Here the woman began that song joined by the congregation, a large number of whom got happy. It required the efforts of several of the colored portion of the congregation to hold down one sister who wore a straw hat and got shouting happy and paid no attention to her surroundings.
After a short talk by Rev. B., colored, the congregation was dismissed.
MRS. ELIZABETH R. WHEATON LECTURES ON THE IMPORTANCE OF CONVERSION—SHE SAYS THE HARDEST PEOPLE TO CONVERT ARE PREACHERS.
As a News reporter and a News special artist, guided by a friendly star, wended their muddy way last night to the little negro church upon the hill at Oak Cliff, they overtook two solemn looking figures going up an incline. One of them proved to be the famous prison evangelist, Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton. This lady turned her face to the News emissaries and inquired in a sweet silvery tone:
"Going to church, brothers?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Oh, God bless you, brothers, come on."
A few minutes later the church was reached. The penitent sister with the white bonnet, who was inspired on the previous night and started to shouting, had already arrived, as also had the good sister who called on the baseball man to run from the devil. What influence drives those simple worshipers to shouting and to imitate flying, is a question for the psychologists. Certain it is that the little and the great are linked together in this life and perhaps the present is linked to the future. Quien sabe. The meeting last night was free from shouting, but fervid with emotion. On arriving in front of the church Mrs. Wheaton turned her face to the pale moon, which had sailed high in the heavens, and sang "Sweet are the tidings that greet the pilgrims' ear." As she sung she gesticulated and her gray hair shone like silver. She had not gone beyond the third line of the said stirring hymn before the penitents inside of the church started to sing a hymn and then the scene was as impressive as the music was discordant. The hymns over, Mrs. Wheaton knelt on the wet ground and prayed while Deacon Banks did likewise inside of the church. The interjections were so many that he was forced to use short sentences.
"Come one, come all, while it is day."
"O, yes, Lord, we come, we'se a'comin'."
"O Lord, put the move on and call us away."
"O, yes, good Lord, we come."
At this point Mrs. Wheaton entered and ascended the low pulpit from which, for a moment, she silently surveyed the assembled multitude of black faces. She was wreathed in smiles, looking like the sun of righteousness shining on a dark, murky cloud of suffering humanity.
"God grant," she observed, "that nobody goes down to the lake of fire." "God grant it, ma-a-a-m." "Oh-oh-bo-bo." "Nobody knows de trouble I see," and any number of exclamations each giving vent to an exclamation suited to the feelings of the penitent. The mention of fire seemed to cause a panic among the good colored people with a single exception. He was a dude who did not deign to sit down, but stood near the door seemingly watching the females. Only once did he drop on his knees and that was when he discovered the News artist in the act of tracing his outlines on the flyleaf of a prayer book.
Mrs. Wheaton then lectured upon the importance of conversion. As she proceeded, describing the fate of convicts and other sufferers, the iron of the ways of the world seemed to enter her soul and she wept. Nobody who hears her doubts her sincerity. She does not criticise the fallen; she weeps for them. The folks in heaven do the same. Only once last night did she criticise, and she said she did it for a benevolent purpose, and as she did it (as indeed throughout her entire remarks) the colored woman with the man's straw hat interlarded her remarks with her own opinions rendered in a whanging, chanting voice. This was how it ran: "The churches have got away from the old land marks [yes, ma'am; deed they has, ma'am]. It is hard, hard work to reach preachers [yes, ma'am; yes, ma'am]. The big white preachers and the colored preachers are nearly just as bad [O Lord, yes; good Lord ye-e-s, ma'am.] They put on plug hats, jewelry and the trickery of the devil. If preachers would do their duty I would not have to visit the penitentiaries. Oh, the hardest work I have is to preach to preachers. [Dat's so, ma'am; dat's so!] How many of you are living in lasciviousness, the sin that's hidden but that God sees? It is going on in the churches among some of the preachers. [Ah, yes, ma'am: good Lord! Deed'n 'tis, ma'am]. Ah! I have got to go to judgment and I will tell you the truth. There are other sins, but I do not want to mention them because I feel that you know all about them; but they won't be hidden and unless you have a pure spirit and a clean heart you can never see the face of God. Now say you will sin no more. [Several voices in alto: A-a-a-men.] These white churches," proceeded Mrs. Wheaton, "are a little worse than the colored churches, for there is a little Holy Ghost left in the colored churches. Oh, how many of those white church members are going down to hell! It grieves me to think of it. I'm going to meet some of you in glory. After I get there the first ones I want to see crowned are the poor convicts who have been murdered on the scaffold after they had turned their faces to God, and those poor convicts who have suffered, oh, you know not how much, how much, without human sympathy."
At this point a sad-looking man volunteered a hymn, during the singing of which much of Mrs. Wheaton's remarks were drowned. Mrs. Wheaton resumed: "It troubles my heart to see the people drifting down, down to hell. I feel like getting down to the foot of the cross and crying mercy. For the attractions of this world I have no use; I have no use for newspaper puffs. [They's no good, ma'am: yes, ma'am.]"
The way in which the penitents chimed in as Mrs. Wheaton proceeded rendered it impossible to report her fully. The best that could be done was to catch sentences on the fly. The stronger she appeared to her colored listeners to seek for mercy the longer they sought it. Their bodies were moved by their souls. Some swayed from side to side; others placed their faces on their hands and wept; others wrung their hands, and there was weeping and wailing.
This was the state of affairs at the conclusion of the address. Just then Deacon Banks started a hymn and a few others drifted off into different familiar hymns, so that the music was varied. It was a spontaneous outburst of songs of praise from away down in the bottom of afflicted hearts which pays no attention to the measures of music. The singing was awful. One female screeched and no two voices were in harmony.
At the conclusion of the hymn a deacon kneeling by a chair prayed, striking the chair with his fists while a hundred voices accompanied him. It was impossible to follow him throughout, but among other things he said: "I know that hell is broad and eternity too long. Oh King, King, Lord have mercy on us. Guide us by the still water's side and give us new pastures. Bless this congregation in the hollow of thy hand, amen."
Mrs. Wheaton informed the News reporter that she will not go to Galveston.—Dallas News.
"MOTHER" WHEATON CALLS AT COUNTY JAIL AND FEDERAL PENITENTIARY.—KNOWN ALL OVER THE WORLD.—TWENTY-ONE YEARS OF HER LIFE DEVOTED TO LABOR AMONG UNFORTUNATES OF MANY NATIONS.
"I trust in God and the railroad men."
This is the explanation of her ability to carry on her work, expressed by "Mother" Wheaton, the prison evangelist, who has an international reputation for her work in the penitentiaries of the United States, Canada, Mexico and Europe. Mother Wheaton is in Tacoma carrying on her work among prisoners, work that has taken her into every penitentiary in the United States and Canada. For over twenty-one years she has carried the gospel to the men in stripes and to those who wear the broad arrow of England's displeasure, and it is Mother Wheaton's boast that during all that time she has never asked for a contribution or received a cent of salary.
Mother Wheaton came to Tacoma from her headquarters in Tabor, Ia., accompanying Miss Grace Yarrette, a young woman who is going as a missionary to India.
There is no woman in the world, and perhaps no man, who has had the prison experience of Mother Wheaton. The last twenty years of her life have virtually been spent inside prison walls, and there is not many in the country in which she is not a familiar figure. Long terms and lifers all over the land know her. Frequently she inquires for some prisoner whom death or the leniency of the law has released, whom she has not seen or heard of for years.
Dressed in a soft gray suit, with a gray bonnet, Mother Wheaton's appearance is distinctly motherly, and her smile the personification of kindness and tenderness further bears out the "Mother" by which she is known to thousands of unfortunates. She is the guest of Mrs. Ellen M. Bates, 1211 North Prospect street. She is at work from the time she arises in the morning until services are over in the evening. While her principal work is in the prisons and penitentiaries she takes part in evangelical and religious work and finds time to visit rescue homes where her advice is eagerly sought.
"Experiences?" Mother Wheaton exclaimed, when asked if her life had not been productive of many events out of the ordinary run. "Experiences, why I have had so many and such varied experiences that they are all a jumble in my head. I have been in nearly every prison in the land. I have consoled men who were but a few feet from the gallows and I have held the hand of those unfortunates as they sank into their last sleep in a cheerless prison hospital.
"I have seen sights that made my blood run cold and then I have had the joy of seeing the word of God prevail and the most case-hardened sinners the human mind could conceive of have reformed before me. It has been a curious mixture of sunshine and shadows, but after twenty-one years I think I can say that the sunshine has predominated. I put my trust in God for my work and I trust the railroad men for transportation, and between the two I believe I have been fairly successful."
"I have spent nights in the toughest slums of New York, Chicago and St. Louis, places where men by force of habit always carry their hand near their hip pocket, and I have not always been welcomed. Sometimes I have been roughly handled, yes, indeed. Why, one time I was mistaken for Carrie Nation. Of course I don't look like Carrie Nation, and I would never think of adopting smashing methods. I was holding services in San Pedro, California, one night, and went into a saloon. There were two bright looking young men standing at the bar and I asked them to come with me. The owner of the saloon was sitting at a faro table in the back end of the saloon, and as soon as he caught sight of me he rushed at me and literally threw me out into the street.
"When he learned afterwards who I was he was very sorry and avowed that he would never have treated me in that manner had he not thought that I was Carrie Nation and that I had a hatchet to chop up his expensive bar fixtures."
"As sad an experience as I ever had in my life was my effort to save the life of a young man who was condemned to hang in Colorado. I heard of the case through the young man's mother, who was heart-broken. I interceded with Governor Peabody and secured a reprieve for a year, and when Governor McDonald took office he fixed the date for the death of the young man. I tried to save him the second time, but public sentiment demanded his death. I don't believe in capital punishment. I have seen how a man can be punished in prison and I don't believe in taking a life to avenge a life, for stripped of all the specious arguments which surround capital punishment, it simmers down to nothing more than revenge."
"I think I established a prison visiting record upon one trip. I visited five penitentiaries in as many states in a week. I started at Deer Lodge, Montana; from there I went to Boise, Idaho; then to Rawlins, Wyo.; then to Salt Lake City, and from Salt Lake City to Lincoln, Nebraska, all of which I call pretty fast traveling. I hold meetings on the train, in depots, at water tanks, any place I can gather a little knot of people together, and I could tell of some queer conversions in out of the way places, the last places in the world where you would expect the seed to sprout and bear fruit.
"I was over to the federal prison on McNeil's Island Saturday, and this morning I went to the county hospital. This afternoon I called at the county jail. I will be here a day or so longer and then must start East, as I have work to do in New York City. You see I will have to stop at the prisons on the way back and I have to make allowances for delays."
Mother Wheaton has become interested in Grace Russell, the young woman in the county jail, who is addicted to the use of morphine. Mother Wheaton will try to secure a place for her in some home.—Tacoma, Washington, paper of July 31, 1905.
I give the following extract from a Baltimore paper published while I was there attending the Convocation of Prayer in that city, January, 1903:
SPIRITUAL ADVISER OF FAMOUS CRIMINALS.
WORK OF "MOTHER" WHEATON IN PRISONS ALL OVER THE LAND.
For twenty years Mrs. Wheaton has been traveling throughout the United States, Europe, Canada and Mexico, working among prisoners in hundreds of prisons and penitentiaries. On a number of occasions she has converted criminals under death sentence. She has preached in the Maryland Penitentiary.
Mrs. Wheaton came to Baltimore direct from Ohio, where she had been holding prayer in the cells of the state prison with eight men condemned to die. She was in San Francisco a number of years ago when Alexander Goldenson killed his sweetheart, Mamie Kelly, and after Goldenson had been tried, convicted and sentenced to death "Mother" Wheaton prayed with him for forty days. The day of the execution, September 14, 1888, he was converted through her instrumentality, and just before walking to the gallows she tied her silk handkerchief about the condemned man's neck.
OLD-TIMERS AT COUNTY JAIL GREET MRS. WHEATON AS LONG-TIME FRIEND.
Mrs. Elizabeth R. Wheaton, of Tabor, Ia., famous in this and other countries as a worker among the inmates of jails and penitentiaries, yesterday morning went to the county jail and prayed and sang hymns with the prisoners in the tanks.
Although her time was very much circumscribed, Mrs. Wheaton shook hands with most of the prisoners, many of whom had heard of her, and some of whom had met her in other prisons. John King, awaiting his transportation to Walla Walla, and one of the most admittedly professional criminals in the jail, stated that he had met "Mother Wheaton" several times before, both at Salem and at Walla Walla.
Both he and J. H. Le Roy, another old-timer, had many anecdotes to tell of her kindnesses in past years.—Paper of August 9, 1905.
The above sketch was accompanied by a cut from protograph taken by the reporter and a nicely finished photograph presented me. From this photograph the cut was made that is inserted at the beginning of this chapter.—E. R. W.
The above sketch was accompanied by a cut from protograph taken by the reporter and a nicely finished photograph presented me. From this photograph the cut was made that is inserted at the beginning of this chapter.—E. R. W.
INMATES OF COUNTY JAIL BOW IN PRAYER WITH MOTHER WHEATON.
On bended knees and with low bowed heads nine prisoners at the county jail reverently followed a prayer addressed to the throne of grace in their behalf yesterday by Mother Wheaton, the noted prison evangelist. Under the remarkable influence of the woman who came among them as a messenger of soul-saving, every rough instinct of the men was quelled and every scoffing word hushed on their lips. No more devout prayer meeting was ever held in a sanctuary than that which took place in the jail corridor.
Mother Wheaton and a younger woman called upon the prisoners and sang a song such as the men might have heard their mothers or sisters sing in the long ago, when their feet had not strayed from youthful paths of innocence. If there was any inclination to ridicule or make light of the service at the start, it was entirely subdued inside of five minutes. Mother Wheaton talked to the men and told of the work she has been doing for twenty years among the inmates of jails and penitentiaries. She declared that she and her assistant wanted to help save them.
There was no hesitation whatever when Mother Wheaton asked the prisoners to get down on their knees. One and all, the nine assumed the attitude of humble submission to the deity and remained in that position until their patroness had finished her petition for the pardoning of their sins. Some of the men were seen to blink significantly and wipe their eyes with handkerchiefs. When the prayer was done and another hymn rendered, the men joining in, hands were shaken all around before the visitors departed.
Mother Wheaton has been coming to the Council Bluffs jail for several years. She was in the city on her way from Nevada to Wisconsin.—Council Bluffs Paper.
Who will man the life-boat, who the storm will brave?Many souls are drifting helpless on the wave;See their hands uplifted; hear their bitter cry:"Save us ere we perish, save us ere we die!"See! amid the breakers yonder vessel toss'd,Onward to the rescue, haste, or all is lost;Waves that dash around us cannot overwhelm,While our faithful Pilot standeth at the helm.Darker yet, and darker grows the fearful night,Sound the trump of mercy, flash the signal light;Bear the joyful message o'er the raging wave,Christ, the heavenly Pilot, comes the lost to save.Who will man the life-boat, who will launch away?Who will help to rescue dying souls to-day?Who will man the life-boat, who will breast the wave?All its dangers braving, precious souls to save?
Who will man the life-boat, who the storm will brave?Many souls are drifting helpless on the wave;See their hands uplifted; hear their bitter cry:"Save us ere we perish, save us ere we die!"
See! amid the breakers yonder vessel toss'd,Onward to the rescue, haste, or all is lost;Waves that dash around us cannot overwhelm,While our faithful Pilot standeth at the helm.
Darker yet, and darker grows the fearful night,Sound the trump of mercy, flash the signal light;Bear the joyful message o'er the raging wave,Christ, the heavenly Pilot, comes the lost to save.
Who will man the life-boat, who will launch away?Who will help to rescue dying souls to-day?Who will man the life-boat, who will breast the wave?All its dangers braving, precious souls to save?
—Sel.
The dear Lord wants workers, both men and women, whom He can trust in every line of Christian work, and what do Christians most need in order to be successful soul-winners for God?
First of all, it is to be born of the Spirit; then to be filled with the Holy Spirit, whereby we are sealed unto God. Then the fruits of the Spirit will be manifest in our lives. Of course, we should not presume to go out as mission workers without a divine call from God.
The first thing, then, is to know God and then to know ourselves as utterly helpless without the cleansing power of the blood of Christ on our own souls. Then the especial anointing for service in the vineyard of the Lord. If to these be added a thorough knowledge of human nature and a sincere desire for the salvation of souls, then the glory of God will be revealed in us and we will be forgetful of self and alive to the needs of others. We must see men and women lost, going down to eternal death and must reach them at any cost and be willing to gladly suffer the loss of all things that we might gain Christ and win souls for Him.
We should acquire from the Lord the gift of adaptation to any and all kinds of work, people and places. We must see the people from their own standpoint and then from God's standpoint and then have implicit confidence in God and in the power of the blood of Jesus to cleanse from all sin. We must be humble and meek and yet strong, through faith in God and His promises. Is anything too hard for the Lord? And has He not told us, "Greater works than these shall ye do because I go unto my Father?" Is He not at the Father's right hand, interceding for us and for the souls to whom He sends us?
We must be all things to all men that we might win some. We must watch for opportunities for service and be quick to use them when they are given us. We must be ready to launch out into the deep at the Master's command. We must have grace, not only to serve, but if need be, to die, in order that souls might be saved—souls that are going to destruction for the want of a kind word or a helping hand at just the right time. I have often found them upon the verge of suicide. Men and women in despair, both in prison and outside, were goaded into desperation and the enemy of their souls was urging them to end it all—that nobody cared, and God had forgotten them.
How glad I have been to clasp their hand and tell them there was One who cared; that He loved them still and I have seen the long pent-up tears start from their eyes and hope has sprung up once more in their desolate hearts. I hope to hear God say in the Day of Judgment of some, "Here are the discouraged, the tempted and tried ones, who were almost lost, but who were won through your faithfulness." To God be all the glory.
We must not seek our own ease. Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, would have died in agony, only that an angel came and ministered unto Him, yet he prayed, "Not My will, but Thine be done." Such must be our heartfelt cry and we must abandon ourselves to God's will in all things and forgetting ourselves and the opinions of the World, seek to please Him only. Then He will make even our enemies be at peace with us.
Multitudes all about us are going down to despair for want of true love such as Jesus had when He said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do," and "Neither do I condemn thee; go and sin no more."
Having this spirit, God has promised to furnish us unto every good work. That is, every work to which He calls us. We each have our responsibility to meet, our especial capability, our gift or talent. Then let us adapt ourselves to the work which God has given us to do—not ignoring the work of others, nor lording it over God's heritage, but each abiding in the calling wherein we are called, having charity for all, whether saints or sinners. Surely, with the field so wide and the work so great, there is the greatest need for love and the unity of the Spirit among all Christians. Why there are so many divisions, I know not. I find true and earnest hearts among all classes, all denominations and all nationalities.
Jesus prayed, before He ascended on high, for his children, that they all might be one as He and the Father were one—one in purpose and one in heart. If we manifest this oneness, sinners will come flocking home to God and souls will be saved and God will get all the glory. The lack of oneness among God's people stands in the way of souls and the poor and ignorant are at a loss as to what to think or believe.
Surely, there was never greater need for Holy Ghost, Spirit-filled Christian workers than now, when false doctrine is proclaimed on every side and in every form. But let Christians unite, losing sight of everything but God and souls and it will not be long until God will fulfill his promise that a nation shall be born in a day. Oh, that there might be a rallying of all of God's true children of every class and nationality; that they might, with united forces, charge upon the enemy and soon the world, which now seems to be at variance, would be won for God and for our Christ.
The masses are not reachedthrough the ordinary channels of the churches. Look at the need of the Gospel being carried to the railroad and street-car men, the soldiers, sailors, policemen, firemen, and postmen. Are we seeking to reach the people? We must get the love of God in our hearts to that degree that we will not only be willing to suffer, but to die for them, and mean it—mean business, and fast and pray and call mightily on God for help and direction, and look to Him for results. Don't expect an easy time—don't let us expect to be above our Master. Jesus had no place to lay His head. He went among the despised, the poor, the fallen, the lowest of earth; and if He were to return now, how many of us would He find filling the places appointed us?
The Lord is ready to do exceeding abundantly above all we can think or ask, and will bless every unselfish effort on our part to help save a lost world. When the end comes for you and me, dear one, let us have our lamps trimmed and burning, ready to go in to the marriage supper of the Lamb, which is to soon take place.
God help us do our part, to be instant in season and out of season; to keep free in our souls; to be filled with the spirit of Jesus; to be ever ready with a kind word, a "God bless you," a silent prayer, a warm hand-clasp. Let us be quick to follow the leadings of the Holy Spirit, humbling ourselves under the mighty hand of God. Let us take a firmer hold on God and be ourselves in His hands. Let us see our own responsibility as God sees it, and by His grace measure up to it.
Then the hosts of hell shall not be able to prevail against us and God will use us to his glory, and with hearts filled with love and compassion, we will go forward and God will go with us and give us victory.
Some years ago the Lord made plain to me that I should support a famine orphan in India, and since that time He has enabled me to give twenty dollars per year for the support of my adopted son, John Ryder Wheaton, named for my brother, who departed this life a few years ago, and for myself. I give his picture and a copy of his first letter to me, translated by one of the missionaries; also some letters from Brother and Sister Jarvis, in charge of the Orphanage in Lahore, India. We ask the prayers of our readers for this dear boy, and if God should lay it upon any of your hearts to provide for one of these famine orphans, any money sent to the Missionary Home in Tabor, Iowa, will be promptly forwarded to any orphanage or missionary you may designate. God has laid this boy upon my heart, and the tie is dearer, perhaps, because I am alone in the world, having laid my only child in the grave with my husband. My heart was touched when I received this letter from John's own hand, and sometimes I long to see and know him for myself. He is being trained for a missionary, and when my labors are ended, I hope to see him coming home from India, bringing his trophies with him—precious souls from his own native land, and that there we may praise the Lord through all eternity together.Lahore, Frontier Faith Mission, April 12, 1904.—Dear Mama:—Salam, I am well by the grace of Lord Jesus Christ, and hope you are well. Matter is this that I live here very happy, few days ago that the fever and cough attacked me so I went to the hospital, now I am well and do my duty. I learned the work of Gardener. I pray every day. May God help me and make me His true Christian and grant me abundant grace. I also hope that you do pray for me. I pray for you. Here are all well. I am also with other boys well. My compliment to you,Your son,John Wheaton,Head Gardener.
Some years ago the Lord made plain to me that I should support a famine orphan in India, and since that time He has enabled me to give twenty dollars per year for the support of my adopted son, John Ryder Wheaton, named for my brother, who departed this life a few years ago, and for myself. I give his picture and a copy of his first letter to me, translated by one of the missionaries; also some letters from Brother and Sister Jarvis, in charge of the Orphanage in Lahore, India. We ask the prayers of our readers for this dear boy, and if God should lay it upon any of your hearts to provide for one of these famine orphans, any money sent to the Missionary Home in Tabor, Iowa, will be promptly forwarded to any orphanage or missionary you may designate. God has laid this boy upon my heart, and the tie is dearer, perhaps, because I am alone in the world, having laid my only child in the grave with my husband. My heart was touched when I received this letter from John's own hand, and sometimes I long to see and know him for myself. He is being trained for a missionary, and when my labors are ended, I hope to see him coming home from India, bringing his trophies with him—precious souls from his own native land, and that there we may praise the Lord through all eternity together.
Lahore, Frontier Faith Mission, April 12, 1904.—Dear Mama:—Salam, I am well by the grace of Lord Jesus Christ, and hope you are well. Matter is this that I live here very happy, few days ago that the fever and cough attacked me so I went to the hospital, now I am well and do my duty. I learned the work of Gardener. I pray every day. May God help me and make me His true Christian and grant me abundant grace. I also hope that you do pray for me. I pray for you. Here are all well. I am also with other boys well. My compliment to you,
Your son,
John Wheaton,Head Gardener.
JOHN RYDER WHEATON, INDIA FAMINE BOY.JOHN RYDER WHEATON, INDIA FAMINE BOY.
Frontier Faith Mission and Orphanage, Lahore, N. India, Dec. 11, 1901.—Dear Sister Wheaton—We have chosen for you a bright little boy by the name of Ruthena, about ten years old. He is one of our brightest little boys, one that bids fair to be something for God. He is a shoemaker by trade and is doing well at it. We are endeavoring to teach the boys trades, wanting them to be like Paul where they can preach the Gospel while they make tents for a living. Ruthena is a bright boy in every way and will be named John Ryder as you wished. We do not have time to write often but our hearts are with you.Yours for India's redemption,Laura E. Jarvis.
Frontier Faith Mission and Orphanage, Lahore, N. India, Dec. 11, 1901.—Dear Sister Wheaton—We have chosen for you a bright little boy by the name of Ruthena, about ten years old. He is one of our brightest little boys, one that bids fair to be something for God. He is a shoemaker by trade and is doing well at it. We are endeavoring to teach the boys trades, wanting them to be like Paul where they can preach the Gospel while they make tents for a living. Ruthena is a bright boy in every way and will be named John Ryder as you wished. We do not have time to write often but our hearts are with you.
Yours for India's redemption,
Laura E. Jarvis.
Lahore, N. India, Sept. 18, 1902.—My Dear Sister—Your dear boy is healthy and well. He is such a help, and seems to know just what to do at the right time. We feel that we can count on him at all times. He is a precious Christian boy, and God is using him.God is blessing our precious children, and the work is going forward. We are so glad to be on our own land. Our homes are only temporary, but our faith is in God for the permanent ones. He says no good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly.Your Sister seeking the lost,L. E. J.
Lahore, N. India, Sept. 18, 1902.—My Dear Sister—Your dear boy is healthy and well. He is such a help, and seems to know just what to do at the right time. We feel that we can count on him at all times. He is a precious Christian boy, and God is using him.
God is blessing our precious children, and the work is going forward. We are so glad to be on our own land. Our homes are only temporary, but our faith is in God for the permanent ones. He says no good thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly.
Your Sister seeking the lost,
L. E. J.
Lahore, North India, August 20, 1903.—Dear Sister Wheaton—Your kind offering of twenty dollars for the support of your boy, John, is very thankfully received. The Lord bless and repay you. Continue to pray for him, and for the rest of our great family. God is hearing prayer for us. There are some slight fever cases among the children. This is our sickly season. Unite in prayer that our workers may keep well. We are all burdened because of the lack of workers and much has to remain undone.Though burdened, we will stand at our post until Jesus comes. (R. V.) Our faith is in God. So many young people at home seem to be wasting their lives and talents, when they might be doing so much for God in this land.Your brother seeking the lost,Robert Jarvis.
Lahore, North India, August 20, 1903.—Dear Sister Wheaton—Your kind offering of twenty dollars for the support of your boy, John, is very thankfully received. The Lord bless and repay you. Continue to pray for him, and for the rest of our great family. God is hearing prayer for us. There are some slight fever cases among the children. This is our sickly season. Unite in prayer that our workers may keep well. We are all burdened because of the lack of workers and much has to remain undone.
Though burdened, we will stand at our post until Jesus comes. (R. V.) Our faith is in God. So many young people at home seem to be wasting their lives and talents, when they might be doing so much for God in this land.
Your brother seeking the lost,
Robert Jarvis.
Lahore, N. India, March 16, 1904.My Dear Sister Wheaton—Greetings in Jesus' name. "Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields, for they are white already to harvest."I write to tell you today that your boy John is quite poorly. He has been having an attack of lung fever. I believe that in answer to prayer God will raise him up. I felt he would have better care in the hospital than we could give him, so we took him there, but we go to see him frequently, and I will keep you posted as to how he is doing. I know you are interested and are praying for him. We thank you much for your interest, and all you are doing for him. I hope you are keeping well and seeing souls saved.John was a real help in the garden outside of school hours. He has always been a willing little worker. God bless you much, dear Sister Wheaton, and use you greatly, is our prayer.Your sister,L. E. Jarvis.
Lahore, N. India, March 16, 1904.
My Dear Sister Wheaton—Greetings in Jesus' name. "Lift up your eyes, and look on the fields, for they are white already to harvest."
I write to tell you today that your boy John is quite poorly. He has been having an attack of lung fever. I believe that in answer to prayer God will raise him up. I felt he would have better care in the hospital than we could give him, so we took him there, but we go to see him frequently, and I will keep you posted as to how he is doing. I know you are interested and are praying for him. We thank you much for your interest, and all you are doing for him. I hope you are keeping well and seeing souls saved.
John was a real help in the garden outside of school hours. He has always been a willing little worker. God bless you much, dear Sister Wheaton, and use you greatly, is our prayer.
Your sister,
L. E. Jarvis.
Lahore, N. India, April 12, 1904.My Dear Sister Wheaton—Greeting in Jesus' name. I am glad to write you this time that John is all right again. I think his sickness has drawn him closer to God. He is writing you a few lines that I will translate for him and send it with this.Yours to be faithful,L. E. Jarvis.
Lahore, N. India, April 12, 1904.
My Dear Sister Wheaton—Greeting in Jesus' name. I am glad to write you this time that John is all right again. I think his sickness has drawn him closer to God. He is writing you a few lines that I will translate for him and send it with this.
Yours to be faithful,
L. E. Jarvis.
Just why the dear Lord saw best to permit me to take the loathsome disease of smallpox into my system, I know not; but I do know the same God that made man and pronounced him very good, permitted Job and many others of His people to suffer many things. Of one thing I am certain, the Lord permitted me to preach the Gospel in the pest-house. No one was allowed there but the physician of the Board of Health and those in charge, and there were many lost ones there and no gospel services for years and not even the superintendent and his family were allowed to go to church. I had held meetings in almost every other place and I now had opportunity to go there, this being the only way to get to them. During the summer of 1901 I was taken very ill and the sixth doctor pronounced the disease smallpox. There was no alternative but to prepare for the hospital, which I did unaided. This was remarkable; for I had been very near death, the suffering both mentally and physically was so intense and the agony so great. Surely God heard the prayers of His believing ones and raised me up to once more go forth to glorify His name by preaching His gospel and singing His praises. Bless His holy name!
I was hedged in with God. He got the glory of my healing. I bless the Lord that in answer to prayer He never let one person take the disease from me that we knew of. When leaving the minister's home where I was taken sick, I was shouting and praising the Lord. I told the mission workers I was sure I could go to Heaven even from the pest-house, with the smallpox. I told the young sister with me to bring the tracts for service in the hospital. I had told her that morning that there would be several doctors call and hold a consultation and pronounce the disease smallpox and they would take me to the pest-house, and I expected I would die there. I had such victory in my soul that I just shouted and praised the Lord.
In the hospital I was given the privilege of all the wards to sing and pray and talk with the patients. Some were in a very dangerous condition, and others convalescent. Others were trembling with fear, having been exposed and quarantined here to protect the public from contagion. Those were weeks of suffering, although full of service and song. The hymns were listened to with the greatest delight even by foreigners who could not understand our language. I often wonder why professing Christians are not as careful about the spread of sin as people are about the transmitting of disease. The same day I left the hospital the Lord sent me out on a long journey to preach the gospel on the train. As I was talking with the conductor, there was a sudden stop and he ran to find the cause. Our engine had become disabled on a bridge, and as a train was coming behind us, the trainmen ran to flag the coming train before it should overtake us; but it was too late. I dropped on my knees on the platform of the rear car and asked God to spare our lives. I arose, took in the situation, went to my seat in the center of the car and again knelt in prayer. I turned to look just as the engine struck our car, raising it about five feet in the air, crushing timbers and glass, and causing a panic among the passengers. I was blest of God through it all, and went immediately to work holding meetings while we waited some hours for help to come. I see so plainly the hand of the Lord in all this. I might have left the train when on the rear platform, but I felt impressed to stay with those on board and call on God for help. Do you wonder that when all our lives were spared I felt that as the Lord gave all on the ship into Paul's hands, so in this case, as in many others, the wise Master gave me those who traveled with me? "As thy days so shall thy strength be." "A thousand shall fall at thy side and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee."
One night in San Francisco while holding a meeting in the Old Adelphi Theater, I was impressed to give a dollar to a sister who often sang and exhorted in our service and who assisted me that night. At the close of the meeting I handed her a silver dollar. She seemed much surprised and said, "No, I should not take this from you." I told her God showed me to give her that dollar and I must obey Him; so she took the money.
The next day, while waiting for the street car on a public thoroughfare, I saw a man giving out ladies' fashion plates. I spoke kindly to him and suggested how much more good he could do by giving out tracts. He replied that that was the way he made his living—that the firm paid him for his services. I told him that God would care for him if he only trusted and served Him, but he evidently thought me somewhat of a fanatic. Just then a well-dressed old gentleman spoke to me and said, "Do you belong to the Salvation Army?" I said that I did not and he then asked, "What is your work?" I answered, "I am a missionary to the prisoners and lost girls." He handed me a dollar and hurried on. The man with whom I had been speaking looked on surprised and said, "Who was that man?" I said, "I do not know; I never saw him before and may never see him again." He was evidently thinking, for I had told him that God provided for me and would provide for him if he would but work for Him, and God was giving him an object lesson. I said, "I believe the Lord sent that man to convince you that what I said was true for I never ask any person for money, but trust all to Providence."
Going on my way later in the day, outside the city where I changed cars, I saw hurrying toward me the same man who had given me the dollar in the morning. He said, "I have been thinking all day about you and what you said and here is another dollar for you." I told him how I felt God had used him to convince the fashion plate man, that if we fully trust and serve the Lord He will provide for us. I have never seen either of these men again since that day, but God sent me the two dollars in place of the one dollar I had given that poor woman the night before, in the meeting.
The sequel was given me sometime after this when I again met that poor sister. She said to me, "Sister Wheaton, I want to tell you about the dollar you gave me that night in the meeting," and then she said: "I had nothing in my house for my children to eat (there was a large family of them), and husband was out of work. I had to wash next day and had neither soap nor starch, and I had to go across the city to pray for a sick woman, whose son had said that he would believe in God and serve him if his mother were healed in answer to prayer. I had to take that young man with me and pay his car fare and my own. The mother was healed and the young man, being convinced, yielded himself to God and was converted and became a Christian." And then she added, "All this your dollar did, for I had prayed God to send me a dollar that night and you obeyed God and see what was accomplished through obedience to the God who hears the ravens when they cry and notes the sparrow's fall."
Then I related to her my experience to show how the Lord used a stranger to return me double, or two dollars instead of one, and perhaps saved two men—for God was evidently dealing both with the stranger who gave me the money and with the one with whom I was speaking on the street.
I was once called upon to minister to the needs of a woman who was burned almost to death. I assisted the doctor as best I could to dress the burns. I took the scissors and cut the loose flesh from her arm, and held her while the doctor filed the rings from her hands.
If I had not been previously convinced by the Scriptures of the folly of wearing rings I think this awful sight would have been sufficient to satisfy any doubts in my mind, as they cut so cruelly deep into the charred and swollen flesh. She finally passed away to that land where there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain.
While being entertained at a certain place a few years ago, a caller was announced one evening, to see "Mother Wheaton." Entering the parlor a tall, handsome man, dressed in the uniform of a policeman, advanced to greet me. I bowed politely, but perhaps a little distantly, as I did not know him. He came forward and extended his hand cordially, saying, "Don't you know me, Mother?" I said, "No, I do not know you." He said "I sang in —— prison in the choir. I served a term there and heard you sing and preach there. This is my daughter," and he presented a nice looking young lady who was with him. He said he now held a responsible position and was getting along nicely, and invited me to come and visit his family.
While holding meetings in a little town in one of the southern states, I was entertained at the home of a wealthy man who was accused of crime. He had a beautiful wife and lovely children. I was greatly troubled about his condition. I held meetings there in the home. I was treated very kindly and cordially welcomed, but he would not yield to God. I warned him faithfully, and plead with him to repent of his sins and become a Christian. I told him that a terrible calamity awaited him if he did not yield himself to the Lord. I went away believing it was his last chance of salvation. Not long after that he laid in wait to kill a man against whom he had had a grudge for some time; but the other man seeing his intention, drew his revolver and fired in self-defence. The man fell dead. He had had his last call. He had rejected the Lord and was ushered into eternity without a moment's warning.
One day years ago, in M——, Mississippi, I went on the street to hold a meeting. A policeman came along and forbade me after I had begun to sing, saying it was against the law to hold religious services on the street. My spirit was grieved as I felt the Lord had a work for me to do among the poor and lowly who were too poorly clad to attend church services. A sister (a woman of God who entertained me) was with me. She then proposed taking me to see a sick child, an infant. When we reached the house we found the young parents weeping over their dying child. My heart was touched with sympathy, and kneeling down I asked Him who said, "Suffer little children to come unto me," to heal the child for His glory. I believed His word where it says, "The prayer of faith shall save the sick." My faith touched divinity, the child was healed and the young parents, seeing the power of God manifested, were converted, and gave their lives to God for His service.
BERTILLON MEASUREMENTSHeight Out Arms Trunk Head Length Head Width Cheek WidthEar Foot Length Finger L. Fore-arm Color of Eyes Marks & Scars,BERTILLON MEASUREMENTS
PRISON AT ANAMOSAPRISON AT ANAMOSA, IOWA. 1. FEMALE DEPARTMENT. 2. CELL HOUSE. 3. MAIN ENTRANCE.
Many of the selections given in this chapter were written by prisoners and given me by them. The others may not all be new to the reader, but I have thought them of sufficient value to thus preserve, as they may be reread with profit, and no doubt may be read here by many who have not seen them elsewhere. Such will surely feel the time it takes to read them well spent.
Many of the songs I have sung are not in print here, as they are familiar or may be found in popular books; others I thought might be copyrighted and I do not know the owner, etc. I have not meant to use any copyright selections without procuring the right to do so, but if through mistake any have been used I shall be glad to make due requital.
I once visited this sister, a saint, meekly lying upon her bed, and when I asked if she would like for Jesus to heal her, she said God could use her better in that condition.
E. R. W.
Jennie Cassady was born in Louisville, Kentucky, June 9, 1840. She came to earth through no royal line of ancestry. No booming cannon and flying flags proclaimed the birth of a princess. No jeweled hand beckoned her to a place of rank and title. Nothing in babyhood or girlhood distinguished her above what is visible in ten thousand homes to-day. But as she stepped over the threshold into womanhood, there fell upon her a great calamity—a cruel accident made her a cripple and an invalid for life. But in her afflictions she arose to a sublimity and sweetness of soul that has challenged the admiration of two continents. And out of the awful shadows that fell upon her she has gathered up the sunbeams of God's smiles and scattered them into the dark places of earth. Out of that one little darkened room in Kentucky there has gone forth an inspiration that has fired the heart of heroic Christian womanhood. And out of the darkness that smote her pathway leaped the lances of light that pierces the gloom of prison walls. A gleam from that radiant life touches the poet's fancy, and gives us these beautiful lines.J. M. CROCKER,Prison Chaplain.
Jennie Cassady was born in Louisville, Kentucky, June 9, 1840. She came to earth through no royal line of ancestry. No booming cannon and flying flags proclaimed the birth of a princess. No jeweled hand beckoned her to a place of rank and title. Nothing in babyhood or girlhood distinguished her above what is visible in ten thousand homes to-day. But as she stepped over the threshold into womanhood, there fell upon her a great calamity—a cruel accident made her a cripple and an invalid for life. But in her afflictions she arose to a sublimity and sweetness of soul that has challenged the admiration of two continents. And out of the awful shadows that fell upon her she has gathered up the sunbeams of God's smiles and scattered them into the dark places of earth. Out of that one little darkened room in Kentucky there has gone forth an inspiration that has fired the heart of heroic Christian womanhood. And out of the darkness that smote her pathway leaped the lances of light that pierces the gloom of prison walls. A gleam from that radiant life touches the poet's fancy, and gives us these beautiful lines.
J. M. CROCKER,Prison Chaplain.
Composed and read by F. L. Platt at the Iowa State Prison at Anamosa, June 9th, 1894.