew them. I learned later that this ended the contemplated
suit.




                              CHAPTER XVII.

                        Street and Open Air Work.


              THE MASTER'S QUESTIONS.

    Have ye looked for my sheep in the desert,
      For those who have missed their way?
    Have ye been in the wild waste places,
      Where the lost and wandering stray?
    Have ye trodden the lonely highway,
      The foul and the darksome street?
    It may be ye'd see in the gloaming
      The print of My wounded feet.

    Have ye wept with the broken-hearted
      In their agony of woe?
    Ye might hear Me whispering beside you
      "'Tis the pathway I often go!"
    My brethren, My friends, My disciples,
      Can ye dare to follow me?
    Then, wherever the Master dwelleth,
      There shall the servant be!

Many are the shocking sights and sad experiences I have witnessed in
street and slum work. I have endured hardships and privations,
suffered arrests and ridicule, and faced many dangers. But withal, the
glorious victories have been many and precious souls have been saved:

I might give copies of many permits to hold open air services received
in the earlier years of my labors, but perhaps these would not be of
interest or profit, so I give only a few.


                   PERMIT TO PREACH ON BOSTON COMMON.

                 CITY OF BOSTON, EXECUTIVE DEPARTMENT.

     Under Chapter 42, Section 11, of the Revised Ordinances,
     permission is hereby granted to Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, to
     conduct preaching service on the Common on Sunday, October 27,
     1889, subject to the directions of the Superintendent of the
     Common, who will assign a location.

                                              THOMAS NAST, Mayor.

     October 22, 1889.

                  *       *       *       *       *

            STATE OF LOUISIANA, MAYORALTY OF NEW ORLEANS.

     City Hall, 11th day of December, 1886.

     Permission granted to Elizabeth Wheaton and Agnes Hill to preach
     the gospel at such localities within the city of New Orleans as
     they may select; provided that in so doing they are careful not
     to interfere with the private rights of individuals or those of
     corporations granted them under municipal ordinances or the
     statutes of this state. By order of the Mayor.

                                        E. L. BOWER, Chief Clerk.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                          MAYOR'S OFFICE.

                           Jacksonville, Fla., December 29, 1886.

     Permission is hereby granted E. Wheaton and associates to preach
     the gospel within the city limits at such places as they may
     select; provided the streets and sidewalks are not obstructed and
     the rights of private property are not disturbed and there is no
     violation of City ordinances or statutes of the State.

                                               P. MCQUAID, Mayor.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Galveston, Tex., Jan. 20, 1888.

     To Whom It May Concern:

     Permission is hereby granted to the bearer to hold religious
     services on the streets anywhere within the corporate limits of
     the city of Galveston, and the police authorities will lend such
     protection as is necessary to enforce order at such meetings.

                                R. L. FULTON, Mayor of Galveston.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                       Office of Chief of Police,
                                    Denver, Colo., June 23, 1888.

     To any Police Officer:

     This woman has permission from the Mayor to hold services on the
     street.

                                       M. HENNY, Chief of Police.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Sacramento, Cal., Aug. 24, 1888.

     Permission is hereby granted E. Wheaton and associates to preach
     the gospel within the city limits at such places as they may
     select, provided the streets and sidewalks are not obstructed and
     rights of private property are not disturbed, and if not in
     conflict or violation of the city ordinances.

                                        EUGENE J. GREGORY, Mayor.


                       FROM MISS JOSEPHINE COWGILL.

                  Some Years a Missionary in Jerusalem.

The following is contributed by a dear sister who has spent some years
as a missionary in Jerusalem, Palestine, and may be known to many of
our readers:

[Illustration: MISS JOSEPHINE COWGILL.]

     Many years ago, while engaged in missionary work in the city of
     New Orleans, La., I was one evening attracted by a large
     gathering of people. In the midst was a woman kneeling on the
     ground engaged in most earnest prayer. Many in the company were
     of the worst class of people, yet they were quietly listening and
     looking on with amazement. We were not accustomed to any one
     praying on the streets in that manner. This was the first time I
     had the privilege of meeting dear Sister E. R. Wheaton. I can
     never forget the impressions made upon myself and others by her
     prayers, exhortations and songs that evening. Standing near me in
     that company was a woman who had charge of one of the worst
     houses of prostitution in the city. Trembling and weeping she
     said to me "I never heard anything like that before. That woman
     makes me feel that I am an awful sinner, and yet she loves me."
     That poor woman went to her house, sent for a Bible and read it
     and spent the night in bitter repenting for her sins. She was
     gloriously converted and then called her household together and
     told them her experience and how the Lord had pardoned her sins
     and made her happy in His love. She then exhorted them to
     commence a new life; but if they would not, then they must leave
     her house.

     While in New Orleans, Sister Wheaton and those in company with
     her were busily and successfully engaged in mission work among
     prisoners and others of the worst class. Some years afterward she
     again visited that city and the Lord greatly blessed her work.
     One night, on a store-box in front of a saloon, she preached to a
     large crowd. The saloonkeeper became very uneasy and called a
     policeman to "take her away." He came, but found it quite hard
     work to get her down and to another place. The people wanted to
     hear her. She sang a song, the chorus of which was, in part:

       "If to Jesus you are true,
       There's a glory waits for you,
           In the beautiful, the glad forever."

     Then with clasped hands she stood quietly gazing upward, with
     tears rolling down her cheeks. Then with much feeling she said:
     "I am homesick for heaven." I can never forget how those words
     impressed me and others at that time.

     Some years after I again met Sister Wheaton in Los Angeles,
     California, where her work was like it had been in New Orleans.
     At one time, when she had kindly offered me the privilege of
     going with her to some other points, I made inquiry about how I
     should take my trunk. She replied: "Sister Josephine, pilgrims
     for God do not need a trunk. One valise is enough." Many times I
     have thought of that reply and the good it did me. I have never
     known of a more earnest and self-sacrificing Christian worker
     than Sister Wheaton. The results of her labors as she has gone
     forth "weeping and bearing precious seeds," cannot be fully
     known until with rejoicing she comes "bringing sheaves with her."
     In loving remembrance of her, I am,

     Yours in His blessed service.

                                               JOSEPHINE COWGILL.

     Haifo, Palestine.


                        MY FIRST STREET MEETING.

My first street meeting was in Washington, D. C., near the old
postoffice. I had spent the day in the jail, alms-house and hospitals.
I was then a stranger in the city. Some one asked me to go to a hall
where there was a little mission. We did so, and found they had gone
to the open air meeting. When we arrived the meeting was in progress,
one after another stepping out to testify or sing. No opportunity was
offered me to take any part in the meeting, as no woman was allowed to
testify. I looked to God in silent prayer to open some way for me to
speak to the people. At the close of their service I spoke, saying,
"The Lord has sent me with a message for you dear people, and now the
friends have closed their meeting and we will not detain them, as they
doubtless have other engagements." I began to sing and God filled my
soul with glory. The needs of those poor hungry souls rose before me,
as I sang and prayed, and the message of love came welling up in my
soul. I spoke to them of righteousness, the coming Judgment and
eternity. I had held meetings in many of the principal cities of
America, some in Europe and other countries. But that night God
anointed me for street preaching and for work in slums, dives and
saloons.

Closing the meeting, I thought of being alone on the street at night
with scarcely any money and not knowing my way back to my lodging
place. I said, "Oh, Lord, you know all about it." Walking along I came
to the mission and stepping in I took a seat near the door. While I
sat praying, a brother rose and told the circumstances of the street
meeting I had held, and that one of the worst men in the city had been
converted through its instrumentality. The man had told the brother
that God had saved him and he was going home to write eight letters to
his people, some of them in this and some in the old country, to tell
them what great things God had done for him. God knew I was there and
sent the message to encourage me. After the service in the hall had
closed a young lady who proved to be the daughter of the landlady
where I had been staying, came to me and walked to her home with me. I
could not have found my way alone, not having their number, but God
cared for me.

Some extracts are given from reports of the work which were published
at different points during the first few years of my labors:


                          CONVERTED TO CHRIST.

           THE CASE OF THE UNFORTUNATE WOMAN--CARD FROM MR. M.

     Editor Hawk-Eye: Last evening at about seven o'clock Mrs.
     Wheaton, the prison evangelist, and another lady of the
     evangelists and myself held a meeting on the levee. Mrs. Wheaton,
     who spoke on the future consequence of sin with unusual
     earnestness, had the effect of breaking down Mrs. A. into tears.
     Mrs. Wheaton went up to her and spoke to her. In a few moments
     the unfortunate woman broke into ecstasies of joy and commenced
     to leap around in a circle. For ten minutes she kept up praising
     God and leaping, when suddenly she leaped through the great crowd
     around, some now being horrified, who, like many poor,
     unfortunate people, never saw a sudden conversion. She ran up
     Jefferson street, where she was arrested and locked up.

     Had the woman been rich or popular she would have been kindly
     treated, but being one of the unfortunate women of our city she
     was locked up in an unclean, old filthy cell, with a bunk for a
     bed. The police were informed that the woman was converted and a
     lady offered to take her home last night. But they kept her in
     that terrible cell with inmates in adjoining cells using obscene
     language. It is a sin and disgrace for the city fathers to
     continue to have women locked up with men in the same line of
     cells with such a horrifying stench and wooden bunks. The city
     police are guilty of an outrageous act in confining the woman in
     such a cell, when they ought to have given her better quarters,
     as they had the opportunity. This morning she was brought out
     before the police court; the woman still testified that she had
     salvation before that court and crowd of people. But good came
     out of it all as she witnessed a grand confession to the police
     court and people who never heard the gospel. She was, by the
     consent of Captain S., taken to Mrs. H.'s and is doing well and
     is converted. Last evening's _Gazette_ stated that the woman went
     crazy by attending the street meetings and would be examined
     before the board of commissioners of insanity, which is every
     word of it untrue. The woman is sane and was not before any
     board.

            A. H. MERTZ, in Burlington _Hawk-Eye_, Jan. 19, 1887.


                       A WONDERFUL CONVERSION.

In San Francisco a drunken girl came to my meeting on the street so
desperate and dangerous that even the police at times seemed afraid of
her. She seemed to be a veritable Magdalene. I was impressed with the
words, "Down in the human heart, crushed by the tempter, feelings lie
buried that grace can restore." How could it be done? I dealt
faithfully with her and went away, returning to the city ten months
later. She came again to my meetings, once very drunk as she usually
was. I talked to her about her need of salvation and she was finally
convicted. She waited at the close of the meeting to speak with me,
but at first would not yield to God. Finally she sobered up and was
wonderfully converted. I took her to my room and cared for her, and as
she was a desperate character, and liable to do injury both to life
and property, the Rescue Home at San Francisco refused to take her,
so I took all the risks myself and took her to Helena, Montana, and
left her at the Rescue Home at that place.

The following is an account of work in Seattle soon after this as
reported by a paper of that city:


                      THE PRISON EVANGELIST.

    MRS. ELIZABETH R. WHEATON CARRYING FORWARD HER MISSION
                            IN SEATTLE.

     About three o'clock yesterday afternoon two women, one quite
     elderly and the other about 25 years of age, whose dress and
     demeanor bespoke them to be missionaries, walked into the
     sheriff's office and asked Jailer Leckie if they might hold a
     short religious service in the county jail. The urbane jailor
     replied that he thought "a little prayin' wouldn't do them coves
     any harm," but they were eating and couldn't be interrupted for
     ten or fifteen minutes.

     "Then we'll wait," said Mrs. Wheaton, laying her black shawl
     aside and taking a seat, in which she was followed by her sister
     evangelist.

     "Perhaps you would like to know who we are," said the elder of
     the two women to a reporter who happened to be present. "Here is
     my card," and she handed over a small piece of pasteboard on
     which was printed with a rubber stamp, "Elizabeth R. Wheaton,
     Prison Evangelist. Jesus is Coming Soon; Prepare to Meet Thy
     God."

     "That will tell who I am," continued the evangelist....
     "Criminals and fallen women are the ones I try to reach. I would
     rather try to save a murderer or fallen woman than your smooth,
     respectable hypocrites, every time. Mary and I have just come
     through from san Francisco." * * *

     At this moment Jailer Leckie announced that the prisoners were
     through eating, and the two women went below to pray with them.
     The younger woman held back, saying that she was afraid some of
     her old associates might be there, but she was urged on by her
     protector and a few minutes later the words of "Nearer My God to
     Thee," from two female voices, came floating through the prison
     bars. The prisoners gave them respectful hearing, and one or two
     seemed to be affected by the earnest words of counsel that fell
     from the lips of the evangelist. Later in the evening they held
     street services for the benefit of the workingmen near the Armory
     and relief tents.


                           BECAME A PREACHER.

One of the worst women I ever knew was converted in the spring of 1885
on the streets of Kansas City, Mo., where I was holding meetings. She
came to the meeting to abuse and ridicule me. She heard my voice, she
said, two blocks away, and became convicted. She came to where I was
standing on a box preaching. I asked if there was any one there who
would seek God and live a Christian life. I said if there was one
such, let them come and kneel with me by the box and I would pray for
them. She knelt there and cried mightily to God for mercy. But she
went away unsaved and prayed and wept day and night. She could neither
eat nor sleep. She saw herself a lost sinner. Her father had been a
minister of the Gospel, but had died when she was very young. She had
drifted to this wicked city in search of work, and you may know the
rest. For it is but the story of many a poor orphan girl in her
struggle for bread. She fell as thousands fall with none to pity or
care. She was driven from one sin to another, until at last disgraced
and filled with shame, she had tried twelve times to take her own
life. Thus I found her a miserable woman. She came again to the
meeting, this time alone, and was gloriously saved, and is still saved
so far as I know. She became a successful preacher of righteousness,
for she knew how to reach such as she had been. She became a terror to
evil doers, brave in danger, and hopeful before discouraging
obstacles. She has since told me she has saved many young girls' lives
and characters by taking them in and giving them food and shelter
when every other door except brothels and saloons was closed against
them. Bless God for the homes open to shelter and protect the
unfortunate girls.


                        THE BLIND ENCOURAGED.

One day while traveling in Montana, I went into a smoking car to hold
a little Gospel meeting, singing and distributing tracts, when I found
a blind lady there who seemed to be alone and neglected. I spoke to
her kindly about her soul and invited her to go with me into the other
car. I said, "I am always glad to do anything I can to help a blind
person. My grandmother was blind several years before her death." She
accepted it all gratefully and seemed very sorry to part from me when
we changed cars. I exhorted her to a life of Christian service and to
meet me in Heaven.

I never expected to meet her again, but some two years later I was
holding an open air meeting in California and a lady said, "Would you
allow me to testify?" and I said, "Certainly, if you are a Christian.
Would be glad to have you." When she began to speak she said: "This
lady don't know me, but I know her. We met once. Although I have never
seen her, as I am deprived of sight, yet I know her. I met with her on
the train one day," and she related the foregoing facts, stating that
my kindness had won her heart and she had never forgotten my advice,
and was now living a Christian life.


                  FORBIDDEN TO PREACH ON THE STREET.

One night when I attempted to hold a street meeting in F----,
California--where I had been holding services for a few nights--the
marshal said he had forbidden me to preach and sing on the streets. A
gentleman looked up the law books and returned saying that it was not
contrary to the laws of that city at that time to hold a gospel
meeting on the street and that I could proceed, but the marshal came
and forbade me, very unkindly and impolitely. At this crisis a
gentleman came up and said that a saloon keeper down the street
requested me to come and hold a meeting in front of his place. I said:
"A gentleman has requested that we come and hold a meeting in front of
his business place. We will go there, please," but the marshal in a
very ungentlemanly way said I was not to hold a meeting on the street
any place in that city.

I said we would go to a hall which had been opened for gospel
services. It was several blocks away and only a few of the immense
crowd would walk that distance. When I reached the place I sat down
behind the door and cried and thought, what shall I do? I was sure the
Lord wanted me to hold a meeting on the street. The blind lady
mentioned in the previous incident was in the congregation and began
to sing, "He is able to deliver thee," and I soon had the victory. The
same sister had attempted to sing on the street, as this was her only
means of supporting her old mother and sickly husband, and the marshal
came along and without any warning pushed her off the street. A couple
of strange gentlemen came and kindly led her to a place of safety. I
heard soon after this that this man became suddenly insane and it took
two men to hold him and take him to the jail and from there to the
insane asylum.


                    THOUGHT THEY SAW A GHOST.

Once, in a city, another lady and myself were walking along a very
lonesome street late at night. When passing a large dark building she
remarked that it was a very dangerous gambling den. My heart burned
within me. I was seized with an impulse to go in that place of
iniquity and warn those men of their souls' danger. No sooner thought
than done! I was soon in the room which proved to be vacant, but I
could see light through the cracks of a closed door leading into the
next room. I passed quietly across the room and opened the door and
stood confronting a number of rough looking men who were seated at a
long gambling table. Without a word I crossed the room with noiseless
footsteps and dropping my Bible on the table and falling on my knees
before them began to cry to God in their behalf. The men seemed to
take an unexpected view of the situation, and rising simultaneously to
their feet, they rushed wildly from the room upsetting their chairs in
their haste, and I was left alone. The next day the report went out
that a ghost had been seen there the night before, and some of the men
vowed they would never touch a pack of cards again as long as they
lived--that money could not hire them to do it. Truly "The wicked flee
when no man pursueth."


                         HURT BY A SALOONKEEPER.

While I was at Springfield, Ill., I was led one Sabbath to go to the
park to hold a gospel meeting, taking two sisters with me. We had a
good meeting, and returning to the city I asked the street car
conductor if there was another park where I could hold services. He
directed me to a place in another suburb. We went there, and in a
grove I saw some tables and men and women sitting at them, drinking. I
began to sing a hymn, thinking we were in a public park, when a man
rushed out of a house toward me, saying, "You shan't sing here." I
said, "Please let me finish this verse." He replied, "No, I won't
allow any one to sing here." I knelt in prayer. He did not say I
should not pray. The sisters were looking at him, and said he hurried
toward me in great anger. The sisters prayed to God to spare me. The
man jerked me and pushed me over, when some of the men at the tables
called out to him, "Let go of that woman. You don't know who she is.
We know her." The men in the meantime running to us, laid hold on the
saloonkeeper and took him away. I was very much hurt. I could not walk
alone. The park proved to be a beer garden. We went to the nearest
house and asked permission to rest till I should gain strength to
return to the city. The people where we stopped were very indignant,
and said the man had no license to sell liquor on Sunday, and was
violating the city ordinance. There were no arrests. The whisky men
must have their own way in this land of American liberty. They can
ruin lives, break up homes, blight the prospects of the best people on
earth and fill the prisons, almshouses, criminal insane asylums,
brothels, graves of paupers, and doom souls by the multitude, and who
cares? Who votes to put down the saloons? Who tries to save mothers'
girls as well as mothers' boys, husbands and wives? Even the parents
are overtaken by the demon of strong drink and sink into the most
depraved conditions in order to satisfy their craving for alcohol. O,
the awfulness of it all! Sisters, brothers, are you and I clear? Are
we doing our best to stop this horrible traffic in whisky and girls,
for one of these places can scarcely exist without the other. How many
girls and boys are sacrificed yearly to fill the saloonkeepers'
coffers and fill up hell? Think of these things.


                       WARNED TO LEAVE THE CITY.

Upon entering a town in Mississippi I inquired of a woman if she could
direct me to a hotel, and she told me her sister and her husband kept
one and I would be made comfortable with them.

We went to the hotel and left our luggage and went at once to hold an
open air meeting. The singing attracted a considerable crowd, and at
the close of the service many came to shake hands with me and thank me
for the meeting, among whom were a number of colored people, who
thanked the Lord in their characteristic way and asked me to preach
again which I agreed to do that night.

As we turned our steps toward our hotel, we noticed a colored man
walking a short distance ahead of us who, when we were out of hearing
of the crowd, turned and said to us: "You women don't intend to hold
another meeting on the street to-night?" and I said, "Certainly, I
shall obey God." He said, "You have shaken hands with the colored
people and the white people are angry, and they will mob you. I came
along here for the purpose of warning you. If they saw me talking with
you my life would be in danger." I told him I was not afraid, thanked
him and told him I would do as the Lord led.

On reaching our hotel the landlord asked if I intended to hold another
meeting on the street that night, and I told him I did. He said that
the townspeople had forbidden me to hold another service and that I
would have to leave his hotel at once, because I had shaken hands with
the colored people. We told him we had made the appointment and we
should keep our word. He went to his wife and told her to go and tell
those women to leave the house and take the train, as we had
associated with the colored people and the white people would not
allow us to remain in town. She replied that we had paid our money and
our money was as good as anybody's, and that we were respectable,
honest women and she was going to treat us as such.

When we went down the street we heard a noise as of a mob, and we went
praying the Lord to show us what to do, and He showed us our life was
in danger and to step one side into the colored people's church where
God's presence was revealed in mighty power and souls were convicted
and converted.

In the morning two colored women called upon me, saying they had come
to warn me and assist me to the train. One of them said that two
nights before she had a terrible dream about a woman coming to preach
on the streets and was so impressed that she sent her husband four
miles to see if there was anything in it. This was the man that warned
us that night. When he went home and told her what he had seen and
heard, she dreamed again and the Lord told her to come and help us out
of town, as the people would take my life. They carried our luggage
and showed us to the train and got us safely on board, and with a "God
bless you, Honey, we's prayin' for you," they were gone, and we went
on our way with thankful hearts for our Lord's protecting care.


                              IN JAIL.

I have several times been arrested for holding services in the open
air, but have been taken to prison but twice--once in Glasgow,
Scotland, as related elsewhere, and once in Belleville, Illinois.

In 1889, Sister Anna Kinne wrote me from Belleville that they were
holding meetings at that place, but had seen but little stir, that it
seemed to be a hard field, and that she believed the Lord wanted me to
come and help them in the meetings. I was, at the time, in
Mississippi, but after praying over the matter I felt that I should
go to Belleville in answer to her request.

The first Sabbath after reaching there I tried to hold services in the
open air, but was stopped by policemen. I tried again with the same
results. Then I went to the mayor, but was refused permission to hold
any such meetings. When I asked him if he would take the
responsibility on the day of judgment, he said, "Yes." I then went to
the jail and held services, and the sheriff kindly inquired about my
work and showed considerable interest, and took down some notes. I
then asked him for permission to hold meetings on the court house
steps. This was readily granted, and I took Sister Kinne with me. The
marshal of the town had bitterly opposed my work, and while we were
singing he very rudely and unceremoniously came and took me by the arm
and dragged me down from the steps.

I told him that the sheriff had given me permission to hold services,
but he was very angry and refused to let me go on.

I said to those who had gathered, "We will have no open air meeting,
but come to Buchanan Hall to-night, and we will have a meeting there."

I think it was the following night that I was impressed just before
the opening of our services, to sing a hymn, standing in the mission
door. I spoke to Sister Kinne of this and she said, "God bless you,
Sister Wheaton, I will pray for you."

I went quietly down to the door and was standing there singing an
old-time hymn, when out of the darkness there came two policemen.
Without saying a word they took hold of me and dragged me along the
street. I had no bonnet on, and my shawl was dragging along in the
mud. I said, "Please let me get my shawl, and will you please let me
ask one of the ladies at the mission to go with me?" But they refused
and seemed glad to think that I was being disgraced. As I met two or
three Christian people, one of them spoke kindly to me and I replied
that I was suffering for Jesus' sake. "You seem to be well acquainted
with the men," one of the policemen said. "No," I said, "only with a
few Christians."

When we arrived at police headquarters they gave in the report that I
was on the street holding a meeting and was having a row, etc., which
was, of course, utterly false.

I was, of course, surprised at the treatment I was receiving. I opened
my Bible, which I still held, and began reading in silence. The
officer said, "Are you making all of this ado and trouble?" I replied,
"I was standing in our mission door singing." He said, "Will you give
bail for your good behavior?" I said, "I have no money for bail." Then
he asked me if I had no friends. I told him I was a stranger in the
city. "Then," he said, "I will have to send you to jail, or what will
you do?" I said I did not know. He then told another policeman to take
me to the jail across the square, and only a few blocks away. This
policeman said to some boys who were standing outside, "You boys stay
here, we do not want a mob." But the marshal said, "Go along boys. She
wants notoriety--give it to her." And so I went to the jail with a mob
crying after me.

Arriving at the jail the kind jailor was shocked to see me in the
officer's charge, and said, "You are not a prisoner?" I said, "Yes, I
was singing in our mission door, but they arrested me." His wife came
in and kindly said, "Come into the parlor, and I will make ready for
you the spare bedroom." I was, of course, surprised and deeply
touched. "No, indeed," I said, "I am a prisoner. Take me into the
cell with the other women." Her little daughter came in and knelt down
by my side and kissed my hand, saying how very sorry she was for me.
It was on a Christmas eve, and the child was going to the Christmas
tree.

Soon the sheriff came in in a hurry and said, "You are a free woman!"
He, finding I had been arrested, had notified friends who had given
bail and secured my release. Not understanding the sheriff, I said,
"No, I am here in disgrace, and I want you to put me in the woman's
cell." But he insisted that I was free. Then I said, "They have put me
here in disgrace, and I want some one to come and take me to our
mission, as it is dark." They then sent for someone to come for me,
and such a shout as went up when I again entered the mission hall. One
good old Christian friend said, "I told you that if she was a woman of
God, and I knew she was, she would return to the hall before the
meeting was over."

It seems that a reporter who was at the police station at the time of
my arrest and heard the abuse of the officers had hurried to the
sheriff's office, and he, as I have said, had secured my release.

We give here a verbatim copy of the paper signed by friends, the
original of which I still have in my possession. Somehow the case was
dismissed, and I was never brought to trial:


                    VERBATIM COPY OF A RECOGNIZANCE.

                           (12th, 24th, 1899.)

     State of Illinois, St. Clair County, ss.

     This day personaly appeared before the undersigned, William
     Bornmann, one of the Justices of the Peace in and for said
     County, Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, James West and Wm. Meyer, and jointly
     and severally acknowledged themselves to owe and be indebted unto
     the People of the State of Illinois, in the sum of Twenty-five
     Dollars, to be levied on their goods and chattels, lands and
     tenements, if default be made in the premises and conditions
     below, to-wit:

     Whereas, The above bounden, Elizabeth R. Wheaton, was, on the
     24th day of December, A. D. 1889, arrested for violation of the
     city ordinance, was adjudged and required by said Justice of the
     Peace to give bonds, as required by the statute in such cases,
     made and provided, for her appearance to answer to said charge.
     Now the conditions of this recognizance is such that if the above
     bounden, Elizabeth R. Wheaton, shall personally appear and be
     before me, in Belleville, on the 27th day of December, A. D.
     1889, at 9 a. m., and from day to day, and from term to term, and
     from day to day of each term hereafter, until discharged by order
     of said Court, then and there to answer to the said People of the
     State of Illinois on said charge of violation of the city
     ordinance and then and there answer and abide the order and
     judgment of said Court, and thence not depart the same without
     lawful permission, then and in that case this recognizance is to
     become void; otherwise to be and remain in full force and virtue.

     As witness our hands and seals, this 24th day of December, A. D.
     1889.

     Taken, entered into, acknowledged and approved before me, this
     24th day of December, 1899.

                                              WM. BORNMANN, J. P.
     Wilhelm Meyer, [L. S.]
     Jas. A. West, [L. S.]

This occurrence caused a great deal of excitement at the time. Some
time after I met one of the editors of one of the principal papers of
the town, and he stated that a serious calamity had overtaken all
those who were active in the opposing and persecuting me, and
mentioned some who had died and others upon whom God's judgments
seemed to have fallen.

The following was taken from a paper published at Belleville:

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, a well known prison evangelist who has
     labored in nearly all of the principal prisons of the United
     States, was arrested Tuesday evening by Policemen S. and S.,
     while she was engaged in conducting a song service, standing in
     the door at the entrance to Buchanan Hall, where a series of
     meetings are being held by two other evangelists, Mr. and Mrs. S.
     D. Kinne. The officers, on arriving on the scene, ordered Mrs.
     Wheaton to stop singing, but as she paid no attention to their
     command, she was at once arrested and hurried off to the police
     station, where she was questioned by the captain of police and
     the city marshal, and a little later she was removed to the
     county jail, but through the courtesy of the jailor she was not
     locked up in a cell. A complaint of disturbing the peace was made
     against her before Justice B., and a hearing was fixed for
     tomorrow before him, and a bond for her appearance was duly
     executed; but while these formal proceedings were being attended
     to Sheriff R., having heard of Mrs. Wheaton's incarceration in
     the county jail, repaired to the institution, immediately ordered
     her release, as there was no authority for holding her there, and
     when the officer from Justice B.'s court arrived with the bail
     bond for Mrs. Wheaton's signature, he was chagrined to find that
     the lady had been released by order of the sheriff. No further
     attempt was made to arrest her, and it is probable that the
     matter will be dropped. Mrs. Wheaton is an elderly lady and is
     deeply devoted to Christian work, especially among the
     unfortunates confined in jails and prisons, and she has a large
     number of testimonials as to her character and work from prison
     officials, railway managers and others in all parts of the
     country. Many prominent citizens expressed themselves yesterday
     as deeply regretting the action of the officers in arresting Mrs.
     Wheaton. The same lady, by written permission of Sheriff R.,
     attempted to hold religious services from the court house steps
     on Sunday evening last, but she was forced to desist by the city
     marshal. Mrs. Wheaton applied to Mayor B. recently for permission
     to hold open-air religious meetings on the streets, but was
     denied the privilege on the ground that considerable disorder had
     been occasioned some months ago by the holding of such meetings
     by members of the Salvation Army, who held forth in Belleville
     for a time. The action of the mayor in refusing to allow the
     evangelist to hold open-air meetings, and the arrest of Mrs.
     Wheaton while engaged in conducting a song service in the door
     of Buchanan Hall, where the revival services are held, is
     causing a great deal of severe criticism, owing to the toleration
     of the parading of the principal streets by brass bands on
     Sundays, as well as other days, to draw audiences for minstrel
     shows, etc., the gathering of crowds on the public square by
     street fakirs, patent medicine peddlers, quack doctors and
     others, who deal out rough jokes, etc., in tones loud enough to
     be heard blocks away.

     Belleville, Dec. 26, 1888.




                            CHAPTER XVIII.

                             Rescue Work.


      A Mother's Plea for Her Fallen Daughter.

    So tenderly reared in the pure country air,
      So innocent, gracious and true,
    A sweet loving daughter, so gentle and fair.
      Of the great wicked world naught she knew,
    She roamed on the hillside and plucked the sweet flowers,
      Nor far from my sight did she stray,
      Till a shy cunning charmer invaded her bowers,
      And stole my loved treasure away.

    With words fair and lovely he won her young heart,
    Then wooed her far from the home nest,
    Then hastily pressed to the city's great mart,
      My darling he tore from my breast;
    So simple, confiding, ne'er dreaming of harm.
      She laid her young life at his feet,
    And the foul, venomed viper pierced her heart with a thorn,
      And left her to die in the street.

    All wounded and bleeding and covered with shame,
      And knowing not wither to go,
    In the haunts of the vilest she cringed her away,
      To hide her disgrace and her woe;
    Could I know she had gone from this cold, cruel world,
      My grief would be easy to bear,
    But to satiate vile passions her life-blood is sold,
      And my broken heart pleads in my prayer.

    Oh, bring back my darling, a poor bruised thing,
      The victim of Satan's deceit,
    O tell her I love her, though cursed by the fiend
      That crushed her to hell 'neath his feet.
    O pity my daughter, my poor fallen one,
      Ye who have daughters so fair,
    And shield not the monster who spoiled my loved one
      And drove my poor heart to despair.

    Chicago, Ill.

                                            --MARY WEEMS CHAPMAN.

For some years I have been quite intimately associated with friends
who have, perhaps, the largest Rescue Home in the world. I am told
that they have taken in more girls than any other Home of the kind.
Over 1,250 girls have there been confined and never have they lost
one of these young mothers by death. But, oh, it is a sad sight to see
them, day after day carrying their load of sorrow in their hearts.
Often when I am there, as I manifest toward them my love and sympathy,
they tell me their story of woe sad as was the cry of Eve when
banished from the presence of God. She yielded to Satan's devices
because she believed the voice of Satan rather than the voice of God.
She became an outcast--and so our sisters are still being deceived by
the devil in human form and become outcasts from all that is good.
Some of them have been won by a mess of pottage, a mere bauble or a
gewgaw. Others have the promise of love--that which every human heart
craves. These believe, trust, yield and are ruined and some of them
are so young! so ignorant! Then there are some who have been basely
betrayed or brutally forced and then left to bear alone their shame
and disgrace--for, alas! the "traffic in girls" is not an imaginary
thing, but an awful reality.

O that the good people of our fair land would awaken and see that
justice is done in behalf of the helpless and innocent! Prevention is
better than cure. Let us guard the children and put down every
influence that would tend to demoralize either our boys or girls! But
in the meantime, let us do all within our power to lift up the fallen
and win back those who have gone astray and share the burden and
sorrow of those who suffer through no fault of their own.

Those who have been daring in sin often make the most gifted,
consecrated and valiant workers for God and souls when truly and fully
saved. I bless the Lord for the privilege of seeking and finding some
of these "diamonds in the rough." I have known many Christian workers
who had once been criminals or fallen, but who had been rescued by
some one who had a knowledge of human nature and a heart filled with
the love of God who told them of the love of Christ and His wonderful
power to save. O when we all meet in the great Hereafter what a time
of rejoicing there will be among the rescuers and the rescued.


                        DRUNKEN WOMEN AND MEN.

I find hundreds of men and women, many young women, in drunkenness and
crime, and the most open daring sins. In one of the largest drinking
dens in the world I asked the proprietor if I might sing a hymn, and
he gave his consent. I was obliged to go down stairs and through many
rooms and hallways and then up a dark stairway to the platform where
the orchestra was playing. When they ceased I sang a hymn which
touched their hearts and they cheered the singing. I offered a prayer
and they all seemed to appreciate it. There were hundreds of _men_
only, drinking, miners and others. Then I went where there were both
men and women drinking, and sang and prayed with them. At near
midnight, while I was engaged in prayer, one of the poor, unfortunate
girls clasped my hand and put a piece of silver in it, and stood
holding my hand till I rose. She cried and spoke of her desire to be
good. She was reminded of her old home and her mother. The proprietor
then told me I must leave, as he found he would lose her from his den.
He said he was once a Christian himself, and on coming west, saw the
money to be made in that kind of business, and fell, and went deep in
sin, leading others down with himself.


                         ASSAULTED IN A DIVE.

While in San Pedro, California, I went, one night, into a saloon to
invite the men to a gospel meeting at the mission on the same block,
and the keeper sprang up from his gambling table, where he was engaged
with several others in a game of some kind, and rushing towards me,
violently grabbed me by the arms, and then with both hands clutching
me, rushed me to the door, using vile and insulting epithets to me as
he went. At the door a lady said, "This is a public house; you dare
not throw people out who have done you no harm." He finally released
his Satanic grasp upon me. I had only spoken a few kindly words to two
young men standing at the bar in the act of raising their glasses to
their lips. I had just said, "Don't drink it, boys, please don't,"
when the assault was made. As the saloonist rushed at me, I said,
"Don't touch me, please; I will go out." But he seemed fiendishly
happy in injuring and insulting a helpless old woman, who only wished
to do them all good, and see them saved in Heaven at last. The only
excuse he ever made was that he thought I was Carrie Nation.
Commenting on this occurrence, a Los Angeles paper contained the
following item:

     San Pedro, March 29.--"Mother" Wheaton, a well known prison
     evangelist, was roughly assaulted by John Wilkins, a Front street
     saloonkeeper, shortly after seven o'clock last evening. Mrs.
     Wheaton was preaching to a large gathering in front of Wilkins'
     joint, and hearing loud cursing within, the aged reformer
     entered, intending to invite the blasphemers to Peniel Mission,
     where services are held every evening. She had scarcely passed
     inside the doors of the dive, when Wilkins rushed forward, seized
     her and thrust her backward. At the same time he applied vile
     epithets to her, shouting angrily: "Get out of here, woman, and
     be quick about it!"

     So badly was Mrs. Wheaton injured that she was unable to return
     to the mission without assistance. She is confined to her bed and
     is suffering severe pains from the shock.

     Wilkins explained today that he mistook Mrs. Wheaton for Carrie
     Nation, whom the former resembles. No arrests have been made.

In a city where I had been preaching the Gospel, a messenger came
stating that a young girl had cut her throat. It was an extremely hot
day and I had to walk a long distance across the city. Arriving at the
house they told me that no one was allowed to go in. But I went right
in and everybody stood back. Kneeling down by the poor girl I took her
hand already growing cold in death. Poor child! Like thousands of
others, she had been disappointed in life. The one who had plighted
his troth had broken her heart, and rather than bear her shame she
preferred death. Then and there I had the privilege of pointing this
beautiful girl to Christ who said, "Neither do I condemn thee. Go and
sin no more," and He who never turns anyone away heard and answered
prayer.

One day I held a meeting in the Crittenden Home for Fallen Girls, in
Washington. They all seemed so glad to hear me. (There were thirty
girls.) They were deeply moved. After the meeting closed I took each
by the hand and exhorted them to live pure and holy lives. And with
tears in their eyes they promised to try and serve the Lord. One dear
little girl in a short dress (fourteen years old), clung to me crying,
and said Jesus had saved her just then, in the meeting, and she would
be a good girl and live for Heaven. I clasped her to my heart and
thought what Jesus said about him who offends "one of these little
ones." Some heartless wretch had ruined the girl and left her to die
alone. "Vengeance is _mine_, _I_ will repay, saith the Lord."


                            A GIRL SAVED.

Trying to rescue a girl in a low dive in New York city in 1890, as I
entered the den the keeper, a large, strong man, sprang up and struck
me a blow. The girl caught his arm and cried out, "Don't strike her,
she is a lady." But he thrust me out, and I said to her, "Fly for your
life--out at the back door." I ran around the saloon and caught her
away from an angry mob and with the help of the sisters with me,
almost carried her six blocks to the Crittenden Home, and there she
was reformed and converted.


                     A GIRL REJECTED AT RESCUE HOME.

In Ft. Worth, Texas, I once found in the jail a poor girl who was a
very desperate character. She had been at the Rescue Home several
times, and she was so very wicked that they refused to have her there
again. They said it was of no use trying to reclaim her. I well
remember the night that the Lord sent me to the jail to hold a
meeting. The service was held after dark, as the prisoners were
compelled to work during the day. I was intensely grieved and very
much burdened over the case of this poor girl. So intelligent, yet so
sinful! In my grief, I fell upon the floor weeping over her lost
condition.

A sister who was with me, and on her way then to India, prayed for me
as well as for the poor prisoners, and the lost girl. The meeting
closed, and the next day we left the city, the sister going west,
while I started north.

After we left Ft. Worth, my heart was still sad and greatly pained for
the poor lost girl I had seen in the jail and I wrote to the
superintendent of the Rescue Home and pleaded with her to try her just
once more--not only for my sake, but for the sake of Jesus. She did
so, and the result was that the girl was saved and began a life of
virtue and usefulness.

A year or so later, I was again at Ft. Worth, and was holding
services in the Girls' Rescue Home. As they assembled for the meeting
I shook hands with each of them. I said of one of the girls to the
matron, "This girl looks like a good Christian--who is she?" The girl
herself replied, "Don't you know me, mother?" I said, "No." Then she
answered, "I am the girl you rescued from the prison;" and the matron
said that she was the best girl in the home. I went back after another
year, and she was the matron's assistant. Still later the
superintendent told me that she was a deaconess in New York, and was
doing a great work. This same lady told me how she had shortly before
come across my letter in which I begged her mother-in-law, who was the
former superintendent, to help the girl and give her just one more
chance! Oh, how wonderfully God had answered my prayers and the
yearning of my heart that night when the burden of her soul rested so
heavily upon me!


                       ROBBED BY HER OWN BROTHER.

A lovely girl was once drugged by her deceiver and left to bear her
shame alone. She was led to a rescue home where she was cared for.
Sometime after the birth of her child, which she dearly loved, her
father died, and left her $1,000. She was induced by her brother to
come to the city where he was living, and give him the money, which he
and his wife used recklessly. They then moved, leaving the poor girl
sitting on the steps without money enough even to buy milk for her
babe. The poor girl was almost distracted with grief. I found her a
temporary home with Christian people and a little later secured
transportation for her to a rescue home in another city where she
could be kindly provided for.

In that hour of despair, when I found her, she was almost ready to
yield to the enemy of her soul, through temptation of the same wretch
who had first effected her ruin. She could go hungry herself, she
said, but she could not see her babe suffer for want of food.

Sisters, let us try by all possible means to befriend our own sex and
help all who are thrown in our way, heavenward.


                     NEGLECTED BY THE CHURCHES.

I once went to a city where there are many churches and professors of
religion, and yet there in the Home for Fallen Girls, where I held
services I found the inmates neglected. I then went to the poorhouse
where over a hundred poor and crippled destitute people were so glad
to hear me sing hymns while they partook of their dinner. They seemed
to wonder who and what I was, yet, how glad they were when they
understood it was for the love of their souls Jesus had sent me to
tell them of His great love. Thank God for the privilege of going to
these places. God always finds a way when there seems to be no way.

So I must say in concluding that of all those who have my sympathy and
my help, my prayers and my tears, prisoners, and all, the poor,
abandoned, forsaken girl, who has no one to share her sorrow and her
shame claims and receives my deepest sympathy and assistance. There is
no one on whom Jesus had more compassion and yet the croakers are
often the ones to send her to worse shame by their neglect and
cruelty. Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn thee, go and sin no more."

    "She is more to be pitied than censured,
      She is more to be loved than despised,
    She is only a poor girl who has ventured
      On life's rugged path ill-advised.
    Don't scorn her with words fierce and bitter,
      Don't laugh at her shame and downfall;
    Just pause for a moment, consider
      That a man was the cause of it all."


                         VISIT TO A HOSPITAL.

One Sunday, years ago, I visited a hospital in a certain city and
found it in a most terrible condition. There were many sick, both men
and women, and how glad they were to see me! The public were not
permitted inside the grounds, but the superintendent being absent I
was admitted. The patients were suffering with hunger, and were in a
most filthy condition.

I found both colored men and women in the same room and all covered
with body lice. One old colored woman was almost eaten alive with
vermin, and starving. They would not give her even a drink of water. I
gave her water and she drank a quart and begged for more. I asked her
if she would like to have me bring her something to eat. She said,
"Oh, yes, Honey." I said, "What can you eat?" She said, "A crust of
bread--I's so hungry, been hungry so long."

My heart was sick at the sights and sounds of suffering and anguish. I
told the Lord about it. All night I cried and prayed. I got up early,
got a large, fat chicken, made soup, got provisions and a couple to
help me carry the things, and went to that miserable place. I got
access to the building with my food and all got a share. I never will
forget the looks on the faces of those starving sufferers, and the
tears coursing down their wan, pale cheeks, as I and dear Mary, my
helper, fed them. One poor old white brother said he was ashamed to
have us near him.

I took along clothing for the poor old colored woman, and had to take
the scissors and cut the garment off from her, and put it in the
stove. I found the mattress decaying under her.

I told the superintendent's wife I would be a witness against her in
the day of judgment for treating the patients so cruelly. She said she
did not have help. I said the state, county or city would send help,
that that was no excuse for their starving and cruelly treating those
sick helpless invalids. The old woman and the men told me they were
compelled to live there in that one room altogether. It was terrible!

One man said he had killed vermin until he was so tired and weak he
could do no more. They said that seldom ever any one left that death
hole alive. The bodies were sold for dissection.

I went early the next morning to the judge's office to relate my
experience and ask him if something could not be done to relieve the
suffering of the patients that I found there in such a filthy
condition and in such need of care and food and water. I told him I
did not see the superintendent, Mr. V. Just at that moment a dudish
young fellow in the room arose and said, "So you did not see V. when
you went there yesterday; you see him now, don't you?" He was very
angry and said I got inside by his absence, and that he would do so
and so. The judge said angrily, "Woman, you talk too much." I said, "I
have not begun to talk yet." The two men hissed and told me to leave
the office. I had taken the precaution to take with me the sister who
was traveling with me at that time, also the young man who had helped
us to carry the clothes and provisions to the hospital the day before.
They could have corroborated my testimony but the judge was evidently
in league with the superintendent of the hospital and would not
listen.

I went to a church in the place to a Woman's Missionary meeting and
got permission to speak to the ladies in public about the awful
conditions I found in their so-called hospital. They were surprised
and greatly incensed, and told their husbands, and so there was
awakened an interest that resulted in further investigation. Facts
were found as I had stated, only, if anything, worse.

The outcome of these things being brought to light was that the old
shanties which served as a so-called hospital were replaced by good
buildings and kind caretakers took the place of the cruel
superintendent--who died some months later after a long illness.


                     ANOTHER VISIT TO A HOSPITAL.

The following is a description of a visit to another hospital, as
published in a paper at Chattanooga, Tenn. This was also early in my
work.


                              A BAT CAVE.

 A SANITARIUM FOR CATS AND HOTEL FOR DOGS--CALLED BY COURTESY THE CITY
                        HOSPITAL OF CHATTANOOGA.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, the eloquent female evangelist, who has been
     in the city for the past week carrying on a series of prayer
     meetings in the jails and houses of ill fame, came into the
     _Commercial_ office yesterday afternoon and gave a full and
     detailed report of the neglected condition of the city hospital.
     She says:

     "As I approached the building I could not convince myself that I
     was really in sight of a hospital, for it reminded me more of a
     stable than anything else I could conceive of. I approached the
     gate and met a colored female mute who raised her hand in a
     deprecating manner as if to warn me of some unseen danger that I
     was about to come in contact with. I motioned the negro girl to
     lead the way and followed her into a dreary looking house that I
     had been told was really the only hospital of which Chattanooga
     could boast. Just as I opened the door six big hounds sprang
     from the different beds within the building and would have torn
     me to pieces had not I hastily slammed the door and shut them in.
     I applied to a poor cripple man who had the appearance of a
     half-fed mendicant where to find the keeper and I was informed
     that he was asleep, but if I would wait he (the cripple) would go
     and wake him up, and in a few moments he returned accompanied by
     a healthy looking man who seemed to care little whether I went in
     or remained out of doors in the rain.

     "As I followed the keeper into the room six well fed hounds and
     one emaciated looking man occupied the beds that were in the
     rooms.

     "I have wandered from one end of the land to the other, I have
     visited prison cells, opium joints, houses of ill-fame,
     almshouses, reformatories and every dreary den from New York to
     San Francisco, from Florida to Montreal, but with all the sights
     with which I have been confronted I have never seen a more
     cheerless abode and one so utterly void of comfort and
     cleanliness as the one occupied by the poor, hungry invalid that
     shared the beds of the well fed dogs.

     "The sick man said he was suffering for the want of food and had
     been shamefully neglected since he was placed in charge of the
     manager of this cheerless institution. Two inmates have died
     within the past week and two are left to suffer.

     "The other inmate was a colored man who evidently has little more
     of life's suffering to endure in this world.

     "In this room six cats occupied seats of prominence, two purring
     on one bed and three others romping from place to place over the
     apartment, while the sixth was helping himself to the sick man's
     dinner.

     "The buildings are without warmth in the winter and have no means
     of ventilation for summer. The confined air is contaminated with
     the odor that rises from unemptied and neglected vessels that are
     allowed to stand neglected from day to day. The keeper seems to
     be utterly indifferent with regard to the ease or comfort of the
     sick and it is very evident that while the city pays for food to
     support the sick and suffering, the countless and useless dogs
     and cats eat a large portion of the food which should be used
     exclusively for the unfortunate inmates."

     Mrs. Wheaton has done much commendable work not only in
     Chattanooga but from one end of the land to the other. She has
     consecrated her time, wealth and character to the uplifting of
     fallen people, and by her devotion to Christianity and her
     liberality has won thousands of friends throughout the
     country.--Chattanooga Paper.


               WORDS OF CHEER FROM OTHER RESCUE WORKERS.

The first of the following letters I carried with me on my second
visit to Europe, mentioned elsewhere:

                       FLORENCE CRITTENTON HOME,
                  21 and 23 Bleecker Street, New York.

     J. F. Shirey, 67 Farrington Road, East Coast, England.

     Dear Brother: This will introduce to you Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton,
     a prison evangelist. She is alone and unprotected in London.
     Please make the way for her as best you can where she can speak
     for God to the poor prisoners. She lives by faith and trusts Him
     for all.

     God bless you.

                                                  MOTHER PRINDLE.

[Illustration: MOTHER PRINDLE.]

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                      New York, October 16, 1903.

     My first acquaintance with Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton was made in the
     Florence Crittenton Midnight Mission, New York City, in 1890. She
     impressed me then and has ever since as one whom God has called
     and endowed with special gifts for a grand and noble work. Her
     one strong hold is faith in God. When under the power of the
     Spirit she verily treads upon serpents and scorpions and all the
     powers of darkness seem to flee before her. As a singing
     evangelist for prison work, I do not know her equal. Her
     preaching is in the demonstration of the Spirit and with power.
     She gives the Lord's message with holy boldness, fraught with
     tender love to the sinner, and blessed are the results.

     The midnight call given on train, when it was my privilege to be
     with her, was an hour never to be forgotten. Many will rise up
     and call her blessed in that great day who but for her favored
     and wonderful ministry would have gone into outer darkness. God
     bless her and her book.

                                                  MOTHER PRINDLE.

The following taken from "Beulah Home Record," Chicago, Ill., March 1,
1902, is explanatory in itself. Also the letter that follows:

     We have had with us for a time, as our honored guest, Mother
     Wheaton, the Railroad Prison Evangelist. Like Jesus, the friend
     of poor sinners, she goes up and down the land in state prisons
     and homes where mothers' girls are sheltered, down into the coal
     mines, into the great lumber camps, and on crowded railroad
     trains, while speeding along, she preaches the everlasting gospel
     of our Lord and Savior, and gives out tracts. Thus she goes as
     God's flaming minister, sowing beside all waters, singing and
     praying poor sin-sick, tempest-tossed souls into the kingdom of
     God. Do you ask what is the secret of her success? It may be
     found in the Psalms, 126:6--"She goeth forth weeping," she has a
     burning love for souls. So you and I, dear reader, if we are to
     succeed in winning souls, our hearts must be full of love for
     them. We give Mother Wheaton a warm welcome to this great and
     wicked city of Chicago and a hearty welcome always to Beulah
     Home.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                               Berachah Home for Erring Girls,
                                 2719 Lawton Ave., St. Louis, Mo.

     We feel in Berachah Home that we shall not forget Mother Wheaton.
     She came into the "Home" and our lives just as God was leading us
     out in rescue work, and as she stood among us in our first "open
     meeting," we felt, "Here is a strong, brave soldier of the
     cross." We found hope and encouragement as she spoke to us of His
     service, and the Spirit witnessed "This is of God," as she sang
     one of her songs as only Mother Wheaton can sing them. We did not
     see her again until in the Baltimore Convocation of Prayer,
     January, 1904, when God again used her to bring Mrs. Chapman and
     me to God's full thought for us there. She with others laid hands
     on us, with prayer, setting us apart for the "work whereunto we
     were called." May God bless her ministry to others, as He has to
     us in Berachah Home.

                                          MRS. J. P. DUNCAN, Mgr.
                                       MRS. B. G. CHAPMAN, Treas.


           THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER.

    "To the home of his father returning,
      The prodigal, weary and worn,
    Is greeted with joy and thanksgiving,
      As when on his first natal morn;
    A 'robe' and a 'ring' are his portion,
      The servants as suppliants bow;
    He is clad in fine linen and purple,
      In return for the penitent vow.

    "But ah! for the Prodigal Daughter,
      Who has wandered away from her home;
    Her feet must still press the dark valley
      And through the wilderness roam;
    Alone on the bleak, barren mountains--
      The mountains so dreary and cold--
    No hand is outstretched in fond pity
      To welcome her back to the fold.

    "But thanks to the Shepherd, whose mercy
      Still follows His sheep, tho' they stray;
    The weakest, and e'en the forsaken
      He bears in His bosom away;
    And in the bright mansions of glory
      Which the blood of His sacrifice won,
    There is room for the Prodigal Daughter,
      As well as the Prodigal Son!"

    We've a Home for Prodigal Daughters,
      Our Saviour says gather them in;
    Will you help rescue these dear ones--
      Who have fallen in paths of sin?
    Your girl may be one of the "fallen,"
      And you long to see her return;
    Oh, there's room for the Prodigal Daughter,
      As well as the Prodigal Son.

                                          --Horace.




                             CHAPTER XIX.

                      Work in Canada and Mexico.


In my several visits to the prisons of Canada I have generally found
the officers very courteous. There are sometimes there, as here,
changes of administration, making the work of reaching the prisoners
more difficult. In the large prison at Toronto the officers were
especially kind and gave me the privilege of preaching the gospel to
the prisoners as often as I could attend chapel services. Much
interest was manifested and I trust good was accomplished.


               MY SECOND EXPERIENCE IN STREET PREACHING

was in Hamilton, Canada. There for weeks, night after night, rain or
shine, I sang and preached the gospel in the open air. I was
especially helped of the Lord and met with blessed success.

In 1886, I took with me from Toronto, a dear young sister, who was
called of God to join me in my work. She went with me to Florida and
many other states. She afterward married an evangelist but died a few
years later, being true to God, so far as I know, to the last.


                      SERVICE WITH Y. M. C. A.

During a visit to London, Canada, after visiting the prisons I went to
the hospital to visit the sick. While singing, a message came over the
telephone saying that the Secretary of the Y. M. C. A. requested me to
lead their meeting on Sunday afternoon. Would I come? I said, "Better
wait till I return to the city. I can't tell." The secretary had to
know at once, so he could announce it through the papers. So I
promised to go, as they had no speaker. I felt discouraged, as I
could think of no message suitable for that large, mixed audience, and
prayed for guidance. Sunday afternoon--still with no message in
mind--I started to the hall. As I walked along the street, praying, I
said, "Lord, give me at least a text to read." Just then I saw on the
ground a scrap of paper, the torn leaf of a Bible. I picked it up,
looked at it, and there my message, text and all, opened up to my
mental vision. I went into the pulpit depending entirely on God, and
the light broke in on my soul, and the power of God fell on the
people. I told them how I was depending alone on the Lord for the
words as He gave them to me. It was a victorious meeting. I leave
results with the Lord.


                             A GIRL RESCUED.

In one of the Canadian cities I found in the jail a beautiful girl who
was very dissipated and unruly. The officers could not control her--no
one had any good influence over her. The Lord laid the burden of her
soul on my heart. I treated her with love and respect, and tried in
every way to win her for God. Finally, she realized that I loved her
soul, though no one else cared for her. Then she sought the Lord. She
was a Roman Catholic. I told her I would go to the House of the Good
Shepherd and speak to the Mother Superior, and see if they would not
take her in, as she had no home. She wept with joy at this, and told
me of a plan some wicked men had made to be at the jail when she was
discharged at 6 o'clock Saturday evening and take her to haunts of
sin. I hurried out to the Sisters early in the morning and found them
at mass, and waited, determined to save the poor girl from further
downfall, and drunkenness. The Sisters, seeing my anxiety and
sincerity, agreed to help me. Then I went to the officers of the jail
and got them to release the girl at noon. She was taken to another
city and thus saved. When the hour came for her release from the jail
in the evening, sure enough several men made their appearance and
watched and waited for her to come out. At last they began calling her
name. Then the officers went out and told them the girl had been
pardoned, and had left at noon for another city, with protectors.
Another brand had been plucked from the burning for the Master's
Kingdom.


                       SHUT OUT--OTHERS ADMITTED.

At one time amidst great inconveniences I reached Kingston Prison. I
saw some of the officers Saturday night and they were kind and
willingly consented that I should have opportunity to hold or assist
in services the next day. The next morning I went to the prison
through a drenching rain--without an umbrella, arrived early and
waited for the chaplain. When he came, I told him my desire and what
the other officers had said. But he refused to even let me go inside
to listen to the service. When I asked his reason he said they would
not allow women in the prison. Yet while I had been waiting I had seen
several Catholic sisters enter. I have had similar experiences in our
own land.


                                STONED.

One day as I was passing along the street in the quaint walled city of
Quebec, some boys threw stones at me, while an old man urged them on,
saying, "If it's Salvation Army ye are, ye should be killed." The Lord
have mercy upon them and upon all who oppose His work or His workers.
For ourselves we must not count these things strange. "It is enough
for the disciple that he be as his Master, and the servant as his
Lord."


                          AN INFIDEL DEFEATED.

While in Toronto, Canada, I often went to the parks on Sabbath days
and held services--the mayor of the city, who was a devoted Christian,
often himself helping in these open-air services. One stand in the
park was usually occupied by the infidel element. They would hold the
place all day so that others could not have the privilege of doing
work for God--so as the place was public property upon which they had
no rightful claim I went early and so secured the place before them.
When their leader arrived the people were listening to the gospel in
song and testimony from worthy witnesses. He was very angry--said it
was his place to speak and he must have it, and ordered me to stop and
leave the stand, but I kept on with the service as God directed and he
went away a few steps and called for the people to follow him, and he
would address them. No one seemed inclined to go and a bystander told
him his followers were few and he had better desist from trying to
disturb a religious service. So we had the victory and God was honored
that day in the work which He sent his servants to do.

Among my papers I have found the following letters of introduction
given me while in Canada by Hon. John Robson, Provincial Secretary:

                               Provincial Secretary's Department,
                                         Victoria, B. C., Oct. 5.

     Dear Brother:

     The bearers of this are prison evangelists of a very high and
     deserving character, whom I asked to call upon you. If you could
     get up a meeting at Y. M. C. A. rooms for them, it might do good.

                                    In haste yours,
                                                     JOHN ROBSON.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                               Provincial Secretary's Department,
                                   Victoria, B. C., Oct. 5, 1888.

     Dear Mr. McBride:

     The ladies whom this will introduce to you are prison evangelists
     who are desirous of doing some work in the penitentiary, and I
     take the liberty of bespeaking for them a kind reception at your
     hands. They enjoy a high reputation and are well deserving of
     your kind attention.

                                       Very sincerely yours,
                                                     JOHN ROBSON.

     A. H. McBride, Esq., Warden Penitentiary.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                                  Victoria, B. C.

     Mr. Robson bespeaks for Mrs. Wheaton and lady companion courteous
     attention at the hands of the warden of the Victoria gaol.


                             WORK IN MEXICO.

Not many years after engaging in special prison work I went into
Mexico and have since gone there quite frequently. As a rule the
people are ignorant and superstitious and consequently hard to reach
with the gospel. But though I was compelled to speak through an
interpreter it is surprising how soon they know if one is sincere and
earnest. In the prisons they are very poorly cared for, often having
to wait years for trial and sometimes dying of neglect. I am told that
natives of our own land if thrown into prison there fare worse than
others.


                             A BULL FIGHT.

Once while in Mexico I found there was to be a bull fight not far from
the prison where I was to hold service. My heart was sad because of
the intense anxiety of the Mexicans to see the exhibition. They came
long distances and there were many very old people who seemed
impatient for the hour to arrive when Mexicans, bulls and horses
should be thrown helplessly together--that they might view the combat.
This cruel sport--so long a favorite pastime both in Spain and
Mexico--was at one time abolished but was afterward re-established out
of policy--in order to please the Mexicans. For me to describe this
kind of fiendish pastime would not glorify God, nor help the public,
but would have a tendency to brutality, being neither elevating nor
refining. But should we not, dear reader, try to do all in our power
to lead people to a higher plane of morals and send missionaries to
help people to know Jesus who satisfies every longing of the human
soul, and gives peace and rest here, and a home in Heaven through
eternity?


                        SIX UNDER DEATH SENTENCE.

At another time I visited a prison in Mexico where there were six men
under death sentence. They could not understand me, but I knelt by
those great, strong men and wept and prayed to God who could carry the
message of love through my tears to their hard hearts and they were so
affected that we all wept together. I am sure they were remembered
that day by the God who sent me to show them _His_ love for the lost
and who gave me a love for the poor criminals that nothing can
destroy.


                             DIFFICULTIES.

During my last trip into Mexico, 1902, I found the prisoners in one
place in a most deplorable condition. They were almost starving and
neglected in every way. I had considerable trouble in getting into the
prison on that day, as I could find no one to interpret for me. So we
went from one office to another trying to find some one to admit us to
the prison. As I entered one public office a fierce dog came rushing
at me from an adjoining room. I fled out of the door in dismay with
the dog and an old Mexican woman at my heels. I tried to make her
understand what we wanted and then hurried away. Finally we found a
fellow decorated beyond description with tinsel and other adornings
who furnished me an interpreter and admitted us to the prison. It was
very difficult to make the poor prisoners understand how deeply I felt
for them, but I could put my arms around the poor women who were there
and I could take their little babes in my arms and thus show my
sympathy, then telling the story of Jesus who said, "Father, forgive
them, for they know not what they do."


                       MINISTERED TO A SUFFERER.

I found one poor wounded man who had just been brought into the prison
sitting on the ground with bloody clothing and matted hair. He was
weeping and tried so hard to explain something to me. The interpreter
was evidently slow to tell me what the poor sufferer wanted. I was
heart-sick to know what to do, as we had only a short time to stay and
I could not bear to leave him without in some way ministering to him.
But I thought of the fruit remaining in my handbag. I thrust an orange
into his bony hands. He grabbed it and with both hands thrust it to
his mouth eating peel and all. Poor man--he was evidently starving.
Reader I wish I could make clear to you the pitiful sight! The sequel
showed me why that was providentially left in my handbag. How thankful
I was to minister to that poor fellow's need in even a small degree.
How I longed to help them all.




                             CHAPTER XX.

                            Across the Sea.


I had greatly desired to preach the gospel in other lands and held
myself ever ready to go at a moment's warning, anywhere the Lord
should lead, and had been given letters of introduction to prominent
people in Great Britain. In the year 1890 my mind was much exercised
about the regions beyond--and without time for preparation, with but
an hour's notice, the call came to go forward. I was in Philadelphia
walking along the street praying--"O Lord, where next--what wilt Thou
have me to do?" Looking up I saw the large posters of steamship lines
and the thought came to me, "Go and inquire the price of a ticket to
Europe." I obeyed the impulse and went in and talked with the
steamship agent of rates and the time of departure of the first
steamer. Then I left the office praying, O God, show me Thy will--make
Thy way very plain to me. Then I went back to the office, feeling that
I must get alone with the Lord. I asked the agent if I might go into a
rear office which was unoccupied, to pray. He very courteously
replied, "Certainly, madam." There I knelt before the Lord and
inquired if He wanted me to go at once--that very night--on the first
steamer, to Scotland. The answer came clearly: "Go, my child, nothing
doubting." I arose, went into the front office and explained to the
agent the nature of my mission work; and how for years I had obeyed
the leadings of the Holy Spirit and that I had a sister traveling with
me who was waiting at the depot for my return, to know where we would
go next. Told him I would buy two steerage tickets for Glasgow,
Scotland, if he would refund the money for the one in case the sister
was unwilling to go with me. To this he consented, so I purchased the
tickets and hurried to the railway station where I had left my friend.
I knew we had only a few moments to catch the train for New York in
order to reach the steamer Devonia for Glasgow. Hurriedly I said to
her, "Do you want to go to Europe?" "Oh, yes," she replied. "When?" I
asked. "Oh, some time," was the answer. Then I said, "I have two
tickets. It is now or never. If you wish to go I will take you, if
not, I will go alone and you can return the ticket and get the money
for yourself." She said, "I will go." So we rushed to the gate, caught
the train on the move, and reached New York in time to get aboard the
Devonia.


                            ON THE OCEAN.

Leaving America's shores far behind us, we found ourselves doomed to a
stormy voyage, but with plenty of missionary work to do. There was, in
the steerage, much profanity, continual drunkenness of both men and
women, and card playing at all times only when the passengers were
sleeping or too sea-sick. While in mid-ocean we encountered a severe
storm which greatly delayed us. There were only six Christians on
board the steamer. I believe it was in answer to prayer that the ship
was saved from wreck. After thirteen days on the ocean, we saw the
shores of "Bonnie Scotland," and as we neared port there was great
rejoicing among the passengers--almost all of whom were going home.
But how different it was with me! I felt much as Paul did when he said
to the elders of the church at Ephesus, "And now, behold, I go bound
in the spirit unto Jerusalem, not knowing the things that shall befall
me there: save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city, saying
that bonds and afflictions abide me." Like him I felt that suffering
and persecution and perhaps imprisonment and death was before me in
that strange land, but Paul was enabled to say, "But none of these
things move me, neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I
might finish my course with joy, and the ministry which I have
received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of
God;" and with something of the same spirit I was enabled to say, as I
wept before Him, "Lord, I will be true--only give me Thy grace
sufficient for me."


                          IN A FOREIGN LAND.

I was a stranger in a strange land with only a few shillings and
without any great degree of strength of body and, strange to say, for
one reason and another I never saw one of those to whom I carried
letters of introduction. How the Lord was teaching me not to lean on
the arm of flesh! In answer to a letter of inquiry written to one to
whom one letter was addressed, I received the following very kind
reply from her husband:

                                                   11 Walker St.,
                                        Edinburgh, Oct. 18, 1890.

     Dear Friend:

     Your letter of the 16th, with one from Miss Sisson, has just
     reached me, forwarded from Crieff. Since Miss Sisson's letter was
     written my dear wife has fallen asleep in Jesus and having left
     Crieff I am in lodgings for the present in Edinburgh with my
     sister and five children.

     I have been praying over the subject of your letter, but I do not
     have any light on the matter nor am I likely, so far as I can
     see, to be in Glasgow for some time. Yet if the Lord sent you to
     Scotland He will certainly show you what He has for you to do.
     "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not to thine own
     understanding: in all thy ways acknowledge Him and He shall
     direct thy paths."

     I enclose a one-pound note towards expenses.

                           Yours in Christ,
                                                    G. W. OLDHAM.

At the landing in Glasgow, I inquired of the policeman on duty and
secured a room with his family. Then I went in search of a meeting.
Found the car-fare a penny a mile and other customs quite different
from ours. The first meeting I found corresponded to our Y. M. C. A.
meetings. But our special mission was to the lost.

That evening I received permission from the policeman to hold open-air
meetings. Going along the street a woman who was drunk spied me and
rushed after me beating me on the back. As I made no resistance other
drunken women joined their companion in sin and I would have had a
hard time of it had not the police protected me. These drunken women
thought that I belonged to the Salvation Army, as the bonnet I then
wore was quite similar to the one dear Mother Booth had worn and I was
often told that I looked like her. I was in Scotland when she passed
to her reward in the land where there are no slums, no sinners to
rescue, to weep over and save. Had I been near enough how gladly would
I have joined the great throng that gathered to show honor to her
memory! Nearly every night while in Glasgow found us on the streets
preaching, singing, and praying, with those who never went to
church--many of them not even to the Salvation Army or missions. In
many respects we found worse conditions than in our home-land. The
public houses were always filled at night with men and often their
whole families--drinking all kinds of intoxicants--women with infants
in their arms as well as others drinking with men at the bar. And the
most beautiful girls to be found were secured by the keepers of these
houses to stand behind the bar and sell the drinks.

The prisons, my special burden, I found very difficult of access for
missionary work. I found that women were not expected, there, to do
that kind of work. Yet I fasted and prayed and wept before the Lord,
pleading that the prison doors might be opened to me and at last I was
successful in gaining admission to some of them. After some delay I
was admitted to Duke Street jail, in Glasgow, and there held several
services. It is a large prison, filled with the baser sort and those
whom the public houses had been licensed to make drunkards--to cause
to reel and stagger and abuse and kill when unconscious of what they
were doing. The Lord's presence was revealed in our services there and
souls got help from God, and I hope to meet many of them in heaven. We
visited the poor in their homes, different penal institutions--all of
the missions and Salvation Army Corps and many of the churches. While
time lasts we will find much to do to help those around us.


                         MY LIFE IN DANGER.

Oftentimes my life was in danger when visiting the saloons, which are
there called public houses--the keepers being called publicans. Often
the keepers of brothels and other places of sin drew revolvers on
me--threatening me with death if I did not leave, as they did not want
to lose their customers and their money--which they were sure to do if
souls were converted there, but the Lord always delivered me when
death stared me in the face. One day I went into a public house where
a woman kept a dive. She at once got very angry, demanded my business,
and ordered me to leave her place. She clutched me with a fiendish
grip, and pushed me out of the door, but purposely fastened one of my
arms in the door as she slammed it shut. I prayed God to release me
and with the help of the sister who was with me we got the door open
enough to release my arm. I am sorry to have reason to say that, as a
rule, I find the women who are in charge of brothels and saloons
harder to deal with than the men. A woman of judgment and tact when
fully saved can, in many cases, do more good than men from the fact
that she can go where very few men could go without being looked upon
with suspicion. What need, then, that we should be emptied of self and
filled with the Holy Spirit, all given up to the Lord in order that we
can work successfully for God and souls.

One Saturday night, while in Glasgow, I preached in a church. Great
crowds had turned out in the city spending their week's wages. There
was much drinking of both men and women. At the church was given a
"Penny Tea," consisting of a cup of tea and a biscuit, thus drawing
the crowds--and afterwards having some one preach to them.


                         A SONG STOPS A ROW.

When the services had closed, we were returning to our lodging and
were attracted by a great crowd of people engaged in a row and a
fight. I soon saw there was danger of bloodshed and stepping out in
the street I began to sing an old time hymn. This drew the attention
of many and they came running to hear. Then I talked to them of Jesus
and His love, and we went on our way and held another service on
another street. Then, coming to the quarters of a company of firemen,
I asked if I might hold a service with them some time. One of them
replied, "Yes, why not now?" It was then 10 o'clock and raining. I
stepped into the street and began singing. Across the way there was a
dance hall with dancing going on upon the three floors of the hall. As
I sang, the windows of the hall were lowered with a crash, perhaps to
keep out the rain--perhaps to keep out the sound of my voice.

As we proceeded with the service a policeman soon appeared and ordered
me to stop. I told him I was not violating any ordinance of the city
and only holding the service at the request of these firemen. He was
angry and threatened to arrest us. He soon returned with two other
officers, and while the sister who was with me was speaking, he took
her by the arm and led her down the muddy street. I began singing, "He
is able to deliver thee." The other two policemen took me by the arms
and forced me through the deep mud in the street quite a long distance
to the jail. Before being placed in the cell I was asked the cause of
our arrest. I replied, "For holding open-air service on the street,
and there is no law in Scotland to forbid us from doing so." We were
placed in a room under guard to await the decision. We could hear the
shrieks of men and women delirious from drink.

I was asked who we were, and replied, "We have come from America to
preach the gospel." After cross-questioning and severely reprimanding
me they asked if I would hold my peace if they would let me go. I
answered, "I do not wish to disregard your request, but I must obey
God, for that is why I am here. And according to your law it is no
crime to hold open-air services; and it is a custom with the
churches." "Then we will put you into the cell." Another said, "No, we
cannot do that for this offense." Then he said I should be gone. I
said, "Will you not send an officer to show us the way to our lodging,
as you have arrested us without a cause and it is late at night?" But
they refused to send a guide. I asked if they would give me the name
of the policeman who arrested us, and told them the matter was not yet
ended; that they did not know with whom they were dealing. At first
they refused to give me the names asked for; but I said I should stay
till they did so, and I prevailed. When we had started to try to find
our way to our lodging place, we met a lady who kindly directed us to
the street and number.

On Monday a sister who had been preaching among the policemen for some
years, called to see me--having heard of my arrest and treatment. She
was much surprised and said she could have those policemen all
discharged for their conduct toward me. I said, "No, do not do that; I
only want to see them and talk to them about their souls' salvation."
"Then," she replied, "I will have them come and ask your forgiveness."
As she started away, I handed her some recommendations and railroad
passes I had had in America and letters of introduction to parties in
that land. Glancing over them she exclaimed, "Is it possible? A lady
with such a recommend! These letters are addressed to some of the best
people in Great Britain. Will you trust me with these till I return?"
"Certainly," I replied. She returned in due time, saying the policemen
would come and make an apology. I was very glad, for I felt then that
I could tell them it was the love of Christ for the lost ones of earth
that constrained me to speak on the streets. Many ladies called during
the day to give me their sympathy and show their interest. The
policeman who caused the arrest came and asked me to forgive him. He
bowed with us in prayer, and sobs shook his heavy frame while his
tears fell like rain. He said, "It is like mother used to talk, and it
is the same kind of religion she had in olden times." I believe that
man found Christ his Savior that day. He told us of his wife sick at
home and two "wee bairns," and as he could get no girl at home, he had
overworked; and on that Saturday night had taken too much liquor in
order to keep him awake.

He invited me to call upon his family. This I did the following day,
and found it as he had said. The two other men that had a part in
arresting us came the following day. One of them seemed very penitent
when I talked to them, and both humbly begged my pardon for their
conduct toward me.

While in Glasgow I was invited by General Evans, of the Gospel Army,
to conduct special services for ten nights at their hall--commonly
known as the Globe Theater. We copy the following from an editorial of
the General's published in his paper while we were there:

     "Hearing of these evangelists we decided to invite them to Globe
     Theater, and truly we can say God has visited his people. They do
     not believe in forms and ceremonies like us formal Scotch
     Christians, but speak as they are moved by the Holy Ghost. They
     live by faith and do not ask for money or collections; however,
     they seem to get on very well, and I never yet heard them
     grumbling about having too little. They take whatever is given
     them as from the Lord, and give Him their sincere thanks
     accordingly. They have spent over a week speaking and singing
     every night in our meetings, and not a few have been impressed by
     the earnest words of our sisters. Some of the professors have had
     their short-comings pretty well threshed out, the writer coming
     in for his share. Our meetings have been well attended and I
     believe a really good work has been begun in our midst. The elder
     lady carries about with her a book full of newspaper clippings
     and numerous testimonials about her work in America. Her special
     field is in the prisons and among the unfortunates. She takes no
     stock in sensational worship, but there is always a great
     sensation wherever she puts in an appearance.... In closing I may
     say that our heaven-bound sisters have had some severe trials
     since leaving their native shores. Eternity alone will reveal the
     amount they have endured for the Master's sake. Before they had
     been many hours in Glasgow they were marched off to jail for
     preaching at a street corner, and gathering a crowd. I trust
     this epistle will open up our cold, hard hearts and that we may
     receive our sisters as is our duty as a Christian community."


                           TUMULT IN A DIVE.

"Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer: behold the devil
shall cast some of you into prison that ye may be tried; * * * Be thou
faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown of life."--Rev. 2:10.

One Sunday night, as I was on my way going from the meeting, being in
company with General Evans and his wife and the sister who traveled
with me, I saw a public house open and went in and began to speak to
the men and women. I had only talked a few minutes when the proprietor
came in and asked, "Are you a customer here?" I replied, "No, I am
only speaking to these people about their souls." He said, "Now you
leave, or I'll make you." He ran into a back room, and coming out he
passed me quickly, running to the door and blowing a long blast on a
police whistle. This aroused the people and brought to the scene
several policemen and hundreds of people of all classes in general
fright. A man rushed in and catching me by the arm cried, "Come out of
this place, quick, or you'll be killed. You are in danger. You don't
know where you are! This is the Gallow Gate; the worst place in
Glasgow." I said to him, "Let me alone, I am obeying God." But as the
policemen closed in around me there was a cry raised, "It is Jack the
Ripper in disguise." The excitement in those days was intense all over
Europe. Jack the Ripper was a fiend in human form that was killing
women continually in the most horrifying manner and in cold blood. You
might see on a bulletin board in the city that a murder would be
committed on such a day and hour and these threats would be carried
out. Yet he defied the detectives and police. Large rewards were
offered for his capture. I saw that my life was in danger unless I
could convince them of their mistake, of which I now saw the cause. I
was dressed differently from them. I had on a long black cloak and had
thrown my black shawl over my head concealing my bonnet, and carried a
bag on my arm which contained my recommendations, railway passes, etc.
I said: "You are mistaken, gentlemen, I am not Jack the Ripper"
(removing my shawl), "I am a missionary from America; and preaching at
the Globe Theater every night. Come and hear me there. There is no
cause for this tumult." The General and his wife having come in, we
passed out, the mob following us several blocks with shouts and
screams giving me some blows as we went. But God delivered us from
their cruel hands.


                         A MOB OF DRUNKEN WOMEN.

Another night when returning from the Globe Theater in company with
General and Mrs. Evans we heard a great noise up the street and soon
discovered that it was made by a mob of some kind. On their coming
nearer, we found it was an immense crowd of drunken fallen girls. The
General said: "Hide yourselves quick! There is no telling what they
might do." The policemen had slunk away--not caring to try to make any
arrests, as there were so many of them and they were so violent. Poor
souls! They were some mothers' girls who perhaps had learned to love
the taste of strong drink before they saw the light and were bound by
both inherited and acquired appetite. I was told that on an average
there were four drunken women in Glasgow for every drunken man. Such a
statement seems beyond belief, but during our stay we saw much to
indicate that it was true. What could the harvest be?

While in Scotland I received a very precious letter of encouragement
and sympathy from Col. Geo. R. Clarke and wife of Pacific Garden
Mission, Chicago. I give it here and the reader can easily realize how
comforting it proved to me.

                                       Chicago, October 29, 1890.

     My Dear Sister Wheaton:

     We received yours written from Glasgow last night. I am sorry
     they treat you so badly there. But that is the way nice appearing
     people treated our blessed Lord when on earth, and the way they
     would treat Him now should He come to earth in the flesh. But it
     is blessed to us, said Jesus, when men persecute us. We have a
     right then to rejoice as He told us.

     The Lord will stand by you as He did by Paul. He "will never
     leave you nor forsake you." So you can boldly say: "The Lord is
     my helper and I will not fear what man shall do unto me."

     The Lord's work is prospering at our Mission and we are much
     encouraged in it. We have large meetings and many precious souls
     for Christ every night.

     We have started a noonday prayer-meeting for both sexes. The Lord
     is greatly blessing the meetings. We have souls converted there
     right along at every meeting.

     We will pray for you and may the dear Lord greatly bless you in
     your work and labor of love which you do in His name.

     We have only a little time left now to wait for Him. The signs
     are thickening and He will soon rush into view and then we shall
     hear Him say, "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou
     in to the joy of thy Lord." Praise His dear name. Glory to God!
     Hallelujah!!! What a meeting that will be! It will be our time to
     laugh then, but our persecutors will weep and wail. May God be
     merciful to them now and give them repentance before that awful
     day.

     Don't be in a hurry to die and go to heaven. You are more needed
     by the Lord down here just now than in heaven. There are no
     sinners there to whom to preach His gospel and He tells us to "Go
     and preach" not "go to heaven." He will take us all home in His
     own good time. Let us patiently wait for Him and "occupy until
     He comes." With much Christian love we are yours in Christ.

                                    COL. AND MRS. GEO. R. CLARKE.


                             IN PAISLEY.

I was summoned by telegram to go on to Paisley, Scotland, to hold
services for the Gospel Army in that place. We went immediately. Found
the city well informed of our coming by large striking posters which
read: "Hear the American Prison Evangelists--Be sure to hear these
ladies who have preached on the ruins of the Johnstown horror! Who
have visited all the prisons of note in America--led murderers to the
scaffold," etc. I was not accustomed to such sensational advertising
and tore down the posters I came across and chided with the General
for advertising us in such a way. He kindly explained that it was
customary in their work in order to arrest the attention of the people
and arouse interest in our meetings. Perhaps he was right but it was
something of a trial to me to be brought before the people in that
way.

We found much to do in Paisley, not only in the night services but on
the streets, in the homes of refuge and in homes. Found twelve hundred
girls employed in the Coats Thread Works and eight hundred girls in
Clark's Thread Works. Found great poverty among the laboring classes,
as there was much dissipation among both men and women.

Just before leaving Paisley I was called to go and hold services in
the Refuge for Fallen Women. During the services there did not seem to
be much feeling concerning their soul's salvation. It seemed I could
not reach them. At last, near the close of the meeting, I said:
"Girls, I am going away to my own land. I will never see you on earth
again. Will you not try and live so you will meet me in heaven? If
so, raise your hands." Not one hand was raised. Then I said, "Girls,
won't you pray?" No sign yet. "Girls, shall I pray for you when far
away? If so, raise your hands?" Not a hand went up. I was almost
discouraged. Could I leave that great crowd of lost women to go on in
their awful career without at least one manifesting a desire for a
better life? How could I meet them at the Judgment? At last I said:
"Girls, I leave to-morrow for America. I am all alone. Only this young
woman with me. How many of you will pray for _us_ as we cross the
ocean again to go to our own land? If any one will pray for us, won't
you raise your hand?" _Every hand went up_, and God's Holy Spirit
crept unawares into their hearts--so long unused to prayer, and the
spell of evil was broken, and God reached them. O the melting, tender
spirit which filled the room! And that company, I believe, gave God
their hearts. In learning to pray for us, their sisters, they found
God, and I trust to meet many, if not all, of those dear souls in
heaven. Jesus said, "Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more."
And then the confessions, the tears, the promises! Bless God, His word
will not return void.

Shortly after my arrival in America I received the following letter,
which explains itself, from the matron of this Home:

                Female Refuge, Paisley, Scotland, March 23, 1891.

     Mrs. Wheaton.

     Dear Friend: Glad I was to know that you had in God's good
     Providence arrived safe at home among your dear ones, and rejoice
     also with you that the work is prospering in your hand.

     I have been called upon to part here with dear ones since I saw
     you, but they are gone before me only a little while. My
     assistants are all with me yet, and with myself had much pleasure
     in your card. We often talk of you and your young friend that
     accompanied you. I do hope she is still with you. We have now a
     household of thirty inmates, many giving proof of a new life
     being theirs for time and eternity. With our united kind regards,
     I am

                        Yours truly in the Lord's work,
                                                   ANNIE J. BLUE.

I have already mentioned the fact that I found it difficult to gain
admittance to the prisons of Scotland. I waited in Edinburgh for days,
on expense, seeking opportunity to hold at least one service in the
large prison there. While waiting I held services in the jail and
missions and open air. Our meetings in the open air were largely
attended, not only by the working classes, but also by others who
would stop and listen, being attracted, at first, by the singing which
usually drew large crowds. We were much blessed in these services and
especially in the slums where large numbers of neglected children
gathered around us, ragged and dirty, but with hearts glad to learn to
sing with us.


                          RETURN TO AMERICA.

Various circumstances combined that seemed to require my return to
America and after nearly two months of constant toil in Glasgow,
Edinburgh, and Paisley, we hurried to Liverpool and November 15 took
shipping for New York on the steamship Wisconsin. On this return
voyage we encountered another fearful storm in which many ships went
down.

The storm raged about four days. Men and women were in great fear;
some weeping, some screaming, some praying, and some cursing. Among
all that multitude there were only four Christians; only four souls
ready to face eternity!

But our God is a very present help in time of trouble. There in that
terrible hour, I was conscious of His presence and I knew that He was
able to deliver us. When the storm had abated, with a heart full of
gratitude and thanksgiving, I tried to sing, but could only utter
softly the words of one old-time hymn:

        "How firm a foundation ye saints of the Lord."

So wonderfully did God deliver us that in spite of that fearful storm
we reached New York harbor after being only twelve days at sea.

On board these steamers a religious service is held every Lord's day,
but it is usually led by the captain who is often an ungodly man. Many
seemed to ease their guilty consciences by observing this form of
religion. But my heart was often left more hungry and sad by a service
which seemed to me mere form if not a farce and mockery.

During this return trip I supposed I was about out of money, and was
somewhat tempted to doubt the promises, and I prayed much for
guidance. When almost ready to land I took from my purse my small
stock to have the steward get it changed for U. S. money, and to my
glad surprise I found in another part of the purse a pound note. I
could not tell how it came to be there. So I felt reproved for my lack
of faith.

Among my old papers I find a touching letter written by a dear young
sister to whom I became much attached while in Scotland. Had it not
been that her family were largely dependent upon her she would have
gone with me in my work. I give the following extract:

                                          Glasgow, Nov. 17, 1890.

     My Dear Sister in Jesus:

     I received your card Saturday night; and was very much surprised
     to learn that you had gone so suddenly. But not our will but
     God's will be done. Dear sister, I hope you and Nellie will have
     a safe passage across the ocean and may the dear Savior be very
     present to both of you. You have His blessed promise, "Fear them
     not; for I am with thee."

     Mrs. P---- and the husband were asking very kindly after you. Mr.
     L---- could scarcely credit that you had gone home so suddenly.
     Several others also in the hall wish you a special blessing in
     your effort to win souls for the Master, who will reward you in
     His own time.

     Dear sister, you do not know and you will never know until you
     are within the Pearly Gates, how many precious souls have been
     brought to the knowledge of the truth through you.

     May the dear Lord make us truly Holy Ghost workers and may we
     have a desire to point sinners to Jesus--the all-sufficient
     one--the author and finisher of our salvation. Glory to God! May
     we be more and more like Jesus, humble, meek and mild, loving one
     another as the Lord has also loved us. May we be clean, empty
     vessels for the Master's use. Dear Jesus, do strip us of
     everything that would hinder the blessing and would keep our joy
     from being full. Write soon; and if we do not meet again on
     earth, with God's help we will meet in heaven, Praise God!

     Your loving sister in Jesus,
                                                    RACHEL SMITH.


                        SECOND VISIT TO EUROPE.

In the year 1896 the Lord made plain to me that it was His will that I
should again go to Europe. While in Washington, D. C., I was led to
return to Iowa, and there found that a band of missionaries who were
ready to start for Africa had been praying that I might come and go
with them as far as New York. When they saw me alight at their door,
they shouted and praised the Lord. When I asked them the reason they
said because God had answered prayer--that they had prayed God to send
me to see them off for Africa.

While we were holding a few meetings in Philadelphia I felt directed
to go on with them as far as London, so purchased my ticket with
theirs, taking steerage passage across the ocean for the third time.
Immediately after getting my ticket there came upon me a wonderful
outpouring of the Spirit and an assurance that was unmistakable that I
was in divine order. When I told those young missionaries I was going
with them as far as London they told me they had been praying that I
might be led to do that very thing. After a safe voyage we reached
Southampton in seven days.

One Sabbath afternoon in London when we were holding an open-air
meeting on the street, God opened the flood-gates of Heaven, and I
with others sang and preached under the power of the Holy Spirit. A
Christian came and said, "Sister Wheaton, there is a preacher here who
wants to speak to you." I refused to go, as there were drunkards and
toughs on their knees under conviction of sin. I thought he was a
preacher who wanted to criticise my methods. They called me again, and
I went to see what was wanted. I found a fine-looking, well-dressed
man much past middle age under awful conviction of sin. He was a
backslider, and had stopped in passing, being attracted by a hymn I
was singing--one his mother used to sing. Yet he was unwilling to
yield himself to God. Some of those in the company had talked with him
and begged him to kneel. At last his stubborn will was broken, and he
knelt there on that London street and confessed his sins to God. When
he arose from his knees he said he had been on his way with a dagger
then in his coat sleeve, to commit suicide, but was attracted by that
song his mother used to sing, and could go no further. Thus by the
power of the Holy Ghost that Presiding Elder was saved on the streets
through faithful, honest trust in God, where the preacher and the
drunkard knelt side by side in the dust. I hope to meet them in
Heaven, and trust that all found peace with God. The word says, "Go
out in the streets and lanes of the city, and in the hedges and
highways." "Jesus came to seek and to save that which was lost," not
the righteous but sinners. He came to save. How often people are
waiting for Christians, who profess to have salvation, to speak to
them, and how glad they are to receive the message if delivered in
love.

I was located for a time at Woolwich, near the London Arsenal. There
were stationed thousands of soldiers and they were often found in the
public houses under the influence of drink. I would plead with them to
quit sinning, turn to God, and seek salvation. Often tears were shed,
and resolves made to serve the Lord. There are many incidents of souls
being saved on the streets, in the slums and public houses, but space
forbids my going into details, but suffice it to say that I have been
given many proofs of God's love and mercy from among the thousands who
have heard the gospel in those far-off lands, as well as in our home
land. Then let us encourage our missionaries everywhere to press on
until the Master says, "It is enough, come up higher."

I was much pained, while in England, to see so many young women there,
as in Scotland, selling beer and other strong drink to customers in
the public houses; beautiful girls selling their souls to the tempter
to be lost forever unless in some way rescued before it is too late.

During this second visit to Europe I was often stopped on the street
and asked to sing to the people, which I frequently did, regardless of
remarks or criticisms, and the Lord blessed my singing to the good of
many souls. While in London, night after night I would sing and preach
the gospel to people who longed for salvation, but knew not how to
get saved. How often we neglect an opportunity to do good. Years after
some of our missionaries returning from Africa, passing through
London, heard the people calling to them, "Where is that old lady who
sang for us?" So we labor not in vain. In due season we shall reap if
we faint not.

After spending several weeks in England (most of the time in London) I
saw that precious band of young missionaries take the steamer for
Africa. The next day I embarked for home at Southampton. Soon after
starting we sighted the vessel on which they sailed and I could
distinguish some of them waving their handkerchiefs in farewell. One
of them died in Africa ten months later. By and by we shall meet again
in the Kingdom of heaven, each one, I trust, bringing with us sheaves
to lay at Jesus' feet.

During the return voyage the sea was stormy at times, yet the voyage
was made safely, and on Sabbath morning, the day after my arrival in
New York, I went to the Tombs prison to hold services. I was very
tired, and after the services I was so faint I prayed for the Lord to
open the way for me to have some refreshments, as I was to preach in
the afternoon at a Rescue Mission. There were many elegantly dressed
lady visitors at that meeting, but they all passed out and left me
alone, when a young, humble-looking man came to me and said, "We are
very poor, and are able to afford but one meal a day, and not a full
meal at that, but it would be such a blessing to my wife and myself if
you would come and share it with us." My heart was touched that this
stranger should offer to share the little they had, when others never
thought of my needs. I did not go with him, although I thanked him; it
was so far to his home, but God will reward him. For Jesus said, "I
was a stranger and ye took me in, hungry and ye fed me; I was in
prison and ye came unto me, sick and ye visited me."

    Behold a homeless wanderer, poor and thinly clad,
    To biting cold a victim, with hunger almost mad,
    Entering yonder mansion, dares to boldly steal
    What none should e'er deny a dog--the pittance of a meal!
    See the greedy sleuth-hounds of the outraged law
    Wage against this robber an unrelenting war;
    While _Christian_ judge and jury, with ready wit, declare
    His crime an awful outrage, that merits prison fare!
    But he who rears his costly domes
    O'er wreck and ruin of human homes,
    Plants in the breast a raging thirst
    And leaves his victims doubly cursed,
    Can roll in luxury, loll in pride
    And, with _the law_, his gain divide!
    Tho' every dime he pays the state
    A thousand cost in wakened hate!

                                         --_Geo. W. H. Harrison._


        Learn that in many a loathsome cell
        A prisoned genius or a saint may dwell,
        Whose power, developed by an act of love,
        May lead a million to the Courts above.
        Shall it be yours to touch that vibrant chord
        And share the honor of the great reward?
        What heaven endorses that alone can stand;
        All else is stubble, built on shifting sand.

                                                  --_G. W. H. H._

[Illustration: STATE PRISON, JOLIET, ILL.]




                           CHAPTER XXI.

                         Travel and Toil.


                        TWO NIGHTS' SERVICE.

At one time when suffering from nervous prostration I was lovingly
cared for for some weeks in the home of dear brother H. L. Hastings,
of Boston. One night while there I said to him: "I must go to the city
tonight." He replied: "Sister Wheaton, have you prayed about it?" I
said, "Yes." He answered, "Go and pray again." I did so and returned
to his office, saying, "I must go to the city tonight." They were
having watchnight service in the city. Again he replied: "The night is
very cold and you are sick. Go and pray and find out the mind of God."
Again I went to my room to inquire diligently of the Lord and was sure
that the call of the Spirit was that I should go. Again I returned to
his office and told him I must go to the city that night. Once more he
replied: "Sister Wheaton, go and pray." As I wept before the Lord He
showed me the city given up to idolatry and sin and again I went to
Brother Hastings' office and said: "I must go to the city." He dropped
his pen and hurriedly said: "Wife and I will go with you." It was one
of the coldest nights Boston had known for years, but from one saloon
to another the Lord led us and from one watchnight meeting to another
until near midnight we entered a Mission hall. A fine-looking,
well-dressed young man from the platform hurried down and said to me:
"Mother, I am so glad to see you. Come on the platform and speak to
the people." I looked at the man and he said: "Don't you know me,
mother?" When I said "No," he answered: "Don't you know your boy?" I
looked at him--so beautiful in the service of God--and then he said:
"I was in prison and you came and prayed and sang for me. I was in the
hospital, and got saved there, and God is still blessing your boy."
Reader, did it pay? Yes, that night my heart rejoiced in my Savior for
all He had done for me and for my "children" in prison walls. For
seventeen years now this man has been a blessing in helping to save
others.

Another watchnight I spent in St. Louis, Missouri. Feeling weary, I
was about to retire for the night, when the Lord showed me to go on
the street and do service for Him. So, doubting not, I pressed out for
a cold night's work in the slums. The sister who entertained me went
with me to the places of sin and also to six different watch-meetings,
at which we witnessed for the Master, leaving the results with the
Lord, who said: "And the books were opened, and another book was
opened, which is the book of life; and the dead were judged out of
those things which were written in the books, according to their
works."


                            ONE WEEK'S WORK.

A few years since, on arriving in Omaha after returning from the East,
I telephoned the jailer at the county jail: "Can I have a meeting?"
"Yes," came the reply. There were a good many prisoners and we had a
good service. Sister Kelley, of Tabor, Iowa, was with me. Our singing
seemed much appreciated. Went from there to the city jail. Held
services there, and in the evening in a Rescue Mission.

At midnight we boarded the train for Deer Lodge, Montana. En route our
train stopped for a couple of hours at Ogden, Utah, and while there we
visited the Florence Crittenton Rescue Home--where we were warmly
welcomed by both the matron and the girls and had a blessed service.
God bless them all!

[Illustration: PRISON AT DEER LODGE, MONT.]

We arrived at the State prison at Deer Lodge on Saturday, and had the
privilege of preaching to the many prisoners the following day. God
blessed me in speaking, both to the men and women. We sang many
old-time hymns and some new ones. Took each prisoner by the hand as
they passed out, visited the sick prisoners and went to two churches
that night, and visited the women prisoners on Monday morning, and had
real victory in prayer for them. Then bidding goodbye to all we left
for the prison at Boise City, Idaho, where we arrived Tuesday.
Telephoned the warden asking permission to hold service at the prison.
The privilege was granted and a team was sent for us. We found a large
number of prisoners and the officials kind, and had a good service of
an hour. Visited the poor, condemned men in their cells, prayed and
wept with them, and commended them to the great loving God who said:
"Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow; though
they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." After seeing the
sick we left the prison; but my heart was greatly drawn out for those
men under death sentence. I felt that one of them (a foreigner) was
innocent. I was almost overcome with sorrow. They were my "children"
and I never would see them again in this world, and yet I was
powerless to help them!

From Boise City we went to Salt Lake City. When we arrived at the
penitentiary there and mentioned our desire to hold a service the
warden's kind wife said: "The warden is in the city and they are under
contract and must get their work done immediately--but you lie down
and rest--you are worn out" (and I was). So I slept until I heard her
tender voice, saying, "Mrs. Wheaton, lunch is ready and the warden
says he will give you forty minutes after dinner in the chapel with
the men." I was so glad and said: "This is all through your kindness
and God will reward you." I found the men seated, waiting for me, in
the chapel and thankfully I improved that opportunity, knowing that
eternity would reveal the results of that service. I was permitted to
see the two men under death sentence and sing and pray with them, and
tell them of a Savior "mighty to save and strong to deliver;" then
with sad heart I left them--never to meet them again till the trumpet
should sound. Precious in God's sight were those poor, forsaken,
criminals! And, reader, as I write these lines down in the slums of
Chicago, I see opposite me the saloon open day and night luring men
and women inside, fitting them also for the prison and perhaps for the
scaffold!

Leaving the prison at Salt Lake, we hurried to the county jail, held
services in two departments, and had a good time with the prisoners;
then left for the city jail. Did what work we could there in the
Lord's name and hurried to the depot, only stopping on the way to get
a little lunch for the long journey before us. Weary and faint we
reached the train just as it was leaving. Too weak to go further I got
in the first car, which proved to be a dining car. I said: "The boys
will allow me to sit here awhile," and I heard a voice saying: "Come
in, mother, sit down. You are welcome in my car and you must have
something to eat. You look tired and hungry"--and wasn't I? And when I
told him of my friend in another car he had me bring her also and gave
us both a good supper, and was I not thankful to God for that kind
welcome from the dining car conductor, who knew me? Surely God will
reward him. I hope to meet and know him in that land where we shall
never get weary and hungry.

We arrived at Rawlins, Wyoming, at nine the next morning. We hurried
to the prison. It was Decoration Day and most of the guards were off
for a holiday--the men being locked in their cells. The warden kindly
said to us: "I wish I could let you talk to the men, but my officers
are gone and there is no one to guard them, and I am compelled to
remain at the office to see after business." I was sure God had sent
us, and said: "Will you permit us to see the men in their cells?"
After much deliberation he said: "I'll tell you what I will do, I'll
turn the men loose in the dining room if you think you can control
them, and let you have an hour to talk to them." I said, "Surely I can
manage those men--why, they are my children, sir," and so down the men
came from their cells and O such a meeting! I was at home and my
"boys" were on their honor and I talked to them as a mother and we
sang together hymns that they knew, and bless God He was guarding the
men, and I had nothing to do with the matter only to obey Him and tell
them the old, old story of the redeeming love of a Savior who died to
save us from our sins and give to us eternal life. As I grasped each
one by the hand at parting, I found the men quiet and peaceable,
humbly begging me to come again. Then I saw the heavy iron doors close
between us and knew I would probably never see them together again as
we were there, but looked forward to the great day in which, if he
would, each man could have a part in crowning Jesus Lord of lords and
King of kings.

After having dinner with the few officers present in their own dining
room we hurried to the jail. There we were permitted to preach the
gospel to the prisoners and they received us gladly. As I left the
jailer expressed his appreciation of the visit, saying it was so good
of us to come to help the prisoners--especially the girls.

Arriving at Lincoln, Nebraska, we attended the evening service of the
National Campmeeting then in progress there and the next morning went
to the prison. The warden kindly granted us the privilege of a gospel
service with the prisoners. After holding this service and visiting
the sick in the hospital we returned to the camp ground. Reached there
during a testimony service just in time to be invited by the leader to
sing a certain hymn. Instantly I was on my feet and soon on the
platform saying, "Yes, I will sing, but first I must sing,

    "The toils of the road will seem nothing
    When we get to the end of the way."

And shouts of praise went up to God all over that ground, for He
especially anointed me to sing that hymn. I felt every word of it, for
though weary and tired from the journey, I knew God had been with me
and had given victory all along the way.

In this brief sketch I have failed to mention some services held in
missions and also special services on all the trains on which we
traveled--perhaps bringing to some their last warning.

One night during this week's journey a crowd of drunken men boarded
the train. They were so abusive to me that I went outside the car
door. When I went in the next car I found the same kind dining car
conductor I have before mentioned. At his inquiry as to what was the
matter I just knelt and prayed and then told him how the drunken men
had acted. He said: "Come with me. This won't do. I will see that you
and your sister have a sleeper." He went with me into the other car,
and when the men saw the man in uniform with me they tried to be very
polite. They were under the influence of drink and in a sense not
responsible for their actions. Who is responsible? The saloon, the
brewery, the devil who uses these things to make men and women
oftentimes more like fiends than creatures made in the image and
likeness of God, and all who fail to use their influence against the
liquor traffic are responsible.

From Lincoln we went to Omaha where we parted feeling that the days
had been spent for God and souls--the dear sister to return to her
work in the missionary training home at Tabor, Iowa, I to hurry on to
Chicago, taking with me one of the sisters I met for the first time in
the slum mission work in Omaha a week previous.

So we turned over that week's work to the Lord of the harvest, who
will see that the seed scattered along life's pathway shall bring
forth fruit unto eternal life.


                          A PROFITABLE TRIP.

Walking along the street in Chicago on my way to the Cook County Jail
to see the "car-barn bandits" and one or two others under death
sentence, I was impressed that I must go to some State Prison for
Easter, only two days off. I stopped and prayed, inquiring of the Lord
where he would have me go.

I had been east and just arrived in the city, weary and worn, but I
knew the voice of God was saying, "Go!" but where and by what route I
knew not. I stood still until the Lord made it plain to go
westward--to what place I need not know, but to go to the railroad
office and get transportation. When I entered the office the kind
official said, "What can I do for you, Mother?" At first I answered,
"I hardly know what to ask for, as it is not yet plain to me just
where to go;" but a little later I said to him, "I must go to Canon
City, Colorado." "All right," he said, and gave me transportation. It
was then too late, under ordinary circumstances, to visit the jail,
but I felt that I must see those condemned boys before their
execution, and I prayed that God would open my way and incline the
heart of the jailer, Mr. Whitman, to grant me the desired opportunity.
To my surprise I found Mr. Whitman on the street car. I told him that
I must leave the city at once for western prisons and asked if he
would kindly give me permission to see the condemned men who were in
his charge, before I left, as I could not return before the day set
for execution. He was very kind and answered, "Yes, I will send an
officer with you to see the boys."

That hour will never be forgotten. Instead of tough, rough looking men
I found "mother's boys" in the prime of their young manhood. Kindly,
tenderly I talked to them, thinking to myself, what if it were my
boy, now safe in Heaven? O sisters, it seemed to me my heart would
break as I placed my hands on their heads, so soon to be cold in death
and commended them to the God who sent His only begotten Son, who,
when on the cross, said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do!" I left the prison, praying that my message might not be in
vain.

Upon leaving Chicago over the Santa Fe railroad on my way west, I
prayed earnestly for direction as to what prison I should visit on
Easter Sunday and was impressed to stop at Joliet. The warden, Mr.
Murphy, and his estimable wife were kind and hospitable, as they
always are, and the chaplain was willing that I should have a part in
the services on the Sabbath. God was present in power in all the
services. Many of the prisoners partook of the communion with their
teachers and chaplain.

The Lord alone can reward the warden's wife for her special kindness
to me at this time, for I was taken sick from overwork and detained
over Monday. I then left at midnight for Topeka, Kansas, where the
Lord sent me to the railroad shops to hold services at the noon hour
while the men were resting after lunch. Our meeting with them was
signally owned and blessed of God. At its close I shook hands with
each of those hundreds of men and then went to the jail where the Lord
again graciously met with us.

Reaching Pueblo on our way to Canon City we telephoned the
jailer--also the matron of the Rescue Home--and obtained permission to
hold services at each on our return.

At Canon City the warden and his wife gave us a most kind and
courteous welcome and he granted the privilege of holding services for
the prisoners in the chapel, also at the hospital and cell houses. I
visited their night school. It was very interesting to see so many
teaching other prisoners. The most important part of my work at Canon
City, however, was seeing three young men who were under death
sentence. While I prayed day after day for them, they came to see
their true condition before God and, I believe, gave evidence of true
repentance. I hope to meet them all in Heaven.

But oh, what a sad sight to see those young men in the prime of life,
sentenced to die; and all on account of strong drink.

How pitifully they talked of home and mother and innocent childhood
days! Their hearts were melted and broken. Poor boys! far away from
home and friends, with few to care and many to cry out, "They deserve
to die"--never seeing the cause, the rum traffic. Why not stop that
which sends our young men by the thousands to a drunkard's or a
criminal's grave? When I bade these young men farewell they were
cheerful and confident that the Lord had forgiven them.

Arriving at Pueblo on the return trip, we went to the Rescue Home
where we received a kind welcome; also held services in the prison
there. I forgot to mention services held in jail and almshouse while
in Canon City.

At Denver we found friends who received us kindly. We held services in
their mission church. Also held service in the large jail in which I
conducted the first meeting ever held after it was built.

Leaving Denver we went to Lincoln, Neb., to hold services in the State
Prison on the Sabbath. Found there my friends, Warden Beemer and wife,
who have always been so kind to me. Our meetings were crowned with
success and victory. Also did personal work, which is important.

While I was there, two new prisoners were brought in.

Left Monday for Omaha and went at once to the County Jail and held
meetings in the three different wards. God blessed His own word to the
good of souls! There, as elsewhere, I met some who knew me. From Omaha
I went to Chicago, where I spent some time in missions, etc.


                        SIX WEEKS' SERVICE.

About July 1, 1904, I spent some time in St. Louis, visiting the
slums, dives and saloons, faithfully warning the multitudes I found in
sin. Left there for Jefferson City, where I held services in the State
Prison. We give here the following extract written by the sister who
accompanied me on this trip:


                      MY TRIP TO JEFFERSON CITY.

     I was glad to have the opportunity of visiting the prison in
     Jefferson City with Mother Wheaton, who is one of our oldest and
     most successful prison workers.

     We were off early Saturday morning, July 2, and arrived there at
     2:30 o'clock. We had dinner, then went to the prison. The guard
     first took us to see the women. They were all seated at machines,
     sewing very rapidly, and I was told I was not allowed to speak to
     them. My heart ached and I could not keep back the tears as I
     looked on the precious girls I had labored with in the jail at
     St. Louis, some seven or eight of them. At 6 o'clock we had a
     short meeting with a hundred and fifty shop girls. Many of them
     were moved to tears, and we believe good was accomplished. Sunday
     morning we had a good meeting in the jail, then at 2:30 went back
     to the prison and gave the gospel to twenty-two hundred convicts.
     It was a blessed time. I never saw such attention, and while
     Mother Wheaton spoke and we sang "He Pardoned a Rebel Like Me," I
     saw some of them wiping the tears from their eyes. These men are
     not all hard-hearted. As I looked at them and heard almost all of
     them join in with us and sing "We'll Never Say Good-Bye in
     Heaven," somehow I lost sight of the stripes and prison walls
     and bars, and thought how precious they are in God's sight, and
     I believe many will be gathered to praise Him, who was pierced
     for us all. After the meeting a young man asked permission to
     speak to us; his face shone with the glory of God as he told how
     he had been there five years, and had been saved two years and a
     half and called to preach the gospel. He proved his earnestness
     when Mother Wheaton asked if he would let her try to get him
     pardoned, and he answered: "No, I am guilty, and I not only feel
     it my duty to serve my time, but will make restitution as soon as
     I am out. Then I shall give myself to the Lord's work."

Returning to St. Louis I next went to Denver, Colo., to see Governor
Peabody in behalf of the three young men who were awaiting execution.
The governor was very kind and willing to do what was right. In Denver
I had services in the jail, also spoke at two meetings and preached at
night at a mission church. Next visited the State Reformatory for
Young Men at Buena Vista, Colo. Most of the officers and all the boys
attended the services. Leaving here in the evening arrived at Salt
Lake City next day about noon. I hurried to the State Prison and was
surprised to find a new warden, as the former warden had died. It
being a working day had only a short service with the prisoners, but
it was blessed of the Lord. Then visited the county and city jails,
holding three services. Leaving here, traveling all night, arrived the
next evening at Canon City, Colo. Hurrying to the State Prison we were
kindly received and permitted to hold services in the cell houses till
9 o'clock. The warden informed me that one of the boys under death
sentence had gone insane just the day before and could not be seen.
One of the other boys under sentence of death said the last thing that
this one had done was to write me a letter, of which I here insert an
extract:

                                CANON CITY, COLO., July 12, 1904.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:--

     It is with pleasure that I answer your welcome letter, which was
     appreciated. We are waiting patiently to know the verdict. If it
     is God's will that I must be taken out of this world, I will go,
     but it is very hard, as I have done nothing worthy of death, but
     they look at it different, I suppose. Whatever got me into such a
     scrape I cannot tell. I have always worked hard for my living.

     Dear Mother, I have done as you requested. I commenced to read
     the New Testament on the 28th of June and completed it on the
     10th of July. I never forget to read the Holy Bible and to pray.

     You wished to know if we boys had any work to do. It is beyond
     the warden's power to let us work under the circumstances, though
     he is very kind to us; also the other officials. We are allowed
     all the reading matter we can use and have exercise each day.

     Dear Mother Wheaton, I hope that we will meet again on earth. If
     not, I pray we may in heaven. And may our Heavenly Father protect
     you in the work of His cause. I ever remain your son in Jesus.

                                                    C----. P----.

Leaving Canon City we hurry on, visiting next the State Prison at
Lincoln, Neb. There we found another poor man under death sentence,
who gladly listened while I taught him the way of life. Oh, the joy
that filled my soul as I told him of the Savior who would pardon all
his sins. After seeing the other prisoners who are always glad to see
true friends, we hastened on to Omaha, Neb. Here I held four services
in jails and Rescue Homes. When leaving Omaha as I was singing on the
train I found some ladies crying; one of them, grasping my hand, said,
"When you sang 'My Name in Mother's Prayer,' I thought how often my
mother, who is in the baggage coach, has prayed for me, and I will
never hear her pray again." I soon changed cars and bade farewell to
the sorrowing friends, hoping to meet them with that mother where
there is no death nor tears.

[Illustration: CRIMINAL INSANE HOSPITAL, CHESTER, ILL.]

Resting for a short time at Tabor, Iowa, I then went to St. Louis and
on to Chester, Ill., to hold services in the State Prison. We were
here four days and held services in the State Prison, jail, and
Criminal Insane Hospital, where there are more than one hundred
inmates.

Once while holding services here one young man was saved and his mind
restored. He has now been preaching the Gospel for several years. "Is
there anything too hard for the Lord?"

We next visited Gatesville, Texas, where is located the Reform School
for Boys. Obtained permission to see the boys and it fortunately being
a holiday I was allowed to hold services in both the white and colored
wards. The way the boys seemed to enjoy the meetings and to hear them
sing was encouraging. Leaving for Huntsville, Tex., we went to
different towns, holding services in jails and on the streets till
Saturday, when we arrived at Rusk, Texas, and were met by the
chaplain, Mr. Dawson, who treated us kindly and gave me the privilege
of holding meetings on the Sabbath. Had a very impressive service in
the afternoon in the prison yard where we gathered round a coffin to
pay the last tribute of love to a departed prisoner, after which we
held a meeting in the prison hospital.

We next visited the State Prison at Huntsville, Texas, where we were
kindly given the entire time in chapel service, and also the privilege
of holding services in the different wards of the hospital. Here all
seemed encouraged and were much effected, the tears flowing freely
upon many of the pale faces.

I received upon this visit the following kind tribute from the
Assistant Superintendent and Prison Physician:

     I was present at the services conducted by Mother Wheaton at the
     Huntsville Penitentiary, on August 7, 1904, and noticed with much
     satisfaction that her remarks and singing were very much
     appreciated by the men, and many of them seemed very much
     affected, and I think that the service will be conducive to much
     good hereafter.

                                                     T. H. BROWN,
      Assistant Superintendent, in charge Huntsville Penitentiary.

[Illustration: PRISON AT HUNTSVILLE, TEXAS.]

     Mother Wheaton visited the Huntsville Prison Hospital this
     morning and I think her words of cheer and advice given to the
     sick will be the means of doing great good.

                                                 W. E. FOWLER,
                                                Prison Physician.

At the Woman's Prison, also located at Huntsville, we found over one
hundred women prisoners all working on the farm except the few white
women. We held meetings with these women in the afternoon and evening
for three days, which were blessed of the Lord. While I wept with
them I thought of the Scripture, "Weep with those that weep." Jesus
loved me and saved me and has put a real love in my heart for those
souls.

The kind chaplain took us with his invalid wife on Sabbath afternoon
to visit the consumptives' prison a few miles from Huntsville. Here
the prisoners sick with consumption are located on a farm. Had a
blessed meeting with them. The weather being so warm my health would
not permit me to visit the several stockades in this state, where are
mines, sugar refineries or farms.

Returning to St. Louis, Mo., worn and weary, we were kindly
entertained at the Berachah Home for Girls. Again we visited the
slums, missions, and dives. The sin during these fairs and expositions
is awful in the extreme. I have no time or desire to go to see the
sights, but am after souls.

Next we went to Leavenworth, Kan.; was kindly given the hour for
service Sabbath morning, at the State Prison at Lansing, also a
service with the women prisoners. Also visited the Soldiers' Home, and
by the kindness of the superintendent was permitted to speak to the
aged soldiers.

We then found a welcome in the home of Sister Two-good, who
accompanied us to the Old Ladies' Rest, where I held services in their
lovely new home. In the evening till after 10 o'clock we were speaking
to crowds on the streets who seldom attend church.

Returning then to Tabor, Iowa, weary with this six weeks' constant
service, I was for some weeks unable to travel. One night when as I
thought, near death, I cried mightily to God and he heard my cry,
touched my body and healed me. After a few weeks' rest, yet scarcely
able to travel, I started again on my mission seeking the lost.


                             RECENT WORK.

During these weeks of waiting the responsibility of finishing this
book then in preparation, and getting it to its readers bore heavily
upon me. Knowing that I could not attend to this and continue my work,
I was in answer to prayer assured that I should be relieved of the
burden of managing the publication, sale, and distribution of the
book. After much prayer about the matter I was relieved of this burden
in a very satisfactory manner, Bro. C. M. Kelley taking the management
of the same for the Lord.

While yet weak in body, receiving indication from the Lord that I
should be about His work, I went on my way, taking with me a young
sister from the Training Home, who expects to devote her life's
service as a missionary in Japan, the Holy Spirit assuring her also
that she should accompany me on this trip. I leave it for her to write
the account of the following few weeks' work.

I was blessed with an opportunity to travel a few weeks with "Mother
Wheaton" in her work in prisons, etc. Leaving the Home at Tabor, Ia.,
September 28, 1904, we first visited the jail at Council Bluffs, where
Mother Wheaton held a Gospel service. A number of the prisoners asked
for prayer. We next went to Chicago, where on the Lord's day we
visited the county jail, where were about 540 men and a few women.
After their chapel service we were given access to the corridors where
we could talk to all. We also took part in several services at the
Beulah Rescue Homes, some missions, etc.

On October 15, we were at Ft. Madison, Iowa, and visited the several
wards in the State Prison and sang and prayed with the sick. On
Sabbath Mother Wheaton conducted services in the chapel, also at the
county jail and the Santa Fe Railroad Hospital.

We next attended the National Prison Congress in session at Quincy,
Ill. We here had opportunities to witness for God. Monday evening, by
invitation, Mother Wheaton spoke at the Soldiers' Home, where God
poured out His Spirit and melted the hearts of some who were steeped
in sin. The following morning we visited the hospital and prayed and
sang with the sick who seemed very glad to hear the good old-time
hymns. We then went to the jail where one woman accused of murder was
especially touched and broken up, seeing there was someone who loved
and cared for her. It is the love of Jesus that brings sinners to
repentance. The day following, October 18, we held service at the
Chaddick Boys' School which is under Deaconess' management. Here
Mother Wheaton spoke to ninety young boys.

Provision was made for those in attendance at the Prison Congress to
take an excursion down the river, but instead of going with this
company we went to the House of Correction, where the superintendent
seemed glad to have Mother Wheaton speak to the prisoners, both men
and women, even calling in the men from their work.

[Illustration: GROUP OF DELEGATES AT THE NATIONAL PRISON CONGRESS,
QUINCY, ILL., OCTOBER, 1904.

Mrs. Wheaton in upper right hand corner.]

October 19 we returned to Chicago. The next morning we took the train
for Marquette, Mich., on the shore of Lake Superior, where is located
a State Prison. Upon our arrival there we went to the chaplain, who
kindly gave permission to conduct the next Sabbath morning services.
We then visited the poor house, where we sang and prayed with those
who were lonely and sad, and knew nothing about Jesus. On Saturday it
was stormy, but Mother Wheaton held a service at the county jail,
which God blessed. The Lord's day, October 23, was a day long to be
remembered by many of the prisoners, who that day received a ray of
hope. The Spirit of God so anointed Mother Wheaton to speak that the
prisoners seemed to be held spellbound, with hearts open to receive
every word and song. In the afternoon we were given the privilege of
talking and singing in the corridors and speaking to the prisoners in
their cells. It was told us that these were the worst men in the
state, twenty-four of whom were serving life sentences. But God
touched their hearts, many being moved to tears. We left some of them
with new hopes, calling upon God for help and asking us to pray for
them. Mother Wheaton said they were all her own dear boys.

Journeying eastward we held services in Indianapolis, Ind., also in
the State Prison at Columbus, Ohio, and in the Woman's Prison at
Allegheny, Pennsylvania. Sabbath morning, November 5, Mother Wheaton
spoke in the corridors of the State Prison in Philadelphia, and in the
afternoon at the House of Correction. Here the Lord wonderfully spoke
to the hearts of many young girls. Many men were moved upon by the
Spirit. The officers looked on with amazement to see how attentive
they all seemed to be.

At Trenton, N. J., at the county jail God moved upon hearts and many
asked for prayer.

At the State Prison at Trenton, N. J., we received a warm welcome and
Mother Wheaton was given opportunity to preach on the following Lord's
day in the chapel. We visited the woman's department and held a
service with them, all stopping their work and giving attention. God
melted the hearts of those women who have gone away from Him. Jesus'
blood is able to cleanse from every stain.

After a few busy days of service in New York city we returned to
Trenton, for the service in the prison on the Sabbath. We then
returned westward by way of Baltimore and Washington, D. C. We next
held a service in the prison at Canton, Ohio, and then went to
Mansfield to the State Reformatory, where were nearly a thousand young
men. Here God wonderfully answered prayer. The superintendent and
chaplain were very kind, supplying us with such things as we had need
of. We arrived in Chicago November 20. Leaving there we went by way of
Marion and Anamosa, Iowa, where we held services. We arrived at Tabor
on Thanksgiving day, November 24, which was truly a thanksgiving day
with us, for the wonderful way in which God had answered prayer and
brought us safely through so many dangers and given us such glorious
victories in His blessed service.

                             ROSA MINTLE.

[Illustration: INDUSTRIAL REFORM SCHOOL, HUTCHINSON, KAN.]

Leaving Tabor December 15, taking with me Sister Taylor, who for
several years has accompanied me at intervals in my work, silently
praying for me while I preach, sing or pray, I started for San
Francisco, California, via Santa Fe, New Mexico. We stopped at
Hutchison, Kansas, where is located the State Industrial Reform School
for Young Men. We net the wife of the superintendent of that
institution, who kindly took us to the school. I had held service
here with prisoners who were working on the buildings when they were
being erected.

The officers arranged for a service in the chapel though it was a week
day and just before Christmas. The meeting was owned and blessed of
the Lord. Also at Santa Fe we were kindly entertained by the wife of
the superintendent of the prison, and the officers gave us a service
in the chapel and the prisoners, both men and women, privilege to
attend. About half the prisoners being Mexicans I had to speak to them
by the aid of an interpreter. This service was also signally owned of
the Lord. We also held special service with the women.

We then left for the coast and had several services en route with the
passengers and railroad men; also with a hundred soldiers who were
going to their winter quarters. I had warned the soldiers about
drinking. It seemed so sad to see them drinking and gambling. Poor
boys, there seems to be no way of restraining them from strong drink
so long as they can get it. Some trouble arose between them and other
parties and one of the soldiers was badly cut in the throat. In a town
in California I held services in a number of saloons and dance halls.
It was Christmas day and I never saw more drinking among the people
and I never want to witness such again. Why will people indulge in
strong drink, when God has said no drunkard shall inherit the kingdom
of heaven?

We arrived in San Francisco and found many open doors to preach the
Gospel. I visited the State Prison at San Quentin. The chaplain was
very kind, giving me privileges of the chapel services and a special
service with the women. This prison was first opened to me in 1898 in
direct answer to prayer. I also held services in the city prisons.

We also visited the Federal Prison on Alcatraz Island, where we held
three services with the manifest blessing of God upon our souls. The
kindness of the officers and the appreciation shown by the prisoners
there will not be forgotten. I am sure God will reward those who are
kind to His children, and who assist His workers in any way.

During the first four months of 1905 we found much to do for the Lord
in Los Angeles, San Pedro and other places in California, one of these
of special importance was the Reformatory at Whittier.

[Illustration: INDUSTRIAL SCHOOL, WHITTIER, CAL.]

Early in May, having received a letter from one of the boys in
Colorado under sentence of death, I hastened to that state to see the
new governor in their behalf. I was kindly received and heard by the
governor, but as the Board of Pardons was to soon meet he declined to
make any promises. Tarrying several days for the board to meet, I met
with them and made a plea for the lives of the boys who had, under the
influence of drink, accidentally, as they claimed, taken life.

They received a reprieve for four weeks, but the two who were adjudged
sane were executed June 16. I give elsewhere an extract from a letter
received from the mother of one of these boys shortly afterward. Also
an extract from a paper concerning the mother of the other.

After returning to Iowa and remaining but a few days, accompanied by a
young sister from the Home, I returned to Colorado, visiting, en
route, the jail at Council Bluffs, Iowa, and the State Prison at
Lincoln, Nebraska, where we held service on the Lord's day. We then
proceeded to Canon City to visit the condemned boys, and held services
in the corridors of the prison till late at night. We next went to
Buena Vista, where we held service in the State Reform School for
Boys, and in the jail. On our return east we stopped at a camp meeting
at Newton, Kansas, where the Lord blessed in the jail and in the work
on the street. Going next to Chicago we held service in the county
jail with about four hundred men. We next visited the prison at
Joliet, Illinois, but only had service in the prison hospital and
proceeded to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, for services on the Lord's
day; then returned to Tabor, stopping in Omaha and holding a service
in the county jail.

Taking with me the young sister whom I have elsewhere mentioned as
having first known as an orphan girl, now starting for India, I spent
a day at Plattsmouth, Nebraska, where we talked and sang in a tent
meeting, on the street, and in the jail. The time set for the
missionary band to sail being near, we hurried westward, stopping at
but a few places till we reached Sacramento, where we had work to do
for souls in the prison and other places. We next visited the prison
at Salem, Oregon, and also made a short stay at Portland. Upon
reaching Tacoma we learned that the time of sailing had been put off a
week, so we improved the time seeking out the lost in mission work,
etc.

The company of nine missionaries, including one child, boarded the
steamship "Minnesota," and by the kindness of the general
superintendent of the company we were permitted to spend a night
before sailing on board the vessel with them, which was a time very
much enjoyed in the Lord. The parting was not one of sadness, but of
sweet peace and calmness. As we looked into the faces of the dear ones
as they were being borne away we rejoiced that God has a few whom He
can trust to carry the precious Gospel to the heathen. As the vessel
bearing its precious burden sailed from our view, the little company
of anxious watchers kneeled down and committed the dear ones to Him
who has said that His children are as dear to Him as the apple of His
eye. We were afterward delighted to hear that they had a most
delightful voyage, reaching Yokohama, Japan, in eighteen days, just in
time to escape a very disastrous storm on the sea.

As a sister had accompanied some of the missionaries to the coast and
was to return with me, assisting me in the work, we turned our
attention to the needs of the lost ones about us. I will let this
sister here give a brief sketch of our return trip, on which we trust
much good was done for souls:


                      RETURN FROM PACIFIC COAST.

Mother Wheaton's companion to the coast, Sister Yarrett, having
sailed for India, it was my privilege to accompany her from Seattle to
Iowa. From the wharf, when we had committed the company of dear
missionaries to the Lord, we went to the rooms of the Y. W. C. A. and
held religious service while the young ladies had lunch. About two
hundred young women lunch in these rooms daily. At night Mother
Wheaton spoke at the Life Boat Mission with the anointing of the Holy
Spirit, and many hearts seemed touched.

Early the next morning we left Seattle on board the S. S. Whatcom, en
route to Victoria, British Columbia. This was a most enjoyable trip to
me. At Victoria we had a very profitable service in the W. C. T. U.
Rescue Home, and the Lord especially blessed the visit and service.
Later we spent five days very profitably in Portland laboring in the
Exposition Camp Meeting, visiting the jails, saloons and slums,
preaching and singing the Gospel.

We next went to Boise, Idaho, where we held services in the Soldiers'
Home and in the State Prison. Service with the women prisoners and
prayer with the men under death sentence were special features of our
visit to this place. We next spent a day in Rawlins, Wyoming, visiting
the state and county prisons, holding short but profitable services in
each. In the county jail here a raving maniac was quieted by Mother
Wheaton's singing.

Another night and day's travel across the plains and beautiful country
and we were in Omaha, Nebraska. Here we spent several days, being
entertained in the Tinley Rescue Home. This indeed is a refuge for the
fallen. Our time here was well occupied in the jails, missions and
churches. Then we hurried on to Tabor. I to resume duties in the
school room, and Mother Wheaton, after a few days' rest, to continue
her pilgrimage seeking the wandering and the lost ones of earth till
she shall be called from toil to her reward which shall surely be one
worth gaining.

                                                    EMMA H. HERR.


                           ANOTHER TRIP.

After attending Prison Congress at Lincoln, Neb., Oct. 21 to 26, I
left for western prisons and other institutions. Held services at Old
Soldiers' Home, Grand Island, Nebraska, the 27th, then went to
Rawlings, Wyoming; held services on Sunday at the prison chapel with
all the prisoners, then at the county jail. Had great liberty in both
prisons. Left at night for Salt Lake City, Utah. Found open doors.
Held services at state prison jail on Monday afternoon; also in the
county jail, two services. Left that night for Ogden; held services in
the county jail and at Crittendon Rescue Home. Left for Deer Lodge,
Montana, where I was kindly received by the warden, Frank Conley, who
has ever proved one of the best of friends to me in my work in
prison--always arranging for services Sunday or week day and
entertaining myself and any one I brought with me, and never letting
me go away without something to help defray expenses along the way.
Sunday afternoon at Butte City held two services at the county jail;
took train at night for Walla Walla, Washington and arrived there at
3:30 a. m., and went to Chaplain Lacornu's home. After resting, prayer
and breakfast, we went to the state prison, where I held services with
the twelve women prisoners; then in the dining room, held services
with the men--about eight hundred prisoners. The Lord was present in
both services to own and bless and many were helped to a better life
and higher aims. Left there for county jail where we had profitable
service with men and women.

Left that night for Portland, Oregon. Was kindly entertained by one
who has been preaching the gospel for nearly twenty years, who was
convicted in prison while I was preaching in the prison in Bismark, N.
D., one night after nine o'clock. He was converted and has done great
good in the work, both in prison and outside ever since. Much of his
success is due to his faithful Christian wife, who has ever been his
true friend and helpmeet.

Called on Mrs. Smith, a prison missionary, who for years has done
mission work in Salem and Walla Walla prisons. Then left for Salem,
Oregon, where I held services with the prisoners in the jail on the
Sabbath day, also with the women prisoners on Saturday afternoon. Was
kindly received by the Superintendent of the prison and his family,
also by the Bible school in charge of Brother and Sister Ryan, where I
held services on Sunday night in the chapel with students and
citizens. Left Monday morning for the South. Stopped in Sacramento,
and went to the Rescue Home and held services for the girls while I
waited for the train to Carson City, Nevada. Changed cars at Reno and
waiting for neither rest or food hurried on to Carson City to see the
Governor and the Attorney General about prison work. Found four men
under sentence of death. I pleaded with the Governor for a commutation
of sentence. Governor Sparks asked me if I could meet with the Board
of Pardons and himself at 2 p. m., and gave me a letter to the warden
to allow me to see the condemned men and hold services with them--also
with all of the prisoners. The Governor also arranged for me to go to
the prison with one of the officers. Found the poor men heart broken
over their condition, and really sorry for their sin. They had all
been drinking, and among the four of them they had killed a young man,
and all were doomed to die.

When I entered their prison with the death-watch I was overcome with
sorrow for the poor unfortunates who so soon would be in eternity, and
as I came in the door one of the prisoners said, "O, it is Mother
Wheaton." As I clasped his hand he said, "Mother, I knew you twenty
years ago." I said, "Where?" and he said, "In San Francisco." Reader,
you may try to sympathize or criticize at such a time, with them and
me, but you never will know what the suffering is until you have
passed through this ordeal of just standing alone with the good Lord
and the condemned, so soon to die that horrible death. You cannot
picture it, for death is awful to those not prepared to die--filled
with remorse of conscience and sorrow for the deed done while under
the influence of whiskey and possessed with the devil, which the
strong drink causes--and then to have no hope in this world or the
world to come, and alone with their conscience, the death-watch,
myself and our God.

I knelt in prayer. First to ask wisdom of the blessed Christ who never
turned anyone away, and then, taking each one by the hand through the
iron bars, I was lost to this world and its opinions and criticisms. I
entered into their heart-sorrow, and at once took hold on God for the
salvation of their immortal souls. Quietly, but with strong faith in
God and the atoning blood of Jesus our Saviour, I believed for their
salvation. Human sympathy will not avail. It is the suffering and
death of Christ which avails in the face of death. And I believe, if
Jacob prevailed in prayer as a prince, it is our privilege to believe
God hears and answers prayer and saves to the uttermost the vilest
sinner who truly repents of his sins, and claims His promises. "Though
your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they
be red like crimson, they shall be as wool." Isa. 1:18.

We wept and prayed together, and while I sang the good old hymns our
mothers knew and loved and sung for us in childhood, we took hold on
God by faith for their souls' salvation, and I believe God heard and
answered our prayers, that fifteenth day of November, 1905, in that
prison, and that those men that day were forgiven their sins. I know
God's Word is sure, and I depend daily on the Bible and its holy
teachings, and accept His promise, and receive the answer from God
that His pardon is sure.

I told the men I had no hope for their lives to be spared--that the
Governor had not given me any encouragement for them, but had invited
me to meet with him and the Board of Pardons at 2 p. m., and see what
they would do in the case. I pleaded with them to let go all hope of a
life sentence, and prepare to die, for there was only one more day for
them to live--that I had nothing to give them of hope, only in the
precious blood of Jesus--that their days were numbered.

O, the human heart is susceptible to suffering, and my suffering was
intense for them. I was weak and weary, having traveled two days and
two nights without rest. Yet I could not rest when there was so much
at stake for them. I abandoned myself to the Holy Ghost to guide me in
the service, and then as I took each hand, so soon to be cold in
death, I knew only God could save them. I shall not forget the parting
with those poor, unfortunate men, all in the prime of life and
strength of manhood. I will meet them again soon in the presence of
God.

I was so weak in body that the officer kindly assisted me to the main
prison, where I was to hold services with all of the prisoners. It
was high noon, and the warden and officers urged me to take
refreshments. I said, "No, I am soon going to the judgment, and I want
to go with a clear conscience. How could I eat, when all these
prisoners need the gospel so much?" And they kindly gave me the
privilege of an hour's service. Then, after a hurried lunch, which was
both breakfast and dinner, the state carriage was ready to take me to
the Capitol to meet the Governor and Board of Pardons. But there was
no hope, the Board refused to commute the sentence, and all four were
executed November 17, for the death of one young man. Soon I must
stand together at the judgment bar of God, with those whose lives were
taken, one by the four under the influence of whiskey, which makes men
and women crazy and worse than brutes; licensed by the laws of our
land--the others by the men who, in their right minds, as executors of
the law, put to death the helpless victims who had truly repented of
their sins and promised to obey God and the rules, and live good
law-abiding citizens.

I want it understood that I believe in law and its enforcement. I
sympathize with both the murdered and the murderers. I believe in
obeying God and His laws and enforcing discipline, and I assist the
officers of the state to maintain law and order, but I say, give
deliverance from the abominable saloon and all the evil that follows
in its wake. Give us judges, jurymen and officers, who, in every sense
try to banish and abolish the liquor traffic and the dens of sin, and
there will be no need of our state officers having to take life which
none can give.

Leaving the Capitol after the decision was made by the Board of
Pardons and Governor, I went to the hotel to tell the two sisters of
one of the condemned men that all hope of their brother's life was
gone, and that they must prepare to face the awful sorrow of losing
their brother. That scene was O, so pitiful! The brother and these two
sisters were orphans. He was a good boy and supported the two sisters
after the parents had died, but he had fallen into bad company who had
led him astray. The sisters were heart broken. It seemed as if they
could not give up that dear brother who had done so much for them. I
helped them on the train, and went with them as far as Reno, Nevada,
and we parted to meet again after all the sorrow and mistakes of our
lives are forgotten and forgiven.

After leaving them I held services for the Salvation Army friends and
on the street. Then left that night, though very weary, for the east.
After taking the train, I could see in my mind those poor condemned
men, waiting the few last hours until the law should have its way.
Eternity alone will reveal all hearts and lives.

Arrived at Ogden, I went to the Crittendon Home, then on to the State
Industrial School for Boys and Young Men, and had a service in all the
cottages. Was with them two evenings. They all seemed cheered by the
old good songs and the services. Saying "Good-bye" to all in their
dining room at their daylight breakfast hour, I left them for the
east.

I stopped at Columbus, Nebraska, a day, and at Omaha, where many
railroad friends and others met and greeted me kindly. Then hurried on
to Joliet, Illinois, State Prison, where dear Mrs. Murphy, wife of the
warden, gave me a warm welcome to her lovely home in the state prison.
Went with the chaplain to visit the hospital and spoke with the men at
the Sabbath School hour, and then to the women's prison, where I was
given the privilege of addressing all the female prisoners. Many were
much affected, and shed tears as I spoke or sang to them "My Name in
Mother's Prayer," "Is There Anyone Can Help Us" and "Old Time
Religion." Shook hands with most of the women, prayed and sang for a
sick girl in the prison hospital, and left for the jail. Spoke there,
then on to Chicago. After some days in the city, busy for the Lord, I
made a trip to Washington, D. C., and returned before the close of the
year, and proceeded to the Pacific coast early in the new year.

O, how I praise the Lord for His grace and love, and the strength and
endurance He gives me to keep going to carry His messages of love and
good cheer to the lost ones in low and in high pursuits of life.

Dear Reader: We must here close the account of our travel and toil in
the Master's vineyard, and we feel that it will all soon be over, and
the victory be won. When I shall have finished my course I want to be
able to say, like Paul of old, that "I have fought a good fight." I
want, too, to know that the crown is laid up for me as one of those
who have been faithful and that love the appearing of my Savior.

Though but sixty-one years of age, the excessive toil, the wearisome
journeys, the heart-rending scenes and experiences for more than
one-third of my life, have told upon my once strong body until I am
now a physical wreck. Only in the strength of Jehovah and leaning upon
His everlasting arm am I able to pursue the calling He has given me.
"But the toils of the road will seem nothing when we get to the end of
the way." You and I shall meet again, on that great Judgment morning,
and must give an account to God. "Grace be with all them that love our
Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity."

[Illustration: PRISONS AT JACKSON, MICH., DEER LODGE, MONT., AND
FOLSOM, CAL.]




                           CHAPTER XXII.

                     Letters from Prisoners.


The extracts from letters found in this chapter are gathered from my
correspondence with those within prison walls who have been encouraged
by the way and have received help; many of them having borne testimony
to a clear conversion and a life of service for the Lord, even within
prison walls. These will serve to show their appreciation of any
effort made in their behalf. They have been a source of great
encouragement to me in my work.

I should like to give more of similar character, and all more in
detail, would space permit, but let these suffice as examples of the
thousands of letters I have received during these twenty years from my
"children." The names and that which might identify the individuals, I
have omitted; for many of them are now good citizens and some are
engaged in the work of the Lord. I have omitted many references to the
instrumentality which God has seen fit to use in carrying His message
of love to these souls, giving only what others thought were needed to
show the writers' appreciation and gratitude. I have ever dealt with
these, when present and by correspondence, as souls whom I must meet
at the Judgment. The honor and praise for what good may have been
accomplished belongs to Him whom I serve, and who has given me the
commission, "Go and preach the Gospel."

                                                     Inman, Tenn.

     Dear Sister in the Lord:

     We write you a few lines praying that God will allow you to call
     again and preach for us, for we believe that the Spirit of God
     is with you. We need thy aid here. So, our dear sister in the
     Lord, we do wish to hear you once more, so will come much good in
     the name of the living God!

                                                   THE PRISONERS.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                          Boise City Penitentiary, July 29, 1890.

     Elizabeth Wheaton, Portland, Oregon.

     Dear Madam: I am instructed to thank you in behalf of all of us
     for your kind visit. We fully appreciate your labor, your
     courage, and integrity; your singleness of heart and purpose,
     your purity of motives; but above all do we appreciate your
     sincerity. Your indefatigable efforts, even in your old age, to
     reach the criminal, to lead him upward and onward to his true
     destiny under so many disadvantages, without money and without
     price, without the support of state or church, and, I may add,
     without the support of public sentiment which appears to be
     against you and us--all this, I say, inspires us with faith and
     confidence in you. And when I am paying you this tribute, I am at
     the same time aware that I am paying it to Him who came on earth
     to seek and save us, for without Him you would not love us as you
     do.

     Come again, say we all.

                                                       PRISONERS.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                 Lancaster, Nebr., Oct. 25, 1903.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton,

     Dear Mother: We, the undersigned, as a token of our appreciation
     of your efforts in our behalf, respectfully request that you
     accept our assurance of appreciation of to-day's services, and
     especially the song service held in our cell-house, and best
     wishes for your future success.

     Signed by 199 prisoners, each giving his number.

       *       *       *       *       *

                                     Bushy Mountain State Prison,
                                      Petros, Tenn., May 4, 1896.

     Dear Mother Wheaton: We, the undersigned, unfortunate children,
     assemble together to try to show you how grateful we are for the
     devout interest you are taking in the welfare of our souls. We
     hope and trust that the Lord will continue to be with you all
     along your journey, trusting that if we don't meet again on
     earth, that we may meet in Heaven.

     Pray for us.

     We enclose the following sums for each of us:

                     W. J.        25 cents
                     W. S.        10 cents
                     C. R. R.     10 cents

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                      Walla Walla, July 11, 1889.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton,

     Dear Friend: Your postal received. You have the appreciation and
     kind thoughts of many here for your kind remembrance of us all in
     our secluded prison home. Aside from your own particular means
     and the many other ways adopted by religious people to draw the
     attention of the indifferent to the subject of their spiritual
     welfare, the evident disinterested motive which characterizes
     your extended labors, is of itself sufficient, to highly
     recommend your kind endeavors to all fair-minded people, and to
     give you a hearty welcome, from prisoners especially, wherever
     you may find them.

     We would all, therefore, send you a kind word of encouragement
     and Godspeed in your good work and _labor of love_, believing
     that your gospel message is fully adapted to meet the spiritual
     wants of the whole human family under whatever condition found.

                 PRISONERS OF WALLA WALLA PENITENTIARY, Per F. S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Richmond, Va., August 23, 1885.

     Dear Madam: I take much pleasure to introduce myself to you, and
     stating to you how I first found rest for my sinful soul. I am a
     stranger to you by name, but not by the love of Jesus Christ, and
     I was highly delighted to hear you speak to us. It lifted up my
     downhearted feeling and caused me to look around myself, and I do
     truly hope that those words that you have spoken may be as seed
     sowed in good ground, and take root and the future may tell. And
     for myself, when I first came to this place I was a vile sinner
     and thanks be to the good Lord that I have my soul awakened in
     Christ Jesus, and if it had not been for this place I think that
     I would have been a sinner until now, but now all my trust is in
     the Lord Jesus Christ and Him alone. Although I have many crosses
     and trials and temptations, my trust is in the Lord, and I truly
     pray and trust the Lord that after awhile we shall all meet in
     heaven where there will be no more parting.

     I trust you will be successful in this work of the Lord. I desire
     your prayers.

     I am your humble servant,
                                                            H. T.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                    Massachusetts State Prison, October 25, 1885.

     Dear Madam: It is with much pleasure that I listened to your
     address to-day. Please accept my thanks for the interest which
     you take in the poor unfortunate prisoners. There are many
     skeptic ones among us because we see so much hypocrisy. May God
     bless you, and let me inform you that your motherly-like
     appearance sank deep into the hearts of many.

     Our chaplain tries to do all the good he can, but no one knows
     what a prisoner's life is but a prisoner.

     My poor mother used to pray like you. I will not forget your
     earnest advice. I wish there were more like you, for then there
     would be a true reform in prisons. These places ruin young men. O
     it is not understood by those men who govern us even. Some of the
     officers are not fit to be over young men. Every officer should
     be a religious man, but we have few in accordance with the text:
     "Love your neighbor as yourself." Many of them take God's name in
     vain.

     I shall try to think much upon what you said, with God's help.
     Please pray for an unfortunate one. May God bless you.

                                                            J. J.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                         New York, Nov. 26, 1885.

     My Dear Friend: Your postal reached me this morning and I can
     assure you it gave me pleasure to hear from you and see you had
     not forgotten Ludlow Street Jail. Today is Thanksgiving Day, and
     to us poor unfortunates I can assure you it is a gloomy one, but
     we must give thanks to our Heavenly Father that we are not in a
     worse place than this. I for one do pray to Him and thank Him for
     His kindness and pray to Him to give us strength of mind to
     resist all temptations.

     I cannot remember who you enquire about. I am the small man who
     introduced you to my wife and sister the first time you called.

     We were treated today by our kind warden to a good Thanksgiving
     dinner and I pray before another Thanksgiving Day that I may have
     the pleasure of seeing you under more favorable circumstances.
     May God be with you in your good work is the prayer of,

                           Sincerely yours,
                                                           I. L.,
                               Ludlow Street Jail, New York City.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                         Cell No. 35--Tombs,
                             New York City, Sunday, Nov. 1, 1885.

     Dear Sister Wheaton: Forgive me for calling you so as I cannot
     rightly call you otherwise. Your prayer today came from your very
     soul. I felt it deeply. It has entered into mine. I feel a new
     man. You were a Godsend to me. Your words have given new life,
     they have inspired me to live in the future a real Christian. I
     feel so light of heart since you were here, that I cannot find
     words adequate to properly express myself. I pray your good work
     may be crowned with success. I feel now that I am again a child
     of God. I shall pray and try to live as Jesus desires. I pray to
     Him that He will give me all encouragement to lead a Christian
     life and do His will only. O! how I have learned to love Jesus
     through your inspiring words of comfort and goodness.

     I shall daily pray for your health and prosperity in Jesus. Do
     likewise for me, and may we meet in Heaven. To this end I shall
     ever pray and so sign myself,

                           A brother in Jesus,
                                                         J. M. S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     New York, November 10, 1885.

     Dear Sister Wheaton: Many thanks for your kind visit today and
     for the memorandum book and envelopes you brought me.

     I herewith reiterate every word and the combined meaning
     contained in my letter to you of last Sabbath. You were a Godsend
     to me from heaven. Formerly it was a hard task for me to stop to
     think as I do now. Now I can pray so easy, and it seems to do me
     so much good. Such a blessing I have never experienced
     heretofore. With pleasure I give this evidence of the goodness of
     our beloved and only Jesus. Him I shall worship daily, aye, at
     all times and in all places. I think of nothing more grand and
     noble than to believe in our Redeemer who offers His salvation
     for our souls. He is my God and no other will I have but Him. I
     love Him truly. In my prayers I have vowed to devote the rest of
     my life for His good cause. I sincerely hope that many, through
     you, may come out of darkness into light. God grant you good
     health to do His good work here. I will pray for you and ask you
     to do likewise for me, and others.

     I pray to God daily that He may give me renewed strength to keep
     on in the good path which I have chosen, and may His spirit and
     love be alike with you and me, is the wish of Your brother in
     Christ Jesus.

                         J. M. S., Cell 35, Tombs, New York City.

                   *       *       *       *       *

                                     Charleston, January 4, 1886.

     My Dear and Much Esteemed Friend: As I sit here in the prison
     tonight I ponder upon the kind and good advice you gave me, and my
     heart of hearts goes out to you in gratitude.

     My past life has been a blank, in fact, an utter failure. But
     since I saw you I have come to God in all simplicity and have
     asked Him to give me a new spirit and pardon my past sins; and
     since I have offered up this petition my heart seems lighter. How
     often have I cried out in my despair, O I am weary of the
     conflicts and strife of this life! weary with the constant
     struggle for a higher and better life! And when I see the lives of
     yourself and others--so Christlike, and hear you say mid darkest
     shadows: "Not my will, but thine be done," then I think of the
     rebellion in my heart and so oft find when I feel the path I am
     treading leaves the sunshine all behind.

       As the way looks dark before me and the end I cannot see,
        Oft I long to drop the burdens and from sorrow be set free,
       But I know such thoughts are sinful; God knows best the way
        That will lead from earth's dark shadows to the brighter realms
              of day.

     Words cannot express the comfort I have received since I saw you.
     I have prayed to God to help me every night and morning since and
     as I sit and ponder upon the past and think of the wasted hours
     that have drifted by, it puts me in mind of a song I learned when
     I was a child. I will only write you a couple of verses to let you
     see how true they are.

       "Oh, the wasted hours of life that have drifted by;
       Oh, the good we might have done, lost without a sigh;
       Love that we might have sowed by a single word,
       Thoughts conceived but never penned, perished all unheard.
       Take the proverb to thy heart, take and hold it fast--
       The mill will never grind with the water that is past.

       "Oh, love thy God and fellow men, thyself consider last,
       For come it will when thou must count dark errors of the past,
       And when the fight of life is o'er, and life recedes from view,
       And heaven in all its glory shines midst the pure and good and true,
       Then you will see more clearly the proverb deep and vast--
       The mill will never grind with water that is past."

     May God bless you for what you have done for me. You have saved me
     from that downward road to ruin. May God bless you and permit you to
     return to us once more.

                                     W., Charleston State Prison.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Nobesville, Neb., April 17, 1886.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton,

     Kind Lady: I will, according to promise, drop you a few lines. I
     am some better now than when you were here to see me. How glad I
     am that I met you last Sunday! I have felt better ever since, and
     I do believe that the good Father will answer your prayers. Don't
     fail to pray for me, that, if it is God's will, He will heal me,
     for God has got the same power that He had when He raised Christ
     from the tomb. And pray that He will give me the guidance of His
     loving Holy Spirit to lead me into all truth and at the last take
     me to Heaven.

     There has not a day passed since you were here that I have not
     thought of you and prayed for you. You did more good here than
     you know.

     My candle is going out.

     Direct to JOHN W. C., Nobesville, Nebraska.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                               Charlestown, Mass., Jan. 10, 1886.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton,

     To My Dear Sister in Christ: "Whosoever believeth in Him shall
     not perish but have everlasting life." I believe and trust in
     God. My faith and my belief grow stronger every day of my life. I
     pray to God to keep me from evil, and to make me worthy of His
     kingdom, that I may meet you there, for I am a better man for
     knowing you. God bless you, my dear sister! My heart is full of
     love for my God, and for my fellowman. I cannot find words to
     express my feelings or to tell you how happy I am, and how
     precious Christ is to my soul. It passes my understanding. But I
     am satisfied, for I know that Christ has come into my heart to
     dwell. There are no doubts, no fears, everything is well with me.
     I thank God for it, and I want to see every one around me
     enjoying this great gift which comes from God. O how it would
     have rejoiced your soul to have been with us the last evening of
     the old year. We had a prayer meeting. I am told that there were
     one hundred and forty men in the chapel. Our warden was the first
     to testify. Many acknowledged Christ to be precious to their
     souls. There are many here that are feeling uncomfortable. They
     will be at the feet of Jesus yet, crying for mercy. Pray for them.
     Pray for us all. Only think of it, one hundred and forty prisoners
     on their knees and their warden kneeling with them! O it was a
     blessed sight! I never heard Chaplain Barnes pray as he did that
     night. His whole soul went out to God. How he did plead with God
     for the salvation of our souls. God bless the chaplain. God bless
     everyone on the face of the earth, and may every one see as I see,
     and enjoy what I am enjoying. In His paths there is peace, and
     that in keeping of His commandments there is great reward.

     There is a young man here by the name of Charles B. He has formed
     good resolutions with beginning of the new year. I tell him that
     he cannot keep them without he gets divine help. I am praying for
     him. Please make mention of him in your prayers, and with the
     help of God we will have him at the feet of Jesus crying for
     mercy. We had a prayer meeting last week and I am informed that
     we are to have them often. How good it is of the warden! God
     bless him. He is always looking for some way to benefit us. I
     praise the Lord for it.

     I leave the prison this year. I hope that I may meet you again on
     earth. If not permitted, I will live a life that shall make me
     worthy of the kingdom and meet you there. I thank you for the
     letter read this day to us by the chaplain.

                   Your brother in Christ Jesus,
                                                         J. L. W.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                              Jeffersonville, Ind., May 22, 1887.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton,

     My Dear Kind Lady: In answer to your request I address this note
     to you trusting that this may be the commencement of life in a
     different sphere to that which I have heretofore moved in, so do
     not think that I am flattering if I tell you the truth. I have
     traveled from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the British
     Possessions to the Gulf of Mexico. I have moved in all classes of
     society and have been a close observer. I have made myself
     acquainted with all kinds of religious sects from the Jewish
     synagogues to Mormonism, Protestantism in all its various forms,
     Catholicism, as well as Spiritualism, and I found so much
     hypocrisy and inconsistency existing that I felt inclined to
     believe Christianity a fraud, but I could see plainly that there
     were in every church some few that I could feel were true
     Christians. I could feel a secret convincing power almost
     irresistible when in their society, but it always seemed strange
     to me why more true converts were not made in proportion to the
     great work done.

     It seems to me that the handling of God's cause should only be
     entrusted to those that are godly--then the fruit will bear
     witness to the quality and health of the tree. God will prosper
     His own, but it is not natural that the Lord can or will prosper
     one who is half God's and half Satan's. That is why I have
     remained in the world. I am earnest in everything I do. It is my
     nature, I cannot help it. Therefore, if I ever become a
     Christian, bold and true and faithful, too, I'll be.

     I must refer to that now which I spoke of in the first of this
     note. All the convicts in this prison have been moved by your
     godly advice and teaching as this prison has never been moved
     before, either by man or woman. You won the hearts of the hardest
     criminals and a noticeable change for the better has taken place.
     We all pray God to bless and protect you wherever His wisdom may
     lead you, and even though this prayer comes from convicts,
     perhaps God will hear us. Some of us have been convicted by man,
     while God, being just, and our own consciences declare us
     innocent. Those of us who are innocent and can suffer with
     patience, what a virtue we possess. Such strength comes only of
     God.

     I must close for want of room. Please answer if you have time. We
     hope to see you soon again.

                           Your humble servant,
                                                H. McL., Box 340.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Tracy City, Tenn., Dec. 3, 1887.

     Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton,

     Dear Friend: Your visit to this place was a great blessing. A
     great many of the men often speak of you and say that by the help
     of God they are going to live better the rest of their days.

     I will thank you for every paper or good book you may send to us.
     The way that we do about papers and books is to place them among
     our fellow prisoners.

     You have our prayers and best wishes and we hope you will come to
     our prison again, as your work will be remembered here for years
     to come. May God bless you all the way along.

     There have been deaths here since you were here. Neither of those
     parties belonged to the church. Lots of the men spoke of the
     great warning you gave before you left, what you said about the
     last warning some of them would ever get, and sure enough it was
     true.

                         Yours in Christ,
                                                         W. A. M.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                               Carson City, Nev., Sept. 23, 1888.

     Dear Kind Friend: Through the kindness of the Warden, we received
     your letter, with the song and accompanying texts, and I take the
     liberty of answering it and thanking you for your kindness in
     thus remembering us. I was seriously impressed by your kind words
     of sympathy and exhortation when you came to the prison and I
     should have liked to have spoken to you, but feared to trespass
     too much on your time. I am here under a life sentence for the
     crime of murder, committed during a fit of delirium resulting
     from drink. I have been here three years. Hitherto my life has
     been anything but a happy one. I was driven from home at the age
     of ten years, after the death of my mother. Since then I have
     associated with gamblers and men of that stamp, and the result of
     my ill-directed course is my present unhappy condition. What I
     have suffered, no one but myself will ever know. I would gladly
     end my life, if my death could blot out the crimes for which I
     suffer. I have one friend, who has taken an interest in me, and
     who has written me several kind letters and I thank God for
     letting me have one kind and faithful friend. She is weak in
     body, but strong in mind, and a faithful servant of God. She has
     advised me to give myself to God, and since you were here I have
     resolved to try to do so. Peace of mind is what I want, but fear
     I shall never attain it. I hope to hear from you again. Most of
     my fellow prisoners have read your letter and all entertain the
     greatest respect for you. Some to whom your kind words and
     motherly advice have brought tender memories, desire to be
     remembered to you.

     You are passing through ... , where I have lived and where I
     spent the happiest of my boyhood days, but they are gone. I hope
     you may meet some of my old companions and that they may be
     benefited by your kind words.

                     Your humble, grateful servant,
                                                               M.

                  *       *       *       *       *

     Stillwater, Nov. 2, 1888.

     Dear Sister Wheaton: I was pleased beyond expression to receive
     your letter. It came like a benediction. I shall never forget
     you. The few words spoken have left an impress upon the tablets
     of memory that time can not efface. You can tell the boys
     wherever you see them in prison or out that Jesus is near--ever
     near. Tell them that I know that no locks ever were made that can
     lock the Saviour out. He came to me when I was, oh, so lonely, so
     broken-hearted and despairing! You know just how it was I was
     saved.

     I am innocent in the presence of God, and still I am here; but
     never alone. Jesus is ever with me. Oh, how I wish every one in
     the wide, wide world could know our Saviour! How true is the
     fourteenth chapter of John, and especially the eighteenth verse:
     "I will not leave you comfortless. I will come unto you." Never
     in all my persecution and imprisonment has my Lord failed in that
     promise. I am very hopeful. My innocence is recognized and I hope
     soon to be at liberty. Had any one told me twelve months ago that
     this was all for my good I should have laughed them to scorn;
     but, thank God, I know it now. This life is but a few days at
     most compared to the home beyond, and I can and do say, "God's
     will be done." He can do no wrong, and right must prevail. God
     bless and prosper you until you go home.

                               Yours in His name,
                                                            H. R.

[Illustration: A WARD IN PRISON HOSPITAL.]

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                       Stillwater, Nov. 14, 1888.

     Dear Mother Wheaton: I received your letter and it came just
     right to comfort me, for I am in the hospital. In prison--not
     alone. In the hospital--not alone. Jesus is always with me. How I
     love Jesus who died for me! My heart always turns to Him, and
     when I heard I had to come to the hospital I just prayed to Jesus
     and left it all to Him, and I am cheerful and happy and hopeful
     even here. He is the Great Physician.

     I can do anything for Jesus' sake but I am in such a queer
     position! Poor mother has been nearly killed and heart-broken
     about this, and she claims my presence for a time at least if I
     get out. Poor mother is nearly worn out but full of faith and
     hope. May God bless you and be with you forever.

                   Your son and brother in Christ,
                                                            H. R.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Little Rock, Ark., June 10, 1888.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton.

     Dear Sister: I will take the liberty and let you and Sister M.
     know who I am. My name is C. S. I guess you remember the coal
     mines and that evening when I was singing with Sister M. in her
     book. O I wish I had them songs!

     I am so happy in Christ. I am going home to my mother above. I
     hope it will be very soon. That song

       "A Ruler once came to Jesus by night
      To ask Him the way of salvation and light,"

     made me a different man.

     O the happy thoughts of a home which Christ our Redeemer has
     prepared for us and calls us to come to Him. "Come unto me all
     that are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest." O, such
     a Saviour! Pray for me and I hope we may meet above. I hope to
     hear from you soon.

                        From your servant,
                                                            C. S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                    Little Rock, January 13, 1889.

     Mr. J. M. Ryder,
           Indianapolis, Ind.

     I received your most welcome letter and thank you for the
     information you have given me, but I haven't heard yet from your
     sister. The last letter I got she said that she was going to
     California. At that time she was at Salem, Oregon. Have you heard
     from her yet? There are some boys and men here would like to hear
     from her, for she came where some of us could not see the sun in
     a week, and about 150 feet under the surface of the earth. That
     was at a coal mine.

     We all hope and pray to God, our dear Redeemer, for her to come
     back to us again.

     Please answer this for I am a convict and glad to hear from such
     friends. In hope to hear soon, I remain,

                              Yours sincerely,
                                                            C. S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Germantown, Ark., Nov. 29, 1889.

     My Dear Sister: I am at Germantown at the present time working on
     Mr. W. H. Ward's farm or plantation, and the Warden of the camp
     and the guards are followers of Christ. There are several of the
     boys with me which were at Coal Hill at the time you were there.

     O sister, God worked that all right, His name be praised. One of
     the Coal Hill wardens got five years in the penitentiary. That is
     God's work.

     God be with you and bless you is my daily prayer, that you will
     keep strong and well to preach to the poor prisoners and pray for
     them that they will "flee from the wrath to come." O sister it is
     terrible to think and study over how the Book of Life tells us
     about that everlasting torment, and how sweet it is to think that
     there is a life eternal.

     Sister, there are three ways, "a broad road," "a narrow way" and
     "a highway," that are thus brought to our attention in the
     Scriptures.

     The broad road to destruction, the narrow way to life, the
     highway to holiness.

     "And an highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall be called
     the way of holiness; the unclean shall not pass over it; but it
     shall be for those, the wayfaring man, though fools shall not err
     therein. No lion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go
     up thereon; it shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall
     walk there." Isa. 35: 8, 9. Sister, am I right or wrong?

     The first great judgment (trial and sentence) was at the
     beginning, in Eden, when the whole human race, as represented in
     its head, Adam, stood on trial before God. The result of that
     trial was the verdict--guilty, disobedient, unworthy of life; and
     the penalty inflicted was _Death_. "Dying, thou shalt die," and
     so "In Adam all die." But, dear sister, the sweet and dear
     thought in "Christ we all shall live" is a great comfort to our
     poor souls. Ours is a rugged, steep and narrow way, and were it
     not that strength is furnished for each successive step of the
     journey, we never could reach the goal, but our Captain's word is
     encouraging: "Be of good courage, I have overcome"; "My grace is
     sufficient for thee, and my strength is made perfect in
     weakness." The difficulties of this way are to act as a
     separating principle to sanctify and refine "a peculiar people,"
     to be "Heirs of God and joint-heirs with Jesus Christ." In view
     of these things, "let us come boldly to the throne of grace, that
     we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need,"
     "while we fight the good fight of faith and lay hold of the crown
     of life." Immortality, the divine nature.

     Sister, I hope that we may meet together here in this world once
     more in life so we can talk about what Jesus has wrought, God
     will be with you. I know He is with me. Sister, I gave myself to
     Jesus and I feel more satisfied, and how sweet it is to have
     Jesus with you.

                      THE DAY IS AT HAND.

        "Poor, fainting pilgrim, still hold on thy way,
          The dawn is near;
        True, thou art weary now, but yon bright ray
          Becomes more clear.
        Bear up a little longer; wait for rest;
        Yield not to slumber, though with toil oppressed.
        The night of life is mournful, but look on the judgment near.
        Soon will earth's shadowed scenes and forms be gone.
          Yield not to fear.
        The mountain's summit will, ere long, be gained
        And the bright world of joy and peace attained.
        Joyful through hope, thy motto still must be--
          The dawn is near.
        What glories will that dawn unfurl to thee!
          Be of good cheer.
        Gird up thy loins, bind sandals on thy feet,
        The way is dark and long, the end is sweet."

     I hope to hear soon from you, dear sister. Meet me in heaven.
     Jesus is with me. Because He cometh to judge the earth, let the
     heavens be glad and the earth rejoice.

                          Your brother,
                                                            C. S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                       Germantown, Jan. 27, 1890.

     Dear Sister: I received yours of the 28th. I am so glad that you
     have not forgotten me, and the words which I heard you say,
     although it is a long time since you said them at Coal Hill.
     "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." Acts
     xvi., 31. Jails are dark, dull, damp, loathsome places even now;
     but they were worse in the apostolic times. I imagine tonight we
     are standing in the Philippian Dungeon. Do you not feel the
     chill? Do you not hear the groan of those incarcerated ones who
     for ten years have not seen the sunlight, and the deep sigh of
     women who remember their father's house, and mourn over their
     wasted estates? Listen again. It is enough. Oh, it is the cough
     of the consumptive, or the struggle of one in a nightmare of a
     great horror. You listen again, and hear a culprit, his chains
     rattling as he rolls over in his dreams, and you say: "God pity
     the prisoner." But there is another sound in that prison. It is a
     song of joy and gladness. What a place to sing in. The music
     comes winding through the corridors of the prison and in all dark
     wards the whisper is heard: "What's that? What's that?" It was
     the song of Silas and Paul in prison, and they cannot sleep.
     Jesus went to prison then, and as you say He will and does come
     nowadays also to visit the prisoners as they are shut up. God
     will be and is our helper. I will not fear, He leadeth me in
     pastures green.

                        Your brother in Christ,
                                                            C. S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                        Germantown, May 16, 1890.

     Dear Sister: Your letter of February 17th duly received, and glad
     to hear from you. But, sister, I am so glad to have some
     Christian friend to write to me in a place of temptation and
     trouble. I know that Jesus is my rock and my salvation and a
     shelter in a storm. Jesus is with me right now. He is waiting for
     us every day and hour. O, how many will there be that will call
     on Christ on that day, when the book of the Lord will be opened,
     with the seven seals, and who will be able to open the seals? No
     one is able to open it but the Lamb. Sister, this is my idea and
     opinion about that Day: There will be a great big scale, with a
     cross beam and Satan will be on one side of it and the people of
     all trades will be weighed, and if Christ the Son of God and our
     Redeemer is not there to balance them, what will become of them?
     Won't they be thrown down in hell?

     Hoping and trusting faithfully that there be many of the poor
     prisoners among the hundred and forty and four thousand with the
     Lamb on Mount Zion, with the Father's name written in their
     foreheads and the harpers will be harping with their harps and
     singing the new song which no man could learn, but the hundred
     and forty and four thousand which were redeemed from the earth.
     O, what a day that will be! O that song is so true. O sinner give
     your heart to God and you shall have a new hiding place that day.
     O the rocks in the mountain shall all fade away and you shall
     have a new hiding place that day. "O sinner turn, why will ye
     die? God in mercy asks you why."

     O, I am so happy tonight!

                               Your brother,
                                                            C. S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Germantown, Ark., Dec. 18, 1890.

     Dear Sister: Your kind words gladly received, and may God bless
     you and give you strength in your undertakings.

     Sister, forgive those wicked men who put you in prison for
     preaching the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, for He, the Lord,
     said: "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do," and
     Silas and Paul in prison sang praises to the Lord our God and He
     delivered them from the prison in which they lay, and the jailor
     got saved.

     Oh! my dear sister, I trust and pray to the Lord that we could
     safely say with Robert McChane, the ascended minister of
     Scotland, who, seated on the banks of Galilee's Lake, wrote, in
     his last sick days, and just before he crossed the Jordan (not
     the Jordan that empties into the Lake of Gallilee, but the Jordan
     that empties into the "sea of glass mingled with fire"), these
     sweet words, fit to be played by human fingers on strings of
     earthly lute, or by angelic fingers on seraphic harps:

       "It is not that the mild gazelle
         Comes down to drink thy tide,
       But He that was pierced to save from hell,
         Oft wandered by thy side.
       Graceful around thee the mountains meet
       Thou calm, reposing sea;
       But, ah! far more, the beautiful feet
         Of Jesus walked o'er thee.
       O Saviour! gone to God's right hand,
         Yet the same Saviour still,
       Graved on thy heart is this lovely strand
         And every fragrant hill."

     O! is it not good to be with one's Lord and to think how sweet He
     says in his Book of Books: "I am the way," and in danger He
     speaks again: "Fear not, it is I."

     The Lord is with me for I do not have to work in the ranks any
     more, and by His help I am assistant postmaster of this place.

     Until we leave, and that time will be Christmas, address your
     next letter to Little Rock.

     That you may save many souls from everlasting torture is my
     prayer every hour. My love to the poor sinful prisoners and to
     you, my dear sister in Christ.

     A happy Christmas, and may God bless you to live and see many
     more.

     I will sing now:

        "I was once far away from the Saviour" and

        "When Jesus shall gather the nations before Him at last to
        appear."

     Oh! I am so happy! Goodnight,

     Ever,
                                                               S.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                                 Wichita, Kansas.

     Dear Sister:

     This is to acknowledge yours of the 15th inst., and was glad to
     hear that you have received my letter. Well, sister, we have our
     regular meeting every Sunday, and I will never cease praying to
     the Lord that He may help me to live my life, and that I can say,
     like our great Brother said, that no man can measure the glories
     which God has revealed to us. Glory to Thee, O God, glory to
     Thee! * * *

     It is said that religionists make too much of the humanity of
     Christ. I respond that they make too little. If some doctor or
     surgeon of His day, standing under the cross, had caught one drop
     of the blood on his hands and analyzed it, it would have been
     found to have the same plasma, the same disk, the same fiber, the
     same albumen. It was unmistakably human blood. It is a man that
     hangs there. His bones are of the same material as ours. His
     nerves are as sensitive as ours. If it were an angel being
     despoiled, I would not feel it so much, for it belongs to a
     different being. But my Saviour is a man and my whole sympathy is
     aroused. Jesus our King is dying. Let couriers carry the swift
     dispatch. His pains are worse; He is breathing a last groan;
     through his body quivers the last anguish. The King is dying; the
     King is dead! His royal blood is shed.

     I can imagine something of how the spikes felt; of how the
     temples burned; what deathly sickness seized His heart; of how
     mountain and city and mob swam away from His dying vision;
     something of that cry for help that makes the blood of all ages
     curdle with horror: "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?"
     * * *

       O! Jerusalem, my happy home,
         When shall I come to thee;
       When shall my sorrows have an end?
         Thy joys, when shall I see?
       Jerusalem, my happy home,
         Would God that I were there!
       Would God my tears were at an end,
         Thy joys, that I might share.

        I am so glad that I can write to you. I never will cease praying
        for you.

     I remain, your brother.

                                                            C. H. Z.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                         Washington County Jail.

                                Greenville, Miss., Jan. 29, 1889.

     My Dear Sisters:

     I cannot express my feelings when I read your kind letters. They
     make me feel as though you were still at my prison door. I know I
     am not the same boy that came to prison. I feel much better in
     every way. I read my Bible instead of novels, and find more
     pleasure in it.

     I expect to get out of prison soon, and when I do I want to write
     you a long letter. Mr. McL. was to see me to-day, and read your
     letters. He said he would also write you to-day. There is a great
     change in him since you were here.

     All the boys send love. Direct me as before, care Geo. S. If I
     get out I will work for him here. I am, as ever,

              Your true friend and brother,
                                                         J. F. D.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                       Penitentiary at Yuma, Ariz., May 19, 1889.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton.

     Dear Friend: Your kind letter, written from Los Angeles, Cal.,
     has been received, after much delay. We are all glad to hear from
     you, and thank you very much for your kind remembrance and the
     good advice given to us in your letter, and when you spoke to us
     here in the prison. Most all the boys hold you in kind
     remembrance and often express their wishes to see you and hear
     you talk again, and I sincerely hope it will be convenient for
     you to call and see us in the near future. The short visit you
     paid us awakened earnest thought in a number of the boys, and I
     am confident a few more such visits would result in much good to
     many of the inmates of this institution.

     Asking your prayers, I remain,

                             Respectfully,
                                                         J. E. W.

                  *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: KITCHEN AND DINING ROOM OF PRISON, DEER LODGE,
     MONT.]

                                       Deer Lodge, July 15, 1889.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton.

     Madam: I received your postal last Friday, and was very pleased
     to hear from you and to know that although far away you still
     hold us in kindly remembrance. There are so few who think of us
     after the prison door has closed. The boys who were so fortunate
     as to meet you, and even those who only heard of your good work,
     wish to be remembered to you. So far as we are personally
     concerned, there have been no changes, and we will very probably
     go through the same routine day in and out until our several
     times have expired.

     I can safely say that you have made a greater impression upon us
     than any others we have been privileged to hear. In the
     intercessions you make with the Ruler of All, we ask to be
     remembered, and hope that you will receive all the returns of
     good which your work so richly merits. If you can find time in
     the future, you can give us no greater pleasure than writing us,
     even if only so much as may be placed upon a postal.

                     Yours very sincerely,
                                       HERBERT A. M. (Librarian).

       *       *       *       *       *

                          Cole City, Dade Co., Ga., July 5, 1890.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton:

     Yours of May 25th received yesterday in this camp and contents
     duly noted. How it thrills the hearts of the boys to hear the
     reading of a letter written by the hand of "Mother Wheaton," the
     friend of the unfortunate ones. Dear Christian Mother, you can't
     imagine the encouragement it gives to the boys here, especially
     those who are trying to do right. Your work has been implanted
     here so very deep that God cannot, according to His promise,
     obliterate it, for He approves of all good works. You shall have
     our prayers, and we desire to have your presence again when
     possible.

     I intended to take your letter to Rattlesnake Camp No. 4 to read
     to the boys up there, as Capt. Brock promised me I might go, but
     for some reason, I know not what, I failed to get off, but I do
     hope and believe the way will be opened for us prison-bound boys
     who desire to do a work for Him to do it without fear.

     I received also enclosed in your letter a most interesting
     pamphlet of "Capt. Ball's Experience," which is so grand. Also
     another of the "Widow and the Judge."

     We have a very good Sunday school here now, and I am trying to
     make it as interesting as I possibly can, and any books and
     Sunday school papers and catechisms you can send us will be quite
     a favor. That would have been my business at No. 4 Camp to-day,
     if I could have gone, to organize a Sunday school.

     I must close by asking an interest in your prayers. Write often.

                Your friend and brother in Christ,

                                            J. W. S., Camp No. 3.

       *       *       *       *       *

               Eastern Penitentiary, Philadelphia, Dec. 15, 1890.

     Dear Madam:

     Your invitation given any of the prisoners who may wish to write,
     I for one accept. I was greatly impressed with your words of
     truth and the earnest, determined manner in which they were
     spoken. I believe they proved an exception to the routine of
     professed Christianity we are used to, and have set more than one
     mind to thinking of their spiritual condition. I assure you they
     were not without effect, and that you are engaged in a noble
     work, of which I and others would be glad to hear more.

     True it is that in the world around us are many persons
     struggling with poverty as great as ours, who are loaded with
     cares and anxieties which seem to hinder them in the service of
     God. There are many who cannot offer him a pure heart which has
     never been stained by sin, yet in the grief for misspent time and
     neglected grace would gladly atone for the past by fervent,
     grateful love, casting themselves upon the mercy of the Saviour.

     I am an old soldier, have fought in the late war, but the
     greatest battle I have yet to fight is with myself--the battle of
     reformation.

     Almighty God, in His wondrous wisdom, has chosen His saints from
     every rank of life--some poor and unknown to the world while they
     are in it; others great and powerful; no two have been exactly
     alike, even in their way of pleasing the Lord.

     The "boys" here are satisfied your mission was for good, and left
     them knowing that for once they were not locked up within the
     hearing of false professors. To say that "locks" would not be
     necessary to hold a congregation within your hearing would be
     well founded. For a great many others this could not be said.

     The boys from Block 9 send you their respects, and would be glad
     to hear from you again; would be glad to hear that you received
     this and that our appreciation of your service be accepted.

                    Respectfully yours,
                                                          A 2552.

                  *       *       *       *       *

         Washington County Jail. Greenville, Miss., Jan. 9, 1890.

     Dear Sister:

     Your postal of the 5th to hand. The boys are all glad to hear
     from you.

     Mr. McL. was acquitted and was the proudest boy I ever saw. The
     St. Louis boy also got free and went home to his mother.

     There has been a great change in the prisoners since you were
     here. They are always praying and singing, and you are remembered
     in every prayer. I don't think I am the same boy that came to
     jail; I know my poor old mother will be proud of me when I see
     her again. She lives in Mobile, Alabama, and it has been three
     years since she saw me, but I am praying to meet her soon and be
     a son to her, as I never was before. I feel like I could teach
     young men some good lessons if I get out of this place.

     We received some reading matter from you a few days ago. Please
     let me hear from you whenever you can spare the time to write.
     All the boys join me in love and hope to hear from you again
     soon.

                 Your friend and brother,
                                        J. D. (alias the Artist).

                  *       *       *       *       *

              Penitentiary, Salt Lake City, Utah, April 14, 1901.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton,

     Dear Madam: Your welcome and interesting letter to hand and
     contents noted, being exceedingly pleased to hear from you. In
     response would state, your letter, though a great surprise, has
     been read by many of the inmates of this institution with great
     interest, you being the only one, so far, who has shown enough
     respect for us to address a few lines to us by mail. For this
     kindly remembrance and respect, please accept our united thanks,
     with the wish that as you are journeying along life's pathway you
     may escape many of the annoyances which you have been subjected
     to in the past, while dispensing the gospel tidings to a class of
     unfortunates. After your departure from here, am pleased to
     state, the "Boys" have taken a deeper interest in Jesus and His
     works than ever before, and I verily believe that were you to
     come again you would have no difficulty in bringing many of them
     to the foot of the Cross. Bibles that have lain for months in
     cells, covered with dust, have been taken up and read with
     avidity, selecting texts as you suggested for future guidance,
     and many are the prayers and kind words which ascend nightly to
     the Throne of Grace in your behalf--prayers for your future
     guidance and welfare, with health to sustain you in your glorious
     work of reclaiming the erring and fallen. God speed the good work
     along! We wish there were more like you, to bring a few kind and
     cheering words to sustain us, while undergoing this isolation.
     Your voice has lingered in our ears ever since you left, and many
     of the boys here would like to secure, if they possibly could, a
     copy of that wonderful song you sang for us, "Throw Out the
     Life-line." If you would kindly forward a copy, as it is not in
     our hymn-books, it would be very acceptable.

     You may rest assured, no firmer, truer or better friends are to
     be found than those you possess in the Utah Penitentiary. Allow
     us to hope that when comparing this institution with some of the
     grander ones you may visit in the East, you will not speak
     disparagingly of your boys out West, but remember there are as
     many honest hearts beating beneath striped jackets here as you
     will find anywhere, with none more willing to do you a favor. In
     conclusion, accept our united and kindest regards. Hoping that
     after your life's labors are finished on this earth, you may find
     that "Haven of Rest," where it shall be said to you, "Well done,
     thou good and faithful servant; enter ye into the kingdom of
     Heaven," trusting these few lines may give you further
     encouragement, and hoping to hear from you again, with united
     thanks for past remembrance, I remain,

     Yours most respectfully,
                                                            M. M.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                              Baton Rouge, La., October 11, 1891.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton.

     My Dear Sister: Yours addressed to the boys in prison here was
     received, and I shall take the responsibility of answering your
     letter, which is so full of the Word of God.

     Your songs I shall never forget. I wish you could come and pray
     for us and sing those sweet songs to us every day.

     I have got a life sentence in this prison. I do not know whether
     you remember me or not, but I remember you and always will, I
     hope, and I pray to meet you in Heaven. Since I listened to the
     songs you sang, I have felt that I was nearer Heaven than ever
     before. Your few minutes with us in this prison helped me more
     than all others that I ever heard preach the Word of God. Your
     service enlightened me more. I feel better and I think that every
     one in here will long remember your few minutes' talk with them
     on that blessed Sunday morning. I shall constantly pray and try
     to become as pure in heart as I think you are. Your home is
     surely in Heaven, and I will endeavor to reach that home and
     meet you there. Pray for me that I may become acceptable in the
     sight of our Lord.

     I pray the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and
     the communion of the Holy Ghost be with you.

                                                            B. P.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Lancaster, Neb., Oct. 25, 1891.

     Our Dear Sister in the Lord:

     I received your kind note through our Brother Burge. I am
     thankful for your words to us and for the encouragement I
     received through you. I am trying to live a Christian life, to
     follow the teachings of the words of God in the book He has
     given. I am persuaded of myself I can do nothing, but by the help
     of God and our Saviour I am able to resist temptations and sin.
     The world looks down upon me from two standpoints--the one
     because of my color, and the other because I try to serve the
     living God through Christ our Lord. I feel that I am weak and
     need much help, both from the Lord and from the brethren and
     sisters. I need your prayers daily to help me in my surroundings
     and trials. We are hated and mocked, but this does not move us.
     My faith is strong and I will, through the grace of God, meet you
     in Heaven. In my imagination I still hear those words that you
     spoke to us, and I hope they will continue to ring in my ear.

     I do not fail to mention you in my prayer to God the Father, in
     the name of our Lord and Master.

     Our chaplain has just returned from the prison congress and he
     gave us a talk on prison reform.

     From your brother that is colored, that had a talk with you in
     the warden's office.

                                                  J. H. No. 1579.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                       West Virginia Penitentiary, Jan. 31, 1892.

     Dear Sister Wheaton:

     Your letter to "Boys in the Penitentiary" was received, and it
     gave me pleasure to read it to them in the chapel, as also that
     enclosed for the female prisoners; and after reading the latter
     the officer in charge gave it to the sisters, and they can digest
     its helpful contents in the quietude of their own apartments.

     At the very mention of a letter from you I could see many faces
     light up with interest, and I am sure your earnest and faithful
     appeals for recruits to the Master's cause on your visits to this
     place will never be forgotten; also that many hearts feel to
     thank you for the kindly and unabated interest that prompted your
     letter of cheer and encouragement. God bless you with power by
     His Spirit in your noble work. Twenty-six lifetime men are
     confined here, and I am one of the number; but I am glad to tell
     you that even here I have learned a freedom which is not
     compassed by iron bars, and I am looking forward with confidence
     when I will come into the full enjoyment of that inheritance
     which is "incorruptible, undefiled and fadeth not away." Have
     been here over thirteen years; converted twelve years and nine
     months ago, and have been trying to do something for my Master
     ever since, and I feel glad that He has wonderfully blessed and
     kept me in His love. Pray for us that God will save the fallen.

               Yours in Christian love,
                                                         W. S. D.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                     Oregon State Penitentiary.

                                      Salem, Ore., April 3, 1892.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     Your kind letter was handed to me by our Superintendent to-day,
     and we were more than pleased to hear from you. May our Father in
     Heaven protect and keep you for many years to come in the faithful
     work of rescuing the souls of men who are so far astray that each
     one saved seems like a miracle. Many a prayer has gone up from the
     solitudes of our prison cells for Mother Wheaton's health and
     success, and many of us in conversation have oft repeated, "God
     bless Mother Wheaton!" But we have not lost sight of Jesus, always
     our Friend. We have services every Sunday. Mother Smith (God bless
     her!) comes once a month, and each Sunday our pulpit is occupied
     by some minister from the city. Then some night during the week
     our choir has rehearsal; so you see, we have plenty of opportunity
     to worship and listen to the divine Word, and in consequence we
     are very grateful to our kind officials, who earnestly look out
     for our spiritual welfare, especially Mr. Downing, our good
     Christian Superintendent, who would not rest easy if he thought
     one of us was in want of anything that he could obtain for us that
     would be for our good. We often think of the difference between
     some other prisons and ours. "Oh, Father in Heaven, not as we
     will, but as Thou wilt, but spread a little divine love in those
     quarters where it is so much needed"--that is often our prayer.

     God bless you and protect you in your noble work, and may the
     jewels in your crown be many, are the prayers of many of the
     inmates of this institution, and when you come again many an
     honest hand will unite with yours in our expression of love and
     faithfulness for Him who died on Calvary, not in the arms of a
     loving mother, but between two such men as many of us have been;
     yet one of them dwells with Him in Paradise, which proves to a
     certainty that He saves to the uttermost. God bless you again.
     Write us often, and when you reach those pearly gates there will
     be those to meet you who will say, "You showed me the way."

                     Yours in Christ.

                                               WM. AND YOUR BOYS.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Lancaster, Neb., Aug. 20, 1892.

     Dear Sister in the Lord:

     Yours of the 5th at hand. I always rejoice to hear from you, or
     to hear you speak, for your words are words of comfort, and are
     after the doctrine of our Lord and Master and according to the
     Scripture. It is a great comfort to me to hear or speak with
     those that live in Christ Jesus. No I have no thought of turning
     back to the poor and weak elements of this world. By the help of
     the Lord I will press on to the ends that I may claim all the
     promises, and I want to be found faithful in all good works, and
     in doing good to those that have need. The promise you spoke of
     can be found in Revelation, 14:12. You ask if I will seek to be
     such. Yes, with all my heart. God, that knows all our hearts,
     knows that my desire is to live and work for His sake and for His
     glory. As for me, I am not worthy to be called His child, but
     only a servant, because I have wasted my life in sin when I ought
     to have served my God and Lord. But four years ago the Lord drew
     me unto Him. I repented of my ways, gave my heart and soul to God
     the Father, and Jesus our Lord. I received forgiveness of my
     sins, and not many days after I received the promise of my Lord.
     That was the promise of the Comforter, which came to me--even me.
     And now shall I turn back? No, God helping me, I will endure all
     things; for He is able to keep me in the hour of temptation. And
     oh! His promises are so true to them that put their trust in Him.
     In Isaiah, 41st chapter and 10th verse, and again in 1st Kings,
     19th chapter, 7th verse, we are told the journey is too great for
     us without God's help. But if we accept the help we shall be
     faithful to the end. And here is another promise that He will
     help in time of need: "Lo! I am with you always, even unto the
     end of the world." (Matt. 28:20.)

     He has promised to reward us according to our works. (Rev.
     22:12.) I have done nothing worthy of reward. But you have
     labored and have kept the faith, and God will reward you for all
     your trials and tribulations, and give you a crown that will
     never fade. Yes, God helping me, I will meet you in Heaven, where
     there is no more sorrow and no more weeping, but joy in our
     Saviour. May God bless you. May He give you health and strength
     to the end, is my prayer. Pray for me, for the prayer of the
     righteous availeth much.

                          Yours in Jesus,
                                                            P. B.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Ionia, Mich., October 21, 1894.

     Mrs. Wheaton.

     Dear Madam: I write to thank you for those pamphlets you sent me,
     and I think I can say they did me good. At any rate, I am trying
     to faithfully follow their suggestions. I practically devour any
     of that kind of reading, for, thank God, I do hunger and thirst
     after instruction in His word--I should like to have said
     righteousness, but I don't--there! I cannot finish what I was
     going to say, for a blessed thought has just come to me--that is,
     Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him for
     righteousness. I not only believe God, but Jesus Christ also. So
     I believe I may say I hunger and thirst after righteousness.
     Anyhow, I pray every day to get nearer to God. You will be glad
     to hear that I have decided to leave all and follow Him. I have
     consecrated my life to His service. When I get out, wherever I
     feel that He calls me, I shall go there, if it is to China. I am
     praying for sanctification. I want to get so close to God as to
     always be able to feel His presence. This is just two weeks since
     you were here, and I started to serve God. Praise the Lord, I
     think I am justified in saying that I am a new lad.

     I have given up tobacco and don't feel the need of it any more
     than if I had never tasted it. I have given up profanity just as
     easily. Now I want to read the Bible every day. Since you were
     here I have read Corinthians I and II, Revelations, Proverbs,
     Ecclesiastes, Ruth, and am now reading the Acts of the Apostles.
     Before you came I had thought a little of being a Christian, but
     had not taken any steps towards it, but you decided me, and I
     thank you for it.

     I must close now or my paper will give out. Pray for me that I
     may receive sanctification and have the indwelling of the Holy
     Ghost. God bless you.

     I remain, yours sincerely and respectfully,
                                                         M. J. B.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                   Lancaster, Neb., Feb. 3, 1895.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton.

     My Dear Sister in Christ: Yours was received with welcome and
     thanksgiving to our Lord that comforts us through His Holy
     Spirit. Yes, God has given me grace to overcome many temptations.
     He is my whole trust and confidence, and I know He hears my
     prayers, and He will open a door for you here. There are some
     hungry souls here for the truth. I believe if you had been
     permitted to have service, some would have been saved. About the
     first of December there were some seeking quite sincerely. My
     desire is that I might be found faithful to the end, and I ask
     your prayers for me to Him who is able to save to the uttermost.
     I am so glad you had the Spirit of God in your service in
     Lincoln December 25. We had the follies of this world without
     the Spirit of God. But the world knows its own and they please
     not our Lord. And because we are not of the world, the world
     hates us, and that without a cause. I have been praying for you
     that God will give you the victory in all things. And now may the
     peace and grace of God our Lord be with all His saints and them
     that truly love Him.

                         From your brother in Jesus,
                                                         P. B. B.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Cole City, Ga., April 26, 1896.

     Mrs. Wheaton.

     Dear Mother: I take the pleasure of writing you a few lines.

     I do hope that I can meet you and tell you the good you have done
     me. God is the one and the only one I look to. I want to go to
     Heaven and believe I will. I believe some day, if we do not meet
     on earth again, that we will meet in Heaven.

       Poor and needy though I be,
       God, my maker, cares for me;
       Gives me clothing, shelter, food;
       He will hear me when I pray.
       He is with me night and day,
       When I sleep and when I wake.
       Keeps me safe for Jesus' sake,
       He who reigns above the sky,
       Once became as poor as I.

       He whose blood for me was shed,
       Had not where to lay His head.
       Though I labor here awhile,
       He will bless me with His smile.
       And when this short life is past,
       I shall rest with Him at last.

     I hope and pray that you will have power and strength to obey the
     Master's will.

                                Good-bye,
                                                          P. McM.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Boise City, Idaho, May 11, 1896.

     Mrs. Wheaton.

     My Dear Mother in Christ: I hope you are well and enjoying the
     love of the Lord. It is a great thing to be in a position to work
     for the Lord Jesus. We are having good services now every Sunday,
     and we have a good Bible class of our own. The Lord has
     wonderfully blessed this place, and I hope to see many souls
     saved. Praise God! All the boys send love and wish to see you,
     and we all wish you success. God bless you in your good work.

                                                            W. B.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Waupun, Wis., Feb. 26, 1897.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton and Mrs. Kelly,

     Dear Friends: Enclosed please find P. O. order for $6.66, which
     is sent you with the best wishes of the inmates of this
     institution, as a slight token of the appreciation which we have
     of your efforts toward the uplifting of fallen beings like
     ourselves, and the upbuilding of Christ's Kingdom.

     Although most of the contributions came from the C. E. members,
     yet they were not confined strictly to them.

     It was a surprise to me, when in conversation with many of the
     boys, during our short time of liberty on Washington's Birthday,
     to find among them such a general feeling of friendliness and
     respect toward you, even from those who usually scoff at
     everything religious, and who are thoroughly hardened in sin and
     crime.

     I am sure it will be gratifying to you to know that God so
     blesses your efforts that even the most hardened ones can feel
     the influence of His Holy Spirit in your ministrations.

     Rest assured that we shall always hold you in kindly
     remembrance, and shall never cease to pray that God's richest
     blessing may crown your efforts.

     While our contribution is very small, we know that you will
     receive it remembering only the motive which prompts its
     bestowal, which is the only method by which the value of a gift
     can be determined.

     With renewed expression of our wishes and prayers for your
     success, we are,

                                 Yours for Christ,
                                  WAUPUN PRISON C. E. SOCIETY.
                                              A. I. W., COR. SEC.

     P. S.--The enclosed order is sent in the chaplain's name, W. G.
     Bancroft.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                  Eddyville, Ky., April 18, 1897.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton.

     My Dear Christian Friend: It is with pleasure that I write you
     these few lines to let you know that your visit to Eddyville was
     not in vain. Many of my brothers here express their appreciation
     of your visit. We have some earnest workers for the salvation of
     men in this prison. We are praying for you that God will
     strengthen you for His work. We hope to see you again soon, and
     receive a message from Jesus, for we receive you as His
     messenger.

     All my brothers send their thanks to you, for they say you seem
     like a mother to them. Some of us have not seen our mothers for
     thirteen or fourteen years, and only live in hope of seeing them
     in heaven, when we can lay down these stripes and greet them
     there.

     O my dear Christian friend, when I think of a wasted life and how
     easy a poor frail being like myself is led off, it almost crushes
     my heart, but thank God that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth
     from all sin, and that is my only hope. I want to meet you in
     heaven and, by the grace of God, I'll be there. We will not be in
     prison always. Jesus will come to claim his children soon. Those
     who oppress us now will all have to stand before that just Judge
     and give an account of what they have done to crush the hearts of
     their fellowmen. May God forgive them, is my prayer, for they
     know not what they do.

     I hope to hear from you soon. May God bless you in His service.

                    Your friend in Christ,
                                                            L. P.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Laramie, Wyo., May 31, 1897.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     I got your letter some time ago and also the papers. Was real
     glad to get them and to hear from you. I also get the paper
     regularly, and when we are through reading it I send it to a
     little boy in Montana that I used to know. We still continue our
     Bible class and have several new members. We have changed the
     time from Thursday until Sunday, on account of some of the boys
     who work on the farm.

     I got a good letter from a friend in Kansas not long ago. He
     tells me that my wife and little girls have joined the Christian
     Church. The happiest days of my life were spent with them, and if
     there is one of us four who has to be lost I hope it may be me. I
     want your prayers for our Bible class and that God will make me a
     better man; and especially for my wife and children I want your
     prayers. It will be four years to-morrow since I have seen them.

     Some of the boys often speak of you, and I can assure you of a
     welcome by us if you ever come this way again. May God bless you
     and sustain you in this world for many years to come, is my
     prayer. The text of the sermon we heard to-day was John 3:16.

                                                         W. J. T.

     Luke 15:15.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                      Waupun, Wis., July 4, 1897.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton.

     Madam: The privilege of writing is accorded me by the rules of
     this institution, and as I have no friends to whom I write, I
     will address this letter to you. I have not taken any great
     interest in your work, but have heard you speak before you
     visited this place last February, and under similar
     circumstances.

     All are doing nicely here and are looking forward to the treat we
     shall get to-morrow by being allowed the liberty of the yard, as
     we celebrate the Fourth then.

     The Christian Endeavor Society is getting along nicely, I guess,
     though I have not been present at their last two or three
     meetings, but some of the boys seem to take considerable interest
     in the work.

     The front yard is very pretty. All the flowers are in bloom and
     nature seems to bless the convicts as well as those whose conduct
     permits them to remain out in a cruel world.

     Flower Mission Day was observed here June 20th. Some ladies of
     the W. C. T. U. distributed some flowers and spoke in the chapel.
     Told us of the sufferings of Jennie Cassidy of Kentucky, the
     originator of Flower Mission Day, invoked a divine blessing on
     us, and sent us to our cells, feeling that our lot was not so bad
     as others have had to endure.

     The prison is about the same, six hundred males and ten or twelve
     females; some changes in the discipline; the lock-step is
     dispensed with; we are allowed two books a week from the library,
     and other changes which lighten our burden.

     Believing you will pardon this liberty I have taken, I am,

                         Most respectfully,

                                                        No. 6965.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Laramie, Wyoming, May, 1898.

     Dear Mother:

     Mr. ---- requests me to answer your kind and most welcome letter.
     I was thinking of you this morning, and of your mission on earth,
     and how you had spent your life in the service of the Lord, and
     in trying to benefit others. We regard you as the Good Samaritan,
     and pray that the Lord will bless you in your work wherever you
     may go. The members of the Bible class unite in sending you their
     love and best regards, and will be delighted to have you visit us
     again. According to nature, your earthly mission will soon come
     to a close, but your acts of kindness and deeds of mercy will
     live on forever. Remember us in your prayers. It is written that
     the prayers of the righteous avail much. Our class has increased
     considerably since you were here. Some of the boys seem to be
     very much in earnest and sincerely repent of their past conduct.
     I hope to live the remainder of my life in the service of the
     Lord, and I hope to meet you in a brighter and a better world,
     where parting and sorrow are no more; where our tears are all
     wiped away, and the light of the Lord shines forever.

                       Sincerely yours,
                                                       F. P. 309.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Eddyville Prison, March 17, 1900.

     Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, Prison Evangelist:

     Though it has been one year the 5th of February past since I
     heard your kind, sweet, motherly voice, how glad and proud I am
     to see you once again and hear your kind voice, full of a
     mother's pity for her children. May God bless you, mother, in
     your journey from prison to prison to teach fallen men that there
     is a Jesus who loves them and will forgive their sins if they
     only believe on Him. Thank God for His Son He sent into the world
     to save sinners, for Jesus has pardoned all my sins, and I mean
     to serve God for the remainder of my life.

     You are welcome--thrice welcome. If you did not love us you would
     not come to visit us each year so faithfully. May God bless and
     go with you wherever you may be or go.

     Though I have only about three weeks to serve here yet, I thank
     God I will leave a saved boy through the blood of Jesus. Bless
     His holy name!

     I highly appreciate your kind words and the advice you gave me. I
     will take your advice.

     I will close by saying, "May God watch between me and thee."
     Amen. My motto through life is, "In God I trust."

     I remain,

                        Your son in Jesus,
                                                    F. P. K., Jr.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     Yuma, Arizona, May 25, 1903.

     Dear Sister Wheaton:

     Our kind Superintendent handed me your letter of the 22d inst.,
     also the tracts you sent, which I distributed to those who I knew
     would read and appreciate them. I also showed your letter to
     several, and intended reading it, or having it read, during
     church yesterday morning, but our minister was late, so I thought
     best to wait till next Sunday. During the week I will pass it
     around to as many as I can. All to whom I showed the letter
     seemed glad to hear from you, and requested me to ask you to
     remember them in your prayers, and said to tell you they hoped
     you would be able to visit the prison again soon.

     I am sorry I haven't a more favorable report of Christian
     progress in the prison; but Satan seems to hold the upper hand,
     and there has been no conversion for some time, and there has
     been quite a number of Christian boys sent out, and a great many
     new men came in of late, which may account for the small
     attendance at services.

     I hope the Lord will open the way for some good revivalist to
     come to Yuma and stay for a while at least. This place needs a
     real stirring up.

     I hope that the Lord will continue to bless you in your work for
     Him among fallen men and women, and that you may lead many to
     live better lives and be prepared for heaven.

                                     Your brother in Christ,
                                                            R. C.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                 Frankfort, Ky., October 8, 1903.

     Elizabeth R. Wheaton, Prison Evangelist.

     Dear Mother Wheaton: It is a matter of the deepest regret that I
     am in prison, but I am very proud to have you call me one of your
     boys.

     My dear mother was named Elizabeth. I was her pride and joy, but
     rejoice to think that my fall did not occur until after her
     death.

     It would please my sweet wife if you could write her a letter of
     encouragement and good cheer.

     I hope that your latter years may be many, and am certain they
     will be filled with the joy and blessedness which come to those
     who are serving the Master in such a noble work as yours.

                      Most respectfully yours,
                                                         H. E. Y.

                  *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration: DRUG DEPARTMENT IN PRISON HOSPITAL.]

                          Frankfort, Kentucky, November 15, 1903.

     Mrs. Elizabeth Wheaton, Tabor, Iowa.

     My Dear Mother Wheaton: Your visit to those who were confined to
     their beds in our prison hospital October 6th was a great
     blessing to them. Your gospel hymns gave them visions of angels
     singing the praises of their Master, and your prayers carried
     them before the great white throne for mercy and pardon.

     Prisoners need Christianity more than any other class of men, and
     when they get the love of God in their hearts they immediately
     become better prisoners, are more contented, and have more hope
     for this life and the life to come.

     Surely your work is a noble one, and each song and prayer for
     prisoners makes your heavenly reward more glorious.

     With many thanks for the kind words spoken to me, I remain,

                       Most respectfully,
                                                         H. E. Y.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                              Jefferson City, Mo., Sept. 2, 1904.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, Tabor, Iowa.

     Dear Mother in Jesus: I thought I would address you in behalf of
     a Christian friend by the name of J., as he is sick. He requested
     me to write to you, and as I would like to hear from a Christian
     from the outside world, he said you would answer my letter. I am
     trying to live a Christian life. When I was almost ready to give
     up and go back to my sinful life, there was a bright light came
     in my pathway to refresh my soul and to point out the dark places
     wherein I stood. And this light was Brother J. When he talks to
     any one it is in a loving way, and to talk to him five minutes
     one can tell that he is one of God's true children. I enjoy
     greatly to hear him talk of Jesus' love, for it does my soul
     good. Have you any Christian papers and tracts that you would
     please send to me? I would enjoy reading them greatly.

     I am your boy, saved in Christ Jesus.

                                                       Geo. W. R.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Huntsville, Texas, Feb. 17, 1905.

     Dear Mother Wheaton:

     Yours to our chaplain, Dr. M., has just been handed to me, and it
     affords me great pleasure to write you, for I often think of you,
     and the good lady that was here with you, and I knew it would be
     gratifying to you to know how sincerely the boys appreciate your
     words of kindness and Christian advice for their spiritual
     welfare. I have heard many of them speak of you, and it was
     always with heartfelt wishes for your success and happiness. I
     trust and pray that many lost souls will be brought to Christ
     through your noble work in the meeting you mention.

     Through reading the Christian Herald I have been much impressed
     with the need of missionary work in India. And I pray that Miss
     Grace, who was with you here, will be abundantly blessed in her
     undertaking. I assure you that we will all be glad to see you at
     any time. God's richest blessings upon you. I beg to remain,

     Yours in Christ,

                                                         W. H. S.




                            CHAPTER XXIII.

                       Kind Words from Friends.


We give here a few letters from dear friends who have been especially
interested in the Master's work, some of whom have given me many words
of encouragement, or otherwise been helpful to me in advancing the
work of the gospel.


                     FROM H. L. HASTINGS AND WIFE.

              47 Cornhill Place, Boston, Mass., January 27, 1886.

     Blessed Sister:

     Your card came duly. Glad to hear. Sorry you could not call. Mrs.
     Hastings wanted to see you. Come to our house when you will. If
     you go to New York, call on Miss Annie Delaney, Fruit and Bible
     Mission, 416 E. 26th St., New York, opposite the Bellevue
     Hospital--right in the middle of prisons and prisoners. Tell them
     I sent you. Miss D. is superintendent and has lived with us and
     can open doors there.

     I was at State Prison one night. Heard many good testimonies from
     your friends there. Surely, your labors have been blessed. May
     the Lord direct your way in all these things, and guide your
     endeavors. How much you need the Heavenly Father's guidance. He
     will guide you with His eye. Pray that you may know and do His
     will, and pray for us that we may please Him in all things. Do
     you need some tracts or papers? Let us know.

                                Yours in the work,

                                                  H. L. HASTINGS.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                    Goshen, Mass., March 9, 1900.

     My Dear Sister:

     I am very glad indeed to hear from you, and to know that you are
     still alive and still at work.

     It was a great shock to me when Mr. Hastings left us. But the
     Lord has been very good to me, and I feel that He means what He
     says: "E'en down to old age I will never leave thee." "I'll
     never, no, never, no, never forsake." This is a beautiful and a
     comforting thought to me at this time.

     May God bless you, my sister, and keep you in health to do His
     work, is the prayer of

                                  Your friend,
                                             MRS. H. L. HASTINGS.

                                                      (Per E. B.)

                  *       *       *       *       *

                    E. E. BYRUM, AUTHOR AND EDITOR.

                                              September 11, 1903.

     During the past few years I have been acquainted with Mrs.
     Elizabeth R. Wheaton, and known of her earnestness and zeal in
     behalf of the unfortunate prisoners of our land. For many years
     her time has been almost wholly given to the work of relieving
     the distressed and discouraged in their cells, and in prison
     chapels.

     Her songs and words of encouragement, mingled with tears, have
     caused the feelings of depression and sadness to flee away, and
     those bowed down with sorrow to grasp a ray of hope and look
     forward with renewed energy to a higher life, trusting in Him who
     is able to keep. Many years of continued evangelistic work in the
     penitentiaries and prisons of America have given her a wide range
     of experiences of prison life, a description of which cannot fail
     to be of intense interest to every reader. It was partially due
     to her untiring zeal that I was moved to write the book entitled
     "Behind the Prison Bars." Her written words will continue to warn
     and comfort after her departure from this world to her home
     beyond the cares of life.

                                                     E. E. BYRUM.

     Moundsville, W. Va.


                       FROM MOTHER OF PRISONER.

                                          Chicago, March 4, 1900.

     Dear Friend:

     I was greatly surprised and glad to hear from you, for my son has
     often spoken of you and has regretted that the quarantine has
     kept you away. I feel very grateful to you for taking an interest
     in my dear boy, for he is still very dear to me.

     You cannot imagine my feelings all these years, knowing he was
     behind gloomy walls. My health has given way two or three times
     on account of it. Like so many others, he thought he knew best,
     and left a good home to go roving. The cause of his downfall is
     due to bad company, but then, his time is up in October. I hope
     to see him once more and keep him with me, for I am growing
     old--am nearly sixty-two.

     I shall be very glad to welcome you to our home.

     If you should see my dear boy before you come to Chicago, tell
     him I am waiting patiently until I see him.

     This letter hardly expresses my feelings, but, sleeping or
     waking, my thoughts are nearly always with my absent boy. Once
     more accept thanks from a broken-hearted mother.

                                                    Mrs. M. E. F.


                      FROM A PRISONER'S DAUGHTER.

                                     Denver, Colo., Jan. 7, 1903.

     My Dear Mother Wheaton:

     Praise God for salvation this afternoon! I am glad I found your
     address, for I have wanted to write to you for a long time and
     tell you the result of your visit to R. State Prison, where you
     talked with my precious father.

     He wrote me soon after you left and said you left him under awful
     conviction. He confessed and forsook his sins and is now a man
     saved by the blood that was shed on the cross for him. He said
     that he was restless from the time you left until he found Jesus.
     He told how you and a young lady talked and prayed with him, and
     how, after he retired, he rolled and tossed in awful agony until
     about eleven o'clock, when he cried to God for mercy. God heard
     his cries and came to his release. O hallelujah! It just makes me
     shout to read his letters now. I can tell by them that he is
     really resting in Jesus. He before seldom wrote more than two
     pages, and now he writes from fifteen to twenty-four. And oh,
     such letters! I just can't help but cry for joy when I read them
     and realize that my precious papa is serving the only true and
     living God. I give God the glory and all of the honor for what
     has been done; and I praise God for using you as an instrument
     through whom He worked. Eternity alone can reveal the result.

     My heart is full of praises to Jesus my King this evening. He has
     done so much for me lately. He blesses me in soul and body and
     supplies all my needs.

     I may go to C. soon and try to do something for my father. Pray
     that God may lead me and that the devil may not hinder in any
     way, if God sees fit to release papa from prison. I am perfectly
     resigned to God's will.

         Your sister for Jesus,
                                                            M. H.

     (This daughter was a successful Christian worker.)


                            FROM AN EDITOR.

                                      Ashburn, Ga., May 12, 1897.

     Dear Sister:

     Grace and peace be multiplied to you. I received your letter and
     communication for "Holiness Advocate," which will appear in the
     next issue. Always let me know where to find you. I would have
     written sooner, but have been away to Macon, where I saw Sister
     Perry. She has been here and visited the convict camps since you
     were here. I have been visiting those camps pretty regularly
     since you left here. You put it on me and I am trying to be
     faithful. You asked me in your letter if you knew me. Yes, I met
     you here. It was in front of my store. You held the street
     service here at Ashburn, while waiting for the train, and I was
     with you until the train left. Well, sister, I will never get
     done praising God for ever meeting you. It marked a new epoch in
     my experience. I want you to take my paper on your heart. Ask the
     Holy Spirit to run it for me and the Father to supply financial
     help. I am trusting Him for it. How glad the prisoners in the
     camp will be to hear from you in this way. I will send up to both
     the camps a bundle of the issue containing your letter. I want
     you all to pray for the South, that a deeper work may be done in
     the hearts of the Holiness people; that the missionary spirit may
     get hold of us so that we will send out our sons and daughters to
     tell of Jesus' love to a perishing, dying world.

     May the Lord bless you and use you in the future even more
     powerfully than in the past. Come and see us when you can.

                       Yours, bound for Heaven,
                                                     J. LAWRENCE,
                                           Ed. Holiness Advocate.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                   Ashburn, Ga., August 25, 1898.

     Dear Sister Wheaton:

     Your letter came to us all right, and you have no idea what
     gladness it brings to us all to hear from you, and yet
     conviction. For it certainly convicts us for the little we are
     doing when we see how the Lord is enabling you to put in full
     time. Pray for me that I may be more zealous. Things are taking a
     deeper move in the South. A great number of the Holiness people
     are getting down for a real experience. We have been satisfied
     long enough with a profession. So you may expect something from
     the South in the near future. Men and women giving themselves for
     the foreign field and for the home field, working in the slums
     and in the prisons and wherever God may lead them. Love to all
     the saints at Tabor. I have never met any of them, but I do love
     them and the work they are doing. "Blessed be the tie that
     binds."

     God bless you, and may you be preserved blameless unto His
     coming.

                           Yours in Jesus' love,
                                                     J. LAWRENCE.


                          FROM AN EX-PRISONER.

                                  Sioux City, Ia., Jan. 31, 1901.

     Mrs. Wheaton: I don't suppose you will remember me, but possibly
     you may, as I think I was one of the most wretched in or out of
     prison at that time. It was at Sioux Falls, So. Dak., between
     three and four years ago, if I remember correctly. You visited
     the prison and spoke to us in chapel, and later in the day you
     and a lady with you, came around to the cells. I was in cell No.
     13. You shook hands with me and asked, "Are you a Christian?" I
     replied, "No." Again you asked, "Have you ever been one?" "No."
     "Will you meet me in Heaven?" you asked again, and I answered, "I
     will try to." You spoke only a few words, saying, "Do not be
     discouraged." These few words and that warm hand-shake helped me
     very much. I was indeed much discouraged. Life seemed dark
     indeed. I was serving an eleven years' sentence. I was under deep
     conviction of sin. Not long after that the blessed Christ came
     into my heart. I believed on His name and He saved my soul. Two
     years ago last August I was pardoned from the prison. The 17th of
     last March I became Superintendent of a Rescue Mission in Dakota,
     and for ten months or nearly that I was there and the Lord
     blessed our efforts by saving souls. I am now married. My wife
     was converted in the mission last June. She is an accomplished
     musician and singer and, the Lord being willing, we expect to go
     out and preach the gospel among railroad men in the near future.

     I have often thought of you and your labor of love among
     prisoners. May God bless and encourage you in the work, is my
     earnest prayer. I heard that you were in Sioux Falls at the
     prison a short time ago. I did not know it in time to see you. If
     the prisoners only knew what joy and peace there is in the
     service of Jesus, it seems to me they would yield their hearts to
     Him. Again I wish you godspeed in your work. May you have many
     precious jewels for the Master's crown. To Him belong the praise
     and glory.

     Good-bye, and God bless you and the sister that was with you.
     Never be discouraged. Jesus loves and uses you.

                      Yours, in His service,
                                                         T. F. M.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                              Sioux Falls, S. Dak., Feb. 9, 1904.

     Mrs. E. R. Wheaton.

     Dear Sister: Your card of November was received. Hope you will
     pardon me for not writing before. I am glad that you are still
     trusting Jesus, and working in His vineyard. May God bless,
     comfort, strengthen and keep you.

     Jesus is coming again, perhaps soon. It may be that we shall be
     alive when He comes. If so we shall be caught up together with
     the dead in Christ to meet Him in the air, so shall we ever be
     with Him. Blessed be His name. (I Thess. 4-17.) I want to exalt
     Him. I want my daily life to be a testimony of His power to save
     and to keep. Many years of my life were spent in sin. Finally I
     was tried, convicted and sentenced to state's prison for a long
     term of years. God says: "Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he
     also reap, for He that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh
     reap corruption, but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the
     Spirit reap life everlasting." (Galatians 6:7, 8.) God's word is
     true.

     I found my mind giving away and my body a physical wreck. I read
     the Bible and God showed me that I was a lost man. I tried to
     destroy my life, but God in his love and mercy would not permit
     it. I was in great darkness. I said to a friend, there is no hope
     for me in this life or the life to come, but I did not know Jesus
     Christ nor His saving power. God sent His ministers each Sunday
     morning to preach the blessed gospel, and one Sunday morning He
     sent "Mother Wheaton" to us. In the afternoon, I believe it was,
     she visited us in our cells. I had quarreled with my cell-mate,
     and he had left me. Mrs. Wheaton came and shook hands with me,
     and asked if I was a Christian. I said, "No." Again she asked,
     "Have you ever been a Christian?" I replied, "No." She said,
     "Will you meet me in Heaven?" I said, "I will try." With a warm
     hand-shake and a few words of encouragement, she left me. God
     helped me to believe in Jesus Christ, and there came into my life
     joy and peace such as I had never known before, even in my best
     days on the outside.

     After my conversion I asked God if it was His will that I might
     be pardoned out. He also heard and answered that prayer. God is
     love. He loves the vilest sinner. To-day I have a loving
     Christian wife and two lovely children. I have no desire for the
     old life of drinking, gambling, etc., but my desire is to love
     and serve God and help my fellowmen to find Jesus, who is mighty
     to save and to keep. To Jesus belongs all praise and glory. If it
     is his will, may He use this testimony to bring souls to Himself.

                                                         T. F. M.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                          4064 Washington Avenue, St. Louis, Mo.,
                                                October 25, 1899.

     My Dear Mrs. Wheaton:

     I thank you so much for your letter. I was greatly pleased in
     reading it. I will be so glad to see you when you come. I
     realize, as you say, that I have never fully let go of myself in
     the Master's work, but I have given my life to Him, and if I know
     my own heart, I am willing to be and do anything He shall choose
     for me. I love to help lost ones, and if the Lord should use me
     as He does you, I believe I should be the happiest person in the
     world. Do pray for me, won't you, that the Lord may lead me into
     all His will? Time is flying, and soon all of our opportunities
     will be over and our Lord will take us to Himself. Pray that the
     Lord will keep me busy serving Him. I love you and pray for you.
     May you be kept rejoicing in hope even though you see nothing but
     sin and sorrow around you. (Psalm 125:5, 6.)

                            Lovingly yours,
                                                     TULA D. ELY.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Sapphire, N. C., August 15, 1901.

     My Dear Sister:

     I received your letter to-day. I have been thinking about you and
     praying for you often, and see by your letter that God has made
     all of your trials a blessing to you and know that God can make
     up for any loss He lets us have. What a hard time you did have,
     dear sister. I praise God for bringing you through it with such
     joy. Sometimes it seems true He does with us like He did with
     Job--just tells Satan he may do everything but take our lives,
     and when our self-justification and friends are gone, He joins us
     in with Himself and makes us powerful in His own power. He knows
     whether we want Him, and if we do we will be taken through death
     to self and put to hard tests. It seems sometimes as if He hides
     His face to let us suffer and say, "Though He slay me yet will I
     trust Him." I am glad you are with the people who hold you up in
     prayer. We need one another's prayers in these times when Satan
     has so many snares. Tula is well. She and Mildred send love.

               Affectionately and in Jesus, love,
                                                    CLARA D. ELY.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                     S----, Colo., June 24, 1903.

     Dear Mother in Christ:

     May this find you well and happy in the Lord Jesus. We have not
     forgotten you and we never shall. Our gospel tent meeting at P.
     was a blessed time. Souls were saved and sanctified. We give all
     the glory to Jesus. We are holding meetings here in our tent. The
     Lord is blessing the preaching of His Word. The Lord willing, we
     will begin a meeting at Raton, New Mexico, the 2nd of August. We
     would like to have you with us if it were the Lord's will. The
     Lord is helping us while we are here to open a home for poor
     girls. We have rented a five-room house and He is giving us
     everything we need for the home. Glory to God for all things!

     My brother H. is with us in the gospel work. God is blessing him
     in singing the gospel. Remember us all in prayer. May the Lord
     give you many souls in your work. We both send love to you.

                            Your children,
                                                  J. E. AND WIFE.

The above is of especial interest to me though the reader may have to
read between the lines, as it were, to understand why it is so. The
writers are faithful and efficient workers in the Master's cause.


                            A TESTIMONIAL.

                                        Columbia, South Carolina.

     To Christian Women:

     Dear Sisters: We have long known the bearer, Mrs. E. R. Wheaton,
     and can testify as to her arduous labors for the most needy
     classes. It was our privilege to have her in our Home for one
     week and we certainly received the Lord's blessing during that
     time. We are working for Christ, but her labors are more
     abundant, her trials far greater. As she goes forth without
     commission or salary she must depend entirely upon God. He
     usually supplies her through His people. Few of us could work
     where and as she does, but we may lovingly minister to her
     necessity and the dear Lord will surely bless in so doing. Yours
     in Christ,

                                                MARIA JONES,
                                                ELLA F. BRAINARD.

The writer of the following sketch was an orphan girl making her home,
when I first met her, with some of my relatives in Iowa. She was
raised by her aunt and was kept in school and in society till she was
grown. Having been converted at the age of twelve years and engaging
some in Christian work, soon after my first acquaintance with her she
received a call from God to devote her life wholly to His service.
Being an orphan the Lord gave me a mother's love and care for her. She
went with me to the Missionary Training Home at Tabor, from whence she
went as a missionary to India. While at the Home she was faithful in
caring for orphan children, etc., and traveled with me some, staying
at one time several months as a worker in a rescue home in Chicago,
and later spending some time in evangelistic work. I have elsewhere
mentioned her trip with me to the Pacific coast on her way to India.

     It was my privilege in the fall of 1903 to travel with Mother
     Wheaton in Gospel work in prisons, jails, missions, churches,
     etc. God made her a blessing to many souls who needed a mother's
     love and sympathy. She always lifts up Jesus, that souls might be
     drawn unto Him and be saved. We first visited the Reformatory for
     Girls at Mitchelville, Iowa. We were kindly received by the
     Superintendent who had been a friend of Mother Wheaton's for
     several years. He gave her the privilege of holding services in
     the chapel with the several hundred girls. She also visited the
     girls in their cottages, singing, praying and talking with them.

     We then visited the prisons at the following places: Moundsville,
     W. Va.; Baltimore, Md.; Allegheny, Pa.; Columbus, Ohio; Waupun,
     Wis.; Stillwater, Minn.; Frankfort, Ky.; Nashville and Brushy
     Mountain, Tenn.

     In the hospital of the prison at Waupun we visited Mr. Colgrove,
     a prisoner who was converted fifteen years previously when Mother
     Wheaton was holding a service in the prison. He was a life
     prisoner but he yielded to the conviction of the Holy Spirit and
     was saved. During these years he proved by his daily walk that he
     was a Christian. He often conducted the devotional exercises, and
     he had taught three Bible classes, two in German and one in
     English, until his health failed. As I bade him goodbye he said,
     "I will meet you in the better world if I never meet you here
     again." He was in poor health and a few months later died a
     triumphant death.

     The prison physicians gave permission to visit the sick, for they
     know the words of comfort and songs of cheer by Mother Wheaton
     will give them encouragement and a desire to live for the better
     world.

     In a Gospel Mission I heard an ex-convict testify to how God had
     saved him from a life of sin. He said that he knew "Mother
     Wheaton" but perhaps she did not know him dressed as he was; for
     when she had met him before he was behind prison bars. He praised
     God for such a person who was willing to work among that class of
     people. I am sure there is much good accomplished in the prisons
     for individuals as Mother Wheaton stands at the door after
     services and shakes hands with the hundreds of prisoners as they
     pass out. Her "God bless you" is not soon forgotten. When her
     work is ended and the rewards of the righteous are given, many
     will arise and call her blessed.

                                                   GRACE YARRETT.

[Illustration: MOTHER WHEATON.]




                            CHAPTER XXIV.

                     Sketches from Press Reports.


My call being not only to the prison bound but to every creature, the
newspaper men have received their part of the Gospel message and were
often instrumental in heralding some truth to their readers whom I
have been unable to reach in person. I have often been interviewed by
reporters regarding my work for the Master and they frequently give
accounts of meetings held in the prisons, on the streets, etc., very
correctly, though sometimes in a humorous style and from that
standpoint of the onlookers or the prisoners. In this chapter I give a
few sketches from reports of my work clipped from the papers.


                          A LABOR OF LOVE.

     A WOMAN WHO LEFT A LUXURIOUS HOME TO SERVE THE UNFORTUNATE.

        MRS. WHEATON AMONG THE CRIMINALS AT THE PENITENTIARY.

 SHE VISITS THE HOSPITALS, JAIL AND WORK-HOUSE--AFFECTING SCENES WHILE
                           SHE PREACHED.

A white-haird lady, clad in deep mourning, carrying a volume bound in
morocco, visited the penitentiary yesterday. This was Mrs. E. R.
Wheaton. In a few minutes she was delivering a sermon to the convicts.
She is a remarkable woman. Four years ago she left a luxurious home in
Ohio to preach the gospel to convicts, and since then has exhorted in
the penitentiaries of thirty-seven States. She visits hospitals and
the abodes of fallen women, also, and has ministered to the wants of
thousands of unfortunates. An _American_ reporter asked her how she
happened to be engaged in the work.

"No member of my family was ever in a prison or afflicted as are those
to whom I speak," she exclaimed; "my evangelical work did not
originate in any morbid sympathy because of personal bereavement. I
simply felt called of God to preach his word to the people, and have
entered upon it for the remainder of my life. My heart and soul are in
it, and though I am far from my dear ones I am happy."

She had been speaking to the convicts but a few minutes when the
effect of her words of exhortation was visible. At first the majority
were listless, but as she warmed to her cause they responded with
closer attention and in fifteen minutes every eye was fixed intently
upon the gentle, earnest woman, who sought to save their souls and
bring a divine light to their benighted lives. When she closed her
discourse and asked if any desired her prayers twenty hardened men of
crime, with tears in their eyes, raised their hands and three advanced
to the mourners' seat. With these she prayed and every word was
fraught with all the potent power with which the voice of woman in
prayer is capable. The three unfortunates were moved as men seldom are
and at the close of the meeting professed conversion.

Mrs. Wheaton then visited the hospital department of the penitentiary,
after which she went to the jail, work-house and city hospital and at
each place delivered a discourse. To-day she will see fallen
women.--Nashville American, Nashville, Tenn., 1887.


                         A PRISON EVANGELIST.

              ELIZABETH R. WHEATON TALKS AT THE COUNTY JAIL.

Elizabeth R. Wheaton, the celebrated prison evangelist, visited the
Buchanan county jail yesterday, and conducted a religious service of
forty minutes' length. The evangelist pointed out the errors of her
hearers and advised them to make early amends. The evangelist assured
the audience that all they needed to be saved was faith. Wife murderer
Bulling was one of the evangelist's most attentive hearers, and the
horse thieves, burglars and other criminals were among her closest
listeners. Sheriff Spratt thinks much good will result from Evangelist
Wheaton's visit to the bastile.--St. Joe, Mo., paper, Aug. 8, 1889.


                        PRISON EVANGELIST.

Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, prison evangelist, held services in the
county jail this afternoon, lecturing and singing to the eleven
prisoners there. She told in few words and four songs the whole plan
of salvation, and it didn't take her but twenty minutes to do it. She
talked a little while and sang "I Will Tell the Wondrous Story,"
following with a few words of comment her rich contralto voice burst
into "You Must Be Born Again," followed in the same way. Then "It Pays
to Serve the Lord," and "Parting to Meet no More," closing with a
short prayer. These songs coming in the order they do, tell the whole
story and make a very pretty one.--Unidentified.


                   EVANGELISTIC SERVICE AT PRISON.

Elizabeth Wheaton, a noble Christian woman who has consecrated her
life to work in prisons, jails, reformatories, houses of correction,
houses of refuge and hospitals, visited our city Saturday, and after
presenting her credentials was given hearty permission to hold
services at the prison on Sunday, Father Murphy, the Catholic
chaplain, whose day it was to officiate, kindly consenting to this
arrangement. Her manner would probably not be agreeable to an æsthetic
Christian audience in a fashionable, upholstered church, but she
knows how to reach the hearts of the men and boys who wear the
stripes, one of the prisoners, a Catholic, who has been behind the
bars for almost seventeen years, remarking that this was the best
service they had had there during his long term of imprisonment. No
one, be he Christian or pagan, could have listened to the service at
the prison chapel last Sunday without being convinced that there was
an opening for unselfish work among prisoners and that this lady was
pre-eminently fitted for such work. There is no mawkish sentimentality
about her, but an all absorbing zeal in the work of leading the
criminals, the erring, the lowly, the sick and the afflicted to Christ
and a better life. It is doubtful if there is an ordained minister in
the land who can do as much good in this field as this plain,
unpretentious, but thoroughly consecrated woman. She has now been
nearly five years in this work, and has visited nearly every prison in
the United States and Canada, a few in Mexico, and also the jails,
reformatories, houses of refuge and hospitals in all the prominent
cities through which she has passed. She has traveled almost 100,000
miles and has never met with an accident. Wherever she goes she is
kindly received, non-Christians in fact treat her better than those
whose sympathy and co-operation she has a right to expect. Thus does
the world ever recognize and honor earnest, conscientious and capable
laborers in the cause of God and humanity. She never allows a
collection to be taken up in her behalf, though frequently invited to
speak in churches, but accepts such offerings as may come without
solicitation. Last Sunday, while she and the citizens in the audience
were retiring from the chapel, a Swedish servant girl, whose name is
unknown to the writer, took from her scanty purse a silver dollar and
gave it to Mrs. Wheaton. If the lesson of the story of the widow's
mite be true this humble girl's gift was greater than that of the
millionaire who gives thousands of dollars toward the erection of a
magnificent church edifice.--Stillwater, Minn., Messenger, Oct. 27,
1888.


                      MRS. WHEATON'S ELOQUENCE.

       CAUSES A SUFFERING WIFE TO FORGET HER BRUISES AND
                     FORGIVE HER CRUEL HUSBAND.

The case of Henry Cooper was brought up before 'Squire F. yesterday
afternoon at 2 o'clock.

Catharine Cooper stated that her husband had beat her brutally on last
Saturday afternoon and that this was not the first ill treatment she
had received at his hands.

The court room was converted into a prayer meeting and Mrs. Wheaton's
prayers presented an affecting scene; before the trial was ended Mrs.
Cooper asked to withdraw her prosecution and was willing to forgive
her cruel husband. 'Squire F. ordered the prisoner to be taken to the
workhouse to work out the cost of the suit.--Chattanooga, Tenn.,
paper.


       FROM A PRISONER IN THE PRATT MINES STOCKADE, ALABAMA.

To the Chronicle:

Supposing a line or two from our prison, its surroundings, happenings,
etc., would be acceptable, prompts me to drop you this.

The monotony of prison life is such that hardly anything transpires,
that would command the notice of a news reporter, or draw an article
from a newspaper correspondent. But, Mr. Editor, we had something to
take place here last night that beats anything we ever saw or heard
of.

About the time all the convicts had finished eating the evening meal,
Captain P. J. Rogers announced that all should remain seated awhile,
to hear preaching. Now to hear preaching is no uncommon occurrence
here, Brother Rush preaches regularly for us, and occasionally other
ministers deliver discourses upon the importance of living the life of
a Christian, so when Capt. R. announced that we were about to have
preaching, no one experienced much motion of spirit. The minds of
those who gave the matter any thought were picturing in expectation, a
man, perhaps baldheaded, clad in a long priestly robe with Bible and
Hymn-book in hand, and of a solemn, or sanctimonious countenance,
others, perhaps, drew a different man in appearance, but none had
drawn the picture correctly.

Imagine our surprise when instead of a man, a woman of mature age,
clad in the usual mourning apparel worn by the ladies, armed with
Bible and Hymn-book, mounted the rostrum, and announced that she was
going to preach to us. This announcement at once produced the most
profound and reverential silence imaginable--every eye was at once
riveted upon the face of the fair preacher, whose countenance wore a
pleasant smile and indicated an affectionate and amiable disposition,
and complete surprise or amazement was vivid upon the countenance of
her entire audience. The discourse was one worthy of the attention of
all who heard it--the sufferings of Jesus in and around Jerusalem--His
temptation and trial of toil and misery--His holy life--His triumphant
death and resurrection--His grand ascension to the realms of the
blessed, were eloquently delineated. The certainty of death--the
shortness of life--the never ending of the life beyond the grave were
theories eagerly pressed for reception upon the minds of her hearers.
Taking all in all, the discourse was well delivered and spiced with
enough enthusiasm to produce good effect. But, Mr. Editor, the idea
of a woman canvassing the world in behalf of the church is simply an
incident so unusual that quite a number of us here eagerly inquire,
what has become of the men? * * * *

Elizabeth R. Wheaton, for such is the name of our distinguished
visitor, related among other things, that she was called and led by
the God of Glory to go all over the world and preach the gospel to the
lost children of men, that the prisons, saloons, dens of sin and
pollution were the places of her special care. The huts of the poor
and outcast were by her to be visited and that she did not ask for
money, that her Master had promised to provide all things for her and
did so daily.


                          SAW MOTHER WHEATON.

 THE NOTED PRISON EVANGELIST VISITED THE COUNTY JAIL PRISONERS TODAY.

A kindly faced, white-haired old lady walked into the county jail this
morning and asked permission to address the prisoners. She was
"Mother" Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the prison evangelist, who is known
from coast to coast. As soon as her identity was made known Turnkey
Reynolds and his corps of assistants did their utmost to assist the
generous old lady. She was shown through the building, and then
allowed to enter each ward.

From 11 o'clock until long after the noon hour she remained with the
unfortunates, visiting them separately and then preaching to all.
Tears were in the eyes of many of these hardened criminals before she
had finished.

"Mother" Wheaton was met at the jail entrance and asked to explain her
system of working. "It is all done by faith," she said. "I have faith
in God, and that is sufficient. He will provide me with all that is
necessary to carry on this work."

"Under whose guidance do you work?" was asked.

"The Lord's, and His only," was the reply.

"But are you not employed by some religious sect?"

"No. I do this on my own responsibility, and for the glory of God. For
the past fifteen years this has been my life's work. I go where I
please and do as I please."

"How far have you traveled?"

"Thousands and thousands of miles. Last year I was in Europe and have
been all over America."

For the past forty years "Mother" Wheaton has been a professed
believer in Christianity. Fifteen years ago she started in the work of
visiting prisons, and has been in every place of detention in any city
of note. She is received with the utmost courtesy both by the
officials and the prisoners. Many of the latter have met her at
different places, and most all the officials are acquainted with her
and her work.--A Detroit paper.


                        THE PRISON EVANGELIST.

 MRS. E. R. WHEATON DELIVERS AN ADDRESS AT THE PENITENTIARY CHAPEL
                           SUNDAY MORNING.

The service at the penitentiary chapel Sunday was made memorable by
the presence and discourse of Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, the world-known
prison evangelist. Chaplain Winget conducted the services and offered
the invocation and in a few explanatory remarks introduced Mrs.
Wheaton. Mrs. Wheaton's hair is white as silver, but she still retains
her ever-youthful appearance and sprightly step. She sang in an
indescribably sweet, but powerful, voice "Some Mother's Child." At the
conclusion of the singing Mrs. Wheaton preached a wonderful discourse.
"I was on my way to Jerusalem," said she, "and had gotten as far as
London, England, when the Lord turned me back to my own country and to
my suffering boys in prison; and I said God bless my children, my
boys, for I am their mother.

"Oh! how sad and discouraged many of you are, but if you will believe
in God and read your Bible you will be comforted. How can any man have
the heart not to believe the Bible and rest his case upon the bosom of
the good Lord who died for us? I thank God that the good old-time
religion still lives. The devil, my children, causes you all your
sufferings and sorrows. Exchange him for Jesus. He will keep you.
Forgive your enemies and submit yourself to the officers of the
prison. You must obey--it is the Lord's will. He has placed you here
for his own purpose, maybe for your soul's good and salvation. Jesus
says, 'Come to me all ye that are heavy laden and I will give you
rest.' Have faith. I am so sorry when some of you do wrong for the
innocent must suffer with the guilty and society becomes stern with
you. God bless you all."--Columbus, Ohio, paper.


         MRS. ELIZABETH RIDER WHEATON PREACHES TO UNFORTUNATES.

            VISITS THE BRIDEWELL AND HEARS THE COMPLAINT OF
                    ONE OF THE CITY'S CHARGES.

"What's the use? What have I to hope for? Who cares for me? Who'll
help me? What can I do when my time expires? Everybody's hand will be
against me! A hopeless drunkard is past redemption."

Tears came to the eyes of Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton yesterday
afternoon as she heard these words fall from the lips of a dejected
prisoner at the bridewell. The prison and train evangelist whose work
for fifteen years among convicts had brought her many such questions,
which she was unable to answer to the satisfaction of the prisoners,
spoke to the wretched man in tender tones, and told him of the
consolation offered by religion.

"But," she said, turning to a reporter, "what can I do in one
conversation? It needs many. I'm going back to Chicago next week, and
I intend to devote considerable time to every prison and house of
refuge in the city. I haven't done any work in the city since the
anarchist execution."

Mrs. Wheaton's methods of evangelizing are sometimes dramatic. For
instance, Mrs. Wheaton arrived in Chicago from St. Louis on a Wabash
train early yesterday morning. Night before last, while the train was
speeding along in the darkness, the occupants of the reclining chair
car were startled.

"Look out!" cried a voice in shrill tones. "We're coming to a high
bridge. Before we reach it we pass over a curve. The rails may be all
right, the bridge may be safe; but who knows?"

The passengers turned around in their seats. They looked frightened
and appeared anxious to know whether there was really an impending
danger. They saw only a woman whose face, softened by grief, bore
lines of pain and care. She was Mrs. Wheaton.

"But the Christian is not afraid to die," she continued. "He welcomes
death as a release from care and a blessing."

Then the evangelist preached a sermon, to which all listened with
attention.

Although Mrs. Wheaton has visited every state in the Union many times
during her fifteen years of missionary work, she has been in a
sleeping car but once. Railroads give her passes. She has no
property, and, of course, can collect no money from convicts, though
occasionally she receives a contribution on trains.

"The trouble of it all," said she after her talk with the man in the
bridewell, "is not in the prisons. It is after the convicts get out.
For that, humanity is to blame. Prisoners have not much hope, and some
of them accept religion in a tentative sort of way.

"When they are released they are hounded by the police, marked by all
citizens as ostracized men, unable to get employment, and, in fact,
the second termers tell me they are reduced almost to the necessity of
choosing between starvation and stealing. Those whose conversion is
real do neither, because no man need ever starve in this country, but
the weak go under and are brought back to jail. What the world needs
is more Christian charity. We should forgive, as our Saviour did,
seventy times seven."

In addition to her charm as a speaker, Mrs. Wheaton is a singer of no
mean ability. She is not a believer in men who accept religion for the
sake of business and put on a sanctimonious air. The view that she
takes of life meets with favor among the convicts, and she sings a
song called "The Twin Ballots," which illustrates her opinion on the
temperance question. The song is about two rum votes that sanctioned
the license plan, "but one was cast by a cunning brewer and one by a
Sunday-school man."

The evangelist left last night for Pittsburg, but will return next
week. She said she wished to impress upon people the fact that
converted prisoners are not hypocrites, although the guards often
suspect insincerity and treat a converted man worse than any other,
because they think he is seeking to curry favor.--A Chicago paper.


                      A DISGRACEFUL PROCEEDING.

Thursday afternoon, Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, the noted prison
evangelist, accompanied by a sister, asked permission from a
policeman, which was granted, to hold a street meeting for religious
purposes.

After singing some hymns, which, from their superior rendition,
attracted a large crowd, Mrs. Wheaton, an elderly lady who has devoted
seven years of her time entirely to prison evangelical work, began an
earnest exhortation to sinners. After preaching for a few minutes
Officer C. came up and said that the mayor had ordered him to put a
stop to the proceedings.

Mrs. Wheaton said she would do her duty without fear of man and
continued for a moment longer. Then the party knelt on the snow and
began to pray for the mayor and the policeman. While they were praying
the officer came up closely followed by Mayor J., and roughly pushed
Mrs. Wheaton over. The mayor with fire in his eye as well as his
complexion, spoke in a very rude manner to the ladies, practically
endorsing the rough treatment already accorded the party.

Mrs. Wheaton showed _The Dispatch_ credentials from very high sources
and a very bulky bundle of railroad passes which gave substantial
evidence of the manner in which she and her work are regarded
elsewhere.

She has traveled over the United States and Mexico, and parts of
Europe, and it remained for a Leadville mayor to break the record and
treat her with indignity. She was very much shocked and grieved and
said she felt deeply sorry for Leadville, which she had often heard
spoken of as a wicked city.

_The Dispatch_ is free to say that Mayor J. acted without adequate
provocation and displayed an unnecessary exercise of authority. If the
services had been prolonged to any great extent he might have sent a
request to have them discontinued, but there was no occasion for any
such arbitrary exhibition of power as was made.

Far greater blockades with less meritorious objects have existed
without protest in Leadville. A medicine faker who pays a few dollars
license can yell and sing and make night hideous for hours and it is
all right, but a humble evangelical missionary, whose sincerity and
good intentions are not doubted, however persons may differ concerning
the methods, is unceremoniously made to move on. If the authorities
displayed as much zeal in suppressing vice as they do in shutting off
missionaries, Leadville would be a model city.

The prison evangelists, after having been ordered off Harrison avenue,
visited both city and county jails, where they were kindly received
and permitted by the officers to hold services among the prisoners. It
is said that this is the first religious service held in the Leadville
jails.--Leadville, Colo., Dispatch, March, 1891.


                             DISGRACEFUL.

Last night, when the ladies who have been conducting religious
services in the park, were preparing to close, some miscreant in human
form threw a small torpedo at them and struck Mrs. Wheaton above the
right eye. It did not produce any serious injury, but was very painful
at the time, and may terminate worse than at first supposed. This act
evidently issued from some low, depraved fiend whom the darkness of
the hour shielded from justice. The ladies departed from the city this
morning, and the exact result of the disgraceful episode cannot be
learned. As soon as it was done some man in the crowd offered $100
reward for the identification of the party who did the dastardly
trick, but of course no one knew who the miscreant was except he
himself.--Jacksonville, Ill., paper, June 26, 1887.


                       THE PRISON EVANGELIST.

"Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, prison evangelist, Chicago, Ill. Meet me in
heaven. No home but heaven." This is what is printed on the card of a
remarkable woman who visited the penitentiary and talked to the
convicts at 11 o'clock on Sunday. This woman has been engaged in this
work for about nine years, and she has visited nearly every prison and
jail in the United States, Canada and Mexico. She is the Moody of the
convict world. She asks for no money. She gives her services free, and
trusts to Providence for her support. "The Lord provides," she says.
She has held services in a different state or territorial prison the
past five Sundays, from Stillwater, Minn. (where Cole Younger is
confined and assists in and sometimes leads religious services), to
Salem, Oregon. Mrs. Wheaton also visits reform schools. She is one of
the chief advocates of the reformatory system being adopted in some of
the Eastern prisons whereby convicts of different classes are graded
and kept separate, wear different uniforms, etc., and are also let out
on furloughs on trial or probation. Mrs. Wheaton devotes her whole
time to prison work. She certainly accomplishes some good from all
this effort. She was a Methodist before taking up this life work, but
now holds to no sect.--Salem, Oregon, paper, Nov. 16, 1891.


                             A NOBLE WORK.

Among the evangelistic workers who go out among the people seeking the
low and degraded and trying to lift them up to be better men and
women, Elizabeth R. Wheaton is one of the chosen few who is well
adapted to this work. She asks no pay and receives none, but with
noble purpose and with heart and mind fully in the work which has been
given her, she travels from Maine to California and from British
Columbia to the Gulf of Mexico.

Her work is chiefly among the state prisons, county jails and reform
schools. Here she meets a class of people schooled in vice and who
have been kept face to face with the different evils all their lives;
these are the people whom she seeks to save.

Mrs. Wheaton has just returned from a successful trip through Mexico
and the South and is now on her way to Walla Walla, Portland and
British Columbia. She stopped off here to visit our penitentiary and
jail. Through the kindness of the warden she held a song service last
Sunday at the State penitentiary, and the amount of good which she did
was shown by the eager attention of the convicts, and the tear-stained
faces of some who, when the good old-fashioned hymns were sung,
thought of their far-away homes and mothers. Sunday evening she held
services at the jail and on the street, both of which were much
appreciated.--Unidentified.


                       GOSPEL FOR THE PRISONERS.

     THE INMATES OF ATLANTA'S PRISONS HEARD PREACHING YESTERDAY.

The prisoners at police headquarters, at the jail and at the city
stockade listened to the gospel of Christ yesterday.

Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the famous prison evangelist, of
Washington, held services at all these places. Her talks were of the
most interesting character and evidently made deep impressions upon
her hearers.

The service at the jail was held in the morning, the one at the
stockade in the afternoon, and the one at the police station at night.

Mrs. Wheaton is perhaps the most famous evangelist of her kind in the
country. She makes a specialty of this work and follows it closely
week after week. She has preached to convicts and prisoners in every
state in the Union, frequently traveling as far as 700 miles between
Sundays in order to make an appointment. She has letters of
introduction from the governors of many states, and free passes on
railroads. She is here with the Christian Workers, but is not a
delegate.--Atlanta, Ga., paper, Nov. 14, 1893.


                         PRISON EVANGELISTS.

         THE INMATES OF THE COUNTY JAIL TREATED TO A SERMON.

Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the prison evangelist, who has been
traveling over the United States for ten years past, and two sisters
from Washington, D. C., and Kansas City, arrived in the city this
morning and held religious service in the county jail. The twenty-four
inmates of the bastile were much pleased with the service.

Mrs. Wheaton and her companions held services yesterday at the
prison at Lansing, Kan., where 900 convicts are confined. Lately
they have come from the convict camp of South Carolina and Mrs.
Wheaton can tell many tales of the sufferings endured by the
prisoners there.--Unidentified.


                       THE NEWS AT LEAVENWORTH.

        MOTHER WHEATON, PRISON EVANGELIST, VISITS THE UNITED
                          STATES PRISON.

Religious services at the federal penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth
yesterday were somewhat out of the usual order. Mother Wheaton, the
prison evangelist, late of Washington, D. C., now of Iowa, preached to
the convicts at the morning hour. Her address was a most effective
one and men all through the audience were moved to tears. At the close
of the service she stood at the chapel door and shook the hand of each
prisoner as he went out.

Her head is white with age, yet she has visited the prisons of the
United States and many in Europe, bearing messages of hope and cheer
to the condemned. She is not alone a woman of ready speech, but is a
sweet singer as well. Her life is dedicated to her work, and many is
the unfortunate who has cause to bless the visit of Mother Wheaton.
Mrs. T., of this city, accompanied her to the prison.--Leavenworth,
Kan., paper.


                             JAIL SERVICE.

The inmates of the county jail were honored yesterday by a visit from
that well known prison evangelist, Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, who was
accompanied by a Mrs. S., of Kansas. Mrs. Wheaton conducted religious
services and her talk had a deep effect upon murderer Williamson, the
old man being visibly moved.

Mrs. Wheaton has made the visiting of prisons, condemned men and
fallen women her life work, and in the course of her travels during
the past seven years has visited Europe, the British provinces, Mexico
and the United States. As an example of her earnest efforts it may be
mentioned that during the past thirteen Sundays she has visited and
held services in fourteen different state penitentiaries. Mrs. Wheaton
is a lady of striking appearance. She has a motherly countenance and a
magnetism which attracts the closest attention to what she says. Her
discourse yesterday was eloquent, yet at times plain and pointed to
severity. Mrs. Wheaton left yesterday on the afternoon train for the
Pacific coast.--Sedalia, Mo., paper, November, 1891.


                          PREACHED TO CONVICTS.

Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the noted evangelist, and Mrs. Perry,
who are engaged in preaching and working among the prisons, visited
the Virginia penitentiary yesterday and held services in each chapel.
Their exhortations and singing were of a high order and produced a
powerful effect among the prisoners. Many of them made a profession of
faith. Mrs. Wheaton has preached in most of the penitentiaries of the
United States. She has also traveled and preached in Canada and Mexico
as well as in the Old World. The ladies are being entertained by
Superintendent Lynn and will remain in the city several days.


                        POLICE STATION SERVICES.

  MRS. ELIZABETH RIDER WHEATON TALKS TO THE MEMBERS OF THE FORCE.

Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the evangelist, was at the police
station last night at roll call and held a short service for the
benefit of the members of the police force. She delivered an
interesting address to the officers and offered a prayer, after which
she led them in a song. The officers expressed themselves as having
been greatly benefited by the service, and the evangelist was invited
to call again.--Unidentified.


                      SERVICES AT THE WORKHOUSE.

"Mother" Wheaton, the prison evangelist, who was mentioned last Monday
as holding meetings in Island Park the day before, called at the
police station this morning to ask permission to talk and sing to the
prisoners confined in the workhouse. The permission was granted. The
lady has traveled extensively in her evangelistic work, making flying
trips all over the United States especially. Within the last thirty
days she has talked to prisoners at Walla Walla, Tacoma and in other
northwestern cities. While in this city she is the guest of her
sister, Mrs. Huffman, of Kenwood.--Elkhart (Ind.) Paper.


              A STRANGE LIFE OF DEVOTION IN NEGLECTED FIELDS.

The prisoners in the Dade coal mines made the acquaintance yesterday
of two women--two religious tramps, if you please, using the word
literally--whose adventures in evangelizing are probably without
parallel.

They are Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the famous prison evangelist,
and her temporary assistant, Mrs. P.

Mrs. Wheaton has for ten years been preaching in prisons, convict
camps, houses of ill-fame and the like, not only in the United States,
but in Canada, Mexico and Europe. One, upon meeting her, would
naturally be very uncertain as to where one might or might not meet
next this spirit-led traveler--recognizing which uncertainty, perhaps,
she has printed upon her cards, in lieu of an earthly address:

"Meet me in heaven."

The two women visited the jail Thursday, becoming very much interested
in the case of P. S., it seems, on account of his relationship to Rev.
S. J. Mrs. Wheaton spoke of P. as a "beautiful black-eyed young
married man."

They took part in the Christian alliance meeting Friday afternoon at
51 James street, at which over thirty people were present.

They will hold special services at the coal mine convict camps to-day,
returning to Atlanta within a few days. They carry this letter--an
"open sesame" to every prison and camp in Georgia:

     "Atlanta, Ga., June 30.--To the captain in charge of convict
     camps in Georgia: I desire that each of you extend to these
     ladies, Mrs. Wheaton and Mrs. ----, any courtesies possible
     during their stay with you; that they may be given opportunities
     to talk to the men and women in your charge. I will particularly
     appreciate any kindness shown them. The governor also requests
     that they be shown courtesies."

It is signed by George H. Jones, the principal keeper. "Courtesies,"
by the way, is spelled "curtisys" in the letter, but it's official,
and "it goes."

Return to Atlanta--that is to say they will return unless the spirit
moves Mrs. Wheaton to go on from Chattanooga to St. Louis, or
Montreal, or Berlin, or somewhere else.

Coming to Atlanta on the Richmond and Danville, Mrs. Wheaton was moved
to hold services in the smoking car. Just as the train was rolling out
of Calhoun, S. C., Mrs. Wheaton spied some convicts at work.

Convicts!

Instantly she decided to stop over. She and Mrs. P. bundled up their
wraps and packages and got off after the train had started. They knew
nobody there. They had no money--that is, "not enough to count."
Somehow or other they got transportation to and from the station, and
supper, and to other works, and arranged a meeting. It was a glorious
meeting, they say.

Mrs. Wheaton's faith--and railroad passes, she adds laughingly--have
kept her going for ten years.

She traveled 5,000 miles between one Sunday and the second Sunday
afterwards, collecting only fifty cents on the way.

The Lord will provide, she knows.

The faith that removes mountains is here in reality.

Always on the go--never stopping but a day or two in one
place--meeting men to be hanged the next day--praying with fallen
women--interceding with governors for human life--blindly following,
without regard to time or distance, the mysterious dictates of what
she calls "the Spirit."

She is so well known now throughout the United States--having been
engaged in this work for ten years--that she is rarely refused a
railroad pass. She has letters of commendation from governors and
prison authorities. * * *

Mrs. Wheaton's services in the jails and convict camps are unique,
remarkable for their fervency and impromptu character. Singing plays
an important part. * * *

Mrs. Wheaton has made many wonderful conversions in the slums and
prisons, and has seen many famous criminals in their last hours.

She is the guest in Atlanta of Mrs. J. H. Murphy, at 267 East Cain
street.--Atlanta (Ga.) Herald, July 2, 1893.


                       PREACHING ON THE STREETS.

Thursday evening the sound of an alto voice singing a familiar hymn on
Sandy street, near Murphy's corner, soon gathered a crowd, when a
lady, whose hair was beginning to silver with gray, mounted a box and
preached to the mixed assemblage a sermon, after which the singing was
resumed, the meeting concluding with a fervent and earnest prayer. A
reporter called at the hotel and learned that the lady was Mrs.
Elizabeth R. Wheaton, a prison evangelist. Heretofore she has had a
"sister" to travel with her. She showed the reporter stacks of letters
from the wardens of various state penitentiaries, commending her, and
praising the work she has done in this specialty. She has preserved
files of newspaper criticisms, many of which are complimentary of the
work she has done, and some from the secular press making light of her
work.

That she is in earnest no one who considers that she has given up home
and friends and roamed all over the United States, Canada, Mexico and
in part of Europe to preach to unappreciative street crowds, prison
convicts, etc., can doubt. And whatever may be said of the method, as
was illustrated on the streets here last night, there are many
reached with a sermon that have not perhaps heard one for
months.--Unidentified.


                       PRAYER SERVICE IN JAIL.

Through the efforts of Mrs. E. R. Wheaton, the prison evangelist, the
county jail was turned into a house of prayer last evening, and for an
hour or more the walls of the building resounded with the shouts of
prayer and praise of this earnest woman.

During the afternoon Mrs. Wheaton called on Gregory, the horsethief
and desperado, and was the first to bring to the surface in his case
any signs of remorse or sentiment of any kind. When the gray-haired
and motherly woman took the hand of the confessed thief and ex-convict
in hers and prayed for him great tears flowed down his cheeks and he
was affected as none of the other prisoners had been. Gregory said he
had known Mrs. Wheaton for fourteen years. She does not remember him,
but says it is not unlikely that he has seen her if he has been in the
several prisons in which it is said he has served time, as she has
been visiting them all off and on in her work for a great many
years.--Council Bluffs, Iowa, Nonpareil, Jan. 19, 1900.


                       THEIR WORK IS IN PRISONS.

Party of Evangelists Pay a Visit to the County Jail.

Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, the prison evangelist, was in Butte for
a short time yesterday on her way west, and between trains conducted
services in the corridor of the county jail.

In addition to being an earnest exhorter, Mrs. Wheaton, despite the
fact that she is well advanced in years, is the possessor of a fine
voice. When she sings in a prison the most hardened criminals never
fail to listen to her with great respect. During the services in the
jail yesterday clerks and court officers ceased from their duties and
with the people who had business in the building, blocked the passage
ways leading to the jail to listen to her. The other members of the
party also delivered exhortations and joined in the singing. The
farewell hymn, given in a clear soprano voice by Mrs. Wheaton, "God be
with you till we meet again," was especially sweet. Whether the
services made any lasting impression on the men behind the bars cannot
be known, but the fact remains that when they were over there was an
unusual quiet in the jail and the air seemed more wholesome. From
Butte she went to Deer Lodge to visit the penitentiary.--Butte,
Montana, paper, 1897.


                          STREET SERVICES.

On Wednesday and Thursday our town was visited by two lady
missionaries or preachers of the gospel. They were perfect strangers
here and claimed that their mission was to try to open the eyes of
sinful people and beg them to come to Christ. They sang, prayed and
preached upon the streets, and at the colored church, having been
refused the use of some of the white churches. We know not whom these
persons are, or from where they came, but we do know that they were
very lady-like in their conduct, and there was a terrible earnestness
about their work. They preached pure gospel in the most Christ-like
manner that it was ever our privilege to hear--down upon their knees
in the streets, surrounded by a motley multitude, begging God in a
most pleading and fervent manner to save the sinners of this place,
and singing glorious praises to Him on this beautiful day of national
thanksgiving, was a spectacle that we had never expected to witness.
Whether or not this is proper in the eyes of the world we cannot say,
but if their work is earnest as it seems, they will be rewarded in
heaven.--Unidentified.


                           FOR PRISONERS.

          TOUCHING SCENES IN BANGOR JAIL.--GOOD DEEDS THAT
                      SHINE IN MORAL DARKNESS.

Never were gospel hymns--words of comfort set to hopeful music, sang
more sweetly and earnestly, or with better effect than were the songs
of a plainly dressed woman of tranquil face and gentle manner in the
echoing corridors of Bangor jail Tuesday afternoon.

This woman was Mrs. Elizabeth Rider Wheaton whose home is everywhere
in earth's saddest ways. She is a prison evangelist and her card bears
the simple admonition: "Prepare to Meet Thy God."

She came lately to Maine, and arrived in Bangor Tuesday noon from
Belfast. On the train Mrs. Wheaton talked of Christian things, and she
sang hymns to the passengers--"Throw Out the Life Line" and other
well-remembered songs--in a way that reached the hearts of all. When
she got here she went for a few minutes to a low-priced hotel, and
thence to the county jail. The officials received her kindly, and the
prisoners, who, after their dinner of soup, had gone into the work
shop, were brought in to hear some of the kindest words and most
touching songs that they had listened to for many a day.

Those innocent and comfortable Christians who have only heard hymns
sung in churches or chapels to well-dressed and presumably good
people can have no idea of the sweetly weird effect of gospel melodies
swelling in the vast and dismal spaces of a jail, while gathered
around are the very lost sheep that the shepherds of churches are
commanded to find. It is a reproachful picture from the realism of
blasted lives--a startling, chilling glimpse of the depth of
wretchedness, lighted up by a feeble ray from the goodness that yet
survives amid it all.

Some old and hardened habitues of jails mock and sneer at the voices
raised in their behalf and scoff at the hands held out to lift them
up, but most men, in jail or out, treat women like this with silent
respect. It was so in the jail Tuesday.

When the men had filed out to the broom shop again Mrs. Wheaton went
to a cell occupied by two elderly women and talked and sang to them.
The women, whose wickedness all lay in drink, seemed pleased and
affected. They thought this evangelist the kindest they had ever met.

The evangelist may hold some meetings here before she leaves. She was
much pleased with her reception in Bangor, and would like to remain a
few days. She has letters of recommendation from the governors of
several states and from the officials of numerous prisons. She belongs
to no army or organization, but travels independently, doing what good
she can.--Bangor, Me., paper.


                      ELIZABETH R. WHEATON.

    THE NOTED PRISON EVANGELIST PAYS THE TRINIDAD JAILS A VISIT.

Elizabeth R. Wheaton, the well-known prison evangelist, arrived in the
city Monday evening and yesterday visited the county and city jails,
where she talked and prayed with the poor unfortunates confined
therein. * * * More than one poor fellow has blessed the short hour
when her motherly presence and sweetly spoken words of comfort have
made his fate seem easier to bear, while repentant tears have filled
the eyes of many a hardened criminal when listening to her pleadings.
She approaches the most degraded with a familiar motherly air, which
at once wins their most profound respect and reverence. * * *

Mrs. Wheaton expects to leave today for Pueblo where she will be
joined by a sister in the work, when they will continue their journey
together. She spoke very highly of the courteous treatment received
from the officers and of the cleanly condition of the jails.--Daily
Advertiser, Trinidad, Colo.


                       VISIT FROM MISSIONARIES.

Elizabeth Rider Wheaton, better known as "Mother Wheaton," the prison
evangelist, and Mrs. Elizabeth Taylor, of Tabor, Iowa, called at the
Institution Thursday afternoon on a missionary errand. Mother Wheaton
has spent fifteen years in evangelical work among the inmates of the
various prisons throughout the United States. Her friends among the
convicts are numbered by the thousands. We so rarely meet with any one
who really sympathizes with us in our misfortune that when these two
good women come inside the walls for no other purpose but to encourage
us to do better and give assurance of their love and good wishes, we
are made to feel that we are still human and may hope for a better
day. By reason of the chapel building undergoing repairs, it was
impossible for them to meet many of the boys or hold services.--A
Prison Paper.


                          A REMARKABLE SCENE.

    A WORK OF LOVE BY AN ELDERLY LADY.--THE SCENERY OF OAK CLIFF.

Last night the moon shed its full luster slightly dimmed by thin
clouds.

The crowd stood by a negro church at the point of the hill, just above
the creek banks at their intersection. The view from the top of the
hill was enchanting.

The lady passed the crowd and stopped in the moonshine in front of the
church. Here she was joined by a party of three other ladies and two
men, whom she had preceded a little. Two of the ladies held babies in
their arms.

In a strong and beautiful alto voice a song burst forth from the lips
of the elderly lady: "I Will Tell the Wondrous Story of the Christ Who
Died for Me." Her companions joined her in the song and the refrain
echoed far and near over the hillsides: "Of the Christ who died for
me."

The inhabitants heard it.

But this is the part of Oak Cliff inhabited by negroes. In response
they swarmed out as would have done the followers to the signal of
Roderick Dhu.

Pretty soon the church was filled and a few white people were among
the audience drawn thither by the song.

The services were begun with prayer by the elderly lady, whose hair,
when she had removed her bonnet, shone silvery gray. It was nothing
out of the usual order of prayers except that it was accompanied with
unusual fervor and simplicity being adapted to the circumstances. If
any had assembled through curiosity she prayed that their hearts would
be turned.

Then came other singing and prayer by a good colored sister named
Cynthia Maria, who wore a white bonnet, and chanted her words, making
the scene a wierd one.

Then the elderly lady rendered in beautiful solo, "Oh Christ, I am
lost forever. I am to confront an angry God," from which she began her
discourse, pleading to her colored hearers to open their hearts that
night. She said she had the old time religion. This announcement was
greeted with religious laughter from the congregation. The women had
not been allowed to preach and she thought that there were souls in
perdition on this account. People said that she had no business there
last night. She had business in glory and was going to help crown
Christ the Lord of Lords. For seven years she had been a pilgrim and
had traveled from ocean to ocean and from state to state without
receiving a salary or taking up a cent. There was the same God with
her who was with Daniel in the lions' den, and who led the Children of
Israel through the Red Sea. She had seen sore trouble, but there were
few who knew it. She had the old-time religion, and that was what her
hearers needed. She forsook home and country to go and preach the
gospel to convicts and fallen women and most of her friends had
forsaken her for this. She used to be proud. She had given up pride
and given up style. She was glad that God had called the meeting. She
did not know that she was to preach there until yesterday afternoon
when someone informed her that the colored people wanted her to
preach. She had visited the county jail last Sunday and prayed and
sang with the prisoners. Some of them had forgotten about the old-time
religion and requested her to sing the song having that title.

Here the woman began that song joined by the congregation, a large
number of whom got happy. It required the efforts of several of the
colored portion of the congregation to hold down one sister who wore a
straw hat and got shouting happy and paid no attention to her
surroundings.

After a short talk by Rev. B., colored, the congregation was
dismissed.


                        AT THE COLORED CHURCH.

     MRS. ELIZABETH R. WHEATON LECTURES ON THE IMPORTANCE OF
  CONVERSION--SHE SAYS THE HARDEST PEOPLE TO CONVERT ARE PREACHERS.

As a News reporter and a News special artist, guided by a friendly
star, wended their muddy way last night to the little negro church
upon the hill at Oak Cliff, they overtook two solemn looking figures
going up an incline. One of them proved to be the famous prison
evangelist, Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. This lady turned her face to
the News emissaries and inquired in a sweet silvery tone:

"Going to church, brothers?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, God bless you, brothers, come on."

A few minutes later the church was reached. The penitent sister with
the white bonnet, who was inspired on the previous night and started
to shouting, had already arrived, as also had the good sister who
called on the baseball man to run from the devil. What influence
drives those simple worshipers to shouting and to imitate flying, is a
question for the psychologists. Certain it is that the little and the
great are linked together in this life and perhaps the present is
linked to the future. Quien sabe. The meeting last night was free from
shouting, but fervid with emotion. On arriving in front of the church
Mrs. Wheaton turned her face to the pale moon, which had sailed high
in the heavens, and sang "Sweet are the tidings that greet the
pilgrims' ear." As she sung she gesticulated and her gray hair shone
like silver. She had not gone beyond the third line of the said
stirring hymn before the penitents inside of the church started to
sing a hymn and then the scene was as impressive as the music was
discordant. The hymns over, Mrs. Wheaton knelt on the wet ground and
prayed while Deacon Banks did likewise inside of the church. The
interjections were so many that he was forced to use short sentences.

"Come one, come all, while it is day."

"O, yes, Lord, we come, we'se a'comin'."

"O Lord, put the move on and call us away."

"O, yes, good Lord, we come."

At this point Mrs. Wheaton entered and ascended the low pulpit from
which, for a moment, she silently surveyed the assembled multitude of
black faces. She was wreathed in smiles, looking like the sun of
righteousness shining on a dark, murky cloud of suffering humanity.

"God grant," she observed, "that nobody goes down to the lake of
fire." "God grant it, ma-a-a-m." "Oh-oh-bo-bo." "Nobody knows de
trouble I see," and any number of exclamations each giving vent to an
exclamation suited to the feelings of the penitent. The mention of
fire seemed to cause a panic among the good colored people with a
single exception. He was a dude who did not deign to sit down, but
stood near the door seemingly watching the females. Only once did he
drop on his knees and that was when he discovered the News artist in
the act of tracing his outlines on the flyleaf of a prayer book.

Mrs. Wheaton then lectured upon the importance of conversion. As she
proceeded, describing the fate of convicts and other sufferers, the
iron of the ways of the world seemed to enter her soul and she wept.
Nobody who hears her doubts her sincerity. She does not criticise the
fallen; she weeps for them. The folks in heaven do the same. Only once
last night did she criticise, and she said she did it for a benevolent
purpose, and as she did it (as indeed throughout her entire remarks)
the colored woman with the man's straw hat interlarded her remarks
with her own opinions rendered in a whanging, chanting voice. This was
how it ran: "The churches have got away from the old land marks [yes,
ma'am; deed they has, ma'am]. It is hard, hard work to reach preachers
[yes, ma'am; yes, ma'am]. The big white preachers and the colored
preachers are nearly just as bad [O Lord, yes; good Lord ye-e-s,
ma'am.] They put on plug hats, jewelry and the trickery of the devil.
If preachers would do their duty I would not have to visit the
penitentiaries. Oh, the hardest work I have is to preach to preachers.
[Dat's so, ma'am; dat's so!] How many of you are living in
lasciviousness, the sin that's hidden but that God sees? It is going
on in the churches among some of the preachers. [Ah, yes, ma'am: good
Lord! Deed'n 'tis, ma'am]. Ah! I have got to go to judgment and I will
tell you the truth. There are other sins, but I do not want to mention
them because I feel that you know all about them; but they won't be
hidden and unless you have a pure spirit and a clean heart you can
never see the face of God. Now say you will sin no more. [Several
voices in alto: A-a-a-men.] These white churches," proceeded Mrs.
Wheaton, "are a little worse than the colored churches, for there is a
little Holy Ghost left in the colored churches. Oh, how many of those
white church members are going down to hell! It grieves me to think
of it. I'm going to meet some of you in glory. After I get there the
first ones I want to see crowned are the poor convicts who have been
murdered on the scaffold after they had turned their faces to God, and
those poor convicts who have suffered, oh, you know not how much, how
much, without human sympathy."

At this point a sad-looking man volunteered a hymn, during the singing
of which much of Mrs. Wheaton's remarks were drowned. Mrs. Wheaton
resumed: "It troubles my heart to see the people drifting down, down
to hell. I feel like getting down to the foot of the cross and crying
mercy. For the attractions of this world I have no use; I have no use
for newspaper puffs. [They's no good, ma'am: yes, ma'am.]"

The way in which the penitents chimed in as Mrs. Wheaton proceeded
rendered it impossible to report her fully. The best that could be
done was to catch sentences on the fly. The stronger she appeared to
her colored listeners to seek for mercy the longer they sought it.
Their bodies were moved by their souls. Some swayed from side to side;
others placed their faces on their hands and wept; others wrung their
hands, and there was weeping and wailing.

This was the state of affairs at the conclusion of the address. Just
then Deacon Banks started a hymn and a few others drifted off into
different familiar hymns, so that the music was varied. It was a
spontaneous outburst of songs of praise from away down in the bottom
of afflicted hearts which pays no attention to the measures of music.
The singing was awful. One female screeched and no two voices were in
harmony.

At the conclusion of the hymn a deacon kneeling by a chair prayed,
striking the chair with his fists while a hundred voices accompanied
him. It was impossible to follow him throughout, but among other
things he said: "I know that hell is broad and eternity too long. Oh
King, King, Lord have mercy on us. Guide us by the still water's side
and give us new pastures. Bless this congregation in the hollow of thy
hand, amen."

Mrs. Wheaton informed the News reporter that she will not go to
Galveston.--Dallas News.


                    PRISON WORKER VISITS TACOMA.

          "MOTHER" WHEATON CALLS AT COUNTY JAIL AND FEDERAL
              PENITENTIARY.--KNOWN ALL OVER THE WORLD.--
                 TWENTY-ONE YEARS OF HER LIFE DEVOTED
                     TO LABOR AMONG UNFORTUNATES
                           OF MANY NATIONS.

"I trust in God and the railroad men."

This is the explanation of her ability to carry on her work, expressed
by "Mother" Wheaton, the prison evangelist, who has an international
reputation for her work in the penitentiaries of the United States,
Canada, Mexico and Europe. Mother Wheaton is in Tacoma carrying on her
work among prisoners, work that has taken her into every penitentiary
in the United States and Canada. For over twenty-one years she has
carried the gospel to the men in stripes and to those who wear the
broad arrow of England's displeasure, and it is Mother Wheaton's boast
that during all that time she has never asked for a contribution or
received a cent of salary.

Mother Wheaton came to Tacoma from her headquarters in Tabor, Ia.,
accompanying Miss Grace Yarrette, a young woman who is going as a
missionary to India.


                      MANY YEARS IN PRISON WORK.

There is no woman in the world, and perhaps no man, who has had the
prison experience of Mother Wheaton. The last twenty years of her life
have virtually been spent inside prison walls, and there is not many
in the country in which she is not a familiar figure. Long terms and
lifers all over the land know her. Frequently she inquires for some
prisoner whom death or the leniency of the law has released, whom she
has not seen or heard of for years.

Dressed in a soft gray suit, with a gray bonnet, Mother Wheaton's
appearance is distinctly motherly, and her smile the personification
of kindness and tenderness further bears out the "Mother" by which she
is known to thousands of unfortunates. She is the guest of Mrs. Ellen
M. Bates, 1211 North Prospect street. She is at work from the time she
arises in the morning until services are over in the evening. While
her principal work is in the prisons and penitentiaries she takes part
in evangelical and religious work and finds time to visit rescue homes
where her advice is eagerly sought.


                          MANY EXPERIENCES.

"Experiences?" Mother Wheaton exclaimed, when asked if her life had
not been productive of many events out of the ordinary run.
"Experiences, why I have had so many and such varied experiences that
they are all a jumble in my head. I have been in nearly every prison
in the land. I have consoled men who were but a few feet from the
gallows and I have held the hand of those unfortunates as they sank
into their last sleep in a cheerless prison hospital.

"I have seen sights that made my blood run cold and then I have had
the joy of seeing the word of God prevail and the most case-hardened
sinners the human mind could conceive of have reformed before me. It
has been a curious mixture of sunshine and shadows, but after
twenty-one years I think I can say that the sunshine has predominated.
I put my trust in God for my work and I trust the railroad men for
transportation, and between the two I believe I have been fairly
successful."


                    ONCE TAKEN FOR CARRIE NATION.

"I have spent nights in the toughest slums of New York, Chicago and
St. Louis, places where men by force of habit always carry their hand
near their hip pocket, and I have not always been welcomed. Sometimes
I have been roughly handled, yes, indeed. Why, one time I was mistaken
for Carrie Nation. Of course I don't look like Carrie Nation, and I
would never think of adopting smashing methods. I was holding services
in San Pedro, California, one night, and went into a saloon. There
were two bright looking young men standing at the bar and I asked them
to come with me. The owner of the saloon was sitting at a faro table
in the back end of the saloon, and as soon as he caught sight of me he
rushed at me and literally threw me out into the street.

"When he learned afterwards who I was he was very sorry and avowed
that he would never have treated me in that manner had he not thought
that I was Carrie Nation and that I had a hatchet to chop up his
expensive bar fixtures."


                    OPPOSES CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.

"As sad an experience as I ever had in my life was my effort to save
the life of a young man who was condemned to hang in Colorado. I heard
of the case through the young man's mother, who was heart-broken. I
interceded with Governor Peabody and secured a reprieve for a year,
and when Governor McDonald took office he fixed the date for the
death of the young man. I tried to save him the second time, but
public sentiment demanded his death. I don't believe in capital
punishment. I have seen how a man can be punished in prison and I
don't believe in taking a life to avenge a life, for stripped of all
the specious arguments which surround capital punishment, it simmers
down to nothing more than revenge."


                       ESTABLISHES NEW RECORD.

"I think I established a prison visiting record upon one trip. I
visited five penitentiaries in as many states in a week. I started at
Deer Lodge, Montana; from there I went to Boise, Idaho; then to
Rawlins, Wyo.; then to Salt Lake City, and from Salt Lake City to
Lincoln, Nebraska, all of which I call pretty fast traveling. I hold
meetings on the train, in depots, at water tanks, any place I can
gather a little knot of people together, and I could tell of some
queer conversions in out of the way places, the last places in the
world where you would expect the seed to sprout and bear fruit.

"I was over to the federal prison on McNeil's Island Saturday, and
this morning I went to the county hospital. This afternoon I called at
the county jail. I will be here a day or so longer and then must start
East, as I have work to do in New York City. You see I will have to
stop at the prisons on the way back and I have to make allowances for
delays."

Mother Wheaton has become interested in Grace Russell, the young woman
in the county jail, who is addicted to the use of morphine. Mother
Wheaton will try to secure a place for her in some home.--Tacoma,
Washington, paper of July 31, 1905.

I give the following extract from a Baltimore paper published while I
was there attending the Convocation of Prayer in that city, January,
1903:


               SPIRITUAL ADVISER OF FAMOUS CRIMINALS.

        WORK OF "MOTHER" WHEATON IN PRISONS ALL OVER THE LAND.

For twenty years Mrs. Wheaton has been traveling throughout the United
States, Europe, Canada and Mexico, working among prisoners in hundreds
of prisons and penitentiaries. On a number of occasions she has
converted criminals under death sentence. She has preached in the
Maryland Penitentiary.

Mrs. Wheaton came to Baltimore direct from Ohio, where she had been
holding prayer in the cells of the state prison with eight men
condemned to die. She was in San Francisco a number of years ago when
Alexander Goldenson killed his sweetheart, Mamie Kelly, and after
Goldenson had been tried, convicted and sentenced to death "Mother"
Wheaton prayed with him for forty days. The day of the execution,
September 14, 1888, he was converted through her instrumentality, and
just before walking to the gallows she tied her silk handkerchief
about the condemned man's neck.


                         IS NOT A STRANGER.

 OLD-TIMERS AT COUNTY JAIL GREET MRS. WHEATON AS LONG-TIME FRIEND.

Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, of Tabor, Ia., famous in this and other
countries as a worker among the inmates of jails and penitentiaries,
yesterday morning went to the county jail and prayed and sang hymns
with the prisoners in the tanks.

Although her time was very much circumscribed, Mrs. Wheaton shook
hands with most of the prisoners, many of whom had heard of her, and
some of whom had met her in other prisons. John King, awaiting his
transportation to Walla Walla, and one of the most admittedly
professional criminals in the jail, stated that he had met "Mother
Wheaton" several times before, both at Salem and at Walla Walla.

Both he and J. H. Le Roy, another old-timer, had many anecdotes to
tell of her kindnesses in past years.--Paper of August 9, 1905.

     The above sketch was accompanied by a cut from protograph taken
     by the reporter and a nicely finished photograph presented me.
     From this photograph the cut was made that is inserted at the
     beginning of this chapter.--E. R. W.


                      PRISONERS ON BENDED KNEE.
         INMATES OF COUNTY JAIL BOW IN PRAYER WITH MOTHER
                               WHEATON.

On bended knees and with low bowed heads nine prisoners at the county
jail reverently followed a prayer addressed to the throne of grace in
their behalf yesterday by Mother Wheaton, the noted prison evangelist.
Under the remarkable influence of the woman who came among them as a
messenger of soul-saving, every rough instinct of the men was quelled
and every scoffing word hushed on their lips. No more devout prayer
meeting was ever held in a sanctuary than that which took place in the
jail corridor.

Mother Wheaton and a younger woman called upon the prisoners and sang
a song such as the men might have heard their mothers or sisters sing
in the long ago, when their feet had not strayed from youthful paths
of innocence. If there was any inclination to ridicule or make light
of the service at the start, it was entirely subdued inside of five
minutes. Mother Wheaton talked to the men and told of the work she has
been doing for twenty years among the inmates of jails and
penitentiaries. She declared that she and her assistant wanted to help
save them.

There was no hesitation whatever when Mother Wheaton asked the
prisoners to get down on their knees. One and all, the nine assumed
the attitude of humble submission to the deity and remained in that
position until their patroness had finished her petition for the
pardoning of their sins. Some of the men were seen to blink
significantly and wipe their eyes with handkerchiefs. When the prayer
was done and another hymn rendered, the men joining in, hands were
shaken all around before the visitors departed.

Mother Wheaton has been coming to the Council Bluffs jail for
several years. She was in the city on her way from Nevada to
Wisconsin.--_Council Bluffs Paper._




                             CHAPTER XXV.

                     Furnished unto Every Good Work.


    Who will man the life-boat, who the storm will brave?
    Many souls are drifting helpless on the wave;
    See their hands uplifted; hear their bitter cry:
    "Save us ere we perish, save us ere we die!"

    See! amid the breakers yonder vessel toss'd,
    Onward to the rescue, haste, or all is lost;
    Waves that dash around us cannot overwhelm,
    While our faithful Pilot standeth at the helm.

    Darker yet, and darker grows the fearful night,
    Sound the trump of mercy, flash the signal light;
    Bear the joyful message o'er the raging wave,
    Christ, the heavenly Pilot, comes the lost to save.

    Who will man the life-boat, who will launch away?
    Who will help to rescue dying souls to-day?
    Who will man the life-boat, who will breast the wave?
    All its dangers braving, precious souls to save?

                                                         --_Sel._

The dear Lord wants workers, both men and women, whom He can trust in
every line of Christian work, and what do Christians most need in
order to be successful soul-winners for God?

First of all, it is to be born of the Spirit; then to be filled with
the Holy Spirit, whereby we are sealed unto God. Then the fruits of
the Spirit will be manifest in our lives. Of course, we should not
presume to go out as mission workers without a divine call from God.

The first thing, then, is to know God and then to know ourselves as
utterly helpless without the cleansing power of the blood of Christ on
our own souls. Then the especial anointing for service in the vineyard
of the Lord. If to these be added a thorough knowledge of human
nature and a sincere desire for the salvation of souls, then the glory
of God will be revealed in us and we will be forgetful of self and
alive to the needs of others. We must see men and women lost, going
down to eternal death and must reach them at any cost and be willing
to gladly suffer the loss of all things that we might gain Christ and
win souls for Him.

We should acquire from the Lord the gift of adaptation to any and all
kinds of work, people and places. We must see the people from their
own standpoint and then from God's standpoint and then have implicit
confidence in God and in the power of the blood of Jesus to cleanse
from all sin. We must be humble and meek and yet strong, through faith
in God and His promises. Is anything too hard for the Lord? And has He
not told us, "Greater works than these shall ye do because I go unto
my Father?" Is He not at the Father's right hand, interceding for us
and for the souls to whom He sends us?

We must be all things to all men that we might win some. We must watch
for opportunities for service and be quick to use them when they are
given us. We must be ready to launch out into the deep at the Master's
command. We must have grace, not only to serve, but if need be, to
die, in order that souls might be saved--souls that are going to
destruction for the want of a kind word or a helping hand at just the
right time. I have often found them upon the verge of suicide. Men and
women in despair, both in prison and outside, were goaded into
desperation and the enemy of their souls was urging them to end it
all--that nobody cared, and God had forgotten them.

How glad I have been to clasp their hand and tell them there was One
who cared; that He loved them still and I have seen the long pent-up
tears start from their eyes and hope has sprung up once more in their
desolate hearts. I hope to hear God say in the Day of Judgment of
some, "Here are the discouraged, the tempted and tried ones, who were
almost lost, but who were won through your faithfulness." To God be
all the glory.

We must not seek our own ease. Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane,
would have died in agony, only that an angel came and ministered unto
Him, yet he prayed, "Not My will, but Thine be done." Such must be our
heartfelt cry and we must abandon ourselves to God's will in all
things and forgetting ourselves and the opinions of the World, seek to
please Him only. Then He will make even our enemies be at peace with
us.

Multitudes all about us are going down to despair for want of true
love such as Jesus had when He said, "Father, forgive them, for they
know not what they do," and "Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no
more."

Having this spirit, God has promised to furnish us unto every good
work. That is, every work to which He calls us. We each have our
responsibility to meet, our especial capability, our gift or talent.
Then let us adapt ourselves to the work which God has given us to
do--not ignoring the work of others, nor lording it over God's
heritage, but each abiding in the calling wherein we are called,
having charity for all, whether saints or sinners. Surely, with the
field so wide and the work so great, there is the greatest need for
love and the unity of the Spirit among all Christians. Why there are
so many divisions, I know not. I find true and earnest hearts among
all classes, all denominations and all nationalities.

Jesus prayed, before He ascended on high, for his children, that they
all might be one as He and the Father were one--one in purpose and one
in heart. If we manifest this oneness, sinners will come flocking home
to God and souls will be saved and God will get all the glory. The
lack of oneness among God's people stands in the way of souls and the
poor and ignorant are at a loss as to what to think or believe.

Surely, there was never greater need for Holy Ghost, Spirit-filled
Christian workers than now, when false doctrine is proclaimed on every
side and in every form. But let Christians unite, losing sight of
everything but God and souls and it will not be long until God will
fulfill his promise that a nation shall be born in a day. Oh, that
there might be a rallying of all of God's true children of every class
and nationality; that they might, with united forces, charge upon the
enemy and soon the world, which now seems to be at variance, would be
won for God and for our Christ.

THE MASSES ARE NOT REACHED through the ordinary channels of the
churches. Look at the need of the Gospel being carried to the railroad
and street-car men, the soldiers, sailors, policemen, firemen, and
postmen. Are we seeking to reach the people? We must get the love of
God in our hearts to that degree that we will not only be willing to
suffer, but to die for them, and mean it--mean business, and fast and
pray and call mightily on God for help and direction, and look to Him
for results. Don't expect an easy time--don't let us expect to be
above our Master. Jesus had no place to lay His head. He went among
the despised, the poor, the fallen, the lowest of earth; and if He
were to return now, how many of us would He find filling the places
appointed us?

The Lord is ready to do exceeding abundantly above all we can think or
ask, and will bless every unselfish effort on our part to help save a
lost world. When the end comes for you and me, dear one, let us have
our lamps trimmed and burning, ready to go in to the marriage supper
of the Lamb, which is to soon take place.

God help us do our part, to be instant in season and out of season; to
keep free in our souls; to be filled with the spirit of Jesus; to be
ever ready with a kind word, a "God bless you," a silent prayer, a
warm hand-clasp. Let us be quick to follow the leadings of the Holy
Spirit, humbling ourselves under the mighty hand of God. Let us take a
firmer hold on God and be ourselves in His hands. Let us see our own
responsibility as God sees it, and by His grace measure up to it.

Then the hosts of hell shall not be able to prevail against us and God
will use us to his glory, and with hearts filled with love and
compassion, we will go forward and God will go with us and give us
victory.


                         MY BOY IN INDIA.

     Some years ago the Lord made plain to me that I should support a
     famine orphan in India, and since that time He has enabled me to
     give twenty dollars per year for the support of my adopted son,
     John Ryder Wheaton, named for my brother, who departed this life
     a few years ago, and for myself. I give his picture and a copy of
     his first letter to me, translated by one of the missionaries;
     also some letters from Brother and Sister Jarvis, in charge of
     the Orphanage in Lahore, India. We ask the prayers of our readers
     for this dear boy, and if God should lay it upon any of your
     hearts to provide for one of these famine orphans, any money sent
     to the Missionary Home in Tabor, Iowa, will be promptly
     forwarded to any orphanage or missionary you may designate. God
     has laid this boy upon my heart, and the tie is dearer, perhaps,
     because I am alone in the world, having laid my only child in the
     grave with my husband. My heart was touched when I received this
     letter from John's own hand, and sometimes I long to see and know
     him for myself. He is being trained for a missionary, and when my
     labors are ended, I hope to see him coming home from India,
     bringing his trophies with him--precious souls from his own
     native land, and that there we may praise the Lord through all
     eternity together.

     Lahore, Frontier Faith Mission, April 12, 1904.--Dear
     Mama:--Salam, I am well by the grace of Lord Jesus Christ, and
     hope you are well. Matter is this that I live here very happy,
     few days ago that the fever and cough attacked me so I went to
     the hospital, now I am well and do my duty. I learned the work of
     Gardener. I pray every day. May God help me and make me His true
     Christian and grant me abundant grace. I also hope that you do
     pray for me. I pray for you. Here are all well. I am also with
     other boys well. My compliment to you,

                          Your son,
                                                  JOHN WHEATON,
                                                   Head Gardener.

[Illustration: JOHN RYDER WHEATON, INDIA FAMINE BOY.]

                  *       *       *       *       *

     Frontier Faith Mission and Orphanage, Lahore, N. India, Dec. 11,
     1901.--Dear Sister Wheaton--We have chosen for you a bright
     little boy by the name of Ruthena, about ten years old. He is one
     of our brightest little boys, one that bids fair to be something
     for God. He is a shoemaker by trade and is doing well at it. We
     are endeavoring to teach the boys trades, wanting them to be like
     Paul where they can preach the Gospel while they make tents for a
     living. Ruthena is a bright boy in every way and will be named
     John Ryder as you wished. We do not have time to write often but
     our hearts are with you.

                         Yours for India's redemption,
                                                 LAURA E. JARVIS.

                  *       *       *       *       *

     Lahore, N. India, Sept. 18, 1902.--My Dear Sister--Your dear boy
     is healthy and well. He is such a help, and seems to know just
     what to do at the right time. We feel that we can count on him at
     all times. He is a precious Christian boy, and God is using him.

     God is blessing our precious children, and the work is going
     forward. We are so glad to be on our own land. Our homes are only
     temporary, but our faith is in God for the permanent ones. He
     says no good thing will He withhold from them that walk
     uprightly.

                   Your Sister seeking the lost,
                                                         L. E. J.

                  *       *       *       *       *

     Lahore, North India, August 20, 1903.--Dear Sister Wheaton--Your
     kind offering of twenty dollars for the support of your boy,
     John, is very thankfully received. The Lord bless and repay you.
     Continue to pray for him, and for the rest of our great family.
     God is hearing prayer for us. There are some slight fever cases
     among the children. This is our sickly season. Unite in prayer
     that our workers may keep well. We are all burdened because of
     the lack of workers and much has to remain undone.

     Though burdened, we will stand at our post until Jesus comes. (R.
     V.) Our faith is in God. So many young people at home seem to be
     wasting their lives and talents, when they might be doing so much
     for God in this land.

                   Your brother seeking the lost,
                                                   ROBERT JARVIS.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Lahore, N. India, March 16, 1904.

     My Dear Sister Wheaton--Greetings in Jesus' name. "Lift up your
     eyes, and look on the fields, for they are white already to
     harvest."

     I write to tell you today that your boy John is quite poorly. He
     has been having an attack of lung fever. I believe that in answer
     to prayer God will raise him up. I felt he would have better care
     in the hospital than we could give him, so we took him there, but
     we go to see him frequently, and I will keep you posted as to how
     he is doing. I know you are interested and are praying for him.
     We thank you much for your interest, and all you are doing for
     him. I hope you are keeping well and seeing souls saved.

     John was a real help in the garden outside of school hours. He
     has always been a willing little worker. God bless you much, dear
     Sister Wheaton, and use you greatly, is our prayer.

                               Your sister,
                                                    L. E. JARVIS.

                  *       *       *       *       *

                                Lahore, N. India, April 12, 1904.

     My Dear Sister Wheaton--Greeting in Jesus' name. I am glad to
     write you this time that John is all right again. I think his
     sickness has drawn him closer to God. He is writing you a few
     lines that I will translate for him and send it with this.

                       Yours to be faithful,
                                                    L. E. JARVIS.


                    PREACHING IN THE PEST-HOUSE.

Just why the dear Lord saw best to permit me to take the loathsome
disease of smallpox into my system, I know not; but I do know the same
God that made man and pronounced him very good, permitted Job and many
others of His people to suffer many things. Of one thing I am certain,
the Lord permitted me to preach the Gospel in the pest-house. No one
was allowed there but the physician of the Board of Health and those
in charge, and there were many lost ones there and no gospel services
for years and not even the superintendent and his family were allowed
to go to church. I had held meetings in almost every other place and I
now had opportunity to go there, this being the only way to get to
them. During the summer of 1901 I was taken very ill and the sixth
doctor pronounced the disease smallpox. There was no alternative but
to prepare for the hospital, which I did unaided. This was
remarkable; for I had been very near death, the suffering both
mentally and physically was so intense and the agony so great. Surely
God heard the prayers of His believing ones and raised me up to once
more go forth to glorify His name by preaching His gospel and singing
His praises. Bless His holy name!

I was hedged in with God. He got the glory of my healing. I bless the
Lord that in answer to prayer He never let one person take the disease
from me that we knew of. When leaving the minister's home where I was
taken sick, I was shouting and praising the Lord. I told the mission
workers I was sure I could go to Heaven even from the pest-house, with
the smallpox. I told the young sister with me to bring the tracts for
service in the hospital. I had told her that morning that there would
be several doctors call and hold a consultation and pronounce the
disease smallpox and they would take me to the pest-house, and I
expected I would die there. I had such victory in my soul that I just
shouted and praised the Lord.

In the hospital I was given the privilege of all the wards to sing and
pray and talk with the patients. Some were in a very dangerous
condition, and others convalescent. Others were trembling with fear,
having been exposed and quarantined here to protect the public from
contagion. Those were weeks of suffering, although full of service and
song. The hymns were listened to with the greatest delight even by
foreigners who could not understand our language. I often wonder why
professing Christians are not as careful about the spread of sin as
people are about the transmitting of disease. The same day I left the
hospital the Lord sent me out on a long journey to preach the gospel
on the train. As I was talking with the conductor, there was a sudden
stop and he ran to find the cause. Our engine had become disabled on a
bridge, and as a train was coming behind us, the trainmen ran to flag
the coming train before it should overtake us; but it was too late. I
dropped on my knees on the platform of the rear car and asked God to
spare our lives. I arose, took in the situation, went to my seat in
the center of the car and again knelt in prayer. I turned to look just
as the engine struck our car, raising it about five feet in the air,
crushing timbers and glass, and causing a panic among the passengers.
I was blest of God through it all, and went immediately to work
holding meetings while we waited some hours for help to come. I see so
plainly the hand of the Lord in all this. I might have left the train
when on the rear platform, but I felt impressed to stay with those on
board and call on God for help. Do you wonder that when all our lives
were spared I felt that as the Lord gave all on the ship into Paul's
hands, so in this case, as in many others, the wise Master gave me
those who traveled with me? "As thy days so shall thy strength be." "A
thousand shall fall at thy side and ten thousand at thy right hand,
but it shall not come nigh thee."


                        HOW THE LORD PROVIDES.

One night in San Francisco while holding a meeting in the Old Adelphi
Theater, I was impressed to give a dollar to a sister who often sang
and exhorted in our service and who assisted me that night. At the
close of the meeting I handed her a silver dollar. She seemed much
surprised and said, "No, I should not take this from you." I told her
God showed me to give her that dollar and I must obey Him; so she took
the money.

The next day, while waiting for the street car on a public
thoroughfare, I saw a man giving out ladies' fashion plates. I spoke
kindly to him and suggested how much more good he could do by giving
out tracts. He replied that that was the way he made his living--that
the firm paid him for his services. I told him that God would care for
him if he only trusted and served Him, but he evidently thought me
somewhat of a fanatic. Just then a well-dressed old gentleman spoke to
me and said, "Do you belong to the Salvation Army?" I said that I did
not and he then asked, "What is your work?" I answered, "I am a
missionary to the prisoners and lost girls." He handed me a dollar and
hurried on. The man with whom I had been speaking looked on surprised
and said, "Who was that man?" I said, "I do not know; I never saw him
before and may never see him again." He was evidently thinking, for I
had told him that God provided for me and would provide for him if he
would but work for Him, and God was giving him an object lesson. I
said, "I believe the Lord sent that man to convince you that what I
said was true for I never ask any person for money, but trust all to
Providence."

Going on my way later in the day, outside the city where I changed
cars, I saw hurrying toward me the same man who had given me the
dollar in the morning. He said, "I have been thinking all day about
you and what you said and here is another dollar for you." I told him
how I felt God had used him to convince the fashion plate man, that if
we fully trust and serve the Lord He will provide for us. I have never
seen either of these men again since that day, but God sent me the two
dollars in place of the one dollar I had given that poor woman the
night before, in the meeting.

The sequel was given me sometime after this when I again met that poor
sister. She said to me, "Sister Wheaton, I want to tell you about the
dollar you gave me that night in the meeting," and then she said: "I
had nothing in my house for my children to eat (there was a large
family of them), and husband was out of work. I had to wash next day
and had neither soap nor starch, and I had to go across the city to
pray for a sick woman, whose son had said that he would believe in God
and serve him if his mother were healed in answer to prayer. I had to
take that young man with me and pay his car fare and my own. The
mother was healed and the young man, being convinced, yielded himself
to God and was converted and became a Christian." And then she added,
"All this your dollar did, for I had prayed God to send me a dollar
that night and you obeyed God and see what was accomplished through
obedience to the God who hears the ravens when they cry and notes the
sparrow's fall."

Then I related to her my experience to show how the Lord used a
stranger to return me double, or two dollars instead of one, and
perhaps saved two men--for God was evidently dealing both with the
stranger who gave me the money and with the one with whom I was
speaking on the street.


                      MISCELLANEOUS INCIDENTS.

I was once called upon to minister to the needs of a woman who was
burned almost to death. I assisted the doctor as best I could to dress
the burns. I took the scissors and cut the loose flesh from her arm,
and held her while the doctor filed the rings from her hands.

If I had not been previously convinced by the Scriptures of the folly
of wearing rings I think this awful sight would have been sufficient
to satisfy any doubts in my mind, as they cut so cruelly deep into the
charred and swollen flesh. She finally passed away to that land where
there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither
shall there be any more pain.

                  *       *       *       *       *

While being entertained at a certain place a few years ago, a caller
was announced one evening, to see "Mother Wheaton." Entering the
parlor a tall, handsome man, dressed in the uniform of a policeman,
advanced to greet me. I bowed politely, but perhaps a little
distantly, as I did not know him. He came forward and extended his
hand cordially, saying, "Don't you know me, Mother?" I said, "No, I do
not know you." He said "I sang in ----prison in the choir. I served a
term there and heard you sing and preach there. This is my daughter,"
and he presented a nice looking young lady who was with him. He said
he now held a responsible position and was getting along nicely, and
invited me to come and visit his family.

                  *       *       *       *       *

While holding meetings in a little town in one of the southern states,
I was entertained at the home of a wealthy man who was accused of
crime. He had a beautiful wife and lovely children. I was greatly
troubled about his condition. I held meetings there in the home. I was
treated very kindly and cordially welcomed, but he would not yield to
God. I warned him faithfully, and plead with him to repent of his sins
and become a Christian. I told him that a terrible calamity awaited
him if he did not yield himself to the Lord. I went away believing it
was his last chance of salvation. Not long after that he laid in wait
to kill a man against whom he had had a grudge for some time; but the
other man seeing his intention, drew his revolver and fired in
self-defence. The man fell dead. He had had his last call. He had
rejected the Lord and was ushered into eternity without a moment's
warning.

                  *       *       *       *       *

One day years ago, in M----, Mississippi, I went on the street to hold
a meeting. A policeman came along and forbade me after I had begun to
sing, saying it was against the law to hold religious services on the
street. My spirit was grieved as I felt the Lord had a work for me to
do among the poor and lowly who were too poorly clad to attend church
services. A sister (a woman of God who entertained me) was with me.
She then proposed taking me to see a sick child, an infant. When we
reached the house we found the young parents weeping over their dying
child. My heart was touched with sympathy, and kneeling down I asked
Him who said, "Suffer little children to come unto me," to heal the
child for His glory. I believed His word where it says, "The prayer of
faith shall save the sick." My faith touched divinity, the child was
healed and the young parents, seeing the power of God manifested, were
converted, and gave their lives to God for His service.

[Illustration: Height Out Arms Trunk Head Length Head Width Cheek
Width Ear Foot Length Finger L. Fore-arm Color of Eyes Marks & Scars

BERTILLON MEASUREMENTS]

[Illustration: PRISON AT ANAMOSA, IOWA. 1. FEMALE DEPARTMENT. 2. CELL
HOUSE. 3. MAIN ENTRANCE.]




                            CHAPTER XXVI.

                     Selections from My Scrap Book.


Many of the selections given in this chapter were written by prisoners
and given me by them. The others may not all be new to the reader, but
I have thought them of sufficient value to thus preserve, as they may
be reread with profit, and no doubt may be read here by many who have
not seen them elsewhere. Such will surely feel the time it takes to
read them well spent.

Many of the songs I have sung are not in print here, as they are
familiar or may be found in popular books; others I thought might be
copyrighted and I do not know the owner, etc. I have not meant to use
any copyright selections without procuring the right to do so, but if
through mistake any have been used I shall be glad to make due
requital.


                 THE AUTHOR OF FLOWER MISSION DAY.

I once visited this sister, a saint, meekly lying upon her bed, and
when I asked if she would like for Jesus to heal her, she said God
could use her better in that condition.

                                                         E. R. W.

     Jennie Cassady was born in Louisville, Kentucky, June 9, 1840.
     She came to earth through no royal line of ancestry. No booming
     cannon and flying flags proclaimed the birth of a princess. No
     jeweled hand beckoned her to a place of rank and title. Nothing
     in babyhood or girlhood distinguished her above what is visible
     in ten thousand homes to-day. But as she stepped over the
     threshold into womanhood, there fell upon her a great calamity--a
     cruel accident made her a cripple and an invalid for life. But in
     her afflictions she arose to a sublimity and sweetness of soul
     that has challenged the admiration of two continents. And out of
     the awful shadows that fell upon her she has gathered up the
     sunbeams of God's smiles and scattered them into the dark places
     of earth. Out of that one little darkened room in Kentucky there
     has gone forth an inspiration that has fired the heart of heroic
     Christian womanhood. And out of the darkness that smote her
     pathway leaped the lances of light that pierces the gloom of
     prison walls. A gleam from that radiant life touches the poet's
     fancy, and gives us these beautiful lines.

                                                J. M. CROCKER,
                                                 Prison Chaplain.


                       FLOWER DAY AT THE PRISON.

Composed and read by F. L. Platt at the Iowa State Prison at Anamosa,
                           June 9th, 1894.

    In a cottage in Kentucky,
      In the years that have gone by,
    Was a woman, oh, so lonely,
      She'd been given up to die.

    As she lay upon her sick bed,
      Ere the spark of life had flown,
    Neighbors called, and strangers also,
      Whom before she had not known.

    They had heard of her misfortune,
      Day and night she lingered there;
    And to make her life more cheerful
      Seemed to be their every care.

    Now they come, with noiseless footsteps,
      As the rose is kissed with dew,
    Each one bringing in some sunshine,
      In "these flowers I've brought for you."

    As she looked into their faces,
      Realizing death had come,
    "Take these flowers," she said, "I'm dying,"
      They will brighten other homes.

    Take them, give them to the children
      Who in orphans' homes are found,
    Who have parents silent sleeping
      Underneath some grassy mound.

    Take them, place them by the bedside
      Of some one whose life is drear;
    They will bring a ray of sunshine,
      They will drive away a tear.

    Take them, bear them to the prison,
      Where the trembling convict stands;
    They'll encourage and they'll cheer him,
      And they'll help him be a man.

    They will speak to him of Heaven,
      Of a home with God above;
    They'll dispel the gloom and heartache,
      They'll recall a mother's love.

    They'll remind him of a sister,
      With youth's bloom upon her brow,
    With whom he used to gather flowers
      When life was bright as yours is now.

    They'll recall some little sweetheart
      In the early spring of life,
    Who, when summer flowers were blooming,
      He had asked to be his wife.

    Oh, that wife! may God's own blessing
      Rest upon her loyal head;
    Though he's caused her many a heartache,
      She would love him were he dead.

    Then with all these sacred memories
      Welling in these hearts of ours,
    Who in all this land of sunshine
      Could forbid this gift of flowers?

    Bring the flowers with sweetest perfume,
      This is flower mission day;
    Some forlorn, discouraged prisoner,
      "You may rescue, you may save."

    Blest the home that knows no sorrow,
      Blest that wife, whose tears are joy,
    Blest that mother who in old age,
      Can lean upon her darling boy.

    Men, look up, the clouds have gathered,
      Some of them are silver-lined;
    There's a day when all creation
      Will be marshalled into line.

    When these prison walls are sundered;
      When the grave gives up its dead,
    All may march the streets of Heaven
      Who by Jesus Christ are led.


                   LINES BY A PRISONER TO HIS WIFE.

These lines were handed me by the author. I insert them here because
of their clear testimony to the saving grace of God and the love they
manifest for wife and children:

    Dearest wife, you know I love thee,
      Deep as yonder sky;
    Know that love can never fade,
      Affection never die.

    Though in prison I am cast,
      And cannot now return,
    Yet on thee my love reclines,
      For thee my heart will burn.

    God has made us one indeed,
      In ways the world can never know.
    One, like drops of water found
      Within the pure white snow.

    God has made us one indeed;
      Has joined us, hand and heart;
    What God has joined together, wife,
      Let no man put apart.

    As well might men uproot the earth
      As by their scoff or scorn
    Think to accomplish parting us
      Because our hearts now mourn.

    Nay, dear wife, I feel for thee,
      As ne'er I felt before,
    Prizing thee with deeper strength
      For pining sad and sore.

    While there you wait my glad release,
      The day that sets me free,
    Await my coming home to wife;
      Yes, wife and children three.

    And I will come. Have patience, wife,
      The time will wear away,
    And day by day approaches near
      That glad releasing day.

    With little baby in your arms,
      Two others at your knee;
    I know, dear wife, your heart is sad
      And longs to see me free.

    To help you in your daily toil;
      To earn for them their bread;
    To clothe and help and comfort them,
      And find a shelter for each head.

    But cheer up, wife, and so will I,
      As mankind surely may,
    Till darkness fade in morning light
      That ushers in the day.

    And oh, what joy will visit us,
      What peace in that glad hour;
    Our home shall then renew its strength
      In all its silent power.

    Here as I lay me down to sleep,
      In my narrow little cell,
    I think of the happy times we've spent
      In the shady wooded dell.

    How we plucked the flowers beside our path,
      And strolled along the stream,
    Neither feeling aught of sorrow,
      For life was like a pleasant dream.

    But alas, my dear one, all is changed;
      And we are parted now for years;
    But well we know that God will come
      And wipe away our falling tears.

    Sin, dear wife, hast brought the change;
      Sin has caused our grief and pain;
    But now that I trust in Jesus
      I will never fall again.

    In my very darkest moments
      Would you know what comforts me?
    'Tis my living faith in Jesus,
      In Him who died on Calvary.

    He died on the cross for you, dear wife,
      His precious blood was shed for me;
    All our sins on Him were laid
      When they nailed Him to the tree.

    And now that blessed Saviour,
      Who was born at Bethlehem,
    Looks down from the heights of heaven
      On the sinful souls of men.

    His thoughts are full of mercy,
      His heart is filled with love.
    He is pleading with the Father
      That we might come above.

    So we will trust our Saviour,
      And follow where He leads;
    And say, in faith believing,
      He'll provide for all our needs.

    So we'll walk close beside Him
      And let Him take our hand;
    As He points, with face all shining,
      To that bright and happy land.

    And oft to others round us
      The story we will tell,
    How Jesus Christ saves sinners,
      The heavenly hosts to swell.

    You will tell them, wife, how He found me,
      Sinful and all cast down,
    And how through love He raised me up
      And promised me a crown.

    And when we see still others
      Caught in Satan's snare,
    We'll lead them on to Jesus,
      And leave them in His care.

    And when He treats them gently,
      As He treats both you and me,
    Other sinners, looking on,
      To His bosom soon will flee.

    For thus the world around us
      For Christ could soon be won;
    He'll end in glorious triumph
      The work He has begun.

    All glory then to Jesus!
      Sing praises to His name!
    He saved lost sinners years gone by,
      And today He'll do the same.

    In language very simple
      I've told to you, dear wife,
    My love to you, your love to me,
      And the love of Jesus Christ.

    So we'll just keep on trusting
      In the Saviour God has given;
    And He will fill with peace
      Our journey on to heaven.

    And we'll not forget the Father,
      But give thanks for all He's done,
    In giving us our Saviour,
      In His own beloved Son.


                             WOMAN'S LOVE.

                           TO MRS. WHEATON.

These lines are most respectfully presented as a prisoner's tribute of
sincere respect:

    O, woman's love, past understanding!
      So near to God's, so wondrous deep:
    Deep as the depths of space; expanding
      Till it blooms beyond death's mystic sleep

    Throughout the earth, the rich and lowly
      It reigns supreme within her breast.
    O, woman's love! through its beauty holy
      She will win eternal rest.

    Born of woman, purest, dearest
      Lily of fair Bethlehem,
    Christ to her will be the nearest
      In his bright home--Jerusalem.

    A fadeless flower in beauty blooming
      'Midst heaven's host of immortelles.
    His peerless love her soul perfuming
      She'll reign a queen mid arch angels

                                     J. W. L.

Cole City, Ga., Sunday night, Nov. 17, 1889.


       TAKE THIS MESSAGE TO MY MOTHER.

    (Written by a Prisoner in Jackson, Miss.)

    Take this message to my mother,
      It will fill her heart with joy;
    Tell her that her prayer is answered,
      Christ has saved her wandering boy:

    Tho' through sin from home I've wandered,
      And I almost broke her heart;
    Tell her to be glad and cheerful,
      Never from the Lord I'll part.

    CHORUS.

    Take this message to my mother,
      It will fill her heart with joy;
    Tell her that her prayer is answered,
      Christ has saved her wandering boy.

    How she wept when last we parted,
      How her heart did ache with pain
    When she said: "Good-bye, God bless you,
      We may never meet again."

    O my boy, just look to Jesus,
      What a friend He is to all!
    Only trust Him, He will save you--
      Can't you hear His sweet voice call?

    In this world of sin are many
      Who have wandered far from God.
    Will your mother's prayers be answered?
      Listen, sinner, you, her boy.

    You have ofttimes heard this warning,
      In your heart conviction's deep;
    God is calling to the wanderer
      Who asks mercy at his feet.


             NOT LONELY NOW.

    I am not lonely, mother, now,
      Though far from me you roam.
    One dried my tears and smoothed my brow,
      And stilled the sob and groan.
    I am not lonely, mother, dear,
    For Jesus dwells with me, e'en here.

    All day I feel Him by my side;
      And when betimes would come
    The Evil One, I quickly hide
      Behind my Precious One.
    Think you I'm lonely, mother, dear,
    When Jesus thus is ever near?

    And when at night I think of thee,
      As in my cell I sit,
    Bright vision of thy form I see
      By His own presence lit.
    Can I be lonely, mother, dear,
    When thy pure spirit is so near?

    Farewell, my darling mother-friend,
      And if for aye, Oh! fare thee well!
    Whate'er betide, unto the end,
      Christ's love for me I'll gladly tell.

The following was written by a young brother who, with his wife, were
with me for a time in my work. In thanking them for a kindness done me
I used the words, "Jesus is looking on," implying that He would reward
them. Only an hour or so afterward the young brother handed me these
lines, suggested by my words:

Little did I think when I spoke the words that they would make so deep
an impression upon his mind. How little we realize what a word may
do.

                        JESUS IS LOOKING ON.

     "The eyes of the Lord are upon the righteous and his ears are
     open unto their cry." Ps. 34.

        [TUNE, "ARE YOU WITHIN THE FOLD TONIGHT?"]

    1.  While traveling as a pilgrim
          Across life's desert drear,
        My feet ofttimes are weary,
          Mine eyes oft drop a tear;
        But when I look to Jesus,
          All weariness is gone,
        My heart then joys within me
          To know He's looking on.

                  CHORUS.

        Yes, He is ever looking on,
          With anxious ear our cry to hear.
        He hears each sigh,
          He sees each tear;
        He knows each heart "with sorrow riven,"
          He hears each word of joy or moan,
        And whispers gently in our ear,
          I'm looking, looking on.

    2.  When troubles rage around me,
          And trials fiery come,
        My thoughts are then directed
          To my eternal home.
        Though walking on the mountain,
          Or on the verdant lawn,
        This is the thought that cheers me,
          He's always looking on.

    3.  When friends do turn against me,
          And frown and persecute,
        I'm then brought nearer Jesus,
          Than when my foes are mute.
        While Jesus walks beside me,
          His arm I'll lean upon,
        And ne'er forget the promise,
          He's always looking on.

    4.  Take courage, brother pilgrim,
          And let us journey on,
        For soon life's many trials
          Will all have passed and gone;
        Then sweeping up to glory
          We'll join the ransomed throng,
        And sing God's endless praises,
          While He is looking on.


                  HOW GOD CALLS MISSIONARIES OUT OF
                            PRISON CELLS.

                            S. H. HADLEY.

           _Superintendent of the Old McAuley Mission._

Some of the best missionaries this world ever knew are men who have
been sentenced to long terms in prison. Wholly shut away from the
world and its dreadful temptations, God had a chance to speak to them.
Jerry McAuley was a wonderful example of this, and that drunken loafer
and thief was finally used so wonderfully by the Lord God that his
name has gone all over this world and has been an inspiration to
millions. He was sent to prison from the Fourth Ward of New York for
fifteen years at the age of nineteen.

One Sunday morning in the chapel the speaker was old "Awful" Gardener,
an old-time ruffian and prize-fighter in New York, but God had got
hold of him and he had been wonderfully saved. With tears streaming
down his face, he told of the love of Christ, and he said, "Boys, I
ought to be wearing the stripes the same as you are, and I feel a deep
sympathy for you."

He also quoted some verses from the Scriptures, and after the boys had
gone back to their cells Jerry found a Bible in the ventilator of his
cell, and, looking it over aimlessly, tried to find the text that
"Awful" Gardener had quoted, but instead he found that Christ came to
save sinners, and the Holy Spirit showed him his dreadful past life.
As the day grew into night, Jerry got down on his knees and began to
pray. He had never prayed before, but now he cried to God for help and
mercy. How long he was there he does not know, but some time during
the night a glorious light dispelled the deep darkness of his soul,
and he cried out, "Oh, praise God, I found Jesus, and He gives peace
to my soul." The unusual sound brought the keeper, who asked, "What is
the matter with you?"

Jerry answered, "I found Jesus, that's what's the matter with me."

He found some opportunities to breathe out the new-found hopes of his
soul and the love of Jesus to the prisoners about him. Soon a revival
broke out in the prison such as never had been seen before or since,
and Jerry was the center of it all. He was pardoned in 1864, but when
he got home he had no friends, no money, and he soon fell into bad
company, and got to be a worse scoundrel than he ever was before. It
was after this he became known as the dangerous East River pirate. He
was reclaimed in 1868, and although he fell five times after that
during the first eight or nine months, he was finally anchored to
Christ.

Do you know that every drunkard uses tobacco? Jerry was no exception.
Some faithful friends said to him. "Jerry, give up your tobacco for
Jesus' sake," and he gave it up, and then he never fell afterward.

He was afterward married to Maria, his faithful wife, who also was
redeemed from a drunkard's life, and in 1872 opened the world-renowned
McAuley Mission, at 316 Water Street, down on the East Side, nearly
under the Brooklyn Bridge.

He stayed here ten years, and then opened the Cremorne Mission,
Thirty-second Street and Sixth Avenue, where he died in 1884, and had
the largest funeral of any private citizen who was ever buried in New
York.

The writer succeeded Jerry McAuley down there, and the work is going
on night and day. Drunkards and thieves come in by the thousand, and,
thank God, many of them are saved unto life eternal. The writer is
also a convert of Jerry McAuley Mission.--_The Life Boat._


             OUTSIDE THE PRISON WALLS.

    Free, free at last he left the dreary jail,
      And stepped into the dewy April night;
    Once more he breathed, untainted, God's pure air,
      And saw the evening star's sweet trembling light.
    How strange! how strange! and yet how strangely dear
      The old familiar turf beneath his feet!
    How wonderful once more to be alone
      Unwatched, unguarded, 'neath the sky's broad sweep.

    Free! free again--but O, so old and worn--
      So weary with his wasted, ruined life--
    Full twenty years the cell, his only home--
      Full twenty years with hopeless misery rife!
    His thoughts sped backward till they reached that day
      When he had entered that grim house, a boy--
    Naught but a boy in stature and in years,
      But with a heart all bare of hope and joy.

    For in a dreadful moment, crazed with rum,
      His hand had laid a fellow creature low,
    And for that glass of brandy in his brain
      Full twenty years of wretchedness and woe.
    And now, a gray-haired man, he walked again
      The very path his boyish feet had pressed
    So many, many years ago;
      And now he wandered lonely, seeking rest.

    Where should he go? Where now his footsteps turn?
      No living soul was there to welcome him!
    No friend of all his youthful days he knew
      Would greet again this wanderer in sin.
    Unconsciously, he sought his boyhood's home,
      The low, white cottage he had held so dear;
    'Twas standing in its old accustomed place,
      But strangers had dwelt there for many a year.

    Where next? The tears stood in his mournful eyes;
      His breath came thick and fast--he could not stir,
    But leaned upon the old familiar gate
      With thoughts of mother--O, could he find her?
    Where was she now--that mother, sweet and good,
      Who tried with tears and prayers to save her boy,
    Who knelt alone at midnight's solemn hour
      And mourned for him who should have been her joy.

    His faltering steps at last he vaguely turned
      Unto the silent churchyard near the sea,
    And stood alone while pitying moonbeams spread
      Around his form a veil of charity.
    Alone with God in that still, solemn place,
      Alone with hundreds of the silent dead,
    The outcast stood with lowly, sin-sick heart,
      The cold night dew upon his drooping head.

    At last he found her in a place apart,
      Where moonbeams sparkled through the willow boughs,
    And shone upon her simple headstone white
      That marked the limit of her narrow house.
    'Twas but a snowy marble, simple, plain,
      That bore her name, her age, and just below--
    "Died of a broken heart"--alas! he knew
      The cause of all that life and death of woe.

    He flung himself face down upon the grass,
      Alone between the living and the dead,
    And wept and prayed beside the lonely grave
      Until in sorrow's slumber sunk his head.
    They found him in the morning, stiff and cold,
      His hands clasped o'er his mother's lowly grave,
    His head upon its turf, as though he thought
      That turf the bosom his poor heart had craved.

    Upon his pallid cheeks the trace of tears
      Showed in the glowing ray of morning's sun,
    But o'er that face there shone a wondrous peace,
      A smile of joy now all his life was done.
    Men marveled that he looked so young again
      Despite his crown of sorrow-silvered hair,
    And tender-hearted women sighed and wept
      And smiled to think that they had found him there.
    Ah! God is good! with loving tenderness
      He saw the sad, repentant soul alone
    Weep out his sin upon his mother's grave,
      And gently led the weary wanderer home.
    This we believe: That now in Heaven's street
      The mother and her son are reconciled,
    And all the pain and sin of earth below
      Are blotted out, and he is God's own child.

               --_Hattie F. Crocker, in Union Signal._


               IF WE KNEW.

    If we knew the heart's sad sighing
      In the secret hour;
    If we knew the bitter crying
      O'er the tempter's power,
    Slower would we be to censure,
      Kinder in reproof;
    From the erring, peradventure,
      We would not stand aloof.

    If we knew the hard, stern struggle
      Of the one who fell,
    Toiling on 'mid grief and trouble
      That none but God can tell,
    Our thoughts, perhaps, would be kinder,
      Our help more pitiful--
    Be of God's love a reminder
      To the tempted soul.

    If we knew the fierce temptation,
      Could we feel the pain
    Of the deep humiliation,
      The tears shed all in vain,
    We, perchance, would be more gentle,
      Our tones more tender be;
    O'er his fault we'd draw the mantle
      Of fervent charity.

    If we knew how dark and cheerless
      Seem the coming years,
    We might then appear more fearless
      Of each other's cares.
    Could our eyes pierce through the smiling
      Of the face so calm,
    See the bitter self-reviling,
      We'd apply the balm.

    Did we walk a little nearer
      To Jesus in the way,
    Hear His voice a little clearer
      We would know how to pray.
    He has words of comfort given
      That we to them should speak,
    Ere the hopeless soul is driven
      His faith with God to break.

    We shall know each other better,
      The mists shall roll away;
    Nevermore we'll feel the fetter
      Of this toil-worn clay.
    Only let us love each other,
      'Tis our Lord's command,
    To each fainting friend or brother
      Reach a helping hand.

    --_Anna L. Dreyer, of Missionary Training Home at Tabor, Iowa._


                 LITTLE GRAVES.

You have your little grave; I have mine. You have your sad memories; I
have mine. For,

    "There is no flock, however tended,
      But one dead lamb is there;
    There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
      But hath its vacant chair.

    "The air is full of farewells to the dying,
      And weepings for the dead;
    The heart of Rachel for her children crying
      Will not be comforted."

I have pleasant thoughts sometimes about these little graves. I think
what a safe place the little grave is. Temptations never come there.
Sins never pollute there. Tears, pains, disappointments, bereavements,
trials, cares, and snares, are all unknown in that silent resting
place. And then, Jesus has the keys, and he keeps our treasures
safely, and guards them securely. No mother's heart is anxious about a
child that is laid in the little grave. No prayers of anguish go up
for it as for those tossed by the storms of passion, sunk in the
whirlpool of vice, or lost in the wide wilderness of sorrow and of
sin. There is now no need of chiding, reproving, watching, and
restraining. The chief Shepherd bears the lamb on his own bosom, and
it is forever safe.

The little grave is a sacred place. The Lord of glory has passed into
the sepulchre, and from it he has opened up the path of life. Hope
blooms there, and hearts-ease and amaranth blossom amid the shadows
that linger over it, and Jesus watches his treasures and counts his
jewels in the little graves.

The little grave shall be opened by and by. The night is dark, but
there is a flush of morn upon the mountains, and a gleam of sunlight
glows along the distant hills. He who bears the keys of hell and of
death, shall come back to open the little graves, and call the
sleepers forth. Then cherub forms shall burst the silent tombs, and
these green hillocks shall bear their harvest for the garner of our
God.--Sel.


         THE MOTHER'S WARNING.

    Touch it not--ye do not know,
      Unless you've borne a fate like mine,
    How deep a curse, how wild a woe,
      Is lurking in that ruby wine.
    Look on my cheek--'tis withered now;
      It once was round and smooth as thine;
    Look on my deeply furrowed brow--
      'Tis all the work of treacherous wine.
    I had two sons, two princely boys,
      As noble men as God e'er gave;
    I saw them fall from honor's joys
      To fill a common drunkard's grave.
    I had a daughter, young and fair,
      As pure as ever woman bore.
    Where is she? Did you ask me where?
      Bend low, I'll tell the tale once more.
    I saw that fairy child of mine
      Linked to a kingly bridegroom's side;
    Her heart was proud and light as thine,
      Oh, would to God she then had died!
    Not many moons had filled their horn,
      While she upon his bosom slept;
    'Twas on a dark November morn,
      She o'er a murdered husband wept;
    Her drunken father dealt the blow--
      Her brain grew wild, her heart grew weak;
    Was ever tale of deeper woe
      A mother's lips had lived to speak?
    She dwells in yonder darkened halls,
      No ray of reason there does shine;
    She on her murdered husband calls.
      'Twas done by wine, by cursed wine!

                             --_Temperance Banner._


                            HARRY'S REMORSE.

    It's curious, isn't it, chaplain, what a twelve months may bring?
    Last year I was in Chicago, gambling and living in sin;
    Was raking in pools at the races, and feeing the waiters with ten,
    Was sipping mint juleps by twilight, while today I am in the pen.

    What led me to do it? What always leads a man to destruction and crime?
    The prodigal son you have read of has altered somewhat in his time.
    He spends his money as freely as the Biblical fellow of old,
    And when it is gone he fancies the husks will turn into gold.

    Champagne, a box at the opera, high steps while fortune is flush;
    The passionate kisses of women whose cheeks have forgotten to blush.
    The old, old story, chaplain, of pleasure that ends in tears,
    The froth that foams for an hour and the dregs that are tasted
          for years.

    Last night as I sat here and pondered on the end of my evil ways,
    There rose like a phantom before me the vision of boyhood days;
    I thought of my old, old home, chaplain, of the schoolhouse that
          stood on the hill,
    Of the brook that ran through the meadow--I can hear its music still.

    And again I thought of my mother, of the mother who taught me to pray,
    Whose love was a precious treasure that I heedlessly cast away;
    And again I saw in my vision the fresh-lipped, careless boy,
    To whom the future was boundless and the world but a mighty toy.

    I saw all this as I sat there, of my ruined and wasted life,
    And the thoughts of my remorse were bitter, they pierced my heart
          like a knife.
    It takes some courage, chaplain, to laugh in the face of fate,
    When the yearning ambition of manhood is blasted at twenty-eight.

    --_Composed and written by Harry S----while taking a retrospection
    of the past._


                        TWENTY--THIRTY-FOUR.

The line of dingy-coated men stretched along the broad granite walk
and like a great gray serpent wound in and out among the wagon shops
and planing mills that filled the prison yard.

Down beyond the foundry the beginning of the line, the head of the
serpent, was lost at the stairway leading to the second floor of a
long, narrow building in which whisk brooms were manufactured.

An hour before, on the sounding of a brass gong at the front, the same
line had wound round the same corners into the building whence now it
crawled. There, the men had seated themselves on four-legged stools
before benches that stretched across the room in rows. Before each man
was set a tin plate of boiled meat; a heavy cup of black coffee, a
knife, a fork, and a thick bowl of steaming, odorous soup.

During the meal other men, dressed like the hundreds who were sitting,
in suits of dull gray, with little round-crowned, peaked-visored caps
to match, moved in and out between the rows, distributing chunks of
fresh white bread from heavy baskets. Now and then one of the men
would shake his head and the waiter would pass him by, but usually a
dozen hands were thrust into a basket at once to clutch the regulation
"bit" of half a pound. The men ate ravenously, as if famished.

Yet a silence that appalled hovered over the long bare dining-hall
where eight hundred men were being fed. There was no clatter of
knives and forks; there were no jests; they moved about as noiselessly
as ghosts.

There were faces stamped with indelible marks of depravity and vice,
but now and then the "breadtossers" would see uplifted a pair of frank
blue eyes, in which burned the light of hope. Men were there who
dreamed of a day to come when all would be forgiven and forgotten;
when a hand would again be held out in welcome, and a kiss again be
pressed to quivering lips. Men there were of all kinds, of all
countenances, young and old; the waving, sunlit hair of youth side by
side with locks in which the snow was thickly sprinkled. All these men
were paying the penalty society imposes on proved criminals.

And now, their dinner over, they were marching back to the shops and
mills of the prison, where days and weeks were spent at labor. Those
men employed in the wagon-works dropped out of the line when they came
opposite the entrance to their building. Those behind pushed forward
as their prison-mates disappeared, and never for more than ten seconds
was there a gap in the long, gray line.

The whisk-broom factory occupied the second floor of the building at
the far end of the prison yard. On the ground floor men worked at
lathes, turning out the wooden handles to the brooms that were
finished, sorted and tied up-stairs. At the corner the line divided,
sixty-five of the men climbed the stairway to the second floor, the
other thirty entered the lathe-room below.

A dozen men in blue uniforms marched beside the line on its way from
the mess-hall, six on each side, at two yards' distance. Their caps
bore "Guard" in gold letters, and each guard carried a short, heavy,
crooked cane of polished white hickory. On entering the work-room of
the second floor, the men assembled before a railed platform, upon
which a red-faced, coatless man stood behind a big desk. In cold,
metallic tones he called the numbers of the convicts who in turn
replied "Here!" when their numbers were spoken.

"Twenty-thirty-four!" called the red-faced man. There was no response.

"Twenty-thirty-four?" The red-faced man leaned over the desk and
glared down. Then a voice from somewhere on the left answered "Here!"

"What was the matter with you the first time?" snapped the foreman.

The man thus questioned removed his cap and took three steps toward
the platform. In feature the word "hard" would describe him. His head
was long, wide at the forehead, and yet narrow between the temples.
His eyes were small and close together. His nose was flat, and mouth
hardly more than a straight cut in the lower part of his face. The
lower jaw was square and heavy, and the ears protruded abnormally. A
trifle above medium height with a pair of drooping, twitching
shoulders, the man looked criminal.

To the question he replied doggedly, "I answered the first time, sir,
but I guess you didn't hear me."

The foreman gazed steadily at the man. Their eyes met. The foreman's
did not waver, but "2034" lowered his and fumbled nervously at his
cap.

"All right," said the foreman, quickly, "but I guess you'd better
report to the warden as soon as you get through in here. Don't wait
for any piece-work. Go to him as soon as you have finished your task.
I'll tell him you're coming. He'll be waiting for you at the front
office."

"Yes, sir." The convict did not raise his eyes. He stepped back into
the line.

Then, at the clap of the foreman's hands, the men broke ranks, and
each walked away to his own bench or machine. Five minutes later, the
swish on the corn-wisps as they were separated and tied into rough
brooms, and the occasional tap of a hammer, were the only sounds in
that long room where sixty-five men toiled.

Now and then one of the men would go to the platform where the foreman
sat bent over half a dozen little books, in which it was his duty to
record the number of "tasks" completed by each of the workmen "on his
contract"--a "task" in the prison vernacular being the work each man
is compelled to accomplish within a certain space of time. On the
approach of a workman the foreman would look up and a few whispered
words would pass between the two. Then the broom-maker would dart into
the stock room, adjoining the factory, where, upon receiving a written
requisition from the foreman, the officer in charge would give him the
material he needed in his work--a ball of twine, or a strip of plush
with which the handles of the brooms were decorated.

At ten minutes past three, 2034 crossed to the platform.

"What do you want?" asked the foreman, as he eyed keenly the man in
the gray suit.

"A paper of small tacks," was the reply, quickly spoken. The order was
written, and as 2034 moved towards the door leading toward the
stock-room, the man on the platform asked in an undertone, "Anything
wrong, Bill?"

"That's what I don't know, George," the foreman replied. "That man
Riley's been acting queer of late. I've got an idea there's something
up his sleeve. There's not a harder nut on the contract than that
fellow, and by the way he's been carrying on, sullen like and all
that, I'm fearing something's going to happen. You remember, don't
you? What, no? He's that Riley from Acorn. He came in two years ago on
a burglary job in Clive, where he shot a drug clerk that offered
objections to his carrying off all there was in the shop. They made it
manslaughter and he's in for fifteen years. There's another warrant
ready for him when he gets out, for a job done four years ago in
Kentucky. He's a bad one. A fellow like that is no good around this
shop."

The guard smiled cynically at the foreman's suggestion that a convict
may be too bad even for prison surroundings.

"But I've got my eye on him," continued the foreman. "I'm sending him
up to the warden this afternoon. Say, George, when you go back, will
you tell the warden Riley's coming up to call on him?"

"Sure, Bill," was the smiling reply of the guard as he moved away.
Twenty-thirty-four had returned with a paper of tacks and gone
directly to his bench.

It was a quarter of four by the foreman's watch when the door at the
head of the stairway opened and the warden entered, accompanied by two
friends whom he was showing through the "plant," as he preferred to
call the prison.

"This is where the whisk-brooms are made," said the warden. "On the
floor below, which we just left, you will remember we saw the boys
turning out broom-handles. Well, here the brooms are tied and sewed
through by hand, over at those benches. In the room beyond, through
that door, we keep the stuff handy that is called for from time to
time. In a further room is stored the material used in the manufacture
of the brooms, the tin tips, the tacks, the twine, and about ten or
twelve tons of broom straw."

As the warden ceased speaking, the foreman leaned across the desk and
tapped him on the shoulder. "Riley's coming up to see you this
afternoon. He's been acting queer--don't answer the call and the
like."

The warden only nodded, and continued his explanation to the visitors.

"Now," he said, moving towards the door of the stock-room, "if you
will come over here I'll show you our store-room. You see we have to
keep a lot of material on hand. Beyond this second room the stuff is
stored up, and is taken into the stock-room as it is wanted. Between
the rooms we have arranged these big sliding iron doors that, in case
of a fire, could be dropped, and thus, for a few minutes at least, cut
the flames off from any room but that in which they originated. You
see," pulling an iron lever which let the heavy iron sheet slide to
the floor, "that completes the wall."

The visitor nodded. "Now, come on through the second room, and into
the third," there, ranged regularly on the floor were huge bales of
broom straw, and piled against the walls were boxes upon boxes of
tacks, velvet, ornamental bits of metal, and all the other separate
parts of the commercial whisk broom.

The visitors examined the tacks and the tins and felt of the bales of
straw.

"Very interesting," observed one of the men, as he drew his cigar case
from his pocket, and biting the tip from one of the cigars it
contained, struck a little wax match on the sole of his shoe. He held
the match in his hand till it had burned down, then threw it on the
floor, and followed the warden and the other visitor under the heavy
iron screen into the workingroom of the factory.

The foreman was busy at his books and did not observe the little party
as it passed through on the other side of the broom-bins and out at
the big door.

Two minutes later, 2034 happened to look out through the window across
his bench and he saw the warden with his friends crossing the prison
yards to the foundry. A guard just then sauntered into the room and
stopped at the first of the bins. He idly picked up one of the
finished brooms and examined it. His attention a moment later was
attracted by some one pulling at his coat from behind. He turned.

"Why, Tommy, my boy, what is it?"

The two soft brown eyes of a little boy were turned up to him. "I'm
looking for papa," replied the little fellow. "The foreman down-stairs
said he come up here. Uncle George is back in the house, and mamma
sent me out to find papa."

The guard patted the little fellow's head. "And we'll find him,
Tommy," he said. He went over to the foreman's desk. "Bill, did the
warden come up here? Tommy is looking for him; his mother sent him
out."

The foreman raised his eyes from his books. "Yes," he replied, "he
went in there, with a couple of gentlemen."

The guard looked down at the little boy. "He's in the store-room," he
said, "you'll find him in there, Tommy."

Then he turned and walked out of the shop. The child ran on into the
room beyond. His father was not there. The stock-keeper did not
observe the little boy as he tiptoed, in a childish way, past the
desk. Tommy passed on into the farther room. He knew he would find
his father in there, and he would crawl along between the tiers of
straw bales and take him by surprise.

He had hardly passed when the stock-keeper, raising his head from the
list of material he was preparing, held his face and sniffed the air.
Quietly he rose from his revolving chair and went to the straw-room
door. He merely peered inside. Turning suddenly, he pressed upon the
lever near the door and the iron screen slid down into place, cutting
off the farther room. Then, snatching a few books that lay on his
desk, he slipped out into the shop, and at that door released the
second screen. As it fell into place with a slight crunching noise,
the foreman turned in his chair. The eyes of the two met. The
stock-keeper raised his hand and touched his lip with the first
finger. He crossed rapidly to the desk.

"Get the men out! Get the men out!" he gasped. "The store-room is on
fire!"

The foreman rapped on the table twice. Every man in that room turned
and faced the desk.

"Work is over for today," said the foreman. His manner was ominously
calm, and the men looked at one another wonderingly.

"Fall in!"

At the order, the dingy gray suits formed in the same old serpent, and
the line moved rapidly through the door at the end of the room and
down the outside stairs.

There, in front of the building, they were halted, and a guard
dispatched to find the warden. He was discovered in the foundry. "Fire
in the broom-shop!" whispered the guard.

The warden's face paled. He dashed through the doorway, and one
minute later came around the corner of the building, just in time to
see the first signs of flames against the windows of the rear room
up-stairs.

Within five seconds, a troop of fifteen guards had drawn the little
hand-engine from its house and hitched the hose to the hydrant nearest
the shop. From all the other buildings the men were being marched to
their cells.

"These men!" hurriedly whispered the foreman to the warden. "What
shall I do with them?"

"Get 'em inside as soon as you can! This won't last long, the front of
the building is cut off. It'll all be over in ten minutes."

The foreman gave an order. At that instant a woman came running down
the prison yard. Reaching the warden's side, she fell against him
heavily.

"Why, Harriet," he exclaimed, "what is the matter?"

"Oh," she gasped, "Tommy! Tommy! Where is Tommy?"

A guard at the end of the engine rail turned ashy white. He raised a
hand to his head, and with the other grasped the wheel to keep from
falling. Then he cried, "Mr. Jeffries, I--I believe Tommy is up there
in the stock-room. He went to look--"

The warden clutched the man's arm. "Up there? Up there?" he cried.

The sudden approach of the woman and the words that followed had
wrought so much confusion that the men had paid no attention to the
foreman's command, and he had even failed to notice their lack of
attention, in the excitement of that moment.

"Great God!" cried the warden. "What can I do--what can I do? No one
can live up there!"

There was a crash. One of the windows fell out. "Get a ladder!" some
one cried. A guard ran back toward the prison-house. Then, in the
midst of the hubbub, a man in a dingy gray suit stepped out a yard
from the line of convicts. His prison number was 2034. He touched his
little square cap.

"If you'll give me permission, I think I can get up there," was all he
said.

"You! you!" exclaimed the warden. "No, no; I will tell no man to do
it!"

There was a second crash. Another window had fallen out, and now the
tongues of flame were lapping the outer walls above.

The convict made no reply. With a bound he was at the end of the line
and dashing up the stairway.

The warden's wife was on her knees, clinging to the hand of her
husband. In his eyes was a dead, cold look. A few men bit their lips,
and a faint shadow of a smile played about the mouths of others. They
all waited. A convict had broken a regulation--had run from the line!
He would be punished! Even as he had clambered up the stairs a guard
had cried, "shall I shoot?"

The silence was broken by a shriek from the woman kneeling at the
warden's feet. "Look!" she cried, and pointed towards the last of the
up-stairs windows.

There, surrounded by a halo of smoke, and hemmed in on all sides by
flames, stood a man in a dingy gray suit. One sleeve was on fire, but
he beat out the flames with his left hand. Those below heard him cry,
"I've got him!" Then the figure disappeared. Instantly it returned,
bearing something in its arms. It was the limp form of a child.

All saw the man wrap smoking straw round the little body and tie
round that two strands of heavy twine. Then that precious burden was
lowered out of the window. The father rushed forward and held up his
hands to receive it.

Another foot--he hugged the limp body of his boy to his breast! On the
ground a little way back lay a woman, as if dead.

"Here's the ladder!" yelled the foreman, and that moment the eyes that
were still turned upon the window above where stood a man in a dingy
gray suit, witnessed a spectacle that will reappear before them again
and again in visions of the night.

The coat the man wore was ablaze. Flames shot on either side of him
and above him. Just as the ladder was placed against the wall, a
crackling was heard--not the crackling of the fire. Then like a
thunderbolt, a crash occurred that caused even the men in their cells
to start. The roof caved in.

In the prison yard that line of convicts saw 2034 reel and fall
backwards, and heard, as he fell, his last cry, "I'm a-comin',
warden!"

He was a convicted criminal, and died in prison gray. But it would
seem not wonderful to the warden if, when that man's soul took flight,
the recording angel did write his name on the eternal Book of Record,
with a strange cabalistic sign, a ring around a cross--that stands for
"good behavior."--_The Youth's Companion._


         HIS MOTHER'S SONG.

    Beneath the hot midsummer sun
      The men had marched all day;
    And now beside a rippling stream
      Upon the grass they lay.
    Tiring of games and idle jest,
      As swept the hours along,
    They cried to one who mused apart,
      "Come, friend, give us a song."

    "I fear I cannot please," he said;
      "The only songs I know
    Are those my mother used to sing
      For me, long years ago."
    "Sing one of those," a rough voice cried,
      "There's none but true men here;
    To every mother's son of us
      A mother's songs are dear."

    Then sweetly rose the singer's voice
      Amid unwonted calm,
    "Am I a soldier of the Cross,
      A follower of the Lamb?
    And shall I fear to own His Cause?"
      The very stream was stilled,
    And hearts that never throbbed with fear
      With tender thoughts were filled.

    Ended the song; the singer said,
      As to his feet he rose,
    "Thanks to you all, my friends, good-night,
      God grant us sweet repose."
    "Sing us one more," the captain begged,
      The soldier bent his head,
    Then glancing round, with smiling lips,
      "You'll join with me?" he said.

    "We'll sing this old familiar air,
      Sweet as the bugle call,
    'All hail the power of Jesus' name,
      Let angels prostrate fall;'"
    Ah! wondrous was the old tune's spell,
      As on the soldier sang,
    Man after man fell into line,
      And loud the voices rang.

    The songs are done, the camp is still,
      Naught but the stream is heard;
    But ah! the depths of every soul
      By those old hymns are stirred,
    And up from many a bearded lip,
      In whispers soft and low,
    Rises the prayer that mother taught
      Her boy long years ago.

                               --_Safeguard._


                            PERFECT PEACE.

[Lines written by a lady on the steamship "Mongolia," near Malta. She
was en route from China, where she had been a missionary for seventeen
years, to her home in England. She gave the verses to Bishop Bowman,
who was on the steamer with her, and he sent them to his wife, not
knowing she had died a few days before he wrote his letter.--_A.
Lowry._]

    Lonely? No, not lonely
      While Jesus stands by;
    His presence always cheers me,
      I know that He is nigh.

    Friendless? No, not friendless,
      For Jesus is my friend;
    I change, but He remaineth
      The same unto the end.

    Tired? No, not tired,
      While leaning on His breast;
    My soul hath full enjoyment,
      'Tis His eternal rest.

    Saddened? No, not saddened
      By darkest scenes of woe;
    I should be, if I knew not
      That Jesus loves me so.

    Helpless? Yes, so helpless,
      But I am leaning hard
    On the mighty arm of Jesus,
      And He is keeping guard.

    Waiting? Oh, yes, waiting,
      He bade me watch and wait;
    I only wonder often
      What makes my Lord so late.

    Joyful? Yes, so joyful,
      With joy too deep for words;
    A precious, sure possession,
      The joy that is my Lord's.

                         --_Divine Life._


                             SWEET REVENGE.

A few years ago while Robert Stewart was Governor of Missouri, a
steamboat man was brought in from the penitentiary for a pardon. He
was a large, powerful fellow, and when the governor looked at him he
seemed strangely affected. He scrutinized him long and closely.
Finally he signed the document that restored to the prisoner his
liberty. Before he handed it to him he said, "You will commit some
other crime and be in the penitentiary again, I fear."

The man solemnly promised that he would not. The governor looked
doubtful, mused a few minutes and said, "You will go back on the river
and be a mate again, I suppose?"

The man replied that he would.

"Well, I want you to promise me one thing," resumed the governor. "I
want you to pledge your word that when you are mate again, you will
never take a billet of wood in your hand and drive a sick boy out of a
bunk to help you load your boat on a stormy night."

The boatman said he would not, and inquired what he meant by asking
him such a question.

The governor replied, "Because some day that boy may become a
governor, and you may want him to pardon you for a crime. One dark
stormy night many years ago you stopped your boat on the Mississippi
River to take on a load of wood. There was a boy on board working his
way from New Orleans to St. Louis, but he was very sick of fever and
was lying in a bunk. You had plenty of men to do the work but you went
to that boy with a stick of wood in your hand and drove him with blows
and curses out into the wretched night and kept him toiling like a
slave until the load was completed. I was that boy. Here is your
pardon. Never again be guilty of such brutality."

The man, cowering and hiding his face, went out without a word.

What a noble revenge that was, and what a lesson for a
bully.--_Success._


                   NO TELEPHONE IN HEAVEN.

    "Now, I can wait on baby," the smiling merchant said,
    As he stooped and softly toyed with the golden, curly head.
    "I want oo to tall up mamma," came the answer full and free,
    "Wif yo' telephone an' ast her when she's tummin' back to me.

    "Tell her I so lonesome 'at I don't know what to do,
    An' papa cries so much I dess he must be lonesome, too;
    Tell her to tum to baby, 'tause at night I dit so 'fraid,
    Wif nobody here to tiss me, when the light bedins to fade.

    "All froo de day I wants her, for my dolly dot so tored
    Fum the awful punchin' Buddy gave it wif his little sword;
    An' ain't nobody to fix it, since mamma went away,
    An' poor 'ittle lonesome dolly's dittin' thinner ever' day."

    "My child," the merchant murmured, as he stroked the anxious brow,
    "There's no telephone connection where your mother lives at now."
    "Ain't no telephone in Heaven?" and tears sprang to her eyes.
    "I fought dat God had every'fing wif Him up in de skies."

                                        --_Atlanta Constitution._


           PERFECT THROUGH FAITH.

    God would not send you the darkness
      If He felt you could bear the light,
    But you would not cling to His guiding hand
      If the way were always bright;
    And you would not care to walk by faith
      Could you always walk by sight.

    'Tis true He has many an anguish
      For your sorrowing heart to bear,
    And many a cruel thorn-crown
      For your tired head to wear;
    He knows how few would reach home at all
      If pain did not guide them there.

    If He sends you in blinding darkness,
      And the furnace of seven-fold heat;
    'Tis the only way, believe me,
      To keep you close to His feet;
    For 'tis always so easy to wander
      When our lives are glad and sweet.

    Then nestle your hand in our Father's
      And sing if you can as you go;
    Your song may cheer some one behind you
      Whose courage is sinking low;
    And, well if your lips do quiver,
      God will love you better so.

                                   --_Selected._


                             A TRUE HERO.

Two men were sinking a shaft. It was dangerous business, for it was
necessary to blast the rock. It was their custom to cut the fuse with
a sharp knife. One man then entered the bucket and made a signal to be
hauled up. When the bucket again descended, the other man entered it,
and with one hand on the signal rope and the other holding the fire,
he touched the fuse, made the signal, and was rapidly drawn up before
the explosion took place.

One day they left the knife above, and rather than ascend to procure
it, they cut the fuse with a sharp stone. It took fire. "The fuse is
on fire!" Both men leaped into the bucket, and made the signal; but
the windlass would haul up but one man at a time; only one could
escape. One of the men instantly leaped out, and said to the other,
"Up wi' ye; I'll be in heaven in a minute." With lightning speed the
bucket was drawn up, and the one man was saved. The explosion took
place. Men descended, expecting to find the mangled body of the other
miner; but the blast had loosened a mass of rock, and it lay
diagonally across him; and, with the exception of a few bruises and a
little scorching, he was unhurt. When asked why he urged his comrade
to escape, he gave a reason that sceptics would laugh at. If there is
any being on the face of the earth I pity, it is a sceptic. I would
not be called "a sceptic," today for all this world's wealth. They may
call it superstition or fanaticism, or whatever they choose. But what
did this hero say when asked, "Why did you insist on this other man's
ascending?" In his quaint dialect, he replied, "Because I knowed my
soul was safe; for I've give it in the hands of Him of whom it is
said, that 'faithfulness is the girdle of his reins,' and I knowed
that what I gied Him He'd never gie up. But t'other chap was an awful
wicked lad, and I wanted to gie him another chance." All the
infidelity in the world cannot produce such a signal act of heroism as
that.--_Selected._


                              THE "KID."

It was not a long procession or a pleasing one but it attracted much
attention.

There was a policeman in the lead. Beside him walked a stockey,
bullnecked young fellow in a yellowish suit of loud plaid. His face
was bloody and his right wrist encircled by the bracelet of the
"twisters" which shackled him to his captor. The face of the policeman
was also bloody and his clothes were torn. Behind these two walked
three other patrolmen, each with a handcuffed prisoner.

The "kid" and his "gang" had been caught in the act of robbing a
saloon, and the fight had been lively, although short. The prisoners
had been taken to the detectives' office, and photographed and
registered for the rogues' gallery. They were now on their way to
court, and thence, in all probability, to jail.

At Broadway there was a jam of cars and heavy trucks, and the
procession had to wait. Nobody has been able to tell just what
happened, but they all agree as to the essential points. First the
bystanders saw a streak of yellow, which was the kid; then a streak of
blue which was the policeman. The prisoner had wrenched the twisters
from his captors' hand, and made a dash across the tracks. The
policeman, thinking, of course that he was trying to escape, had
followed.

Then everybody saw a little child toddling along in the middle of the
track. A cable-car, with clanging bell, was bearing down upon it with
a speed which the gripman seemed powerless to check. The baby held up
its hands, and laughed at the sound of the gong. On the other side of
the street a woman was screaming and struggling in the arms of three
or four men who were trying to keep her from sacrificing her own life
to save that of her child.

Then the kid stood there with the child safe in his arms, the steel
twisters hanging from his wrist. He set the baby down gently at his
feet, loosened the clasp of the chubby hand on his big red fist, and
quietly held out his wrist to the policeman to be handcuffed again. He
had one chance in a million for his life when he made that desperate
leap, but he had not hesitated the fraction of a second.


                      CHARGED WITH MURDER.

"Prisoner at the bar, have you anything to say why sentence of death
should not be passed upon you?"

A solemn hush fell over the crowded court-room, and every person
waited in almost breathless expectation for the answer to the judge's
question.

"I have, your honor! I stand here convicted of the murder of my wife.
Witnesses have testified that I was a loafer, a drunkard and a wretch;
that I returned from one of my debauches and fired the shot that
killed the wife I had sworn to love, cherish and protect. While I have
no remembrance of committing the awful deed, I have no right to
condemn the verdict of the jury, for their verdict is in accordance
with the evidence.

"But, may it please the court, I wish to show that I am not alone
responsible for the murder of my wife! The judge on this bench, the
jury in the box, the lawyers within this bar and most of the
witnesses, including the pastor of the church, are also guilty before
God and will have to stand with me before His judgment throne, where
we shall all be righteously judged.

"If it had not been for the saloons of my town, I never would have
become a drunkard; my wife would not have been murdered; I would not
be here now, soon to be hurled into eternity.

"For one year our town was without a saloon. For one year I was a
sober man. For one year my wife and children were happy and our little
home was a paradise.

"I was one of those who signed remonstrances against re-opening the
saloons of our town. One-half of this jury, the prosecuting attorney
on this case, and the judge who sits on this bench, all voted for the
saloons. By their votes and influence the saloons were opened, and
they have made me what I am.

"Think you that the Great Judge will hold me--the poor, weak, helpless
victim--alone responsible for the murder of my wife? Nay; I, in my
drunken, frenzied, irresponsible condition have murdered one; but you
have deliberately voted for the saloons which have murdered thousands,
and they are in full operation today with your consent. You legalized
the saloons that made me a drunkard and a murderer, and you are guilty
with me before God and man for the murder of my wife.

"I will close by solemnly asking God to open your blind eyes to your
own individual responsibility, so that you will cease to give your
support to this hell-born traffic."--_Sel._


              MOTHER'S FACE.

    There's a feeling comes across me--
      Comes across me often now--
    And it deepest seems when trouble
      Lays her finger on my brow;
    O it is a deep, deep feeling,
      Neither happiness nor pain!
    'Tis a mighty, soulful longing
      To see mother's face again!

    'Tis, I think, a natural feeling;
      Worst of me, I can't control
    Myself no more! It seems to stir
      And thrill my very soul!
    Try to laugh it off--but useless!
      Oh! my tears will fall like rain
    When I get this soulful longing
      Just to see her face again!

    You won't know how much you love her
      (Your old mother) till you roam
    'Way off where her voice can't reach you,
      And with strangers make your home;
    Then you'll know how big your heart is,
      Think you never loved before,
    When you get this mighty longing
      Just to see her face once more.

    Mother! tender, loving soul!
      Heaven bless her dear old face!
    I'd give half my years remaining
      Just to give her one embrace;
    Or to shower love-warm kisses
      On her lips, and cheeks, and brow,
    And appease this mighty longing
      That I get so often now!

                                    --_Sel._


                 ONLY SIXTEEN.

    Only sixteen, so the papers say,
    Yet there on the cold, stony ground he lay;
    'Tis the same sad story we hear every day.
    He came to his death in the public highway.
    Full of promise, talent and pride,
    Yet the rum fiend conquered him--so he died.
    Did not the angels weep o'er the scene?
    For he died a drunkard and only sixteen.
        Only sixteen.

    Oh! it were sad he must die all alone,
    That of all his friends, not even one
    Was there to list to his last faint moan,
    Or point the suffering soul to the throne
    Of grace. If, perchance, God's only Son
    Would say, "Whosoever will may come."--
    But we hasten to draw a veil over the scene,
    With his God we leave him--only sixteen.
        Only sixteen.

    Rumseller, come view the work you have wrought!
    Witness the suffering and pain you have brought
    To the poor boy's friends; they loved him well,
    And yet you dared the vile beverage to sell
    That beclouded his brain, his reason dethroned,
    And left him to die out there all alone.
    What if 't were your son instead of another?
    What if your wife were that poor boy's mother?
        And he only sixteen.

    Ye freeholders who signed the petition to grant
    The license to sell, do you think you will want
    That record to meet in the last great day
    When heaven and earth shall have passed away,
    When the elements melting with fervent heat
    Shall proclaim the triumph of right complete?
    Will you wish to have his blood on your hands
    When before the great throne you each shall stand?
        And he only sixteen.

    Christian men! rouse ye to stand for the right,
    To action and duty; into the light.
    Come with your banners inscribed: "Death to rum."
    Let your conscience speak, listen, then come;
    Strike killing blows; hew to the line;
    Make it a felony even to sign
    A petition to license; you would do it I ween
    If that were your son and he only sixteen,
        Only sixteen.


                         THE DRESS QUESTION.

One day, at Louisville, riding with Mrs. Wheaton to visit the sick
prisoners, she said, "Do you think it your duty to rebuke Christians
who wear jewelry?" I saw her question was a kindly reproof to me, and
said, "If the Lord wants me to give up the jewelry I have, He will
show me." "Yes, He will," she answered; "for I am praying for you."
The next morning the friend who was entertaining me told me her little
eleven-year-old daughter, Emma, just converted, said, "Mamma, I wish
you would read to me in the Bible where it says not to wear jewelry."
The mother read the verses. Then the child said, "Mamma, if the Lord
does not want me to wear jewelry, I don't want to;" and she brought
her little pin and ring to her mother. I took my Bible and read,
"Whose adorning, let it not be that outward adorning of plaiting the
hair and of wearing of gold, or of putting on of apparel; but let it
be the hidden man of the heart, in that which is not corruptible, even
the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God
of great price" (1 Peter ii, 3, 4); and, "In like manner also, that
women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and
sobriety, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or costly array, but
(which becometh women professing godliness) with good works." (1 Tim.
ii, 9, 10.) Then I thought: "The child is right. The Bible means just
what it says." Then I recalled that Mrs. Wheaton had told me how she
went one day to visit a poor, sick girl, to whom she had talked of the
love of Christ until she was almost won. She went again with a wealthy
woman, who was decked with diamonds. As they entered the room, the
girl pointed to the jewels, and said: "O mother, mother! I have wanted
them all my life!" The rich woman tried to hide her diamonds, and Mrs.
Wheaton tried to turn the girl's attention again to the Savior, but in
vain. Her last thought was of the diamonds, and her last words, "I
have wanted them all my life!"

Sitting there, with this incident fresh in my mind, I quietly slipped
off ring, watch, chain, cuff-buttons, and collar-stud; and gold, as an
adornment, was put away forever.--_Abbie C. Morrow, in Revival
Advocate, March 7, 1901._


                        SONGS USED IN MY WORK.

                ROCK ME TO SLEEP, MOTHER.

      "Backward, turn backward, oh time in your flight,
      Make me a child again just for tonight.
    Mother, come back from that echoless shore,
      Take me again to your arms as of yore;
      Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
      Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
      Over my slumbers your loving watch keep,
      Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep."


         LIFE'S RAILWAY TO HEAVEN.

    Life is like a mountain railroad,
      With an engineer that's brave;
    We must make the run successful,
      From the cradle to the grave;
    Watch the curves, the fills, the tunnels;
      Never falter, never quail;
    Keep your hand upon the throttle,
      And your eye upon the rail.

  CHORUS:

    Blessed Savior, Thou wilt guide us
      Till we reach that blissful shore;
    Where the angels wait to join us
      In Thy praise forevermore.

    You will roll up grades of trials;
      You will cross the bridge of strife;
    See that Christ is your conductor
      On this lightning train of life;
    Always mindful of obstructions;
      Do your duty, never fail;
    Keep your hand upon the throttle,
      And your eye upon the rail.

    You will often find obstructions;
      Look for storms of wind and rain;
    On a fill, or curve, or trestle,
      They will almost ditch your train;
    Put your trust alone in Jesus;
      Never falter, never fail;
    Keep your hand upon the throttle,
      And your eye upon the rail.

    As you roll across the trestle,
      Spanning Jordan's swelling tide,
    You behold the Union Depot
      Into which your train will glide;
    There you'll meet the Superintendent,
      God the Father, God the Son
    With the hearty, joyous plaudit,
      Weary pilgrim, welcome home.

_By permission of Charlie D Tillman, owner of copyright._


             MEET ME THERE.

    1. On the happy golden shore,
    Where the faithful part no more,
    When the storms of life are o'er,
        Meet me there.
    Where the night dissolves away,
    Into pure and perfect day,
    I am going home to stay,
        Meet me there.

                  CHORUS:

    Meet me there,
    Meet me there,
    Where the tree of life is blooming
        Meet me there.
    When the storms of life are o'er,
    On the happy golden shore,
    Where the faithful part no more,
    Meet me there.

    2. Here our fondest hopes are vain,
    Dearest links are rent in twain,
    But in heav'n no throbs of pain,
        Meet me there.
    By the river sparkling bright,
    In the city of delight
    Where our faith is lost in sight,
        Meet me there.

    3. Where the harps of angels ring,
    And the blest forever sing,
    In the palace of the king,
        Meet me there.
    Where in sweet communion blend,
    Heart with heart and friend with friend;
    In a world that ne'er shall end,
        Meet me there.

_Words and music copyrighted by W. J. Kirkpatrick, Philadelphia._


                 GOD BLESS MY BOY

    1. When shining stars their vigils keep,
    And all the world is hushed in sleep,
    'Tis then I breathe this pray'r so deep--
        God bless my boy tonight.

                    CHORUS:

    God bless my boy, my wandering boy,
      And keep his honor bright;
    May he come home--no longer roam--
      God save my boy tonight.

    2. I know not where his head may lie,
    Perchance beneath the open sky;
    But this I ween, God's watchful eye
        Can see my boy tonight.

    3.  As pass the days, the months and years,
    With all the change, the hopes and fears,
    God make each step of duty clear,
        And keep his honor bright.

    4.  And when at last his work is o'er,
    And earthly toil shall be no more,
    May angels guide him to the shore
        Where there shall be no night.


                THE GREAT JUDGMENT MORNING.

               Tune--"Kathleen Mavourneen."

    One cold Winter eve when the snow was fast falling
      In a small, humble cottage a poor mother laid;
    Although racked with pain she lay there contented
      With Christ as her Friend and her peace with Him made.

                            CHORUS:

    We shall all meet again on the great judgment morning,
      The books will be opened, the roll will be called;
    How sad it will be if forever we're parted,
      And shut out of heaven for not loving God!

    That mother of yours has gone over death's river.
      You promised you'd meet her as you knelt by her bed,
    While the death sweat rolled from her and fell on the pillow;
      Her memory still speaketh, although she is dead.

    You remember the kiss and the last words she uttered,
      The arms that embraced you are mouldering away;
    As you stood by her grave and dropped tears on her coffin,
      With a vow that you'd meet her, you walked slowly away.

    My brother, my sister, get ready to meet her,
      The life that you now live is ebbing away,
    But the life that's to come lasts forever and ever,
      May we meet ne'er to part on that great judgment day!


          MY NAME IN MOTHER'S PRAYER.

    'Twas in the days of careless youth
      When life seemed fair and bright,
    When ne'er a tear, nor scarce a fear
      O'er cast my day or night.
    'Twas in the quiet even tide,
      I passed her kneeling there,
    When just one word I tho't I heard
      My name, my name in mother's prayer.

                  CHORUS.

    My name, my name in mother's prayer,
      My name in mother's prayer!
    There is just one word I tho't I heard
      My name, my name in mother's prayer.

    I wandered on, but heeded not
      God's oft repeated call,
    To turn from sin and live for Him,
      And trust to Him my all in all.
    But when at last convinced of sin,
      I sank in deep despair,
    My soul awoke when memory spoke
      My name, my name in mother's prayer.

    That kneeling form, those folded hands,
      Have vanished in the dust;
    But still for me for years shall be
      The memory of her trust.
    And when I cross dark Jordan's tide,
      I'll meet her over there;
    I'll praise the Lord, and bless the word,
      That word, my name in mother's prayer!


               OVER THERE.

    Come all ye scattered race,
    And the Savior's love embrace;
    You may see His smiling face
        Yet with care;
    He is on the giving hand,
    Will you come at His command,
    Will you with the angels stand
        Over there?

                CHORUS.

    Over there, over there,
    There's a land of pure delight
        Over there,
    We will lay our burdens down,
    And at Jesus' feet sit down,
    And we'll wear a starry crown,
        Over there.

    Yes, He went to Calvary,
    And they nailed Him to the tree,
    That poor sinners such as we,
        He might spare;
    From the bitter pangs of death,
    He does with His dying breath,
    Seal an everlasting rest,
        Over there.

    God has placed us on the field,
    To the foe we will not yield,
    On our tower we will stand,
        By His care.
    Wave the Christian's banner high,
    Hold it up until we die,
    And go home to live with God,
        Over there.


                   THIS WAY.

    Our life is like a stormy sea,
      Swept by the gales of sin and grief,
    While on the windward and the lee,
      Hangs heavy clouds of unbelief;
    Out o'er the deep a call we hear,
      Like harbor bell's inviting voice;
    It tells the lost that hope is near,
      And bids the trembling soul rejoice.

                   CHORUS.

    This way, this way, O heart oppressed,
      So long by storm and tempest driven,
    This way, this way, lo here is rest,
      Rings out the harbor bell of heaven.

    O tempted one, look up, be strong;
      The promise of the Lord is sure,
    That they shall sing the victor's song,
      Who faithful to the end endure;
    God's Holy Spirit comes to thee,
      Of this abiding love to tell;
    To blissful port, o'er stormy sea,
      Calls heaven's inviting harbor bell.


        MORE TO BE PITIED THAN CENSURED.

    There's an old concert hall on the bowery
      Where were assembled together one night
    A crowd of young fellows carousing,
      To them life looked happy and bright.
    At the very next table was seated
      A girl that had fallen to shame;
    How the fellows they laughed at her downfall,
      When they heard an old woman exclaim:

                     CHORUS.

    "She's more to be pitied than censured,
      She is more to be loved than despised;
    She is only a poor girl who ventured
      On life's rugged path ill-advised.
    Don't scorn her with words fierce and bitter,
      Don't laugh at her shame and downfall,
    Just pause for a moment--consider,
      That sin was the cause of it all."

    There's an old-fashioned church 'round the corner,
      Where the neighbors all gathered one day,
    To listen to words from the parson,
      For a soul that had just passed away.
    'Twas the same wayward girl from the bowery,
      Who a life of adventure had led;
    Did the parson then laugh at her downfall?
      No, he prayed and wept as he said:


                SOME MOTHER'S CHILD.

    At home or away, in the alley or street,
    Wherever I chance in this wide world to meet
    A girl that is thoughtless or a boy that is wild,
    My heart echoes softly: It is some mother's child.

                      CHORUS.

            Some mother's child,
            Some mother's child,
            My heart echoes softly:
            It is some mother's child.

    And when I see those o'er whom long years have rolled,
    Whose hearts have grown hardened, whose spirits are cold;
    Be it woman all fallen, or man all defiled,
    A voice whispers sadly: It is some mother's child.

    No matter how far from right she hath strayed;
    No matter what inroad dishonor hath made;
    No matter what elements cankered the pearl;
    Though tarnished and sullied, she is some mother's girl.

    No matter how deep he is sunken in sin;
    No matter how much he is shunned by his kin;
    No matter how low is his standard of joy;
    Though guilty and loathsome; he is some mother's boy.

    That head hath been pillowed on tenderest breast;
    That form hath been wept o'er, those lips have been pressed;
    That soul hath been prayed for in tones sweet and mild;
    For her sake deal gently with some mother's child.

_Used by permission of Charlie D. Tillman, owner of copyright._


                    JUST TELL MY MOTHER.

    'Twas in a Gospel Mission, in a distant western town,
      The meeting there that night had just begun,
    When in came a poor lost sinner who by sin had been cast down,
      Thinking perhaps that he might have some fun;
    But as he heard of Jesus' love, of pardon full and free,
      He sought it and the wanderer ceased to roam.
    And going to his room that night, his heart all filled with joy,
      He wrote a letter to the folks at home.

                          CHORUS.

    Just tell my dear old mother, my wandering days are o'er,
      Just tell her that my sins are all forgiven,
    Just tell her that if on earth we chance to meet no more,
      Her prayers are answered and we'll meet in Heaven.

    His mother got the message as she lay at death's dark door,
      Which told her of her boy so far away,
    How his sins were all forgiven and wandering days were o'er,
      And that his feet were on the narrow way.
    Her heart was filled with gladness, as it had not been for years,
      Her dear old face was all lit up with joy,
    As on her dying pillow she said amid her tears,
      God bless and keep my precious darling boy.

    Your mothers have prayed for you, my friends, for many and many a day,
      Perhaps these days of life will soon be o'er,
    Come, give your hearts to Jesus, get on the narrow way,
      And meet her on that happy golden shore.
    Oh, come just now while still there's room, and pardon free for all.
      The Savior pleads, oh, do not longer roam.
    And then with Jesus in your heart, you will send the message
      To your dear mother, praying still for you at home.


                SOON THE DEATH-BELL WILL TOLL.

    When the last Gospel message has been told in your ears,
    And the last solemn warning has been given you in tears;
    When hope shall escape from its place in your breast,
    Oh, where will your poor weary soul find its rest?

                           CHORUS.

    Soon the death-bell will toll--look after your soul;
    O, sinner be ready, for the death-bell will toll.

    When the darkness of death shall compass you round,
    When the friends you have loved are all standing around;
    Unable to save you now from the tomb,
    Unable to alter your terrible doom.

    When before the white throne of His Judgment you stand,
    "What have you to answer?" the Judge will demand;
    Oh, terrible moment to be standing alone,
    When mercy forever and forever is gone.


                 THE END OF THE WAY.

The following beautiful lines were written by a girl in Nova Scotia,
an invalid for many years:

    My life is a wearisome journey;
      I'm sick of the dust and the heat;
    The rays of the sun beat upon me,
      The briars are wounding my feet.
    But the city to which I am journeying
      Will more than my trials repay;
    All the toils of the road will seem nothing
      When I get to the end of the way.

    There are so many hills to climb upward,
      I often am longing for rest,
    But He who appoints me the pathway
      Knows what is needed and best.
    I know in His word He has promised
      That my strength shall be as my day;
    And the toils of the road will seem nothing
      When I get to the end of the way.

    He loves me too well to forsake me,
      Or give me one trial too much;
    All His people have been dearly purchased,
      And Satan can never claim such.
    By and by I shall see Him and praise Him,
      In the city of unending day;
    And the toils of the road will seem nothing
      When I get to the end of the way.

    When the last feeble steps have been taken,
      And the gates of the city appear,
    And the beautiful songs of the angels
      Float out on my listening ear;
    When all that now seems so mysterious
      Will be plain and clear as the day--
    Yes, the toils of the road will seem nothing
      When I get to the end of the way.

    Though now I am footsore and weary,
      I shall rest when I'm safely at home;
    I know I'll receive a glad welcome,
      For the Savior Himself has said "Come."
    So, when I am weary in body,
      And sinking in spirit I say,
    All the toils of the road will seem nothing
      When I get to the end of the way.

    Cooling fountains are there for the thirsty,
      There are cordials for those who are faint:
    There are robes that are whiter and purer
      Than any that fancy can paint.
    Then I'll try to press hopefully onward,
      Thinking often through each weary day,
    The toils of the road will seem nothing
      When I get to the end of the way.




                               Appendix.


The matter which I have here appended I thought of too much value to
omit from this volume. The first article is explanatory in itself. The
second is by a prisoner whom I have known for many years. The third
(regarding Christ in Gethsemane) was written by a prisoner as a letter
to myself. I hope the reader may profit by the reading of each page.

                                                         E. R. W.


                THE PERSONNEL OF PRISON MANAGEMENT.

     Address of C. E. Haddox, warden of the West Virginia
     penitentiary, to the National Prison Association, at its annual
     session, Louisville, Ky., Congress of 1903:

This is the age of industrial development. On every side we see
colossal enterprises undertaken and prosecuted to a successful and
profitable conclusion.

Great railroad systems span the continent, carrying millions of
passengers and countless tons of freight, with safety, celerity and
dispatch, to the doors of factory, workshop, store and consumer.

Immense industrial enterprises are constantly being projected,
consolidated and carried on in a manner to excite the admiration,
mayhap, the wonder and fear of mankind.

Colossal financial transactions amaze the minds of those uninitiated
to the magnitude and the intricacies of such undertakings.

The unexplored recesses of the earth are exploited in a manner and on
a scale heretofore undreamed of and unknown, and every department of
enterprise is carried on to a degree that distinctly stamps this
decade as the acme of industrial enterprise and achievements, the
golden age of industrial prosperity, and the acquirement of material
improvement and material gain.

If it be asked why such strides have been made along industrial lines,
the answer is that it is due to ORGANIZATION AND SPECIALIZATION.

The PERSONNEL of the management have devoted their lives, their talent
and their energies to the special work before them. They have been
drilled and educated along special lines; they have been deaf and
blind to outside matters not relevant to the work in hand, and by
close and careful study, by unceasing and constant labor, care and
effort, having evolved, projected and carried on these immense
enterprises.

The National Prison Congress at its meeting this year is mindful of
the material progress of the country.

This association is equally ambitious along the lines peculiar to
itself to obtain from the various penal institutions of the country
the highest and best results morally, educationally, reformatively,
and as an incident, punitively and financially.

How shall we keep pace in penal improvements with the great material
progress of the outside world?

The answer necessarily must be, that improvements in our department of
work must come, as they do elsewhere, by the investigation, the study,
the thought and the effort of those who are in actual control, of
those who are in a position to see, to observe and to know.

In other words, the question as to whether prisons are to improve,
whether their work shall continue to be of a higher and nobler
character, whether we are finally and forever to break away from the
customs of the galleys of France, the prisons of Hawes in England, of
the Mamertine of Rome and of Rothenburg in Germany, will depend
utterly, entirely and absolutely upon the personnel of the prison
management of the country.

Prof. Henderson, in his admirable address delivered at the
Philadelphia meeting in 1902, on "The Social Position of the Prison
Warden," says: "Some institutions have no marked qualities; they have
walls, cells, machinery, prisoners, punishments, but no distinct,
consistent and rational policy."

Where this is true it means that the worst possible condition of
affairs exists. Such an institution has the dry rot. It is managed (or
rather mismanaged) by time servers, too careless to feel the high
responsibility devolving upon them, and too listless to acquaint
themselves with the many opportunities spread before them to improve
and keep pace with the onward march of progress.

Such officers in their abuse, by inaction, of the opportunities
afforded them, commit "Crimes against criminals" and through them
against society.

On the contrary institutions which have distinct features and
characteristics, have them as the result of the careful investigation,
the patient research and thought of those who are in responsible and
actual control, and these characteristics and features reflect the
wisdom and intelligence of those who have given their energies and
their lives to the special work before them.


                      THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS.

In the management of penal institutions a Board of Directors or of
Control is, ordinarily, the nominal head.

By the laws of most states they are supposed to fix the administration
policy, to restrict and define the powers and duties of the officers
in actual and intimate control.

In some institutions they meet a day or so each month, in most
institutions not so frequently. Their duties while at the institution
may or may not be largely perfunctory, and as they are generally
active business men at home in other channels, the day or two a month
or quarter is apt to be regarded by the unthoughtful as a respite or
surcease from other duties. The main duty of a Board of Directors or
of Control may be said to be the determining of the general policy
upon which the institution shall be conducted, and a cursory oversight
of the conduct of its affairs.


                             THE WARDEN.

The warden or superintendent is the one official who can give tone,
expression and color to the institution. He is distinctly and
positively its actual managing head, and upon his intelligence,
interest, zeal, tact and discretion will depend, almost entirely, its
weal or its woe.

He must be a man of intelligence, and be willing and anxious to
increase his fund of knowledge and information.

He should be a profound student not only of the ordinary subjects that
attract the student, but of prison systems, of laws, business,
government, society as it exists, and of human nature in all its many
phases.


                        HE MUST BE AN ORGANIZER.

No difference how elaborate a system may be found in any institution
of this kind, the warden will always be an intensely busy and greatly
occupied officer.

If he would prevent chaos and confusion and obtain from every official
the highest and best work of which he is capable, he must organize
every department thoroughly. Every officer and every inmate must know
his exact duties, so far as it is possible to know them, and be made
responsible for those duties and the warden must be enabled to
appreciate a high order of talent and the accomplishment of good work,
and to locate the blame for omissions and short comings, and provide
for their correction.

Thorough system in every detail will conserve the capacities of all
his subordinates and leave him in a measure free to observe the actual
conditions and to plan and to put into effect improvements along
moral, industrial, physical and financial lines.


                    HE MUST BE A FINANCIER.

The financial question in every prison in the land is an extremely
important one. Funds for prisons are doled out grudgingly, and the
demand for absolutely necessary purposes is always far greater than
the supply.

A warden performs no more important function than when he sees that
the funds of the institution are so used as to effect the highest
possible results, and that all the forces of the prison are so
energized and conserved as to permit, under ordinary conditions, a
satisfactory and proper earning and economizing power. With the many
demands made upon him for means for increasing the usefulness of his
institution, a high order of financial aptitude is an absolutely
necessary characteristic in a successful warden.


                          DISCIPLINE.

Discipline in a prison is its first requisite. Nothing can be
accomplished until officers and convicts are under its sway and
control.

The warden who would have control of those under him must himself at
all times, be under self control.

The maxim "No one knows how to command who has not first learned how
to obey," is a trite and a true one. The population of a prison is
made up of a heterogeneous collection of people whose first instincts
have been and are, not to obey.

To bring such people into habits of obedience and control requires the
highest type of skill, tact and discretion. Punishments and reward
must be so blended and combined as to effect the needful results with
the least possible friction, and in the most humane and rational
manner possible.

No warden can afford to delegate the matter of enforcing discipline
entirely or partly, if at all, to another. His first duty to himself,
that he may know actual conditions as they exist, is to preside over
or assist in, the trial of offenders and to order discipline.

Individual treatment is a necessity in our dealings with delinquents,
and a study of the many phases of delinquency is a prime requisite in
a successful warden's repertoire.

Brainard F. Smith says: "Many a prisoner has been reformed--or, if not
reformed, made a better prisoner--by punishment."

Will the warden have any higher duty to perform than to face his
delinquent delinquents and to order in merciful severity, rational
punishments for their short-comings?

But a warden's disciplinary powers are apt to be taxed more severely
in another direction. The great problem ordinarily, is not so much the
discipline of convicts as that of subordinate officers. If subordinate
officers will obey the spirit and the letter of the rules, the convict
has the potential influence of a powerful example to aid him. "Like
master like man."

In institutions where officers are appointed solely with reference to
their fitness, comparatively little trouble should be had in the
matter of proper official discipline. But where places are given to
heelers, ward-workers and political strikers, the matter of efficient
discipline is a question of grave concern to the warden. In the
absence of better material, however, he must address himself to
organizing what he has to the highest efficiency possible, and insist
and require a rigid regimen and adhere to his demands and requirements
with Spartan firmness.


                         THE PRISON SCHOOL.

The educational work of a prison is of the highest, I may say, of the
first importance. The education of the hands to work comes naturally,
partly as an incident of the necessary work carried on in prison.

Nearly all convicts are densely ignorant. The polished, scholarly,
shrewd criminal of whom we hear so much, and to whom the papers and
books give so much prominence, is the exception, not the rule, in
prison.

If the prison is to have a reformatory feature, it must come very
largely through the school. Many prison schools are such only in name.
The work accomplished is very meager. The results are very
unsatisfactory.

To no part of prison work should a warden address himself with more
ardor and determination than so to organize the prison school as to
make it the great positive factor in dispelling ignorance and its
attendant viciousness, and in quickening and enlivening the moral
sense in those whose moral judgment is exceedingly obtuse.

The course of study in a prison school is necessarily a very
elementary one, and unless followed by a supplementary course of
reading and study, will be of little permanent and practical benefit.
Many prison libraries, largely the result of indiscriminate and
heterogeneous donations of all kinds of literature, good, bad and
indifferent, chiefly the latter, are not in a position to be a
positive force.

Let the warden see that his library is so arranged, classified and
used as to be a source of information, profit, help and pleasure to
the inmates, and that a course of reading along rational lines is
laid out, encouraged, and, if possible, adhered to, in order that the
preliminary school course may not have been in vain.


                           COURAGE NEEDED.

The warden must be a man of courage. I do not refer to the kind of
courage necessary to face a regiment of depraved and wicked men shorn
of their power and their stimulus to do evil, but that high moral
courage necessary to clean the Augean stables of abuses of customs, to
reverse policies of long standing that are nevertheless wrong in
principle and in practice, to fight against unjust, improper and
unwise legislative propositions concerning his institution; the kind
of courage that prompted the chaplain in Chas. Reade's "NEVER TOO LATE
TO MEND," to fight and destroy the iniquitous prison system of Keeper
Hawes and his minions; the courage that will keep to the fore-front a
persistent opposition to prostituting penitentiaries into eleemosynary
institutions and political cribs and feeding troughs for political
strikers.

He must have the courage to weed out and eliminate useless barnacles
in the shape of incompetent and worthless employes, and substitute in
their stead men of capacity, character and intelligence, who are in
love with their work and believe in its dignity and usefulness; the
courage to face demagogues in their efforts to take from the prison
its educative, moral, reformatory and economic force, the right of the
unfortunate inmates to learn the gospel of labor under right and just
conditions.


                     OPTIMISM NECESSARY.

The warden needs to be intensely optimistic. He must have a reserve
fund of enthusiasm. He must believe profoundly in the high character
of his office and educate others constantly to believe in it. The
ignorance of the great mass of the people as to the real function of
penitentiaries and the methods by which they are carried on is amazing
and mortifying to prison officials.

A part of the warden's mission is to acquaint the outside world with
conditions as they exist inside, and to inspire the interest and
support of the general public in measures for bettering and improving
prison conditions. Legislative bodies especially, need to be brought
into closer relations and the law makers made to realize their duty to
the public and the convict in the enactment of wise, proper and
righteous legislation.

Longfellow, in his beautiful poem, "THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP," tells
why the master builder achieved success. It was because

    "His heart was in the work and the heart
        Giveth grace to every art."

The warden's heart must be in his work. His whole soul must be
animated and permeated with an honest and sincere desire to bring
penology up to a higher and nobler standard.

He must have a reserve force of enthusiasm that will not be daunted
and destroyed by temporary failures or the lapses of some discharged
or pardoned convicts, who, in spite of care and pains, will return to
their evil ways. The enthusiasm that can bear the harsh and ignorant
criticism and misrepresentations incident to his work; the enthusiasm
that in its contagion will inoculate directors, subordinate officers,
the press and the people with a desire for more light on penal
problems and a purpose to be governed by that light; the enthusiasm
that will beget great patience for the exacting, difficult and trying
problems before him; that will make him believe that "a convict saved
is a man made"; that will make him believe with the great English
novelist "It is never too late to mend," and that as infinite care and
pains finally brought Robinson, the twice convicted thief, up to the
estate of honest manhood, so, infinite care and pains should be
exerted with every man under his charge.

Pessimism has no rightful place in a penitentiary. In the language of
Socrates, "Why should we who are never angry at an ill-conditioned
body, always be angry with an ill-conditioned soul?"

The ignorant Hawes believed in the profitless crank, the black-hole,
the deprivation of food, of bed, of clothing, the tortures of the
waist jacket and the collar, and a sign over the door, "ABANDON HOPE
ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE."

The twentieth century warden believes in the gospel of productive
labor, of education of hand, head and heart, in the deprivation of
privileges, largely as punishment, the segregation of the desperate
and nearly hopeless, the enlightenment of an all-powerful, all
potential, all influential example and the motto of Pope Clement, "It
is of little advantage to restrain criminals by punishment unless you
reform them with training and teaching."


                            THE CHAPLAIN.

The chaplain occupies an extremely important but delicate position in
prison management. It is possible for him to be of vast influence and
power for good.

The chaplain needs to be a man of large heart, aided by an abundance
of sound common sense. He needs to bear in mind constantly, in the
difficult and delicate work he is called upon to perform, that the
discipline of the prison must be upheld and enforced.

Associate officers are frequently disturbed with the fear that the
chaplain's influence will subvert the discipline of the prison; that
the shrewd, unprincipled convicts by pouring into his ears their
imaginary tales of woe, may succeed in working him.

The chaplain's first requirement, if he would succeed, is not to lose
sight of the majesty of the law and of the prison rules.

The chaplain and the warden should go hand in hand, the one sustaining
the other. They need to have a perfect understanding, neither
mistrusting the other. Frequent conferences ought to enable them to
proceed along proper lines. The chaplain's opportunities are
limitless. I do not undertake to say what direction his duties shall
take him. That will be discussed fully in the Chaplain's Association.

It is personal, individual work that counts in a prison. All the
chaplain's work should be thought out beforehand, be methodical,
premeditated, intentional, systematic and thorough. His chapel service
should be rational, of the proper length, with exercises, song service
and preaching service carefully chosen. There should be no room in a
prison service for the spectacular, the highly emotional and the
haphazard sermons and addresses of a chance visitor. A reasonably
rigid censorship ought to be exercised over the contributions of
outsiders to the chapel service.

The influence of sight seers and idle visitors to prisons, always bad,
reaches the acme of its perniciousness in the chapel service, if
unrestrained and unguided by prison officials of experience and
firmness, who alone are in a position to know that sickly
sentimentality is the worst possible pabulum to offer men already too
eager to justify their evil deeds.


                              THE PHYSICIAN.

A physician's duties in a prison are necessarily onerous, important
and difficult. Convicts are constantly claiming that they are unable
physically to do the work assigned them. No one can determine the
truthfulness of their statements except the physician, and to
determine whether the convict is really ill or exercising his usual
finesse to shirk his duties, requires keen judgment of human nature as
well as an accurate knowledge of his profession.

The convict, housed and hemmed in, is peculiarly susceptible to
hallucinations and to thinking that he is afflicted with imaginary
ills.

A physician needs a large fund of good judgment, will-power and common
sense to combat successfully with this class of people. How far he
should use some of the subterfuges supposed to be employed by
physicians in the outside world in dealing with people afflicted with
hypochondria, I am unable to say, but a certain amount of cheerfulness
coupled with firmness is undoubtedly of great value.


                             SUBORDINATE OFFICERS.

The subordinate officers of a prison are very important factors in the
management of a prison. They come in actual, continual, personal
contact with the men.

No difference how capable and zealous may be the warden and his
deputy, unless they have men of character, zeal, intelligence and
discretion to carry out their orders and wishes faithfully and well,
all their plans will come to naught.

Guards, keepers and watchmen should be of good moral character. It is
useless to talk about reforming convicts unless they have continually
the benefit of good examples set before them. Precept amounts to
nothing unless re-enforced by good examples.

They should be educated and intelligent.

Their duties are largely discretionary, and in their contact with
convicts a high order of intelligence is necessary to know the right
thing to do. Strict integrity and truthfulness are prime requisites.
An officer's word should be beyond question and he should be
absolutely impartial in his dealings with his men.

No special system will bring the highest results with any kind of men
behind it. Any system with men of character, conscience and capacity
will achieve great good. Any system with men of bad character,
ignorant, careless and indifferent, will fall to the ground.

A common impression prevails that any one is good enough for a prison
guard, and if he is too old, too feeble and decrepit or too lazy for
other work, his political strikers will try to unload him on the
penitentiary authorities.

Prison Directors, Wardens and all in authority should set their faces
resolutely against this erroneous and terribly harmful idea. Partisan
politics should not be a factor in the appointment or the retention of
any prison officer. All subordinates should be appointed under civil
service rules and be required to pass a civil service examination, and
after entering upon his duties be required to take up a course of
study on penological questions and problems and be otherwise carefully
schooled and drilled along the lines of their work. If time
demonstrates their unfitness for the position they should be summarily
removed. If they manifest an aptitude and an interest in their work
they should be encouraged, promoted and protected against removal for
partisan reasons.

Whenever directors in banks are elected with reference to their
political proclivities and not with reference to their business
sagacity, it will be proper to select prison officials for the same
reason.

Whenever great business firms discharge their managers because their
political views do not coincide with those of the owners, then and not
till then should prison officials step down and out for political
reasons.

What would be thought of directors of a business enterprise or the
regents of a university who selected their business manager, their
teachers, with regard to their views on finance or on the tariff, or
who would remove a faithful, efficient and capable servant after years
of experience in his work, merely because he did not coincide with the
political views of the majority of his directors in a matter in no way
germane to his work?

As Boards of Directors spend but a small percentage of their time at
the institutions they control, it necessarily takes them years to get
a clear insight into all the details of its work, and to make a change
just when, through the process of time, the director becomes fitted
for his work, is the height of unwisdom and folly. Boards of Charity
and Correction having charge of all the institutions in the State
would certainly be much more desirable. Such officers could devote
their entire time and attention to the work, and thus be able to give
all the institutions of the State uniform treatment and attention.
Boards of Directors or of Control should be appointed and reappointed
as long as they are efficient and manifest an interest in the work.

And so with all other officers from the warden down, and each should
feel and know that faithfulness and efficiency is the only standard,
and that they would not be expected, required or permitted to weaken
their influence or their energies by undue or active participations in
political effort or political manipulations.

The surest sign of unfitness for prison work and lack of interest in
the work is an undue activity in political caucuses and conventions.
The official practically advertises that he cannot hope to hold his
place on account of his efficiency, but expects to do so because of
his services as a political henchman.


                       THE DEMANDS OF THE AGE.

As this age demands a high order of talent and effort in the
industrial, so it should demand and require great ability and power in
the penal world.

The third of a century of the life of the National Prison Congress has
witnessed great progress in the domain over which it has advisory
power. Many problems pressing for solution demand the highest
functions of those in control.

Do punishments deter men from crime?

Do the universal customs of the times foster and beget much of the
crime committed?

Does war beget murder elsewhere?

Is social vengeance a failure, and are other means necessary to
prevent crime?

Should not executives now clothed with power to terminate or shorten
sentences of imprisonment also have power to lengthen terms of
imprisonment or to change from a definite to an indefinite term
whenever they become in possession of facts regarding the convict's
previous life or present character, which were unknown to the
sentencing judge?

Should not United States prisoners incarcerated in the various state
prisons have the restrictions of the indeterminate sentence and the
parole, thus securing a uniform system of treatment for all prisoners
and greatly promoting the discipline?

Should we go back of the commission of crimes and ascertain if the
State itself is not committing a crime in imposing and permitting
conditions that beget crime?

Should not the pardoning power be exercised frequently before the
convicted man ever reaches the prison at all? Could not many a man be
saved by being put on probation from the start, who otherwise would be
in great danger of being lost?

Does the discipline of prisons have anything to do with the commission
of offenses by convicts when released? Does the enforced restraint
exerted to the very last moment of his release and then wholly
relaxed, cause the released convict to swing to the other extreme like
Jean Valjean, who after nineteen years of imprisonment for stealing a
loaf of bread and an attempt to escape, robbed his benefactor, the
Bishop, of his plate, and upon being forgiven robbed little Gervais of
his forty sou piece, but afterward got his bearings, attained his
balance and lived an honorable life?

Should any prisoner ever be released at the prison door, or should he
not for his own sake as well as society's be required to live a period
on probation and under oversight, subject to return for violations; in
other words, should not paroles be, under proper restrictions, the
universal and only rule?

To the solution of these and countless other problems let the highest
order of talent, the best combination of head, heart and brain be
summoned: let every prison be a school for study and investigation,
and be engineered and controlled by men of skill, drilled and educated
along these lines, and who are animated by a desire to contribute
their full share towards the upbuilding and uplifting of the race and
the amelioration of the woes that beset mankind.


                        MEDITATIONS OF A PRISONER.

                              PREFACE.

     To any one who may read these lines I will say: Do not criticise;
     I know you will find many mistakes, but I hope you will remember
     they are written by one who has not had the advantage of an
     education. My school days ended when I was nine years old.
     Knowing this, I hope you will excuse mistakes. Respectfully
     yours,

                                                         E. S. K.

I often wonder if the busy world ever gives a thought to the men
incarcerated in places made for the punishment of crime and
reformation of criminals, but often failing of reaching the desired
result. Why is this failure? It must be from defect in the law or
prison discipline. Some think perhaps the rigid enforcement of the law
in its severest way is right, and that the prisoner should be shown no
mercy. But this is wrong in every detail and should be just the
reverse, so far as consistent with good order and discipline.

A judge in sentencing a prisoner should give a sentence consistent
with justice and mercy, regardless of public sentiment, considering
his own judgment, and not the possible consequences of his act on his
future. Until this is more generally practiced, I am afraid there will
be many too severe sentences passed on minor criminals and first
offenders, as now, which will work to the injury of the convicted
instead of his reformation. In my humble opinion, one year would give
the lesson desired to many a novice in crime who is now serving from
three to ten years. It should be remembered that short sentences give
a novice in crime a wholesome dread of the law and fear of prison
life, while custom and association with criminals tend to harden. The
cases of old offenders, require more severity as regards time of
confinement. Nor can we say to the jurors--or, rather, gentlemen of
the jury--be very careful of what you do. Don't treat the trust you
have in charge too lightly; give it all the consideration you are
masters of. Remember you have the liberty, and, perhaps the life, of
your fellowman at stake. Be very careful of what you do. Allow no
personal motive to interfere with your duty, for, if we believe in the
Bible, those who do so will answer in the hereafter for actions in
this life. Beware, then, of how you mete out justice to your
fellowman. Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Weigh
well the evidence given against the prisoner. If you find that there
is a motive on the part of the witnesses to convict the prisoner being
tried, you may rest assured they will trifle with the truth. In such
cases a juror should try and put himself in the defendant's place and
try to assume his feelings and condition, as much as possible, and see
how he would act in a like case. If all jurors would do this, I think
they would give a just and true verdict in nearly all cases. But I
fear as things are now they let the press have too much weight with
the rendering of a just verdict, and it may be of what their friends
will say to them if they have a different opinion. Yet the man who
does such a thing is a coward, a devil incarnate, and unfit to be at
large. Such action may be the cause of making a criminal out of a so
far really honest man. May God forgive them who recklessly tamper
with the liberty of their fellowman. Some may think I am not for
punishment of crime. If so, they are wrong. I believe in punishment of
crime. But I believe in tempering justice with mercy. There should be
no lingering doubt in a person's mind when he gives his verdict
against the prisoner. It is a very easy thing to place a man in
prison, but oh! so hard to get him out. A lie sworn to and believed is
one of the hardest things in the world to get righted. And I know from
personal experience what it is. Though it seems hard to say a lie is
more readily believed against a person charged with a crime than the
truth, yet it seems easier to a great many to believe bad rather than
good of their neighbor. Yet, thank God, it is not so with all. We have
many noble and true Christians yet in this vale of tears--gentlemen
and ladies who practice what they say by many kindly acts to the poor,
unhappy men who are unfortunate enough to get behind prison bars. God
bless them for such acts. It does not hurt them, and gives to the
unhappy prisoner a little happiness--a ray of sunshine through the
clouds that surround him. Continue your noble work. You will be the
gainer in the end, from the knowledge that you have done in the Lord's
work, if in no other way. Oh, could you see the happiness beam from
the eyes of some of those here, after the call of some who take
friendly interest in them, you would know the good they are doing.
Others seem to say: Oh, well, I am forgotten by all. Poor heart; what
a sad lot. It would seem the sooner that death ended their misery the
better. But while there is life there is hope. I must say that many
ladies of C---- are very kind in giving up their own pleasures on
Sundays that prisoners in this prison may have some little change in
their life. The visiting chaplains always bring a choir with them, and
to them we give our heartfelt thanks, with a God bless you. I love to
read of the progress made in these penal institutions where reform is
practiced. I am sure the prisoners must take an interest in it all,
for it is all for their own good. The Stillwater prison and Elmira
prison must be models of neatness and good order, with a perfect
system of discipline. It would be well for all prisons to copy them.
If prisons are supposed to be erected for the purpose of reformation,
why not make them in reality what they are intended to be? Of course,
there are many different kinds of crime committed by men of different
temperaments, all of which are thoroughly understood, or as nearly as
possible. For example, take the greatest crime committed in the eyes
of the law--murder--which is often called murder when there is no
ground for it. The public outcry when one man is unfortunate enough to
take the life of another at a time when he may have every reason to
believe his own life is in the greatest danger. The cry is raised by
some one, possibly an eye-witness--Murder! It is taken up by the press
and conveyed to every one, and possibly a slight coloring given to it.
The people believe it all. The consequence is the public mind is
prejudiced against the prisoner, and it takes a great amount of proof
by the defendant to change that belief, and should he not be able to
produce this evidence, in spite of all he can say he is convicted of
the crime of murder, when in reality he is guilty of manslaughter, if
anything. For, no matter how truthful a man he may be known to be, his
word, unsustained by evidence, is not accepted; while, on the other
side, no matter how untruthful a witness be known to be, he is given
credit for the truth. What kind of a state of affairs is this? No
wonder we often hear the cry go up from some poor wounded or crushed
heart saying: O, God, is there no mercy left in man? Is humanity
wholly dead? Must death overtake me here? Shunned I am by all whom I
once called friends--wife, children, it may be a brother--but never by
a mother, God bless her.

Let us take a look at this class of sufferers. What will we find them?
Idle? No. They are as a rule men attending to their work and
submitting to all the courtesies of life, only asking the same in
return. Surely, such cannot be very bad men, who, hearing the cry of
distress, respond at once to the appeal. I know some such to have a
heart as tender as a woman. Yet you will shut them up, it may be
forever. Don't understand me to say that murder is not committed. Of
course it is, and the law should deal with it accordingly. All true
men regret the taking of human life, even on the field of battle. How
much more so under other circumstances? And the causes are many which
make men do this; some of them hard to understand, may be. In many
cases of this kind they deserve punishment and should be punished.
But, for God's sake, let the punishment be consistent with justice and
mercy. If ten years is not sufficient punishment to make man control
himself in future, why not be merciful and kill him at once? For as we
hope for mercy, so must we show it to others. All other crimes should
be dealt with accordingly. Give a man a chance to reclaim himself.
Should he return to a life of crime in preference to an honest one,
the law has its remedy and can act accordingly. This is well worth a
trial, and by all means should be given one. But I hear some one who
never gave these things a thought say: How is this to be done? I will
answer, Very easily, if it receive the support of our legislative
body, by the recommendation of the state governor. Provide your
prisons with workshops of different kinds--provide them with schools,
and teach the prisoners how to make a living by some useful trade.
Give them a chance to improve themselves by an education. Make the
prison a place of reformation, one of improvement as well as
punishment, and instead of increasing crime you will reduce it, which
should be the aim of all having the good of their fellowman at heart,
and society will be the gainer. I would give a prisoner who would show
by his conduct a spirit of reform a parole after half of his time,
with conditions attached, as is done in the Minnesota state prison, so
that, should he fall back into his old way of living, he would be
returned to prison to serve out the remainder of his sentence. By this
means you to all intents and purposes hold a power over him, and he
will be very careful as to what he is about. This habit in time will
grow upon him and be the cause of making him a good citizen and
trustworthy member of society. To men serving life sentences I would,
on the recommendation of the prison warden, give a parole after
manslaughter sentence has been served. This is a class of men that
deserve some looking after by the kindly interest of humane persons.
Give them hope and encouragement. Do not leave them to their own
morbid thoughts; you cannot tell what drove them to an act they will
regret, whether in or out of prison. If hasty once, it is no reason to
suppose they will be so again. Why not, then, look after them? Let
some of you Christian people talk with them, and if you find they
ought to be assisted, help them. You know not what good you may do,
and without such aid a poor and friendless man in prison is without
hope. Will you, as Christians, let him die believing the word
Christianity a mockery? God forbid. I know there are many good
Christians that feel and mean what they say. But I am afraid that
many of the less courageous are deterred from doing all they would
like to do by the sneers of the hard, cruel world. But this should
only spur you on. If you feel you are right, push on; do not stop half
way.

In connection with the parole law we should have our prisoners graded
as first, second and third class, giving to the second grade or class
advantages above the third, and to the first above the second, giving
them a motive to reform their ways while yet in prison, and their
partial liberty from the first class by parole. By this means you
instill into the prisoner a habit for good which in time will take
root and prove a blessing, not only to the prisoner, but also a source
of pleasure to those bringing it about. It must be expected that some
will fall again; but why should the many suffer for the few? I have
heard and read such sayings as this: The worst men are the best
behaved while in prison if there is anything to be gained by it. I
dispute this. No man can control or hide his real nature for any great
length of time. Nature is bound to come to the surface sooner or
later. The officers and guards of a prison should be men strict in the
enforcement of the prison rules, humane and just in all their actions,
men who by their own actions and deportment will gain and hold the
respect of those under their charge. They should reward the good as
well as punish the evil in men. It would, in my humble opinion, be
nothing but true justice to the prisoner to put the whole power of
pardoning, commuting and paroling prisoners in the hands of the
governor. I do not say a judge will not give justice where clemency is
asked. But it may be the case that a judge on the board of pardons has
sentenced the prisoner, and probably in some way became prejudiced
against the applicant, and it might be the cause of influencing his
vote; consequently, it would look like a piece of injustice to the
prisoner to allow that judge to sit on his case. I think it would be
well for a governor to make himself perfectly acquainted with all
pertaining to the mode of life of the prisoners, as much as possible.
It ought to be remembered that when the prison doors close on a man
your duty is only half done to yourself, the prisoner and society at
large. He needs looking after mentally, morally and physically. Do not
leave him to his own morbid thoughts, but help him to forget his
surroundings as much as possible. Give him hope, for without hope we
are lost to ourselves and the world. It is possible some will say they
ought to be; but it must be a very heartless person who makes this
remark. Remember, while you are walking about to-day, feeling
self-conscious of your own strength to resist any and everything in
the line of temptation, the time may come when you will lose control
of yourself; or, it may be, some one dear to you will fall. In such
cases, how many excuses you can find for yourself or him. Can you find
none for those now suffering for the same? I feel impelled by some
power to speak of those very people in a few lines. Perhaps it may
catch their eye. Why will you follow one to prison with hate, malice
and persecution, one who would not harm a single hair of your head,
one who never had or has a single bitter thought against you, one that
nightly asks God's protection to you and yours? And yet you persecute
him, or it may be them, with all the might you can. Is it not enough
that he has lost home, friends, wife, children and happiness at one
false move? Is it not enough that he is condemned to a living death,
hearing every hour of the day the clang of the iron bars that shut him
out from the world, that separate him from all he loves? I say to you,
is this not enough to satisfy the most bitter feelings of any avowed
enemy? It ought to be. Yes, this ought to satisfy you without trying
to obliterate the memory of the father from the child's heart and
without denying him the privilege of communicating with them; without
denying him the pleasure of doing something for them and of one day
seeing them, which is all he has left to live for. To all to whom
these lines refer, who read them, I will say, change all this. Ask
God's help to give you strength to do right. In time you will feel a
restful peace come to you, and it will make you content, if not happy.
Try this, and may God in his mercy show you the way. And to all
prisoners who may be suffering from the persecution of injustice by
others, I will say the same. Say with all your heart: God forgive
them, they know not what they do. And you will always find a comfort
in helping one another. For as we hope to be forgiven, so must we
forgive. What use in saying the Lord's prayer--Forgive us our
trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us? We must
consider well the meaning of those lines, and if we cannot or do not
comply with all they mean it is better for us not to use them. I thank
God from my heart, I can say I forgive all my enemies. I have nothing
but a kindly feeling for all mankind. I do not mean to say that I am
not ruffled at times, for I am; I would not be human if I were not.

There is one class of men who come to prison that should command the
attention of our lawmakers--namely, married men. Not on their own
account, for they should pay the penalty of the law as well as
another, but on account of their families. It must be remembered that
when you take away the father and supporter of a family you leave them
without the means of support; and if the mother happens to be a sick
and weakly person, what is to become of them?

To be sure, we have the orphans' home and the alms-house, but this is
only taxing more heavily the already over-burdened taxpayers of the
country. Then it would be a commendable act of the legislative bodies
to enact laws to provide for the improvement of such married men and
give the earnings of their labor to their families. This, to me, looks
reasonable and just, and easy of accomplishment, and should be acted
upon by all means. Let me draw you a picture from my imagination: We
will visit a family who are in easy circumstances these cold nights.
What do we see? Well-clad and well-fed children, a happy, contented
look rests upon the wife's and husband's faces. Why should it not be
so? They have plenty to eat and wear; a full bin of coal. Again, visit
one where the husband may be languishing behind the prison bars, but
of the same class. It is not so cheerful, but still no want is felt,
and the father and husband, although chafing at confinement, feels
that his family is not in want. This, of course, will be a consolation
to him. Now let us visit another house, where they have always lived
from hand to mouth. The father is gone. The mother and children, poor
souls, ill-clad, ill-fed, and, my God, it may be, no fire. What a
picture to contemplate. It makes me shudder to think of it. Now come
with me behind the prison bars and see the head of this family.
Knowing the want and needs of his family, and knowing how impossible
it is for him to alleviate their suffering, it is enough to drive a
man insane. But, on the other hand, if this man could earn something
for his family's support, it would relieve his mind of a heavy burden.
Think well of this, and in the name of God change the law that
certainly works contrary to what it was intended for. As it now
stands, you simply provide punishment for the criminals. In so doing
you cause untold suffering and shame to innocent ones. In God's name,
let it cease to be so. Now, then, for fear I may tire the reader, I
will close. Very respectfully,

                                                               E.


                       CHRIST IN GETHSEMANE.

                                               ---- State Prison.

                                                January 18, 1886.

  Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton,
                 Prison Evangelist.

  My Dearest Sister:--

    "What might a single mind may wield,
    With Truth for sword and Faith for shield,
      And Hope to lead the way:
    Thus all high triumphs are obtained,
    From evil good--as God ordained
      The night before the day!"

"And being in an agony, He prayed."--St. Luke 22:44.

When the last supper was over, and the last hymn had been sung, our
Lord and His Apostles--with the one traitor fatally absent from their
number--went out of the city gate, and down the steep valley of the
Kidron to the green slope of Olivet beyond it. Solemn and sad was that
last walk together; and a weight of mysterious awe sank like lead upon
the hearts of those few poor Galileans as in almost unbroken
silence,--through the deep hush of the Oriental night,--through the
dark shadows of the ancient olive-trees,--through the broken gleams of
the Paschal moonlight,--they followed Him, their Lord and Master, who,
with bowed head and sorrowing heart, walked before them to His willing
doom.

That night they did not return as usual to Bethany, but stopped at the
little familiar garden of Gethsemane, or "the oilpress." Jesus knew
that the hour of His uttermost humiliation was near,--that from this
moment till the utterance of that great cry which broke His heart,
nothing remained for Him on earth, save all that the human frame can
tolerate of torturing pain, and all that the human soul can bear of
poignant anguish--till in that torment of body and desolation of soul,
even the high and radiant serenity of His divine spirit should suffer
a short but terrible eclipse. One thing alone remained before that
short hour began; a short space was left Him, and in that space He had
to brace His body, to nerve His soul, to calm His spirit by prayer and
solitude, until all that is evil in the power of evil should wreak its
worst upon His innocent and holy head. And He had to face that
hour,--to win that victory,--as all the darkest hours must be faced,
as all the hardest victories must be won--alone. It was not that He
was above the need of sympathy,--no noble soul is;--and perhaps the
noblest need it most. Though His friends did but sleep, while the
traitor toiled, yet it helped Him in His hour of darkness to feel at
least that they were near and that those were nearest who loved Him
most. "Stay here," He said to the little group, "while I go yonder and
pray." Leaving them to sleep, each wrapped in his outer garment on the
grass, He took Peter and James and John, the chosen of the chosen, and
went about a stone's-throw off. But soon even _their_ presence was
more than He could endure. A grief beyond utterance, a struggle beyond
endurance, a horror of great darkness, overmastered Him, as with the
sinking swoon of an anticipated death. He must be yet more alone, and
alone with God. Reluctantly He tore Himself away from their sustaining
tenderness, and amid the dark-brown trunks of those gnarled trees
withdrew from the moonlight into the deeper shade, where solitude
might be for Him the audience-chamber of His Heavenly Father. And
there, till slumber overpowered them, His three beloved Apostles were
conscious how dreadful was the paroxysm through which He passed. They
saw Him sometimes with head bowed upon His knees, sometimes lying on
His face in prostrate suffering upon the ground. And though amazement
and sore distress fell on them,--though the whole place seemed to be
haunted by Presences of good and evil struggling in mighty but silent
contest for the eternal victory,--yet, before they sank under the
oppression of troubled slumber, they knew that they had been the dim
witnesses of an unutterable agony, in which the drops of anguish which
dropped from His brow in that deathful struggle looked to them like
gouts of blood, and yet the burden of those broken murmurs in which He
pleaded with His Heavenly Father had been ever this, "If it be
possible,--yet not what I will, but what Thou wilt."

What is the meaning, my beloved sister, of this scene for us? What was
the cause of this midnight hour? Do you think that it was the fear of
death, and that that was sufficient to shake to its utmost center the
pure and innocent soul of the Son of Man? Could not even a child see
how inconsistent such a fear would be with all that followed;--with
that heroic fortitude which fifteen consecutive hours of sleepless
agony could not disturb;--with that majestic silence which overawed
even the hard Roman into respect and fear;--with that sovereign
ascendency of soul which flung open the golden gate of Paradise to the
repentant malefactor, and breathed its compassionate forgiveness on
the apostate priest? Could He have been afraid of death, in whose
name, and in whose strength, and for whose sake alone, trembling old
men, and feeble maidens, and timid boys have faced it in its worst
form without a shudder or a sigh? My friend, the dread of the mere act
of dying is a cowardice so abject that the meanest passions of the
mind can master it, and many a coarse criminal has advanced to meet
his end with unflinching confidence and steady step. And Jesus knew,
if any have ever known, that it is as natural to die as to be
born,--that it is the great birthright of all who love God;--that it
is God who giveth His beloved sleep. The sting of death--and its only
sting--is sin; the victory of the grave--and its only victory--is
corruption. And Jesus knew no sin, saw no corruption. No, that which
stained His forehead with crimson drops was something far deadlier
than death. Though sinless He was suffering for sin. The burden and
the mystery of man's strange and revolting wickedness lay heavy on His
soul; and with holy lips He was draining the bitter cup into which sin
had infused its deadliest poison. Could perfect innocence endure
without a shudder all that is detestable in human ingratitude and
human rage? Should there be no recoil of horror in the bosom of
perfect love to see His own,--for whom he came,--absorbed in one
insane repulsion against infinite purity and tenderness and peace? It
was a willing agony, but it was agony; it was endured for our sakes;
the Son of God suffered that He might through suffering become perfect
in infinite sympathy as a Savior strong to save.

And on all the full mysterious meaning of that agony and bloody sweat
it would be impossible now to dwell, but may we not for a short time
dwell with profit--may not every one whose heart--being free from the
fever of passion, and unfretted by the pettiness of pride--is calm and
meek and reverent enough to listen to the messages of God, even be
they spoken by the feeblest of human lips,--may we not all, I say,
learn something from this fragment of that thrilling story
that--"being in an agony, He prayed"?

    "The chosen three, on mountain height,
      While Jesus bowed in prayer,
    Beheld His vesture glow with light,
      His face shine wondrous fair."

To every one of us, I suppose, sooner or later the Gethsemane of life
must come. It may be the Gethsemane of struggle, and poverty and
care;--it may be the Gethsemane of long and weary sickness;--it may be
the Gethsemane of farewells that wring the heart by the deathbeds of
those we love;--it may be the Gethsemane of remorse, and of well-nigh
despair, for sins that we will not--but which we say we
cannot--overcome. Well, my dearest sister, in that Gethsemane--aye,
even in that Gethsemane of sin--no angel merely,--but Christ Himself
who bore the burden of our sins,--will, if we seek Him, come to
comfort us. He will, if being in agony, we pray. He can be touched, He
is touched, with the feeling of our infirmities. He, too, has trodden
the winepress of agony alone; He, too, has lain face downwards in the
night upon the ground; and the comfort which then came to Him He has
bequeathed to us--even the comfort, the help, the peace, the recovery,
the light, the hope, the faith, the sustaining arm, the healing
anodyne of prayer. It is indeed a natural comfort--and one to which
the Christian at least flies instinctively. When the water-floods
drown us,--when all God's waves and storms seem to be beating over our
souls,--when "Calamity comes like a deluge, and o'erfloods our crimes
till sin is hidden in sorrow"--oh, then, if we have not wholly
quenched all spiritual life within us, what can we do but fling
ourselves at the foot of those great altar stairs that slope through
darkness to God? Yes, being in an agony, we pray; and the talisman
against every agony is there.

And herein lies the great mercy and love of God, that we may go to
Him in our agony even if we have never gone before. Oh, if prayer were
possible only for the always good and always true, possible only for
those who have never forsaken or forgotten God,--if it were not
possible for sinners and penitents and those who have gone
astray,--then of how infinitely less significance would it be for
sinful and fallen man! But our God is a God of Love, a God of Mercy.
He is very good to us. The soul may come bitter and disappointed, with
nothing left to offer Him but the dregs of a misspent life;--the soul
may come, like that sad Prodigal, weary and broken, and shivering, and
in rags; but if it only come--the merciful door is open still, and
while yet we are a great way off our Father will meet and forgive and
comfort us. And then what a change is there in our lives! They are
weak no longer; they are discontented no longer; they are the slaves
of sin no longer. You have seen the heavens gray with dull and
leaden-colored clouds, you have seen the earth chilly and comfortless
under its drifts of unmelting snow: but let the sun shine, and then
how rapidly does the sky resume its radiant blue, and the fields laugh
with green grass and vernal flower! So will it be with even a withered
and a wasted life when we return to God and suffer Him to send His
bright beams of light upon our heart. I do not mean that the pain or
misery under which we are suffering will necessarily be removed,--even
for Christ it was not so; but peace will come and strength will come
and resignation will come and hope will come,--and we shall feel able
to bear anything which God shall send, and though He slays us we still
shall seek Him, and even if the blackest cloud of anguish seem to
shroud His face from us, even on that cloud shall the rainbow shine.

You do not think, my sister, that because God never rejects the prayer
of sinner or sufferer, that therefore we may go on sinning, trusting
to repent when we suffer. That would be a shameful abuse of God's
mercy and tenderness; it would be a frame of mind which would need
this solemn warning, that agony by no means always leads to prayer;
that it may come when prayer is possible no longer to the
long-hardened and long-prayerless soul. I know no hope so senseless,
so utterly frustrated by all experience, as the hope of what is called
deathbed repentance. Those who are familiar with many deathbeds will
tell you why. But prayer--God's blessed permission to us, to see Him
and to know Him, and to trust in Him--_that_ is granted us not for the
hours of death or agony alone, but for all life, almost from the very
cradle quite to the very grave. And it is a gift no less priceless for
its alleviation of sorrow than for its intensification of all innocent
joy. For him who would live a true life it is as necessary in
prosperity as in adversity,--in peace as in trouble,--in youth as in
old age. Here, too, Christ is our example. He lived, as we may live,
in the light of His Father's face. It was not only as the Man of
Sorrows, it was not only in the moonlit garden of His agony, or on the
darkening hills of His incessant toil, that prayer had refreshed His
soul; but often during those long unknown years in the little Galilean
village,--daily, and from childhood upwards, in sweet hours of peace,
kneeling amid the mountain lilies or on the cottage floor. Those
prayers are to the soul what the dew of God is to the flowers of the
field; the burning wind of the day may pass over them, and the stems
droop and the colors fade, but when the dew steals down at evening,
they will revive. Why should not that gracious dew fall even now and
always for all of us upon the fields of life? A life which has been
from the first a life of prayer,--a life which has thus from its
earliest days looked up consciously to its Father and its God,--will
always be a happy life. Time may fleet, and youth may fade,--as they
will, and there may be storm as well as sunshine in the earthly
career; yet it will inevitably be a happy career, and with a happiness
that cannot die. Yes, this is the lesson which I would that we all
might learn from the thought of Christ in the garden of
Gethsemane;--the lesson that Prayer may recall the sunshine even to
the dark and the frozen heart; but that there is no long winter, there
is no unbroken night, to that soul on which the Sun of Righteousness
has risen with healing in His wings.

And that because true prayer is always heard. We read in the glorious
old Greek poet of prayers which, before they reached the portals of
heaven were scattered by the winds; and indeed there are some prayers
so deeply opposed to the will of God, so utterly alien to the true
interests of men, that nothing could happen better for us than that
God should refuse, nothing more terrible than that He should grant
them in anger. So that if we pray for any earthly blessing we may pray
for it solely "if it be God's will"; "if it be for our highest good,"
but, for all the best things we may pray without misgiving, without
reservation, certain that if we ask God will grant them. Nay, even in
asking for them we may know that we have them,--for what we desire to
ask, and what we ask, we aim at, and what we aim at we shall attain.
No man ever yet asked to be, as the days pass by, more noble, and
sweet, and pure, and heavenly-minded,--no man ever yet prayed that the
evil spirits of hatred, and pride, and passion, and worldliness, might
be cast out of his soul,--without his petition being granted, and
granted to the letter. And with all other gifts God then gives us His
own self besides,--He makes us know Him, and love Him, and live in
Him. "Thou hast written well of me," said the Vision to the great
teacher of Aquinum, "what reward dost thou desire?" "Non aliam, nisi
te Domine"--"no other than Thyself, O Lord," was the meek and rapt
reply. And when all our restless, fretful, discontented longings are
reduced to this alone, the desire to see God's face;--when we have
none in Heaven but Him, and none upon earth whom we desire in
comparison of Him;--then we are indeed happy beyond the reach of any
evil thing, for then we have but one absorbing wish, and that wish
cannot be refused. Least of all can it be refused when it has pleased
God to afflict us.

"Ye now have sorrow," said Christ, "but I will see you again, and your
heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you." Yes, when
God's children pass under the shadows of the Cross of Calvary they
know that through that shadow lies their passage to the Great White
Throne. For them Gethsemane is as Paradise. God fills it with sacred
presences; its solemn silence is broken by the music of tender
promises; its awful darkness softened and brightened by the sunlight
of heavenly faces, and the music of angel wings.

    "I am baptized into thy name,
      O Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
    Among thy seed a place I claim,
      Among thy consecrated host;
    Buried with Christ and dead to sin,
      Thy Spirit now shall live within."

"And we have seen and do testify that the Father sent the Son to be
the Savior of the world."

                  Your Brother in Christ,

                                                            L. J.




                              DIRECTORY
                                 OF
                PENITENTIARIES, STATE REFORM SCHOOLS,
                    STATE INDUSTRIAL REFORMATORIES,
                      ETC., OF THE UNITED STATES
                             AND CANADA.


                       UNITED STATES PRISONS.

United States Penitentiary, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.

United States Penitentiary, Atlanta, Georgia.

United States Penitentiary, McNeil Island, Washington.

United States jails in the Indian Territory: Vinita, Muskogee, South
McAlester and Ardmore.

United States Jail, Fort Smith, Arkansas.

United States Jail, Guthrie, Oklahoma.

DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA.--District Jail, Reform School, and Reform School
for Girls, Washington.

There are several small United States jails in Alaska and within the
States occupying rented quarters.


                        STATE INSTITUTIONS.

ALABAMA.--Penitentiary, Wetumpka; two prisons at Pratt Mines. Boys'
Industrial School, East Lake.

ARIZONA.--Territorial Prison, Yuma.

ARKANSAS.--Penitentiary, Little Rock.

CALIFORNIA.--Prisons, Folsom and San Quentin. State Schools, Whittier
and Ione.

COLORADO.--Penitentiary, Canon City. Reformatory, Buena Vista. Reform
School for Girls, Denver. Industrial School for Girls, Morrison.
Industrial School for Boys, Golden.

CONNECTICUT.--Prison, Weathersfield. Reform School, Meridan.
Industrial School for Girls, Middletown.

DELAWARE.--Ferris Industrial School and Industrial School for Girls,
Wilmington.

FLORIDA.--Stockade Camps (13 in 1900). Prisoners farmed out, mining
phosphate. Reform School, Marianna.

GEORGIA.--Woman's Prison, Milledgville. Stockades at mines and farms;
prisoners leased.

IDAHO.--Penitentiary, Boise City.

ILLINOIS.--Penitentiaries, Joliet, Chester. Reformatory, Pontiac.
Industrial School for Girls, South Evanston. Home for Female
Offenders, Geneva. Erring Woman's Refuge, Chicago.

INDIANA.--Prisons, Jeffersonville, Michigan City. Woman's Prison, and
Reform School for Girls, Indianapolis. Reform School for Boys,
Plainfield.

IOWA.--Penitentiaries, Fort Madison, Animosa. Industrial Schools:
Boys, Eldora; Girls, Mitchelville.

KANSAS.--Penitentiary, Lansing. Reform School, Topeka. Industrial
Reformatory, Hutchinson. Industrial School for Girls, Beloit.

KENTUCKY.--Penitentiaries, Frankfort, Eddyville. Reform School,
Lexington. Industrial School of Reform, Louisville.

LOUISIANA.--Penitentiary, Baton Rouge. Boys' House of Refuge, New
Orleans.

MAINE.--Prison, Thomaston. Reform School, South Portland. Industrial
School for Girls, Hallowell.

MARYLAND.--Penitentiary, Baltimore. House of Refuge for Boys, Female
House of Refuge, and St. Mary's Industrial School, Baltimore.
Industrial Home for Colored Girls, Melvale. House of Reformation for
Colored Boys, Cheltenham.

MASSACHUSETTS.--Prison, Charlestown. Reformatory, Concord. Reformatory
Prison for Women, Sherborn. Industrial School for Girls, Lancaster.
Lyman School for Boys, Westboro. State Primary School, Monson.

MICHIGAN.--Prison, Jackson. Branch prison and House of Correction,
Marquette. House of Correction and Reformatory, Ionia. Industrial
School for Boys, Lansing. Industrial Home for Girls, Adrian.

MINNESOTA.--Prison, Stillwater. Reformatory (for 16 to 30 years old),
St. Cloud. State Training School, Redwing.

MISSISSIPPI.--Penitentiary, Jackson. Farms.

MISSOURI.--Penitentiary, Jefferson City. Reform School for Boys,
Boonville. Industrial Home for Girls, Chillicothe. House of Refuge,
St. Louis.

MONTANA.--Prisons, Deer Lodge, Billings. Reform School, Miles City.

NEBRASKA.--Penitentiary, Lincoln. Industrial School for Boys, Kearney.
Industrial School for Girls, Geneva.

NEVADA.--Prison, Carson City.

NEW HAMPSHIRE.--Prison, Concord. Industrial School, Manchester.

NEW JERSEY.--Prison and Industrial School for Girls, Trenton. Reform
School, Jamesburg.

NEW MEXICO.--Penitentiary, Santa Fe.

NEW YORK.--Prisons, Sing Sing, Auburn (also one for women).
Reformatories, Elmira; Ellensville; Bedford. Institutions also at New
York, Buffalo, Rochester, Syracuse, Hudson and Albion.

NORTH CAROLINA.--Penitentiary, Raleigh. Prisoners mostly on State
Farms.

NORTH DAKOTA.--Penitentiary, Bismark.

OHIO.--Penitentiary, Columbus. Reformatory, Mansfield. Industrial
School, Boys, Lancaster; Girls, Delaware. House of Refuge, Cincinnati.

OREGON.--Penitentiary, Reform School, Salem.

PENNSYLVANIA.--Penitentiaries, Philadelphia, Allegheny. Industrial
Reformatory, Huntingdon. Reform School, Morganza. House of
Correction, Philadelphia. House of Refuge, Glen Mills.

RHODE ISLAND.--Prison, Work House and House of Correction,
Sockanosset. School for Boys, and Oaklawn School for Girls, Howard.

SOUTH CAROLINA.--Penitentiary, Columbia. State Farms.

SOUTH DAKOTA.--Penitentiary, Sioux Falls. Reform School, Plankinton.

TENNESSEE.--Penitentiaries, Nashville, Petros. Industrial School,
Nashville.

TEXAS.--Penitentiaries, Huntsville, Rusk. House of Correction and
Reformatory, Gatesville.

UTAH.--Penitentiary, Salt Lake City. Reform School, Ogden.

VERMONT.--Prison, Windsor. House of Correction, Rutland. Industrial
School, Vergenes.

VIRGINIA.--Penitentiary, Richmond. Laurel Industrial School, Glen
Allen.

WASHINGTON.--Penitentiary, Walla Walla. Reform School, Chehalis.

WEST VIRGINIA.--Penitentiary, Moundsville. Reform School for Boys,
Pruntytown. Girls' Industrial School, Salem.

WISCONSIN.--Prison, Waupun. Reformatory, near Green Bay. Industrial
School for Boys, Waukesha. For Girls and Boys, Milwaukee.

WYOMING.--Penitentiary, Rawlins.


                           PRISONS IN CANADA.

Penitentiaries or Prisons, Kingston, Toronto, St. Vincent de Paul,
Dorchester, New Westminster, and Stony Mountain.

       *       *       *       *       *

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                  *       *       *       *       *

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RELIGIOUS BOOKS

THAT STIR THE SOUL



Books worth having. Books that record facts. Books that do good and
permanent good. Books that reveal heaven and hell. Books that melt
hearts to tears. Books that awaken conviction and WIN SOULS. Books
that people love NEXT TO THEIR BIBLES. See list below.

HALF MILLION SOLD

ALL BOOKS ARE UNIFORM IN SIZE. 5 x 8 INCHES

=The Great Revival in Wales=, Shaw. Compiled, Concise, Complete.
Includes full account of Great Revival in Ireland in 1859. In great
demand 256 pages.

  Cloth 75c Paper 25c

=Miracles in the Slums=, Rees. Timely, True, Touching, Rightly named. 40
illustrations. Selling fast. 304 pages. Cloth $1.00

=Spiritual Flashlights=, Perry. New, Neat, Nothing like it. Selected
from hundreds of writers. 153 topics. Alphabetically arranged. 408
pages. Cloth $1.00

=Old Time Religion=, Shaw. Primitive, Pathetic, Powerful. Contains
accounts of greatest revivals since Pentecost. Stirs hearts, wins
souls, and will help to bring about an old time revival. 288 pages.

  Cloth $1.00 paper 35c

=Wayside Sketches=, Cooke. Bright, Bracing, Biographical. 28
illustrations. 382 pages. Cloth $1.00

=Touching Incidents and Remarkable Answers to Prayer=, Shaw. Attractive,
Absorbing, Authentic. 300,000 sold. 320 pages.

  Cloth $1.00 Paper 35c

=Children's Edition of Touching Incidents=, Shaw. 42 illustrations. 128
pages. 125,000 sold.

  Cloth 60c Board 35c

=Dying Testimonies of Saved and Un-Saved=, Shaw. True, Thrilling,
Triumphant. 160,000 sold. 320 pages.

  Cloth $1.00 Paper 35c

=The Men Behind the Bars=, Sanders. Interesting, Instructive,
Illustrated. 320 pages. Cloth $1.00

=God's Financial Plan=, Shaw. Searching, Scriptural, Spiritual. Largest
sale of any book of its theme ever published. 320 pages.

  Cloth $1.00 Paper 35c

=Traits of Character=, Kletzing. Elevating, Entertaining, Excellent. 180
illustrations. Cloth $1.00

  Any =FOUR= of the above books sent POST PAID to one address,

  Cloth $3.00 Paper $1.10

  Any THREE of the above books sent =POST PAID= to one address,

  Cloth $2.50 Paper 90c


ONE THOUSAND AGENTS WANTED

WRITE FOR TERMS AND LARGE ILLUSTRATED CATALOGUE

  Address, S. B. SHAW, Publisher,

  212-214 W. Chicago Avenue, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS.


       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's note:

Page xviii: In the table of contents for CHAPTER XI., the transcriber
has changed the incorrect page number 88 to 87.

Page xix: In the table of contents the words "CHAPTER XVIII" are
missing and have been added by the transcriber.

Page 169: "who was chosen of God as the agent". The transcriber has
inserted the word "as" where a blank space occurred.

Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).

Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).

Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.

Variations in spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have been retained
except in obvious cases of typographical error.