Kitabı oku: «Prisons and Prayer; Or, a Labor of Love»

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.

 
"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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

PRISON EVANGELIST

(From the Mission Worker, New Orleans.)

"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

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